#alternate title: the avoidant behaviors do be hitting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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we-write-fics-here-sir · 2 years

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*whips* chapter two didnt need too much editing, but it was edited nonetheless!

Title: the alliance

Characters: Luigi, Dimentio, O'chunks, Mimi, Nastasia

Chapter: 2 (more to come) (chapter one here)

Summary: Dimentio goes to get a midnight snack, Luigi learns something scary and freaks out.

••••••

PLAYER SELECT: PLAYER TWO - DIMENTIO

TWO WEEKS

You have won the battle, if you can even call it that.

Under the light of the moon, you kneel in front of the poor creature you had attacked; an innocent star sprite, dazed on the ground. You had injured it by simply whacking it with a branch as hard as you could.

Admittedly it was pretty funny. Like hitting an unlucky baseball in a game of fate. Fortunately it didn’t soar very far; you had chased it into a secluded forest, away from prying eyes, before finishing the job by whacking the snot out of it.

You outstretch your hand and grab the creature by the foot, lifting it up to your face. Awfully heavy little thing. Should be more than good enough.

You lightly lick your lips in anticipation, and pull up your mask.

You hear an unusual click as the bones in your jaw lengthen and unhinge. The chaos heart’s magic lets you manipulate your body in truly awful ways. Youve done this before, but it still gives you shivers. The heart grows cold in anticipation for more cosmic energy as you psyche yourself up.

In a grotesque, monster-like fashion, you easily slide the sprite past your unhinged jaws and into your throat for the chaos heart to do whatever it pleases to it. In a fashion similar to a black hole, the sprite is suddenly dragged down with absolutely no hindrance. You didn’t even swallow. It was just gone in less than a second.

A chill runs through you.

You only do this on occasion. About three times in the past two weeks. Too many in a row would be telling. On the nights that you do treat yourself and the heart like this…it feels like you’ve taken a step in the right direction. The heart is more willing to sit patiently if it knows the longer it waits, the better the reward will be. You’ve formed a wordless alliance with the heart in this way, and thankfully this means it has stopped boring into your side and keeping you awake for hours with agonizing pain.

On these hunting nights, you have to wear a blindfold and earplugs. If not, your body behaves strangely. You are subject to sudden thrashing and convulsions, along with an uncomfortable panicked state. You can navigate just fine without either sense- you can identify the imprints in space and time from every physical thing around you. You practically echolocate. Its a mystifying ability that the chaos heart gifted to you upon your transformation. The biggest problem, however, cannot be avoided.

You keel over slightly as you feel bile rise in your throat. You swallow it back down, irritated. Its like your body can tell when you’re doing these awful deeds and rejects them outright. The blindfold and earplugs do a decent job of keeping you calm and collected, but as soon as you can feel those sprites in your mouth, its a nightmare. You’d be fine with cutting up a sprite if it meant avoiding this, but unfortunately dead star sprites return to stardust immediately. A shame.

You clasp your hand over your mouth as you gag again. This kind of behavior really doesn’t suit a sophisticated individual such as yourself.

For the most part, you’ve been gathering sustenance for the chaos heart by other means- mainly normal power stars. They aren’t exactly appetizing, though…they taste metallic, and don’t sit well in your stomach. Pretty hard to discretely nab, too. Another alternative is ghosts and other spirits, but you think if you swallow one more boo this month, the king of them is going to come banging down your door to kill you.

Just a hunch, but a chance you arent eager to take.

You take slow breaths to try to calm your nerves. It seems impossible to keep your pulse steady lately.

“LAD WERE’VE YAE GONE OFF TEH?”

Your breath hitches in surprise as you catch wind of a familiar voice- one so loud you can hear it through your earplugs. You remove the plugs and pull away the blindfold that covered the eyeholes of your mask.

You cant call out to the man yelling for you- your throat is in shambles. But you can knock a few times on a nearby tree to alert him.

"THAT YOU?"

O'Chunks comes through the brush and you give him a slight, unamused wave. He seems a little bothered, but still smiles lightly.

“Yae gotta stop wand'rin off like that, lad. Yer awf'ly far from tae gard'n. Thought yae were jus’ goin’ fer a short walk? Had me worried.”

He offers you a hand, and you place yours in his. It kind of shocks you how gently he carries your palm.

Hes never done this kind of thing before- checking in on your well being, that is.

