#Ruby Circle ReWrite

[jetsteeleyourheart]

Its Chapter 2 time Bloodlines Baes

Chapter Summary:

Adrian has a kinda shit day

Leave me a comment if you like it!

Or hate it!

Or if you have a strong opinion on whether its "ok" or "OK"

[jetsteeleyourheart]

I use this account more, but don't forget this is happening haha

Fair warning to my bloodlines mutuals, I've been writing a fanfiction plot to redo the last book into what it should be, and the outline is already 80 pages long... I know we are a small but dedicated crowd, but I sincerely hope it doesn't suck, cause I'm doing this for us...

Ships: pretty much all cannon but throwing in some confirmed pan Adrian, trans Marcus, and gay Mia for kicks. It's not so much a ship fic as a full redo of the last book to add in all those loose ends...

Added plots: Jill gets to do things now, Olive gets to live, taking down the alchemists, whump all around, enemies to bffs, Zoe redemption, the other magic user in reeducation, adrians mental health decline, learning to manage the bond, what happened to Avery, Christian and Mia get to be characters again, angeline gets to be in the book, its a gay allegory, the fall of Jared Sage, Duncan and the Mortimers, Selkie Rowena cause why not, Sheridan, finishing the strigoi vaccine, tattoo artist Adrian, a lava pit shows up, cult ritual, showdown in a church, last night on earth, hopper is important, werewolf malachai, sydneys powers are actually impacted when she had sex but thats ok, Debbie Sage and Daniella ivashkov best friends club, Carly and Marcus on screen romance, no fucking scavenger hunts or wimpy ass villains from book 2

[intuitive-revelations]

One thing I did just realise and now appreciate regarding Fifteen's sacrificial regeneration is how it brings us full circle.

Obviously, the connection to The Church on Ruby Road is pointed out explicitly in-universe, with the Doctor fixing the timeline to bring Ruby back. But remember, he also did the same thing just one episode later in his first regular story, even using regeneration energy!

[ID: Fifteen carefully picks a stomped butterfly off the ground, cupping it in his hands. As Rubathon Blue, the rewritten Silurian-like Ruby, looks on, he seemingly blows some remaining bi/regeneration energy into his hands to heal it, then smiles as he opens his hands and it flies away alive.]

And of course, one could argue even this comes with its own timeline-rewriting moral baggage, given the Doctor justifiably saving Ruby and humanity from erasure still arguably comes with the erasure of Rubathon Blue and her timeline.

In retrospect, despite being a simple expositional gag, this really does just show how Fifteen's life was leading to something like this (even if the details may have changed with behind-the-scenes stuff), just like Twelve and Davros's conversation in The Witch's Familiar ("Compassion then. It will kill you in the end.").

[ID: Determined, Fifteen directs regeneration energy into the TARDIS console, which pours out in all directions, shining out through the TARDIS windows into the Time Vortex like a beacon. ]

[soft-sylus]

"You Were Meant for Gentle Things"

Note: A start to a long fic! It starts dark but I promise the following chapters are much lighter! A rewrite of my beginning chapter.

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2,516

Content Warning: Violence and emotional distress

Chapter 1: Sylus’ First Mistake

She breezed past Leilah unannounced and unfazed. She strode to Sylus, a surprised but satisfied look on his face.

Leilah didn’t need to hear their words, his voice alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Low and calm, it carried the weight of something she couldn’t name but knew to fear

The Sylus was here, the ruler of the N109 zone. Not seen for ages, and yet he walked in as if he was never gone, with possibly the most beautiful woman Leilah had ever seen at his side. In fact, she imagined most people were more intrigued with her than him. Her grace and determination. Her defined features and toned body, easily encased in the ruby dress. She owned every person in that room. And him most of all.

Sylus offered his hand to her and she took it, letting herself be guided through the dance. The melody carried them across the dance floor. And no one would dare disturb them.

They make the perfect couple Leilah thought to herself. Her own dress had paled in comparison to anyone else's in this room, let alone the dark-haired beauty. But no matter.

While the party struggled to look away from the couple, Leilah was seeking her opportunity to retreat. She knew what it meant when Sylus showed. Most did, but pride blurred reason. 

Sylus was an omen.

Death dogged him.

And she would not die today.

Her eyes darted to the emergency stairwell, but her feet froze as she remembered her date. She'd chosen him deliberately, a self-absorbed man who moved through elite circles, one whose protection she could buy with flattery. But tonight, even her jaded expectations hadn't prepared her for his spectacular idiocy. Not content with openly ogling Sylus's date, he'd actually tried to buy the brooch from her dress, barely blinking when Sylus himself intervened.

Leilah bit her lip. She didn’t care for her date, but she did not want something to happen to him. And she knew something would if he stayed. She sighed and strode over to him, wrapping her hand around his.

“Let's get out of here,” she whispered. She kept her voice calm and tried her best to be seductive but he shook her off, not taking his eyes off the dancing couple.

“Leave if you want. I’m going to dance with her next,” he said roughly. The hair on the back of Leilah’s neck was standing up. She trusted her instinct enough to know that the time to leave was now.

“Something’s wrong. Please,” she tried, more urgently this time. She pulled at his arm but he pushed her off.

“Get off of me,” he glared at her. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her touch him and, when satisfied, looked back to the dancing couple.

Alright asshole she swore to herself, but panic seemed to strangle her. She trembled with it. She pushed her way through the thick crowd, faster now. No longer trying to be polite as she knocked into people. Her legs pushed her toward the emergency exit. She opened the door. 

She could not stop what was coming.

But she still screamed when it came.

The sound was excruciating. Her body was airborne and then it was against a wall. Pain erupted from her right side and liquid flowed over her eye and into her mouth. The building swayed. Dust flooded into her lungs.

Only seconds later and the silence was so complete, it rang in her ears.

Her first breath was a sob. She struggled to understand the shape her body took. She looked around. The only light was from the flashing alarms. The wall between the stairwell and the ballroom was gone. Leilah’s body had been hurled down a flight of stairs, throwing her out of the direct blast. 

When she finally found the strength, she started moving each limb, one by one. Untangling them under the ruble and dust that caked her body. It was slow and painful. Her senses split apart, each one drowning in its own kind of fire.

 After an eternity, she was finally able to lean against the wall. Leilah thought she might be crying, but there was so much blood cascading down her body that it was hard to tell.

She heard sounds.

Rustling. Movement. Footsteps on uneasy terrain. She froze. Fear seizing her breath; it came from the room above. A survivor? She thought. But she wouldn’t be the first to call out. They might be trying to finish the job. She did not move.

It was him. Sylus and his date. Completely untouched. Devastation in every direction but they remained pristine. Not a hair out of place. Not a speck of dust gracing their skin. 

Gods among their carnage. Death dared not touch them.

Only a floor below them laid Leilah, shattered. Her agony exposed, her suffering laid bare.

 Their footsteps never faltered. Not when her blood dripped through the stairs' grating. Not when her whimpers echoed. She was less than a shadow to them

I am nothing.

The door closed and she stayed as she was. Her breathing evened out until, again, she heard shuffling from the rubble in the ballroom.

For one pathetic moment, she thought of her date. A glimmer of hope. A glimpse of normalcy.

She moved to her feet. But as she limped to the top of the stairs, Leilah’s hope suffocated. There was nothing left. No one could have survived this. 

Her mind went to the piano player’s divine music and the server who had given her wine. She thought of her date. The only one in the world that knew she still existed. A terrible person but her only companion for months. 

A howl of pain ripped from her chest. Tears and blood mixed. All of the faces of the party swirled in her mind. Could she have done something? Made noise? Done anything.

“Hey!” A voice called out to her. She tumbled back, looking at the two figures that stood in the corner of the room. Alarm lights glinted off their masks. Sylus’ Crows. They crept closer. “Stop! We—”

“Stay away from me!” she cried out. Her body moved before her mind, scrambling backward, shoes slipping in blood. A sound escaped her, not a scream but a whine, the kind a dog makes before it’s kicked. “Please god, stay away from me.”

They paused. And before they could recover, she had fled down the stairwell. They did not follow.

[theanoninyourinbox]

A redraw of my old Halloween special Yuan-Ti and her beloved husband! Still cursed though...

But also, some pics of the supporting cast, and a brief summary of an updated plot!

This story takes place around and in the Witchwoods - named for a coven of Hags that once tried to raise a demon lord, and though defeated, the evil they conjured infected the woods. In the century since, the Woods have driven away the good folk and most of the wildlife, and the nearest town is just five houses, an Inn, and an Orphanage full of children that no one ever wanted...

16 year old Lorenna and her little sister Marina have been forced to work at creep Berrik's inn for a few years; Matron Viola sends them there in the mornings and won't let them in until after sunset. Orphanage Matron Viola does this with all of her wards, despite their young age and the fact such a thing is illegal - no good adults live on the edge of the Witchwoods. Pebble sorts through trash for salvageable materials for the blacksmith, and the other children do hard chores day after day, coming back to scraps and scolding.

One day Brisbane is sent to the Orphanage by his mother's side of the family - simply for taking after his (alive but off saving the realm) Orc father. He brings with him hope - he sent a message to his father before his aunt stole his Sending Stone, and Brisbane's father (plus adventuring party) will come save them soon! But for Lorenna help needs to be there now - the disgusting Berrik has been eyeing her like he eyes the occasional female traveler, or like a cat eyes a mouse. She cuts her long hair to try and ward his leers off, but it doesn't work...

He does finally corner her, but Lorenna gets away - with a black eye and a knee sore from striking Berrik in the jewels - and she bolts.

She bolts into the Witchwoods., Berrik screaming on her cloven heels.

Lorenna leaps and bounds and scrambles, over twisted shrubs and past spitting flowers and up fallen trees. But Berrik stays close behind, howling and slavering, shrieking exactly what he wants to do to her. A vine snaps up, and she trips through a thick wall of brambles - and she collapses, physically exhausted and mentally shaken, into a small clearing. For a precious moment she shakes and stifles her sobs, finally feeling the pinpricks of pain from the brambles. Something stirs ahead of her, and she snaps back to awareness, fear coursing through her-

Is that a rat? A chubby white rat, with beady red eyes, looking at her and squeaking softly. Lorenna knows the Woods well enough that this isn't a native animal, maybe - Brisbane tells stories of his Anuncle Thimble and their cat familiar - a spark of hope-

"Ello?" she whispers, feeling a bit foolish but - the rat sits up straight, and waves a little paw at her. Oh thank every good thing in the world!