You were pretty worried at first that your old menagerie of ‘friends’ were going to pummel you the second they saw you. You know, the backstabber? The traitor? The fool? …They’ve all been surprisingly mild-mannered. You’ve been completely unable to speak from the damage done to your throat, but you’ve conveyed a few ideas via writing- most importantly the concept of redirecting the chaos heart’s violence. You havent attempted an apology just yet.

Nastasia has been the most help thus far, navigating where power stars may be located to sate the chaos heart’s monstrous appetite. You really do owe her for that, especially since you tried to kill her so recently.

Mimi has been keeping a constant eye on you, practically babysitting you at any given time, keeping you captive in a small home she 'borrowed’ from some unlucky fellow. Normally you’d find annoyance in this, but for some reason, seeing her face brings you a distant feeling of comfort.

Unusual.

O'chunks sometimes arrives to carry you to and fro, as well as help you nab said power stars from any individual who may be guarding them… you haven’t told him about the star sprites yet. Despite his appearance, hes a surprisingly kind-hearted soul. He may not support your nighttime attacks.

Everyone is so… kind. You don’t know if a mass case of amnesia swept over everyone, but they’re all patient towards you. They werent even like this in their earliest years of working with Bleck. This sincerity, it feels…nice.

Your heart is warm.

You don’t know why they keep calling you 'Ell’. Maybe that was a side effect of the amnesia. Its not like you can correct them just yet anyway.

PLAYER SELECT: PLAYER ONE - LUIGI

TWO WEEKS

You walk while holding O'Chunks’ hand. You feel horrible. You don’t know whats wrong with you, but every so often some kind of force drives you to go outside- to find innocent and tiny creatures of power- and to just-

You grab onto O'chunks’ arm suddenly and shudder. He pauses, looking you up and down with a worried expression. He bends down on one knee, and with a startlingly soft voice asks you if you need 'tae sit down.’

You shake your head no. You dont want to be a bother. Youve already done enough harm by sleepwalking(?) out here again.

You’ve been trying not to blame yourself for these things- its got to be the chaos heart manipulating you, or something. You don’t know what else it could be. The only bright side to these incidents is that after they’re over, your stomach doesn’t hurt at all- it just feels cold.

O'Chunks seems slightly bothered with the silence, and after long enough decides to speak up.

“Er…yae know, Nastasia wan’s tae speak abou’ somethin’ with yae.”

You look up at him, trying not to come off as *completely* miserable.

Apparently hes not buying it.

“We’ve.... been hidin’ stuff from yae, don’ wanna put yae into a bad place.”

You give him a questioning look through your mask. You’ve BEEN in a bad place for two weeks now. Ever since you came to your senses in that broken castle, ever since Dimentio.... used you.

“…We jus’ think yae should know. I cann’ do it alone.”

He squeezes your hand very lightly.

“…jus’ hope it doesn’ put yae in as bad of a state as yae were in tha’ cas'le.”

…you feel unsettled that whatever information he could offer to you would be that bad.

PLAYER SELECT: PLAYER TWO - DIMENTIO

TWO WEEKS

Youre having a panic attack. Its not even yours.

Your conference with Nastasia went…pretty poorly, to say the least.

She broke the news with her usual, unsympathetic way of speaking. The grand finale, the spell you had used in your final battle with mario, wasnt fading. Your form and Luigi's were still one, fused with your own dark magic and the chaos heart's unbridled power.

Your unwilling hand grabs tightly onto O'Chunk’s shirt as a part of you makes haste to form words you don’t even want to say.

"Gh- get..."

You cough. Its painful. You can taste the blood from wounds in your throat

“Get him- o-out-”

Your heart is going a million miles an hour. You feel like you’re damn well about to have a stroke. Why is this buffoon speaking, of all things?

Nastasia adjusts her glasses.

“We cant. If you let me finish my sentence-”

You go into a sudden coughing fit, painting the inside of your mask with red. You should not be talking by any means, yet your mouth still moves, unwisely.

Mimi quickly scampers over to you, putting a hand on your leg in sympathy before whipping her head at a sharp 90° angle to scowl at Nastasia.

“I knew they needed more time! But you didn’t listen, Nass!”

You fall to your knees, breathing heavily. Your mask slips off. You move your hand to pick it up, but a an agonizing scream escapes you before your fingers can wrap around it.

“DH- DON’T MOVE ME!!”

The pain in your throat is horrible. Your vision is getting hazy from how disoriented you are. You’re losing focus.

You had suspected this. You didn’t need Nastasia to tell you. Apparently Luigi did, though. The man is as dense as a plank of wood that was raised by a family of hillbilly rocks. Its blatantly obvious in hindsight- moving against your own volition, Luigi missing, people being strangely nice to you… you kind of put the pieces together, thought 'well I’ve had worse done to me, and this may not even be true’ and put that thought on the back-burner to cope with later.

You put a lot of thoughts on the back-burner to cope with later. The metaphorical back-burner is pretty cluttered. Some thought-pots and concept-pans look like they might fall over at any second, but you keep that copper-ware well balanced in a precarious Jenga tower of undealt with emotions. Surely this is perfectly healthy and nothing bad could come of it.

Where were you? ....oh yes, you were about to faint.

You grab your chest and keel so your forehead is touching the floor. Your vision is fading to black from how quickly you are breathing.

You close your eyes as you take a slow breath in-

-and a deep exhale out.

You remain in a little panic-ball as you practice breathing. You’re shaking terribly against your will.

Ugh. This is humiliating.

You simply dont cry. Luigi has you right on the precipice of the action and needless to say you are not a fan of the development.

A large hand strokes your back. O'Chunks.

“…I'tl be ok, lad. We won’ let anythin’ happen to yae.”

Words for Luigi.

Well. That explains the kindness they were showing you before.

You were finding a bit of joy in it, admittedly. It felt like you were all a crew again.

That sympathy was only for Luigi, then.

Well. That’ll go on the back-burner too.

#writing #dimentio #luigi #mimi spm #o'chunks spm #dimentio spm #nastasia spm #alliance au #super paper mario

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Worthy”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I mean that seriously for once. Regardless of what I have to say about this episode — and as always, there's a lot — I want it on the record that "Worthy" was leagues ahead of... pretty much everything else we've gotten lately. For all of RWBY's continuing problems, there's a level of effort here that I really do appreciate. Especially for the penultimate episode.

Our title, "Worthy," immediately conjures thoughts of Watts' speech about Cinder needing to be "worthy" of the power she craves and, what do you know, our villains work hard to prove their worth this episode. Hallelujah! We start with the heroes though and do you recall how last week I said that our opening may as well be a summary of the whole series since Volume 6, what with the grimm conveniently avoiding the team's airship and them just looking vaguely sad that the people around them are perishing? Well, same here. Or rather, same problems, different flavor. Oscar opens with the question, "What do we do now?" and no sooner has he asked that then the magic portal appears to give him the answer. Useful!

More seriously though, I've been intensely side-eyeing the group's wish since last week. Not (just) because of the awful decision to turn Penny human, but simply because the story emphasized how "smart" the group was, heavily insisting that their portal plan is a masterpiece of well thought out strategy... and I really don't think it is. There was a lot of confusion last episode about how exactly the group was using the vault, with my own interpretation — that they were funneling everyone to Vacuo's vault — proven wrong today, but one of the problems brought up was how Ambrosius could possibly create portals across a kingdom precisely where the group needs them. Yang asks him,

"Can you make a bunch of doorways in Atlas that open at a single spot in Vacuo?"

To which, simply, Ambrosius says no. He'd need, among other things, "coordinates and specs for each door" and "an explanation for bending space and time."

This is why, prior to the very end of "Creation" where we saw portals appearing everywhere, I thought using both vaults was the solution. Ambrosius knows (or can easily receive) the coordinates for his own vault and the one in Vacuo. As weird, alternate dimensions, they're potentially capable of bending space and time as necessary. If you put the portal in Atlas' vault and open it up in Vacuo's vault, you're golden. The only challenge now is getting everyone in the kingdom to the Winter Maiden's vault.

But then... that didn't happen. Apparently the vault just becomes the in-between place for everyone to pass through and the portals appear all over the kingdom, even though the group didn't provide those "coordinates and specs." What they did was show Ambrosius a schematic of the cities. That's not the same thing as telling him precisely where each portal needs to appear — which is what he asked for. I bring this long-winded explanation up not merely to emphasize "RWBY's wish isn't as smart as the story wants you to believe it is" but because this wreaks havoc on who is getting a portal. How did the group tell Ambrosius precisely where to put a portal for Jaune's group? Why didn't they try to make one appear for Qrow and Robyn? Or Winter? Or Pietro and Maria? They had to have been somewhat specific in terms of saying where these portals appeared because if they just wished for everyone to get one, Jacques and Ironwood would have gotten one too. Basically, the portals do appear for characters whose “Worthy” plot now takes place in this in-between space and the portals do not appear for those whose plot is still taking place in Atlas. That's a mess. To say nothing of how it implies that our heroes just don't give a damn about all their other allies — including an uncle (Ruby, Yang) and a father (Penny) — and that, ultimately, Ambrosius did the very thing he initially said wouldn't work. He put a bunch of doors around Atlas that opened on a single point in Vacuo without making the group meet these requirements first. The rest is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo to distract the viewer from the fact that none of this actually makes sense.