She winces, and pulls herself up as quietly as she can, and asks softly, "Can ya take me somewheres safe? Berrik's chasin me, and he-" she cuts herself off with a whimper, as her legs twinge in pain. The rat bounces (Lorenna didn't know rats could do anything but lunge) towards her, and pats her hand gently. It nods, and points farther into the brambles.

Not the way she would have wanted but - oh, are those footsteps?! The rat squeaks louder, now tugging at her fingers. She makes a decision that clear-headed Lorenna would never have made.

"Up you get, I won leave ya t'him either" she breathes softly, and quickly pulls the animal to her shoulder. It perches without complaint, clinging to her now tattered sleeve, and points again. And Lorenna runs, just as she hears Berrik's out of breath threats behind her. And to her wonderment, the brambles part, like a curtain, and Lorenna is so shocked that she nearly runs head-on into someone. The rat squawks, and she pulls herself to a stop so fast that her legs go askew. Lorenna lands in a heap at the feet of the tallest person she's ever seen.

She look up into the scaled and concerned face of the strangest person (a woman, she thinks) Lorenna has ever seen, and she's fair strange herself! Large serpent eyes that shine bright like the Matron's jeweled brooch, fangs and are those sNAKES?!

But the cursing behind Lorenna makes her, one more, make a decision that rested and calm Lorenna would not have made.

"Help me" she begs, "please, he's gon ta hurt me!" The probable-woman and her snakes (coming out of her hair?) lean back startled, and the little rat jumps from Lorenna's shoulder onto one of the snakes. Berrik is cursing behind her, and as he too falls - though through the now-closed brambles - the woman walks around Lorenna, placing her(?)self in his path.

"Well, whhat do we hhave hhere, dahhling?" The scaled woman murmurs, in a voice exceedingly feminine but deeper than any Lorenna has ever heard. The rat, now on the strange woman's shoulder, waves back at Lorenna, then launches into squeaks and squeals and tittering, and the snake woman nods and hmms and Ohh my's at it like one of the gossipy biddies in town. Like she can understand it.

Maybe she can.

As Berrik rises up finally, face red with rage and coated with spittle, he draws in a breath to begin a tirade. But Lorenna can see right when he catches sight of her ally (hopefully) - his face pales and goes waxen and his grabby little hands begin to shake, like when he's had too much to drink. The woman tilts her head, like the crows do before they pounce on a treat, and her snakes (definitely coming out of her head) hiss like cold water on a hot stone.

"My Hharold tellss me thhat you're trying to hhurt thhisss chhild," (Hhharold - Harold? - must be the rat) "and I certainly cannot abide ssuchh hhorible behhavior" the woman says, ending with a hissing scoff. Before Berrik can do more that pull his face into terror, and start to turn and run, the snake woman extends a hand, and speaks a Word - and he lights up like lightning is caught beneath his skin. Berrik squeals, first the cry of a thinking creature, then warping into the chittering of - a squirrel?

She turned him - into a squirrel?

It's just too much for Lorenna's mind, and she bursts into tears, curling in on herself. Through the sound of her own sobs, she hears the woman tell squirrel-Berrik something, and then a warm touch lights on Lorenna's shoulder. She jerks her head up, and the woman (is she a Witch? Lorenna hopes not) simply extends a hankerchief, looking at Lorenna with a gentle expression.

------

Eltzi has never been so glad to have been assigned to the Witchwoods in her life. The poor tiefling girl is now curled up on one of the couches Harold made for El, so she could rest more easily when her legs pained her, soundly asleep. The girl had been hard to convince that, no, El is NOT a witch, she's a druid, but had finally come in and let El see to her scrapes and cuts and nasty black eye. That new squirrel had certainly earned his punishment, but...

"Dahhling, are you ssure you're fine withh me ussing thhat spell?"

"Of course, El! You'd never use it like it was used on me, my sweet summer beauty" her cursed husband squeaked back from his perch, sipping tea like the world's smallest tea connoisseur. "Just because that jealous fellow - well, you know - doesn't mean it's a bad spell! I'd say having to plant a hundred trees is light punishment for his crimes" Harold sniffed, looking back down at the slightly stirring Lorenna. "Speaking of crimes, it looks like we'll be having some guests for a while, hmm?"

El watches the orphan girl slowly wake up, with a belly full of food better than she's ever eaten, and safer than she's ever been, and smiles softly. "I do believe you are correct, dahhling Hharold."

-----

When Ghrosh the Ranger comes looking for his son Brisbane, with his stalwart companions Thimble the Halfling Bard, Nils the Dragonborn Cleric, Many Fingers the Tabaxi Fighter, and young not-quite-prince-Ulric the Drow Wizard (he has to get married first), he finds the village that his horrible in-laws (now firmly punished and disowned) sent Brisbane to abandoned. Only animals walk the streets, but -

"These animals have been enchanted!" Ulric yelps, after cornering a donkey that had been gathering trash into piles. "I think that they were humanoids before this - the townsfolk judging by the number - but-"

"The children are missing." Ghrosh finishes. "The orphanage was empty, but Bris had been there-" He chokes off, too worried for his son to hide his emotions. Nils pats him on the shoulder gently, and Thimble ambles over to take Ghrosh's hand.

"We'll find him, my friend, this I can feel in my heart!" Nils brightly exclaims, "See, here comes Fingers, maybe she found a clue!"

The Tabaxi hold up a folded piece of paper with a flourish. "I'll do ya bettah than a clue, howsabout a map and invitation ta Brissy's hideyhole?"

The group make their way into the Witchwoods, following the map drawn in Brisbanes careful hand. The note tells of a Druid, sent by a Conclave to revitalize the Witchwoods, saving a fellow captive of the cruel Matron, and coming back for the children. The Druid - Ms Eltzi, the note supplies - cursed the townsfolk into animal forms for a year and a day, and would turn them back afterwards.

"Well, if this Druid is so kind, she's invited to your wedding." Thimble muses aloud, leaving Ulric sputtering and Nils laughing gleefully. "Hey, is that the crooked tree arch? Hey Ghrosh heY WAIT UP LOSER!" they shriek, as Ghrosh charges forward, calling desperately for his son. Needle nearly falls off of Thimble's backpack as they run after their chosen brother, just as worried for their nephew as Ghrosh but twice as cautious. Which is to say not very at all.

The adventuring party falls through the tree arch portal in a loud mass, Nils having bodily shoved Fingers and Ulric through before him, and everyone tripping over each other. They look around to see a clean, healthy clearing, lined by thick hedges and aspen trees, and Ghrosh tears out of the pile to catch his son, running and screaming with joy. As the rest pull themselves up, a small crowd of children gather, lead by a white-haired Gnome with truly magnificently large ears, and a Yuan-Ti woman.

They leave with Brisbane, the little sister he adopted named Ruby (formerly Pebble), and a free invitation to come visit - and bring some prospective adopters, or children who need a home too!

(Harold know how to cure his curse. He knew it was True Love's Kiss, and the Warlock who cursed him ensured that Eltzi would never be able to do that. But curses are tricky, and a few months after the children were rescued, Lorenna kissed him on the forehead to thank him for helping build a project together, and found himself whole again. Well, whole, and with a bit more ear that he had previously. Curses are tricky, and Love comes in many forms.)

Eltzi the Yuan-Ti Druid

The Witch - The Beauty

Lorenna is lost - the orphanage matron told all the girls to stick to the path through these witchwoods, but Berrik was following her, and tried to grab her again; she kneed the perverted Elf in the crotch and booked it, but now nothing is familiar! As she scans the area for her pursuer, the witch of the forest, and the path back home, a squeak by her feet makes her jump. She whirls, but it’s just a little rat…wait. That’s not a wild rat! It looks like a lost pet, so she crouches down, and it runs into her hands. This is no place for a pet, so maybe she’s closer to home than she thought? As she looks around again, it squeaks again, and as she looks, it…points?! Before she can really question any of what’s happening, she hears Berrik calling for her in a rage, and bolts again, holding the rodent close to her chest. After what seems like an eternity, she pushes through a bramble bush, Berrik screaming on her heels, and falls into a pair of unknown arms. She looks up into the violet eyes of the Witch of the Woods. Lorenna freezes in terror, cradling the rat to her chest, and is relieved and baffled when the scaled woman gently sets her to the side, and turns to the charging Elf with a sneer.

Eltzi sits by the fire, the little tiefling girl curled up by her side. Harold chitters as he eats, and El has to agree with her husband - she did need to interfere. That young man had such ill intentions, and for a girl scarcely old enough to understand such feelings. He’ll be a much better squirrel than an Elf. Eltzi sighs, and considers what the girl told her - constant mistreatment of non-human children and blatant false ignorance by the law - and begins planning. She’ll have to expand her home, perhaps grow a few new ones, but she refuses to leave children of any sort in danger. Harold beams his approval, and starts chattering on about building plans, and Eltzi contemplates how many animals will be joining the new squirrel…

Part 5! Go go go!

[twobehonest]

Mmm another picture of my rewrite/AU of WoF??? Yessir.

Text below:

"The sucess of the Skywings fusturate me to no end. Mountains of gems, they have. Mountains! Rubies the size of my fist, diamonds that sparkle with ostentation, every conceivable color of precious stone spilling from their land. Meanwhile, here in the Ice Kingdom, since Diamond's reign, our glory has ran dry. Not a single decent gem to be found, barely enough metal to forge a proper spear, let alone adorn a first circle's talons. No more animus, (I wouldn't be surprised if Darkstalker enchanted the Icewings to never hold animus genes again.) An economic slump, they called it, from the castle itself, to the seventh circle. A reality I couldn't, wouldn't, let the other tribes know. But I shouldn't waste my time on more opinionated subjects...

The proposal of the Nightwing tribe is interesting, despite our... differences. The Nightwings want to unite all tribes together, starting with an academy program to learn more about each other and lead a centaury of peace. Realistically, it could never prevail to the extent they say it will. But I can't lie it doesn't have me interested. They want a royal. From all tribes, preferably princesses. To "show goodwill to the next heirs of the thrones". They've been willing to show their princesses face just to prove their intentions are true.