But that's a tangent. To get back on track, Jaune's group decides to "spread the word on foot" since they can't contact anyone via their scrolls anymore. What this translates to is Jaune going to one spot and Nora doing the rest of the work because she can suddenly ride her hammer like a broomstick.

You know what? I'm fine with it. Have we ever seen Nora do this before? Not that I recall. Is it a cute image that feeds my witch-loving brain? Yeeeeeaah.

They're not sure if the portals are safe though and everyone turns to Jaune as the joke test subject. Except everyone else is right behind him when the go through? Even the jokes in this show aren't consistent.

What I do like though is that we get another interesting team split: Oscar, Emerald, and Ren heading to Vacuo while Jaune and Nora help with the evacuation — even though Nora and Jaune aren't actually doing anything together. Still, I can see that (for this volume at least) RT has taken the duo criticisms to heart. It would have been incredibly easy to attach Nora and Ren at the hip again, despite her desire for space, so I'm glad that they're still striving to mix things up a bit.

Nora says that Shade is "armed to the teeth with huntsmen and huntresses." It is? I mean sure, it has its school, but so did Vale. So did Atlas. In fact, we've spent the last two volumes emphasizing that Atlas is really the only armed kingdom remaining. Remember the plan for them to protect the world after knowledge of Salem's existence threw everything into disarray? Well, the people know about Salem now. And Salem herself is attacking. And they're about to slam an entire kingdom into another one. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Nora ends her observations with the assertation that Vacuo will need as much help as they can get, but that worry feels far, far too late. Where were these concerns when Ruby made her announcement to the world in the first place? The fact that the group never went, "Hey, is it really worth telling people about Salem now when we can no longer provide the protection against the grimm that this announcement will necessitate? Yeah, we need backup, but can they even get here in time? I don't think so. Maybe we should hold off and try to find a way to solve this ourselves. Or, at the very least, just tell them Atlas is facing a massive grimm attack. That won't create quite the same panic as 'Magic immortal lady eager to kill you all' will."

Our heroes only acknowledge these problems when they're already neck deep in them. Forethought is not their strong suit.

For our obligatory humor, the people of Atlas are hiding behind the staircase after the evil portal appeared (weren't there, like, twenty of them in the last episode?) and a brave dude trying to toss a rock through accidentally hits Jaune. He — I kid you not — uses the Atlas huntsmen license gifted to him by Ironwood to gain authority over the group.

Talk about the story being tone deaf.

We segue to a shot of Penny who flies herself through the portal using the Maiden powers, precisely as she would have with her boots. Okay, I try not to pull many "I told you so"s because that's rude, petty, and all around just shit behavior... but boy is it tempting at times. Because RWBY's fandom is so staunchly against criticism that even the most polite pushbacks boil down to an equally rude "Just wait" mentality. Readers of these recaps know we were told to "just wait" for the group to talk to Ozpin. Or "just wait" for them to be punished for their crimes. "Just wait" for the complex forgiveness arc the group is sure to undergo with Emerald. "Just wait" is the go-to response when someone doesn't entirely disagree with our problems with the show, but still believes we're not giving RT enough credit. Most recently, I was told to "just wait" in regards to Penny. We don't actually know that her body is human. We don't actually know that her Maiden powers will still be the same. We don't actually know that this won't be the start of a long journey wherein she has to figure out how to use this new body, both on the battlefield and off. And the issue of RWBY failing to answer any of these questions isn’t valid criticism either because the only point being made here is that we’re not patient and supportive enough. Just wait. RT will prove you wrong.

Well... Penny's body still appears entirely human, her Maiden powers still work just fine, and now they've given her the ability to create all her old weapons out of aura, meaning she fights exactly the same as she did before.

The only thing making Penny human did was force her to fight barefoot. Oh, and erase her journey of accepting herself as an android.