I don't necassaily have to extend any of my daughters to the academy, of which they dubbed "Jade Mountain Academy", dabbed in the middle of Pyrrhia. I could send my neice, Icicle, instead. But it's risky... but the possibilites of... benefits are too good to ignore.

I'll have another talk with all the queens about this subject. After all, some seem wholly into the idea."

— Queen Glacier

Soo we get a sneak peak into both economic standing of the Ice Kingdom and the Sky Kingdom.

The Sky Kingdom has a bit of an overconsumption problem.. and by bit, I mean they're literally drowning themselves in ungodly amounts of gold n stuff. They are ... Out of touch, with the rest of Pyhrria. They simply just do not experience the more muted lifestyle, after all. Massive celebrations for something as little as the sun looked quite nicely on Flare's scales. Why they don't run out? Well, in this rewrite. Skywings didn't kill their Animus. But Nightwings did. (After Darkstalker ofc) So, their mountain is essentially enchanted. Lmao. Everything is basically free in the SkyWing Kingdom.... If you're a Skywing.

And I think a lot of the economic wealth and standing is based on how much gold/resources you have, like real life. Skywings have essentially just.. blocked themselves in. No need to interact with the outside world when they have nothing to offer. Isolationism!

[invested-in-your-future]

Abstract ask. Within your rewrite, which member of team RWBY is most likely to fall for propaganda?

Oh, that's tricky to answer.

I believe that nobody is immune to propaganda.

For starters, each member is gullible in a different way and has different vulnerabilities and traumas, too. After The Fall of Beacon, there are many things they would LOVE to put their faith in.

And then there's the issue with the idea of propaganda itself.

We all believe something, we all are shaped by the information we consume and experience.

What is propaganda? Propaganda is something that promotes a cause, a belief, or an idea. It's not always fake or malicious, as propaganda is necessary for everything—for example, any advertisement that the Academies would greenlight could be considered a form of propaganda.

Another good example is The Kingdom of Vale selling the idea of an unchanging, end-of-history-esque status quo. That's propaganda, the kind that everyone fell for—even Blake, even though, as she says, she should have known. In fact, the people knew better, like Ozpin's circle, even though they were aware of Cinder, they still believed they controlled the situation.

So, which member would be more likely to fall into propaganda? It depends:

Ruby absolutely bought into the idea that Huntsmen are heroes. And now, as she sees more of the world, she is desperate for validation of her path forward.

Weiss wholeheartedly believes in the idea that Atlas is progress and the future, which is in part what fuels her hatred for Jacques. In her mind, Atlas is her Grandfather's legacy, after all.

Blake bought into the White Fang ideals, even helped in changing them. And even though that had ended badly, if she were to find a path forward that she believed in, she would likely dedicate her entire being to that cause.

Yang really wants to believe Raven. What's more, she really wants to believe in herself, to find a path forward. And that involves making sense of the world and the secrets around her.

In this Remnant, there are many contradictory myths, backstories, and viewpoints, and it all depends on which pieces of information which character gets.

In the right situation, in the right circumstances, any of them could be susceptible.

[rosethevideomancer]

My Thoughts on the Doctor Who S2 Finale

Obviously Spoilers Ahead

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA No but I think it was a bad finale pushed into a great regeneration, wrapped around a fantastic season. Honestly right now the pain in my heart is that Ncuti was only JUST starting, he had so much more to do and see. I will never forgive bigots for mercilessly going after what might be one of the best doctors we've ever had. The mid-season writing for both of season was banger after banger after banger, something we haven't really had since Series 10. (Don't get me wrong Flux came really close) Also this episode does confirm my suspicions about Jodie needing to be an RTD Doctor rather than a Chibnal one. I really loved that brief cameo because she FELT like the doctor we've come to know, Chibnal wrote her like an old doctor, forgetting the history she had. Billie being back but as potentially the doctor is crazy but I fear that its David Tennant is back type shit for headlines. RTD2's era is "How much shock value can we have" and im tired of it. I am excited for Billie but all of me is sad that Ncuti is gone. Another thought I keep having is all the wasted plotlines this run, Rogue and 15 will never have their love story, Ruby's story will never get it's conclusion with the coincidences, Anita came full circle but who is the boss? We will NEVER know. The Pantheon isn't done but I almost worry we will never hear from them again. ALSO BTW, if you want to fix the timeline thing, go fix it FROM Mavity. 15's reason for regenerating is fucking stupid, he FORCED himself to!? FOR **POPPY!?!?!** A GIRL THAT ISNT EVEN HIS!????

FUCK OFF RUSSEL. You cost us a good ending for Ncuti because of POPPY!?!!? I need 12's "Time Happens" attitude back. I need 13's "I can't stop it but I can make things right" era, I need 4's "Should I question the rules of time" back. Russel years ago wrote the perfect ending for 10 and then scrapped it in favor of The End of Time. The Doctor in a bottle episode dies saving two random strangers he's never met because thats the doctor, willing to risk his life for people he's never met.

BUT POPPY!? A girl who didn't exist, saved cuz he thought she was his daughter only for it to be Bel's and rewrites the whole fucking season!? FOR WHAT!? What was the whole point Russel? Give up the reigns. Genuinely i'm with Christopher Eccleston on this one, the whole lot needs wiped. Bring in new writers who LOVE doctor who, bring in fans of the new eras to give us storylines that matter.

This era has been the most non-sense shit that has the most obvious answers but Russel is far too committed to going "Ah but i'm more clever than you!" IDGAF if you're clever Russel, I care if the show lands a 10/10 season and YOU cost that. Your writing took two seasons that were mostly good and BOTH times you crashed and burnt on the landing.

In other news, Rose Noble got a line this time so thats good.

[kradsile]

I finished Volume 9 of RWBY today, and man oh fucking BOY... It was great. Isn't it wonderful what you can achieve when you focus on the character(s) the show was meant to be about in the first place?

So many wonderful moments fresh in my mind still. First off, I loved the decision (and this is a small thing, I know) to not just start off from Ruby's POV, but for her to not speak in the first few minutes. Cause CRWBY's real good at characters who don't talk at all. Speaking of, Neo's here too! Hurray! She brought my favorite (and objectively the best) antagonist back! Yippie!

And did y'all see the setting this time around?? RWBY trapped in a fairy tale world?? "Peak Fiction?!" I screamed aloud at the beautiful vista they showed at the end of episode 1. There's a looootttttaaaa potential here. And they delivered.

Time skip! Herbalist. Gods. Herbalist. I love you. The contrast between R and WBY is another fantastic moment that I'll remember. Just hearing Shadow Ruby (that's her name now you can't change my mind) asking "So? You wanna be a huntress?" with that uncanny, exaggerated cheerful disposition. As if it was mocking the Ruby Rose of today.

Which... leads me to my next point. So. We all know that RWBY Vol. 1-3 is simply the pinnacle of everything. We all read the rules in the Grimmoire when joining the Church of Remnant, and it clearly states that RWBY's first three seasons simply cannot be outmatched. Right? Right.

Anyhooo... I am always reminded by that one scene where Ruby and Jaune talk about being team leaders. Basically, Ruby firmly tells Jaune to man up, and to act like a leader should. And I think about that scene a lot. Every time I see Ruby act in the exact opposite way from Vol. 4 and onwards, I have that scene in the back of my head. As I watched, season after season it felt less and less like RWBY. What I mean by that is, of course, no fight scenes that made me shit my pants or whip my nanaes (Yang vs. Neo, Vytal Festival, the classics) but what was the worst part of it was that I felt less and less like I knew Ruby. The... "Supposed". Main character.

So imagine my joy when we got a character arc FOR RUBY. FUCKING. ROSE.

....And imagine my shock when it turned out not to be an arc. But a full circle.

Last thoughts: I may rewrite this or post another one of these a few years from now where I fully debunk my thoughts in a cohesive, coherent manner and show contextually appropriate images and whatnot but right now I MUST get my thoughts out into the aether. I SIMPLY MUST. Anyyyhooo...

Here's a thought. Isn't it a funny coincidence that RWBY goes downhill the moment Torchwick dies? Then 4-5 seasons of constant Salem (more like Soylem, gotem) and Ozpin and Relics bullshit?

And whaddya know, they do a shorter season again. With only 10 episodes. Focusing mainly on Team. RWBY. The new characters are just enough in quantity, and they've been cooked just right. The climax is approaching, and Neo finds Ruby all alone. And then he appears. The antagonist to have started it all. Suddenly, it makes sense why RWBY's good again.

They brought Roman Torchwick back.

Hail to the king, baby.

[uneducated-author]

On the latest Doctor Who Episode

Babes DUMP HIM

Oh no she's a Nurse

Oh no, she's with the NHS

On the bright side, no matter what the Doctor puts her through, her trauma is a max capacity.

Oh no, she has roommates

Oh no, they're still doing the Mrs Flood breaking the Fourth Wall Thing

OH MY GOSH EVIL AI WITH THIS AND PARTYGATE THEY'RE REALLY TRYING TO PISS PEOPLE OFF I LOVE IT BABES

'The Historian' get that man fired he would rewrite history to prove a point he can not be trusted

Okay she's actually adorable

Side note, this was my Y/N self insert story. Y'all wanted to be sold to a boyband but I had specific fantasies where I was portal fantasied/teleported to a foreign realm where I would fight alongside rebels and become a prophesied ruler. I was short and Indian with a White Saviour complex, please forgive me.

Oh no 'take me to the stars' you're so dead

Oh wow, that was fast, even for Doctor Who

Six months?! Why is this Doctor taking any chance to become a public service worker?

She's SO CUTE she wants to help I love her

If they reuse the Clara Storyline I will bite people

Belinda whyyyyyyy don't turn on the cute robot

Is the resolution going to be anything linked to 'miss' and 'Mrs'? I hope not

'Witness Events, not Participate' baby we did NOT watch the same show, but that's probably what a legit AI generator would say about Dr Who

We should call AI Al (as in short for Albert) because I met an Albert once and he sucked. Actually we shouldn't because I refuse to humanise AI.

Why is Belinda being 'baby, this isn't you, guys let me talk to him, he'll listen to me-'

Dr Who falling into the 'cute robots are good ugly robot bad'. Guys every robot is collecting and feeding back data. Googly eyes on a roomba does not make the roomba friendly

Babes why are you asking a robot to remember you, or hold sentiment, I thought you were smart this is more Kerblam

Every so often, Doctor Who reinvents Cybermen

WAIT I'M FUCKING PROPHETIC

Side note, this is still better than Margate

Yeah, I can see Alan reacting like that, what a prick

Belinda knowing techniques of control and manipulation, I hope they make her a clever bitch in a doctor esque sneaky was I wanna see her run circles around enemies

Okay, I've been pretty happy so far (not an exceptional episode but good) but the Doctor would NEVER laugh at Death, even Alan's. This just felt WRONG.

Belinda here though, quite lovely. She's not cruel, and as someone who's already shown respect for medical autonomy (asking to treat, asking to hear his hearts) it feels realistic, her reaction to the Doctor's intrusion of testing her DNA, and she's stern, but accurate, and not even horrifically harsh. Just a well written character moment I feel. She's compelling me in a way the team and Ruby didn't.

[jetsteeleyourheart]

Chapter 3 of Circle Interrupted Coming at Ya!

Chapter Summary:

Team Sydney manages to beat the escape room without actually solving all the clues, and Marcus just wanted a ham sandwich.

Leave comments! I eat them like good soup!

[blackbonnet-ruined-my-life]

Doing a rewatch before the finale tonight and noticed something interesting.

In Devil’s Chord, Ruby asked The Doctor if he had kids. His answer was “I did have, I will have.” This implies that he had kids at some point but also knows of some that haven’t been born yet.

In boom, the doctor said “Dad to Dad.”

But when Kate asked in Legend, he said No, not yet.

So something happened. Something happened between Boom and Legend of Ruby Sunday. Either erasing his children from time or from his memory.

Which leads to an interesting question. What happened between those episodes? The adventures we saw were 73 yards, Dot and Bubble and Rogue.

73 yards was just one big paradox that rewrites itself at the end, but it also includes a fae circle. The fae are known for taking children, could Mad Jack have somehow taken The Doctor’s children? And removed them from time and/or his memory?

Dot and Bubble is unlikely to make a difference to The Doctor’s past. Had he not been involved everyone at finetime would have died and as it stands they all died. Nothing that would impact his children.

Then we have Rogue. There are a few possibilities here. Some kind of butterfly effect could have taken place, it’s set in the past after all and it would tie in with the butterfly at the beginning of the season that Ruby stepped on. Or maybe it’s something about Rogue himself. Maybe he was meant to go on to be their other parent and being in another dimension altered the timeline (I’m aware that’s a reach). Or maybe it’s got something to do with the ring that Rogue gave him.

[foressfaction]

:Ticci Toby:{A Rewrite}

WARNING:: This story contains EXTREMELY triggering topics such as Domestic/Child/Substance abuse, Death, harsh language, GORE and dissociation triggers.

This story mentions mental illnesses and disorders such as Depression, PTSD, ADHD, and Tourette's Syndrome.

!!TICS MAY BE TRIGGERING!!

Prologue

So it begins. The boy tugged on the skirt of a middle aged woman. She was his mom. Her hair was short, cut into a nice layered bob, though it had grown over time, it at one point was a pixie cut. She had diamond shaped ruby earrings on, in an attempt to look formal. Her name, it rolled off the tongue very smoothly, Connie Rogers.

"Why are there so many old people here?" The brunette boy asked. Connie's son, who's name also seemed pretty vague. Tobias Rogers.

The woman was quick to correct him, shushing him loudly while murmuring under her breath with a hint of embarrassment on her face. "Toby! Haha, I'm so sorry about him," she yearned off the stares she got from her son's odd choice of a question. And a rather rude one too. Toby had always been quite the weird kid. He said what was on his mind, whatever it was, and when he wanted to say it. Maybe the question would've been better at a funeral, or a grandma's birthday party. Do grandma's have birthday parties? Toby wouldn't know honestly. He never did meet his mom's mom. That's a funny way to put it.

The two were currently at a 'meet the teacher' day. Y'know, the day about a week before the first day of school. For Toby, he will be starting the 6th grade. To him, school has always been a joke. He barely passed 5th grade and was one point away from having to be stuck doing summer school. He had never been a people person either, especially with other kids his age.

"Are any of these people actually going to be important?" Toby asked, earning a glance from his mom. Her dark circles are more visible than ever.

"I'm sure they will be, look, that's your principal, you should probably go say hi, or....something. I have a lot of paperwork to fill out. Go have a look around, stretch your legs, we've been walking all day."

Toby made a spitting noise as if he thought that was one of the most boring things she could've said. He bared his braced teeth. Meet his principal? He didn't realize going to a different school would be so tiring. Toby eventually left her side, wandering out into the empty halls. Oh so that's why there was a big sign on the door that read 'staff only.' Not like that mattered to him, no one saw, no one had to know. Despite it being a day for his entire grade to be here, it was almost like the halls were abandoned. His mind was always a little trickster, it would make him believe something when that 'something' isn't in existence. Toby took some steps forward, then found himself walking further away from the chattering of the people from the room he was just in. His entire body felt cold, chills running up and down his broken nerves.

It was kind of eerie, not gonna lie. The only thing Toby could hear was the pitter patter on his own shoes, the same old shoes he's had for years. Honestly surprised the souls haven't torn off yet. The boy found himself turning multiple corners and met with endless hallways of lockers. He's never seen a locker before. There were thousands of them, atleast, that's what his mind was showing him. 'Did I take my medicine?' was the first thing he thought to himself as he continued down these narrow halls. He was over thinking the reason why his mom shooed him away, probably because he was a distraction, or knew he needed one. As uncanny as this felt, Toby found himself quite occupied. He had started counting the lockers, every one of them, and remembered the exact number of lockers on the 8th hallway.

That's suddenly when he saw that one part of the hallway's lights were off. It was right smack in the middle of the hallway, so why did those lights not work? Toby grew curious so he started to inch towards the area. That's when he noticed they weren't just off, but flickering a little.

He knew this feeling a little too well. That feeling of being watched, judged. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He felt the air grow thick around him, as if gross, slimy water had just been poured onto him, soaking him to the heavy weight of being drenched. This of course actually didn't happen, but it felt like it did.

Toby turned around quickly, hearing something behind him, then again in front of him. He thought he was going to give himself whiplash from all of the darting of his head. Nothing was there though, nothing of sight, atleast. When Toby looked back to the hallway where the lights were supposedly off, he noticed they were working now. This caught him a little off guard, but as he looked closer, he could see that even further down than before, lights were off.

It was leading him further down the hallway?

Toby shook his head. "No that's not real." He whispered. "That's not r-real," he once again whispered with a little more voice. He felt that if the longer he looked, the more that feeling of tightness would increase.

Toby turned his back to the suffering lights, inching his way back to the room he was in not too long ago, with his mom. He turned the corner, only to nearly run into the frantic woman. "There you are, goodness, I thought you left this building." She spoke in a rather worried tone, taking his hand into hers, her rings were cold against his fingers. "You're really warm, are you okay? Are you sweating?"

Toby looked at her quickly, confusion sweeping him. "Am i?" He asked out while taking his free arm and wiping his forehead. Behold, bits of what felt like condensation rubbed off his skin. "Well we can forget meeting your teachers, I have your schedule here. I don't want you overheating again in all those layers, you know you can't feel temperatures to an extreme, you know this." She slightly scolded. Toby was just confused. He didn't feel too hot, he didn't know he was sweating. He does struggle with a certain disorder where he could technically place his hand on a lit stove and not feel a thing, despite his flesh melting off and severely damaging his hand. If anything it would just feel warm.

It was sad to be reminded he wasn't like the other normal kids in his grade, and certainly wasn't looking forward to another year of the constant reminders either. "I will be more aware next time." He stated, tone sounding a bit degraded.

It wasn't long before the two brunettes were on their way home. Toby was gazing out of the window, sitting in the backseat with his legs pulled up into a hug. The ride was silent, but his mom had never been too talkative after the last few months. Things weren't too good at home. Though he was going to go to a different school, they still lived in this dump of a house. Denver was a nice city, but in winters it was hard to stay warm, and in summers it was hard to stay cool. The house overall just about had it.

And the family knew that.

Toby finally broke the silence as the car hit a few road bumps. "There's exactly 286 lockers in the school." There was a moment of silence, but when he expected an answer there was nothing. "Mom?" He called out, not moving from his position but did lean his head over to try to peek into the rear view mirror that hung on the roof of the car.

He could see makeup running down her face, hands clenched onto the steering wheel tightly. If he listened closely, he could hear sniffling.

Toby knew better than to barge into questions but this time he knew the answer. He would have the same reason to cry, but lately he hadn't been able to feel much emotion at all. He, again, only saw life as a joke, nothing was real, no matter how hard he pushed away the reality. A 20 minute drive full of sniffles and awkward silence finally ended as the brown Subaru pulled into the cracked driveway to an old two story house.

The thing looked as if it was gonna fall in at any given moment. On the inside it was pretty big, still had carpet though it was old and stained, very stained.

A couple of whistles left Toby, followed by a few uncomfortable popping sounds from his neck. He had something called Tourette's Syndrome which caused the boy to jerk and tic uncontrollably. It was very uncomfortable for both him and those having to witness it. If he wasn't careful, he could accidentally hit someone, or himself. Which he does occasionally. Toby stepped out of the car to see the man standing on the porch, cigarette in hand. Seemed like he didn't see them pull into the driveway. Toby knew he did.

Toby noticed his mom left the folder of his school rules and other stuff in the car on the dashboard. He opened the door to reach in and grab it, his hand slipping with a slight tic, accidentally honking the horn, making the woman jump.

"Fuck- sorry, fuck! Sorry!" The boy jumped to coo out as he held the folder up. "Got it-"

Toby quickly closed the door to head inside, hearing the man spur something up. "Fuckin' boy." He muttered in a southern accent.