Again, I don't want to be that asshole, especially when so many people want the show to be better — just like I do. By all means, hold out hope with me. But before slamming into someone's inbox to explain why they're being too negative because things are bound to be taken seriously down the road, keep in mind the staggering number of times we've decided to "just wait" and nothing ever came of it. Keep in mind that RWBY should be tackling these questions and expectations from the start. Now here we are, disappointed again. We're not pessimistic because we want to be, we're pessimistic because there's a clearly established pattern at play.

So Penny's change is, at this point, meaningless for her development and, at this point, we've lost the chance to introduce challenges later. If RT does, we're forever going to wonder why Penny didn't express any doubts upon waking up in a human body, or why she didn't face any problems while fighting another Maiden. Like Emerald getting the group to laugh and immediately being trusted with important duties, it's too late to suddenly backtrack and insist that there's still work to be done here. RT missed their chance.

That fight is a few minutes off though. For now, Oscar and the others arrive in Vacuo to discover that there's a sandstorm going on. Who could have ever expected that?

Seriously though, this is just one of the many reasons why our heroes come across as stupid. They deliberately chose to send everyone "outside the city limits of Vacuo," in a desert kingdom, after Ruby got the entire world panicked about Salem, and they somehow didn't think that a) weather might be a problem or b) grimm were going to show up? These characters have been though enough shit that they should be planning for the worst and hoping for the best, not planning for the best and assuming the worst just won't happen to them. Why wouldn't they have everyone appear inside the kingdom if they (against Ambrosius' rules) got to choose where everyone ended up? Why in the world would they rely on communications being up when CCT has been spotty since Volume 3 and Watts just took out Atlas’ entire system? Our characters don't think anything through — despite Ambrosius’ claims otherwise — and it makes for some pretty awful characterization. Because RWBY isn't trying to be a story about teenagers seriously messing up their attempts at heroics, it's trying to be a story about True Heroes... and we're just supposed to ignore the endless number of times the group doesn't think the most basic problems through. So now, Oscar and the other stand there doing nothing for the rest of the episode because a sandstorm in the desert threw a wrench in their plans.

The only reason I didn’t bring this up last week is because I had no idea they had chosen to dump everyone outside of the city. I thought they were going to the vault, or at the very least appearing inside the border. Why wouldn’t you send everyone to the city??

It’s so stupid, but then Cinder arrives and blows a whole bunch of people off the edge of the pathways. HELL YEAH.

I mean, obviously not hell yeah for the poor civilians who just took a tumble, but yay the villain causing some damage. It's small potatoes compared to what we were promised at the end of last volume — Salem decimating a whole kingdom in The Fall of Atlas — but at least it's more than we were getting last week.

So Cinder is having her evil fun when the entire group leaves Penny to go after her. Again, stupid. You're going to leave the girl who (at this point) may not have been in a position to fight with her new body and stands vulnerable with a Relic? Not a single member stays behind to guard her? It would have served Team RWBY right if Neo had shown up and just clocked Penny, taking a second Relic for herself.

Cinder taunts the group with information she shouldn't have: “Your little friend Oscar was right, but the easy part ends here" then mimics them with the question "How’d you know about that?” at their shocked looks. This starts a flashback where we return to Cinder, Neo, and Watts in the alleyway.

Again Cinder is given more development than a supposed hero like Emerald, apologizing to Neo for not upholding her end of their bargain. In fact, Cinder displays more growth here than our entire title characters combined, it's just that her growth turns her into a better villain. She apologizes to Neo, compliments Watts as a means of acknowledging the work he's accomplished — “You tore this kingdom apart with nothing but your intellect. How about we finish what you started?” — and tells the heroes that she did learn something from them: “Sometimes, if you want to win, you simply can’t do it alone.”

I quite like all of this. Again, not that Cinder should be our biggest threat with Salem on the scene, but if you remove that context this is a great moment for her. She's actually learned something, but instead of following in the rather abrupt and, in Hazel's case, nonsensical footsteps of her peers, what she's learned has made her more dangerous, not a sudden, convenient ally. Since Volume 7 RWBY has hammered home the idea that only friends can truly be a good team and now, well, Cinder is kind of making friends. She's apologizing to Neo. She seems glad that Watts is happy. RWBY took the concept of working together and applied it to our villains with devastating effect. Team RWBY has been skating by on the idea that power comes from friendship, so what happens if your enemies become weird friends too?

To be clear, this doesn't erase the staggering number of other problems with Cinder's character, or the villains as a unit, or the volume as a whole... but it is an interesting step in the right direction. Props for that.