Toby paid no mind as it was something he was used to, rushing into the house and sitting the folder onto the counter, opening it and looking at all the papers. "Oh there were 287 lockers..I was off by one." He had his finger on where it stated the fact. He didn't understand why he was so fixated on the locker count. Gave him a distraction probably.

Toby moved the papers just enough to peer at his schedule, something he didn't have at his old school. "Wait mom? Why did you sign me up for public classes?"

The folder was snagged away from his hands, probably giving him a paper cut. "Stop complainin' and suck it up, it's about time you learn with other kids." The man scolded. Toby could see the vein popping from his forehead. The same shaggy blond buzz cut blanketed the man's head. His dad; he carried a name that would make anyone grimace just hearing it, Jacob Rogers. "Dad!" Toby tried to take the folder back but that only earned him a smack on the hand with the rather hard plastic outsides of the yellow folder.

Toby glared slightly as he took a deep breath.

The brunette woman strolled in, setting her bag down on the small island counter as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Look, Toby, I tried to suggest special education, but they said that it was time for you to get to know your grade better, plus wouldn't it be great to hang around people who...Actually respond when you talk to them?" She spoke out, slightly raising her voice.

"But they were nice to me," Toby added, narrowing his eyebrows, taking glances at the folder in his dad's hands. "Can i atleast see it closer? Again?" He eyed the man after asking.

"Your sister takes public classes, so can you. It's time we stop babying you, you're 13 years old for fucks sake. Act like it."

"Jacob!" Connie shouted with an offended tone. She knew the man was an asshole but she usually tried to defend her kid's opinions. Their marriage hadn't been the best lately, especially after her husband started to waste their money and abuse alcoholic substances. Speaking of which, the blonde man held a dark green bottle in his hand that wasn't clinging to Toby's school information.

The second Toby noticed that his mom saw the bottle, he knew they were about to bicker.

He just didn't want to be in the middle of that, excusing himself from where he took a seat.

Toby disappeared upstairs to one of the rooms he called his own. It wasn't much, just a carpeted floor, a dark blue rug with matching bed sheets. Completely unintentional. His shelves consisted of vintage toys he never touched, books, a lamp, and other nick nacks. He only ever kept one thing out, a stuffed cow. Why? He honestly grew an attachment to it. The poor thing was ripped up in many places, had patches on the stomach and left side of the head. It looked derpy as hell but he loved it to death.

Sometimes though when he holds it, he can't help but remember the time he 'played tug-o-war' with his dad who eventually ripped the head completely off while trying to take it from him. His only reason was because 'he was too old.' No one is too old for a comfort item.

Toby crawled onto the bed and took the cow plush into his hands and stared down at it. He gently gnawed at the inside of his cheek, a habit he developed a while ago. "Today isn't the best day, Mr. Cowbells, will you make it better? At least until Lyra gets home.." He hugged the stuffie to his chest and stared down at his sheets. It wasn't long before what he assumed would happen started up. He heard their loud voices downstairs. He knew it wasn't going to be too long until he heard thrashes and door slams.

It was like this all day, everyday.

All day, everyday.

••••••I

[jerzwriter]

This is part two of my rewrite of Chapter 1 of Crimes of Passion: The Proposal. This story is not part of my headcanon, but I couldn't let PB's version stand. Part 1 can be found here! And this is a wrap! 🌹

Book: Crimes of Passion: The Proposal Pairing: M!Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Characters: Marguerite Thorne, Ruby Webster, Luke Watanabe Words: 2,400 Rating: Teen Summary: Trystan is eager to share his news and gets a lesson. Meanwhile, Carolina tries to come up with answers before their day is through. A/N: Participating in @choicesmaychallenge24 - prompt - "who's a good puppy?"

Part One Crimes of Passion Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Marguerie entered her office, delighted to see her big brother seated behind her desk, even if his feet were propped comfortably atop it.

“Trystan,” she grinned. “It’s always lovely to see you, but if you want that seat... you have to earn it!”

“I was just keeping it warm for you,” he winked, standing to pull the chair back so Marguerite could take her rightful place.

“What brings you here so early? After the flight back to New York, I thought you’d sleep until at least noon!”

“I could say the same for you.”

“True,” she replied, shuffling through her mail. “But I have a business to run. What’s your excuse.”

“I have a sister that to distract from running said business.”

Without further warning, Trystan leaned across the desk, extending his arm so the blue box that instantly gave his secret away rested just inches from his shocked sister’s eyes. Covering her gaping mouth, Marguerite’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. 

“Is that? Is... is that?” 

“Do you approve?” He beamed.

“Of the ring or the woman?”

“The ring, of course! I know you approve of the woman!”

“Yes... YES!” She shouted, quickly circling her desk to embrace him. ��This is wonderful news!"

She grabbed the ring out of his hand to further inspect it, and she was pleased. Her smile grew by the second as she took it in.

“It’s beautiful! But I had no idea you two were discussing marriage yet!”

“Well, we haven’t... discussed it... that is.”

Marguerite shut the box so fast the gentle thud could be heard across the empty room. Placing the ring in Trystan’s pocket, she made sure to slap his arm when she was done.

 “Trystan! You bought an engagement ring without even discussing it with Carolina!”

“Yes... I want it to be special, and... discussing it isn’t terribly romantic now, is it?”

“Not necessarily, but,” she sighed, motioning for him to join her on a nearby settee. “Look... in Drakovia, particularly in our circles, people tend to become betrothed quickly. But it’s not like that here. Couples usually date at least a couple of years first.”

“A couple of years!” He blurted.

“Yes, and that’s not very long to get to know someone when you're planning something that you want to last for the rest of your life. Don’t you agree?”

“I suppose,” he faltered. “And Carolina doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who has had a secret Pinterest wedding board she’s just waiting to make public.”

“Big brother... Carolina doesn’t know what Pinterest is.”

Mags lovingly caressed her Trystan's back as he deflated before her.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You two have been through so much in such a short time. It's amazing that you're where you are! Just take time to enjoy each other and your love in relative peace. Carolina's not going anywhere.”

But when his head flung up, his face drawn, eyes bearing mirroring the scars of all he had lost before, Marguerite was painfully aware that Trystan’s motivation ran much deeper than she initially believed.  His voice was broken, barely a whisper when he replied.

“But what if... what if she does?”

“Oh, Trystan!" Marguerite consoled. "My dear brother! I’m so sorry I didn’t see. Of course you’re frightened. You've already lost so much, including the woman you once loved.”

“I can’t do that again, Mags.”

“I understand, and hopefully, you’ll never will. But if becoming engaged was a panacea that could prevent that, well...” She took a deep breath and turned his chin her way. “As painful as it is to admit, you’re right... no day is promised to anyone... but that’s not a reason to get engaged.”

“That’s not why I want to get engaged!” He answered defiantly. “I want to marry Carolina; I want to spend the rest of my life with her... I just don’t want someone, or something, to rob us of the chance to do so before we get the chance.”

Falling back against the settee, he slipped the ring into his pocket. “I feel so foolish.”

“You have nothing to feel foolish about!”

“I do. I have this ridiculously romantic day planned and everything. The proposal was going to be my grand finale.”

“Well, you don’t need an engagement to enjoy a romantic day!”

“You don’t,” he teased.

“Oh, Trystan,” Marguerite smirked. “You really do need to acquaint yourself more with American traditions. There is this thing called courting. I suggest you look into it.”

Trystan pulled away with feigned indignation. “I’m familiar with courting....” he mocked.

“American courting! Not our macabre Drakovian methods.”

“I’m acquainted with American culture, too! I’m practically a native New Yorker by now!”  

“Really?” Marguerite chuckled, glancing at his feet. “Those horrible cowboy boots tell me otherwise. Just... go talk to Carolina, I promise you. You’ll feel better.”

Grabbing his sister's nose between his two fingers, just like when they were children, he smiled. “You're right.”

“Of course I am,” she chuckled, pushing his hand away. Then offered one more reassuring hug before he left.

“I love you, Trystan.”

“I love you, too, Mags!”