Granted, outside of the fight itself, the villains don't really win because they're smart, the heroes are just — again — staggeringly stupid. Cinder promises to get Ruby for Neo if she can ask Jinn a question... which she does!

This moment could have been avoided if our heroes had just put the Lamp in the vault. Or not had Oscar carrying it around. Or used up the wish after they'd already summoned Jinn. Cinder's victory here rests entirely on her own enemies' ineptitude. At least she has the smarts to exploit it. She asks Jinn what the group's plan is and our three villains are shown the revelation outside after saving Penny and the discussions that took place in the dining room. They learn everything they need to inflict maximum chaos.

And it’s great.

Three other details of note:

Cinder spots Emerald with the heroes during Jinn's vision, but doesn't have much of a reaction beyond her expression tightening.

Jinn looks sad when she reveals the group's plan, reinforcing the idea that she's biased towards our heroes. I'd be more on board with that characterization if a) she weren't created by Light whose own Good Guy persona is dubious at best, and b) she wasn't so cruel towards Ozpin. Again, it's just this strange insistence that everyone adore Ruby Rose.

Neo reveals the Relic by pulling it out of Roman's hat. Uh... is that how hats work? They contain objects twice their height? While resting on someone's head? This wasn't one of Neo's illusions, she literally just pulled it out like a real world magician. That's weird. Showy, but weird.

Anyway, the flashback continues as the villains infiltration the Atlas military headquarters. I really enjoyed the music and cinematography here. It's a strangely uplifting tune — rather Cinderella-esque — which doesn't appear to work until you remember that these moments are through Cinder's perspective. Of course this is a Happy Ending for her — even if it's not for the audience. The quick cut between her summoning some fire and the whole room alight, bodies everywhere, was an excellent touch.

The happiness of this moment is then emphasized by Neo skipping as she beats people and Watts admitting that this is "everything I’ve ever wanted." I'm really digging the contrast between this scene's celebratory nature and the knowledge that the story is celebrating the wrong characters. It creates an enjoyably uncomfortable feeling for us and helps flesh out the villains more. From their perspective, life is good.

There's even a shot of that #1 Dad mug. Sometimes, RWBY gets it right.

Watts in particular is enjoying himself. He snags a discarded apple — no fairy tale symbolism there, I'm sure — and casually rubs the blood off it before taking a bite. This guy has style!

Watts watches Jaune try to send out his message to the kingdom and cuts communication at the worst possible moment. But then, we knew that already.

Elsewhere in the facility, Robyn and Qrow are trying to round up the Ace Ops. They all feel Atlas shake, realizing that the group has used the Relic, and Elm is appropriately horrified. "They'll destroy the kingdom!" Robyn says some self-righteous words about how a kingdom is made up of its people, not the land it exists on, which, while ignoring the importance of land to so many cultures, completely ignores that right now the majority of people are still on Atlas, or below it, including them. "They set the house alight!" someone cries. "Who cares about a stupid house," Robyn says, uncaring that the entire family still resides inside and she's starting to inhale smoke.

As Robyn tries to paint herself as a hero, Watts hacks one of the droids and sets it to self-destruct, telling it to run full-tilt at the group. Their weapons don't stop it and at the last second Marrow throws himself in front to take the blast, shattering his aura. Uh... after everything we've seen in this show, a single, small explosion wipes out his aura? I don't care about that so much here, but I absolutely care about it for an upcoming scene. Keep this in mind.

Also, I'm not going to get into the potential problems of trying to execute Marrow, beating up Marrow, and then blowing up Marrow. Others can tackle that leviathan of a subject.

At least he survived? But only RT knows if Robyn and Qrow bothered to put him on their ship.

Because as Atlas begins to fall Harriet, free of Marrow's semblance, races for an airship going off the edge of the open parking garage. Idk what else to call that space. I'm sure there's something appropriately military-esque, but we're going with parking garage for now lol. This is the one — one — moment where I felt like the Ace Ops were actually written like they weren't friends, what with Harriet's willingness to race off and leave them behind. Again though, it's too late and there are, frankly, other aspects to consider. Like the fact that Marrow just betrayed her. I don't think she's in the right mind for trusting the rest of her team, especially when there are only seconds to save herself.

Vine uses his stretchy arms to grab hold of her ship though and heaves himself on board.

Cutting to the jail, Ironwood wakes up and is greeted with a despondent Jacques. As Ironwood realizes that the group has the Staff, Jacques goes, "That's right, you lose! … we both lose." Before there can be any interesting discussion though, Ironwood's cell... goes out???