“Call me later... I’m dying to see how everything goes!”

~~~~~ 

Trystan had carefully planned his arrival at the Drunk Tank for the late afternoon. This way, Tommy would be bound to be busy, and small talk could be easily avoided. Normally, he enjoyed chatting with Carolina's uncle, but today, he felt a sense of urgency to make things right... even if Carolina had no idea they may have been wrong.

When he flung the door to her room open, he was surprised to see her cuddled up on the couch beside an adorable cocoa-colored fluffball who looked every bit as happy to be at Carolina's side as he was.

“That’s new,” Trystan smiled, pointing at Carolina’s canine companion.

“This my latest solved mystery,” she beamed. “And my cutest one, to boot!”

“You found her so soon?” he asked, taking the seat beside her.

“Don’t sound so shocked!” She replied, nudging his shoulder. “I’m good at what I do! And dognappers? Nuh-uh. Not on my watch!”

“That’s my girl,” Trystan cooed while the overjoyed poodle relished the tummy rub he offered. "Who's a good little puppy? You are!"

“Now, are you proud of me or little Coco here?”

Gazing at his Carolina with an impish grin, Trystan gently placed the Coco on the plush rug at their feet.

“You,” he insisted, sealing his proclamation with a kiss. "Always you.”

“Good,” Carolina smiled. “Then, after Nina shows up to collect her pooch, maybe you can show me just how proud you are.”

Believing he'd like that idea, she was surprised to see him sit back with a sigh.

“You just use me for my body, don’t you Carolina?”

“Nah,” she giggled. “I use you for other things, too. So, is it a plan?”

This time, she received the reaction she had expected when Trystan beamed. “It’s a wonderful plan!"

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he lovingly wrapped an arm around her.  A comfortable silence filled the room, and little Coco, sleeping happily at their feet completed the scene of domestic bliss.

“Look at us,” he droned. “We’re like an old married couple, with our little dog and all!” 

He hadn’t planned to use those words, but while his intent was innocent, he didn't miss the way Carolina went still when the "m" word was mentioned. 

“Or... you know...” she laughed nervously. “Like a disgustingly happy couple in love in New York... with a borrowed dog sleeping at their feet.”

Carolina’s heart raced when she glanced up at him, but the calming look in his eyes quelled all her fears. Trystan knew the time was now.

“I know it’s early, and things are new between us, but I have always believed when you know, you know... and I wondered.... have you ever thought about us... one day... getting married?”

Carolina jolted into an upright position, turning toward her lover like a deer caught in the headlights. She wasn’t used to this sensation... nervous, unsure of what to say or do... a million thoughts filled her mind, and as many emotions flooded her heart. Her mouth went dry, which was just as well, since she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say anyway. Then Mafalda’s words echoed in her mind:

“I always say, if people in a relationship are honest and love each other, they’ll get through anything.”

She was right. Honesty was the only way to go, and if anyone could be trusted with her heart, it was the man sitting before her.  With a cleansing breath, she spoke with newfound clarity.

“I have... before I answer, you should know that marriage isn’t extremely important to me. I’ve never understood how a piece of paper changes anything. I know so many loving couples who are unmarried, and I’ve known plenty of married ones who are anything but.”

“True,” Trystan acquiesced. “I don’t think a piece of paper does anything, either. But there is something symbolic about standing before the people we love most and pledging ourselves to each other for eternity.  Promising to be there in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and all of that.”

“I agree,” she jumped in. “And I’m not minimizing that. In fact, I have thought about us... getting married... at least a couple of times.”

“At least a couple?” He grinned, even as fear began to creep around the edges of Carolina's heart once more.

“I have,” she declared, raising her hand to tenderly caress his cheek. “I would love that to be in our future. But right now, I’m just enjoying what we have.  It’s new and wonderful and unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s precious to me, Trystan... and I want to let it grow and evolve organically. I’m looking forward to everything we can be in the future, but I want to enjoy the here and now as well.”

A knowing look crossed Trystan’s face, and he brushed a tendril behind Carolina’s ear before pulling her into a kiss. The kiss lingered, not because either feared the words that they'd have to speak next, but because Carolina was right. They needed to enjoy every precious moment they shared along their journey, and this one deserved its due.  When they reluctantly pulled away, they held each other close, relishing the warm embrace that felt like the universe melding their souls together.

The moment of tranquillity was perfection. Then Trystan whispered:

“You found the ring. Didn’t you?” 

Carolina jumped back, her eyes wide, and playfully slapped his arm before covering her face behind her hands.

“TRYSTAN!” She yelled.

Carolina may have been mortified, but Trystan was nothing but amused.

“It’s OK,” he laughed. “Really, it’s all right!"

“No, it’s not!” she countered. “You were planning on proposing to me... and I went and knocked the wind right out of your sails! Please, Trystan, you have to know how much I love you... and I absolutely want us to be forever...”

“I do know that,” he interrupted. “And we don’t need an engagement to believe that's true."

“So, you’re not mad?” She asked sheepishly.

“No.  Well, maybe a little... at myself... for planning to propose without discussing it with you first."

“You just wanted it to be a surprise,” she shrugged.

“That was my first foolish move. I’m in love with a brilliant detective! How did I expect to get anything past her?”

“Speaking of which... what the hell were you doing leaving that ring in the kitchen drawer. Please tell me you’ll put it in a vault for safekeeping.”

“That is an excellent idea.”

Coco began to fidget and happily jumped up on Carolina’s lap as the couple nuzzled closer together.

“You know, I’m glad you figured out that I knew,” Carolina stated.

“Why? Because it proves I’m becoming as good a detective as you?”

“What? Hell no! It was a lucky guess on your part. But... I don’t like having secrets from you. It was really eating at me. I’d much rather have this out in the open.”

“I like it better this way, too."

“But I want to know, why was it important for you to ask me now... it is a little soon.”

He paused for a moment, thoughtfully choosing his words.

"Quick engagements aren’t uncommon in my world... but beyond that... I know what I want, and I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life. I’ve been in love before and had it ripped away, and I...” his voice cracked as it trailed off.

“Oh, Trystan,” she replied. “I never stopped to think that....”

“Shhhh,” he interrupted. “We can’t let fear control our every move.”

“You’re right," Carolina agreed. "But is it important to you to have something to show the world we're together?"

“We... we don’t have to...”

“It’s OK if you do, Trystan. But engagement isn’t the only way to do it. Would you like to do something else as a sign of commitment?"

“Other than showing you off every chance I get?” he grinned. “I wouldn’t mind... do you have something in mind?”

“I just might," she grinned.

~~~~~

Three days later...

Ruby gazed at Carolina’s hand with the excitement of a child staring at a counter full of candy. She reached out but stopped just before touching her friend's wrist.

“Can I?" she asked. "Does it hurt?”

“You can,” Carolina nodded. “It hurt a bit at first, but it’s fine now.”

“See, that’s because you’re not Drakovian,” Trystan winked. “I felt no pain at all.”

But the loud whimper that escaped him when Luke promptly slapped Trystan’s left wrist told another story.

“OUCH!” He jumped to his friends' amusement.

“You were saying?” Carolina teased.

“They’re perfect!” Ruby beamed. “Rose and 'Thorne' tattoos... what a great idea.”

“On infinity symbols,” Trystan pointed out. “It was all Carolina’s idea.”

“Well! I love them!" Ruby approved. "Luke! Maybe we should get tattoos!” she declared as her boyfriend looked on in horror.

“Orrr... uh... we could... just... get engaged.”

“Do you seriously think that would be less painful?” Ruby asked.

Luke slid up next to his her and looped his arm around her waist. “How about I take you on a really nice date instead?”

“Make that a double date, and you’re on!”

Luke turned to Carolina and Trystan with pleading eyes. “Well, what do you say?”

“What do you say?” Carolina asked Trystan.

“It sounds delightful..." he replied. "As long as we’re not out too late. I want to get back home to my gorgeous girlfriend, after all.”

“Ah, she’s a lucky woman!” Carolina beamed.

“You know what... let’s just get tattoos,” Luke sighed. “It has to be less painful than watching them act like this all night."

“Too late!” Ruby grinned. “You already promised! Now, let’s go pooh-bear.”

“Oh, God," Luke groaned. "Do you see what you started?”

Trystan opened the door to allow his friends to pass through, shutting it slightly when it was Luke's turn.

“Just wait, my friend! The night is still young!” 

~~~~

In case you're curious, this is what the tattoo would look like. Carolina's is on the side of her right wrist, and Trystan's is on the inside of his left.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[howlingday]

Personally, if I wrote for Vol 8, I wouldn't have some big argument about Yang and Blake telling Robyn about Amity. I would have just had someone bring it up, Yang and Blake try to justify what they did, and then everyone just glares at them. No shouting, no arguing, just cold glares telling the two of them they messed up. Imagine how heart wrenching (but a little badass) it would be if Yang tried to get Ruby to agree, only for her little sister to shut her down and go into leader mode, not wanting to hear Yang explain how she and Blake broke her's, Weiss, and Team JNPRr's trust. Imagine Blake and Yang seeing that, while their hearts where in the right place, their actions had personal consequences. The amount of drama and tension would have been soul crushing, but so reliving when they reunite back at the mansion and get to have a proper talk. (Sorry that I keep bringing this up. I'm a little hyper on sugar at the moment)

Nah, nah, it's cool.

Rewriting Volume 8, though... It could be written better. Starting off at right about... "Worst Case Scenario". Right after Ironwood gives the order to capture Robyn Hill and Tyrian Callows, we cut to Blake and Yang talking about whether or not they should have told Ironwood about what they learned about Salem. Yang says that he should know because he deserves to know what he's getting himself into, "like we all did". Blake argues that Ironwood would just overreact, like he's doing now with his plans for martial law, to which Yang agrees, but mostly because there's not a lot of good options for their current situation. And then...

Oh... Oh god dam- MOTHER FUCKER! THEY DID REFERENCE ADAM! Fucking- AGH! THIS is your attempt at giving us closure about them murdering Adam?! Just vaguely referencing what happened in Seeing Red?! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways, Yang then comes up with the idea to not ambush Robyn. When they finally catch up to her, they try to reason that Ironwood already knows about the supplies missing and how he plans on sending more than "just a couple of kids". Robyn then shows off her semblance, natural lie detector that she is, and learns that Ironwood is using the Amity Colosseum to build a new communication tower.

They then discuss what Ironwood is trying to accomplish with all this secrecy, and to be honest, I can't argue with his logic. Salem is coming to Atlas, as evident by the presence of Tyrian Callows, who Ironwood knows is in her inner circle. Trust is a big part of the Atlas arc, and Ironwood can't trust anybody but himself. Enacting martial law would give him a tighter grip on control on the kingdom, allowing him to personally redirect resources and manpower wherever without any civilian or rebel interference. And what would happen if everyone knew about Amity Colosseum being used this way? Well, Tyrian is going to go on another killing spree until there's enough Grimm there to prevent ANY construction. Salem is playing a game where she has every advantage.

But back to Yang and Blake telling everyone everything, it's shortly after this that player three enters the chat. Knock, knock, who's there?

It's HER... with HER.

These two menaces show up and drive the schism even further after Ironwood decides to tell everyone about Salem. Unfortunately, even after collaborating with Robyn Hill on this, he becomes injured fighting Arthur Watts and orders martial law to be enacted, resulting in THE DUMBEST FIGHT IN RWBY HISTORY! ...But I digress. Anyway, Ironwood can't trust anyone anymore and, in his defense, he didn't think to ask Robyn if she or anyone she knew was working with Salem. Not accusing her of it, but I still feel like if you're paranoid to think that anyone could be working with Salem, you'd start having a woman who can get you an honest answer on your staff ASAP. Then Ironwood makes his plan known after Salem makes her presence known, and Team RWBY stand together when Ironwood makes the decision to raise Atlas into the sky. Team RWBY stand against him, leading us to probably the second-best fight of V7 (if it's war that you want, then you got it! If it's pain, then I've brought what you need! If it's true what they say, that you're the best, then let's play!). Ruby quickly lets JNR and Oscar know before martial law is established and the group becomes public enemy number one.

But hold on! When does Ruby and Yang start yelling at each other? When do we get to an actual answer to the ask? Well, I guess it comes in the next Volume, right after a word from our sponsors!

And we're back! Welcome to V8, where we can finally have the answer to the question of "How should Ruby have reacted?" First, real quick, here's why she didn't respond before; General Ironwood dropped the bigger truth bomb, and Salem dropped the biggest truth bomb by saying "Your mother."

Honestly, we were about to get a Ruby v. Yang matchup until Ren stepped in to remind everyone that the plot is happening, and he just wants to get this Volume over with already. Straight from "Divide":

Yang: What you’re saying is it can’t be done. It’s pointless. And even if you got the message out, there’s no guarantee help would come. Ruby becomes annoyed while Yang speaks. Ruby: It’s not pointless! Atlas is only Salem’s current target. She’s not hiding anymore and once she’s done here she’ll move on to the rest of Remnant. We need to warn them! Yang stands in silence for a moment. Yang: Ruby… when we came here, we said we’d follow your lead… but... things haven’t exactly worked out. Ruby recoils somewhat with a mix of emotions on her face. Yang’s statement elicits various reactions from Weiss, Nora, Oscar and Penny, as well. Yang: I just-- Ren steps forward, interrupting Yang. Ren: There are people here who need us right now.

And again, I reiterate, ad nauseum, RWBY focuses too much on the plot to let their characters be themselves. That's why we never got a beach episode. If the plot WASN'T happening so much, we'd probably get a scene like this...

Yang: I just- Ruby steps closer. Ruby: You just what? You just thought you'd go off on your own behind our backs? Do things without telling us? Yang huffs, narrowing her eyes at Ruby. Yang: You're not the boss of me, Ruby. Ruby: I'm your leader! I am EXACTLY your boss! Yang: You don't to make my decisions for me! Ruby: After everything you just did, as your leader, clearly, I do! Blake steps closer to Yang and Weiss steps closer to Ruby. Yang then raises her hand to Ruby's hood, her eyes flashing red for a moment before she softens and lowers her hand. She then walks away to lean against the wall. Yang: Yeah... Okay... Whatever you say, miss "leader". Weiss and Blake let out sighs and relax a bit, though Ruby does cast a glare at Blake for a moment, making her flinch. Ruby then walks away, as distant to Yang as she could. Ren then steps closer, looking uncomfortable as he glances between the feuding sisters. Ren: ...So, uh, what should we do now?

AAAAAND scene! How's that? This also sets up for Blake and Ruby apologizing later in their episode of infiltrating AND sets up for a much more touching reunion between Yang and Ruby!

[lazyscience]

book club fic - this only has about 500 words of original content tonight, but I did a rewrite on it to pull something back that I went back and forth about. So here the whole thing is, all together to date, beyond the readmore.

Bonus content: an inspiration for the silk, 10th century Byzantium.

“A second-story man.” She made a scoffing sound, stirring the pile of goods he’d placed on the counter with a finger. “ What have you got on the job, a week?” 

The thief puffed up, glaring murderously at the old woman running the counter. Word on the street claimed the Copper Crow gave a better rate than the skinflint old bastard at the bazaar.  But to his way of thinking, fences were all cut from the same cloth; a bunch of juiceless old has-beens who liked to claim in their day they’d gotten away with the Holy Mirror of Nyon-kyo, the Crown of Blessed Stepan, the wand of Dagobert and the ruby choker of al-Said’s favorite consort, expressly to knock down rates for the honest working thief. 

She went on mercilessly, laying out each chain, ring and brooch as if he’d picked it out of a midden. “Silver-gilt. Gilt bronze. Cut glass. Cut glass AND a coloring agent–see the wear on the edges? Gilt lead - that’s quite clever, actually, closer to weight for a fake but see here? Too soft to hold the purity stamp well. That bottle’s not crystal nor even cut glass, that’s mold-poured, although you might fetch something for the dreamflower syrup in it from a grey apothecary - couldn’t say for sure, I don’t move unsealed perishables. And that?” A callused index fingertip tapped the final object, a silver-set garnet. “That’s cursed.” 

“I beg your finest pardon?” The thief glared at the fence. “Cursed? You haven’t even tested it with a relic! Didn’t know I was in a cathedral!”

The fence awarded him an unimpressed look over steel-rimmed spectacles, gray-green eyes as faded and colorless as the rest of her. “The silver-gilt’s a decent piece. Fifteen.The rest of it’d probably buy you more goodwill at the Broken Lily than it’s worth in cash, but out of the goodness of my heart if you have starving mouths to feed or you prefer the boys at the Prince’s Ransom, I’ll take it all off your hands for twenty-five.” 

“Or I’ll take it all somewhere that isn’t trying to fuck a hardworking cracksman,” he blustered, gritting his teeth as the woman shrugged. 

“As you like.” She pushed it back across the counter, all except the garnet, the dark glistening red of new wine or old blood. 

A knife leapt into his hand. “You can give me back my take-all of it, or I’ll have that ring and a finger to go with it.” 

The old woman tilted her head and let out a faint sigh, almost …pleased. “Tell me something, boy. In your vast experience of curses, and relics, and sorcery. Most sorcerers need at least one ring, yes, to manipulate an item in the physical realm?” She spread bare hands wide across the counter, even as two stilettos, a spiked flail, a gently curved dagger and even more concerning, three crystal balls of varying sizes rose from their shelves, gently fanning into circles around him. The crystals lit from inside as they spun, one shot with golden strands, another an oil-slick iridescence that teased at the corners of his vision and another with trapped flame. “I told you, that ring is cursed. You should be grateful I’m choosing to believe you’re too stupid to know what it really is. Because if I thought you did, and you were selling it to me as an object of value, I’d cut you up for catmeat.” 

A harsh meow made him jump; out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small tortoiseshell cat as shadowy and unassuming as its mistress, the same faintly amused expression in its green eyes. He realized there were more reflective-glittering eyes in the shadows, and a heartbeat later that he REALLY should have thought more about the lack of visible guards for one middle-aged woman tending a secondhand shop in a run-down neighborhood.

“He does look stringy, doesn’t he, Majali?” She sighed, tucking back a few graying strands that had escaped from her dark braid. “The deal is still open. Fifteen for just the chain or twenty-five for all the rubbish together, and if you don’t try anything excessively stupid, I won’t have your brain out through your nostrils. I’ll even throw in dealing with this unfortunate trapped soul you’ve brought me gratis, instead of either tipping off the one you stole it from OR throwing you to the nearest divine in service to the city for crimes against life.” She made an impatient noise as he tried to speak and only a croak came out. “Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the deal to fifty if you’d be good enough to tell me where you, ah,found this - I mean, I will find out with or without you, but it’s been a long day and I’d take it as a favor, truly, getting a start on getting this all sorted out.”  

The weapons parted to either side of the door like cavalry wheeling in salute, as she took out a handful of coins. “Mm, my change is low. But I’ve given you two solidi parisi and 13 denarii troyes, so it should be right by weight.” He flinched as she reached out and pressed the coins into his hand, spun as if to bolt and she lifted a hand, the ball of trapped bolts wheeling around at eye-level. “Ah, ah. You haven’t told me where yet. Can you write?” 

The thief looked back at her wide-eyed. “Lady, I’m a thief.” 

She sniffed. “Not a very good one, then. Knowing your letters is a good start on valuation. A note to or from the right person can be worth much, much more than trinkets. Books are valuable to a collector who knows you can get the right ones. Information, boy, is a greater treasure than gold.” She shook her head. “Anyway. Were you seen? Can you tell me where it was, or better yet show me?” 

“The kind of information you’re talking about gets people like me dead. South and west of the market, off the Street of Owls, the alley they call Owlet, the tall narrow house.”

“If you’re worried about staying alive, you’re in the wrong line of work, young man. Good enough, off with you.” She waved him on, and the thief bolted as if there were a couple of hellhounds on his heels. Majali jumped up onto the counter, ears flat and hissing as she looked at the ring. “Yes, quite,” the mage agreed, and went to throw the bar on the door. 

Reynaud and Ludo slipped out from between shelves,  weaved in and out of her legs as she went back and forth. “Yes, yes, I’m not daft. I’m not going to take on a sorcerous murderer before dinner. Or without more information than a description of a house.” She stared at the ring, muttered curses under her breath. It wasn’t an easy thing to touch, but she couldn’t very well leave it lying with the trinkets in the shop, either. She finally took a silk scrap from a shelf purporting to be a lady’s favor, knotted it around the ring and tied the whole business around her neck. At  least that way it wasn’t visible, touching her skin, throwing its distinctive aura in every direction or in a pocket for a cutpurse. The last thing anyone needed was another idiot thief wandering around with a woman’s soul in his pocket to sell to gods only knew who, for devils only knew what. 