I suppose the explanation for this is things falling apart as Atlas descends, but man is that another moment of head-scratching convenience. What's even worse is that Winter apparently just left his weapons beside the cell. "Hey, what should we do with Ironwood's giant gun?" "Idk, leave it for him on the off chance us removing the city's power source wreaks havoc with the electrical bars?" I mean seriously. At least Qrow had to go find his weapon in a locker.

For a second Jacques is thrilled, sure that Ironwood will open his cell too... right?

He does open the cell, by blasting the whole thing to smithereens, Jacques included.

You all know I'm horribly disappointed with how they've written Ironwood, but I can't bring myself to dredge up any fury over this murder. It's Jacques. You know, the abuser and slave owner who has never shown a single shred of decency? Can't say I'm sorry to see him gone, especially since one of the Schnee girls were never going to kill him. The only other thing they could have done was have Jacques die an accidental death.

So villain!Ironwood can have another murder, as a treat.

Meme jokes aside, it's interesting that Ironwood's never-seen-before-last-episode gun produces a green blast and fire. It looks incredibly similar to what Penny created as an android and the fire around her Maiden eyes. Unlike Watts' apple though, I don't think this is a parallel RT intentionally included. Not unless we want to dig deep for more “Metal bodies = evil” symbolism, but there’s already plenty more persuasive examples of that.

Returning to Team RWBY, we finally come to the highlight of the episode: Yang falling off the edge.

Okay, I want to praise RWBY for having the guts to kill off a main character... but we all know they haven't killed off a named character. If next episode — or perhaps even next volume — it's revealed that Yang is really dead, I'll happily eat these words. For now though, this is not the consequence that RWBY critics have asked for. This is, in fact, quite a mess.

Let's count up all the ways this scene has failed spectacularly.

No one believes that Yang is actually dead. Not just because she's a title character, not just because Ambrosius never confirmed that the void was deadly or even dangerous — "Don't fall," however ominous, doesn't actually tell us what happens to someone who falls — but also because we have been here before. Three volumes ago. Remember how it looked like Weiss would die only for Jaune to unlock his semblance and save her? Yeah. The audience is both genre and RWBY savey. This cliffhanger feels cheap because absolutely no one is fooled.

Feel familiar?

Worse, Yang falls because of another round of stupidity. Nothing about this moment is convincing.

First, she notices Neo sneaking up on Ruby. What's her reaction? To flare her semblance, charge her in fury, and be horribly injured. Oh wow, where have we seen this before?

This is the exact same series of events from Volume 3. A loved one of Yang's is about to be harmed, she gets mad, charges without thinking, and takes the brunt of the attack herself, resulting in a far more serious injury than likely would have otherwise occurred. Emotionally understandable, but stupid. More importantly, it's the exact thing Tai tried to warn her about. The fandom praised Yang's arc because she got a moment of calm with Mercury, but since then we’ve ignored that development, reverting Yang to the same, impulsive fighter as before. Volume 6 showed us this problem in a non-combat setting and this moment solidifies it. Yang has learned absolutely nothing since Beacon. She's the same protective, reckless fighter she was back then, getting herself grievously injured because she can't think before she acts. What was the point of sending her on that journey if she was never going to improve?

Neo cuts through Yang's aura in a single hit. A single hit. These characters have long, drawn out fights filled with crazy attacks and you're telling me a single slice of Neo's weapon is enough to shatter Yang's aura? Really, aura has been an absurd plot device for a while, but this volume has been particularly bad. Ren's aura breaks so the group is spotted by Salem's grimm, but then is back just a few minutes later so he can see purple petals around Emerald. Jaune's aura is said to be running just as low, but then is totally fine to boost Penny for the next hour until she reaches the vault. Now, Yang has had just as much time to rest as they do, but she’s instantly taken out?

This is a problem not because the loss of aura itself sends her over, but because the hit was apparently so powerful Yang passes out. She's groggy at least, blearily looking at everyone as she falls, but not reacting to them and, importantly, not trying to save herself.

Yang could have reached for Blake's throw. She has a landing strategy. She could have blasted herself up, or towards any of the three paths she falls past. Instead she just... plummets. In a show where our characters are introduced through their ability to survive being launched off a cliff. Neo's attack needs to be miraculously incapacitating to justify — "justify" — Yang doing nothing to get out of this situation, in an episode where, minutes later, Ren's aura will also go out (again) but he's standing up and ready to fight a horde of grimm. But losing her aura through one hit somehow incapacities Yang?