“Reynaud, you and your brother watch the shop,” she said to the fluffy orange cat and his brown shadow. “I’ll bring back supper, we’ll plan then. When Mistress Yveline comes back from her hunt, please ask her to stay. Maja?” 

The tortoiseshell cat padded over to the hook where her hood and mantle hung and waited to jump up onto her shoulder, arranging herself comfortably in the folds. A serviceably faded russet, you could overlook the glimpses of fur peeking through it, especially if Majali was encouraging people to look away. A small chirp, and the mage left her shop by the rear door, locking it with a key and a whispered warning to the lock that anybody stupid enough to brave her guard would be the worse for it.

***

“Auda!” Smiling, the proprietress of the Broken Lily greeted her with an embrace, blinking and laughing at the little chirp as Majali’s head emerged from the mantle. “And Mistress Majali. Have I finally persuaded you you need tadliik?” 

“I need what?” She blinked. “Oh, is that the new bath service you’ve started?” Minna was what people liked to call a handsome woman, with sharp dark eyes and  a strong face owing more to the Albans than the Treveri, still tall, trim and graceful at an age many married women were welcoming grandchildren. But then, Auda rather thought Minna was owed at least that by the gods. There were much worse places a woman could sell her favors than the Broken Lily. Minna’s gracious salon was the equal of many lordlings’ homes, and her girls set their own prices and worked together to determine their schedules and …offerings. And a goodly handful of poor women not interested in whoring earned a fair wage there too as laundresses, maids, servers and even musicians, provided none of the ladies felt like demonstrating their own skills.  

“No - well, related. I was telling you last month, it’s a sort of medicinal anointing? Which I realize does not sound delightful, but it truly is, a rubdown with scented oils to relieve aches and pains. Not like a Alban strigil, it’s for after you’re clean. We have finally - at ruinous expense, I might add - acquired a good enough copy of Ibn Sina to satisfy Anjum that she understands it well enough to teach, and it’s simply miraculous. She’s been showing all the girls.” 

“I’m afraid this isn’t that kind of visit, Minna - although I would like to speak to Anjum, if she’s free.”  

“For you, Auda, I am sure she is, or will be shortly. Something tells me this is a conversation that requires discretion. Which means you COULD just as well get the tadliik–”

“I’m willing to compensate her - and you - for the time, but I’m afraid we should all be clear-headed for this.” 

Minna sighed. “Fine, you exhausting woman. Will you at least take some mulled cyser or sahlab with me?”

Majali emerged fully from the folds of Auda’s mantle at that, chirruping happily. “She didn’t ask you,” Auda said, wrinkling her nose.

“Are you suggesting I would let a guest go without?” Minna said, mock-scandalized. “I just know that Mistress Majali does not care for spiced apples so much as for milk warmed with flowers. I believe rosewater rather than orange flower, for my lady?” 

Majali nipped Auda’s ear, then purred, paw resting on the silk around her neck with its terrifying contents, suggesting that while clearheadedness was called for, something calming and restorative would also not go amiss. “Sahlab for me as well. Although perhaps after we talk I will want the cyser.” 

Minna’s brows shot up as she gestured her guests up the stairs. “You know where my private parlor is, I’ll arrange for drinks and have a girl fetch Anjum.” 

Minna’s parlor had its own cheerful fireplace as well as a share of the greater kitchen’s chimney against another wall, making it undoubtedly quite the warmest room in the place, other than the bath with its hypocaust. Auda shed not just her hood and mantle but outer cotte before taking off the bit of gaudy damask at her neck hiding the ring. It shone almost as deep as the ring in the lamplight, not a scarf as as it looked to a casual gaze but a belled silk sleeve unlaced from a bliaut. Blue perilously close to purple from a sumptuary’s point of view, woven in fine Iscan silk  with griffins in sun-golden medallion-frames. A younger Auda - well, it was a lot of pattern to wear easily, it wouldn’t stand up well to the demands of a mage’s life, and most of the silk she had was for utilitarian purposes. 

Looking up as Minna returned with Anjum, she thought wistfully for just a heartbeat or two about silk, Anjum’s gown as green as her eyes, as green as Majali’s eyes, the color of new leaves and vibrant youth patterned with darker branches and vines, her riotously curling hair confined in a finely knitted net of golden silk with green glass beads. “Learned. My apologies.” Anjum’s eyes darted curiously to the fabric in front of Auda as the servant girl who had followed her in set out cups of sweetly fragrant sahlab. 

“The one without the crushed almonds for Mistress Majali,” Minna said, gesturing, and the girl’s eyes widened as she realized the one of the cups  was for the cat, who nodded at her like a great lady and opened her mouth in a silent mew of thanks.

“Anjum, I hardly expect a busy woman looking after her livelihood to be waiting around at an old woman’s pleasure,” Auda replied as Minna shooed the fascinated child out before returning to sit down. 

“Old woman,” Minna snorted. “You’ve the advantage of me by two years, and if the girls here start calling me old woman, I’ll stop having you renew the hypocaust and see how they like stoking it all winter.” 

“Pah. Where would you keep the wood?” Auda took a sip of her own sahlab. Ordinarily, it was richer than she cared for, but the velvety smoothness of it reminded her she hadn’t eaten since snatching an apple and some bread and butter out of the pantry between the man who’d sold her the scarf and the one who’d dithered between a string of pearls and an enameled golden brooch for entirely too long  to make her think he could afford either. 

Anjum let out a soft breath. “You enchanted the hypocaust, Learned?” 

“Auda, Anjam. Just Auda. And enchantment is a discipline of illusion and emotion. Conjury is summoning elements or spirits to appear by your will. Invocation is commanding objects to bend to your will. And then there is what was done that I need to speak to you both about. What do you know about a mage’s rings?” 

“Very little, L-Auda, save that most of them can do little without at least one. It is a tool or item of power, I suppose much like a divine’s holy icon or a text.”

Auda nodded. “Correct, so far as that goes, although it need not always be a ring. That is…traditional. It may be a circlet, or a bangle, but it must be an unbroken circle, that can neither open nor close, that the user may wear. It may be plain, or engraved with some particular meaning to the wearer. And it may have a gem or crystal stone in it to hold…energy.” 

“Energy?” Minna asked, frowning.

“Energy. What I am about to tell you is not…forbidden, as such. But I would ask you both to keep it close.” 

Anjum and Minna nodded, and she went on.. “It may be the user’s own, distilled from their intent over many sessions to be a reserve of strength for a great work they would otherwise not be able to do all at once, or if they anticipate going into a dangerous situation where they might need to perform many acts of magic without time in between to rest and recover. It can be from a bound elemental force or spirit; this can be a neutral thing, imbued by exposure to a powerful thing like a great storm, a rushing waterfall, a great fire or what Romans called a god-forge, where rock melts and flows like metal. A spirit is a more difficult thing. It can be an act negotiated for and agreed to, or an evil one can be confined so by force of great will and purity of intent. Or it can be an act of slavery.” She looked up. “Perhaps once in a century, a great mage reaching the end of their life has agreed to bind their remaining power and knowledge thus, to continue teaching and protecting beyond what they could otherwise do, until all that remains of their gift is consumed - and if someone with a gift wears it, beyond even that, they can continue to speak through them, to teach and guide.”

Minna and Anjum both took quick breaths, Anjum’s green eyes wide with wonder, Minna’s narrowed with thought as Auda went on. “Such rings are great treasures. But more frequently -although mercifully for all of us, still rare - someone whose blood has magecraft is sacrificed into such a ring. And this is the greatest crime a mage can commit. Because anyone may shed blood, and many men have taken slaves and forced them to work. But someone bound in such a fashion, even if not voluntarily, is bound from their gods, and the life beyond life. Even once their gift has been extinguished, and they become a trinket of no worth to the criminal who made them so.” She pointed to the ring, its silver setting pallid and cold amidst the flickering coal-colors of the silk damask, the brightness of the gem. “As I believe this to be, such a stolen soul.” 

Both women reacted with horror, Minna making a holy sign and Anjum exclaiming in the tongue of al-Khatlan. “Calm yourselves,” Auda said. “While this is a terrible thing, it will not corrupt by touch. It is, however, if you have mageblood…uncomfortable to touch it, knowing what it is. And the one sacrificed I believe is untaught and untrained, she doesn’t have the disciplined mind of a mage to make herself heard. To speak with her I think will require a learned servant of the gods.” 

“So why have you brought her here to the Lily?” Minna said, cocking her head as Majali came to sit on Anjum’s lap and purr her most comforting purr. 

“Two reasons. One, my wise friend, is that you collect rumors like an intelligence officer about women’s business afoot in Treviere. If this was a local girl, there could be talk, and a girl disappearing is the kind of thing I know you listen for particularly.” 

Minna nodded, generous mouth hardening. “Yes. If there’s someone or something out there preying on women, whores are easier prey than women with husbands and fathers looking out.”

“Indeed. The maker of this will be very angry to have lost it, and someone who could make this sees people as things, to be used and discarded. Dangerous to anyone, particularly those he - it COULD be a woman, but I doubt it, the size is too large for most womens’ hands, and it’s–” 

“Ugly,” said Anjum flatly, looking at it more closely again. “It looks like something a man who fancies himself a dangerous man would wear. The stone is beautiful, but the setting looks like…teeth. Like fangs or talons clutching it. The kind that if a client was wearing I’d ask Othmar or Gautwin to stay in hearing.” 

“Just so,” Auda nodded. “And the other reason is, I will need someone with a good hand with silk.” She nodded at the intricate work of the snood containing the masses of Anjum’s hair. “There’s a reason I didn’t simply pop this trinket in a coin pouch,” she said, wrapping the ring in the sleeve again. “And not just to keep it from thieves. Different types of magical traditions, and different types of magic within them, require different types of tools and preparations, much as any other artisan’s trade or scholar’s work. Sometimes rituals require a drawing with certain colored pigments, or an effigy made of materials with significance to the caster. Many rituals of binding or loosing require some sort of cord.  And silk, more than any other type of thread or cloth, interacts with magic. Can be imbued with purpose. Wrapping such a token as this in silk and my will will help keep its owner from finding where it’s gone by scrying or divination when it’s outside the defenses of my home. And when we’ve found what we can of the girl, there are rituals that would require a finer hand than mine to construct, spells knit into silk, by which maybe she can be freed.” 

Anjum stared at her. “And you think this magic, this is a thing I can do? I have no gift.” 

“No. And I have gift, but not nimble fingers, not for something like what would be needed for this. I set things on fire, girl. I don’t paint with a needle and fabric. But perhaps it can be that together we can do what needs doing.” 

“Does the silk have anything to do with her - the one in the ring?” Minna was frowning at it. 

Auda paused a moment, looked at Majali, who chirped, then got up onto the table to study it herself, mouth half-open, whiskers spread as far as they’d go. “You know, I didn’t think so. I was just trying to think what I had that might suit, and I was sold it earlier in the day. Just the sleeve, mind you, not the pair or the whole bliaut. I was told it was a favor, and well, frankly courtly love stories gone sour are a dozen to a silver penny - which I wouldn’t usually give for a single sleeve lacking the rest of the dress or even its lacings. But a clever seamstress could make a hat or trimmings worth having out of a piece so fine, or perhaps a purse.” 

“It might be worth taking to a seamstress to try to find who it belonged to. The finishing and lacing-holes are very, very fine work indeed, that would require the most delicate of needles. Very few households close by would have serving maids capable of this kind of work, and the seamstresses in town would certainly have took note of such a striking piece as a possible buyer for their wares, or a fashion to imitate as best they could for more likely clients.” 

“You think it related?” 

“Maybe not. But it seems quite bright and new for something a knight would have carried with him, possibly worn as you are now to display his allegiance.” 

Auda swore softly, and again as Majali mewed quietly. “She isn’t certain, but there could have been blood on the edge. Which means nothing, as you say, if it were worn by the knight in tourney. But…” 

“But. It seems too convenient, perhaps, that someone would sell such a thing when possibly a woman has gone missing.” 

“It does,” Auda said grimly.