Also, to ward off the expected claims: she didn't hit her head. Yang's back hit the path and her eyes were closed before she ever made contact. Neo's hit just... knocked her out.

That's absurd.

Worse than her not helping herself, no one else on her team helps either. Except Blake. Ruby, who this volume has learned that she is basically able to teleport and negate the mass of carrying someone else, doesn't fly towards her sister. Weiss, who can summon flying grimm and create platforms for someone to land on, just reaches out a hand. They all had time to do something, Blake's action is proof of that, but neither of them did. Why? Because the show wants this to be a bees moment. I say that not as someone who hates the ship, but as someone who loves it. Or at least, I've always loved its potential, but if you need to prove their devotion by erasing the devotion of others... that's incredibly bad writing. And that's what this is. The choice to have Blake the only one capable of acting sends the message that she loves Yang enough to overcome the shock of her falling. That love powers her to act. But Yang is Weiss’ teammates too! Yang is Ruby's sister.

You’re telling me neither of them had the drive to push past shock and save her?

I find it particularly insulting that Weiss comforts Blake rather than crumbling in grief herself. I find it doubly insulting that Blake cries and screams, but Ruby stoically continues her fight with Neo. In trying to show Blake's love for Yang — and hers in turn — the show has unintentionally pulled back on the love everyone else has, even between siblings. This is a far more harmful repetition of Yang's moment in the outpost: she cares more about the imagined disagreement with Blake than she does the actual fight she had with Ruby. Blake shows more emotion for Yang's assumed death than her sister has. You can't prove love by diminishing it elsewhere. The scene 100% needed all three girls doing everything in their power to save Yang, failing, and then continuing the fight while expressing the appropriate emotion for such a massive loss. Ruby can fly towards Yang and be pinned by Cinder. Weiss can start to summon and have an attack disrupts it. Ruby can scream and cry while she fights Neo. Again: that's her sister.

There's nothing about this scene that works for me and honestly? After Yang returns they better kiss. Or there better be an "I love you." Something canonical. There will never be a better, more obvious time for a confession than after Blake thinks she's lost Yang for good and if we don't get one... the ship has well and truly sunk. We're living in a post-Supernatural finale world. You can no longer take your one, implied to be queer main couple, toss one into this fantasy's version of super hell, give them a second chance together... and then leave things dangling. RWBY has to make them canon when Yang returns if they have any hope of maintaining a large portion of their queer fanbase.

As a final note on this scene, I don't like what it implies about both Blake and our lost civilians. Like Yang, (and like Penny last episode) this attack undermines the growth our characters have undergone. Yang learns not to attack out of emotion with her semblance... and then does just that. Penny learns that she's a person with an android body... and then gets a human body to make her perfect. Blake realizes that she isn't willing to kill people in this war anymore... and then goes after Neo with an intensity that implies she's ready to kill her. It's a detail that might have been meaningful if Blake's struggle had existed in more than a single line in a single scene. As it is, it just feels like they've forgotten — or are ignoring — another character beat they introduced.

As for our civilians, will the show bring them back too? Look, I'm pleased Cinder blew them off the edge. I'm glad there were finally consequences for the kingdom-wide attack, even if none of have to come about from our main antagonist. But that impact was erased the second they threw Yang off the edge too. If they bring only her back, Team RWBY look like assholes who only care about their friends, not all the people they were charged with protecting (a recurring theme in this series). If they do bring the civilians back, we've lost that consequence. RWBY never should have tossed a title character into that void especially when, as said, everyone watching knows it's not a real consequence of this fight.

This was a terribly crafted scene, imo. If the only purpose here is to push the bees to confess, we could have gotten that after the whale. Yang was captured by Salem. That's more than enough danger to justify coming clean about feelings and the volume could have easily been reworked to make Blake aware of that danger, forcing her to stew in it until Yang returned, unharmed.

Instead we get this.

Also, I don't even want to get into the implications of having Yang disappear in a cloud of glittering gold dust like Pyrrha did. That's a world building rabbit hole RWBY really doesn't need.

So Yang is gone but obviously not gone. Blake is the only one impacted by this enough to react emotionally. Penny hears her scream and comes running, showing the viewer that absolutely nothing had changed despite getting an entirely new body.

Cinder weirdly throws her voice — has she done that before? — to distract Penny and the fight continues, with Neo going after Ruby and Blake going after Neo. There's a moment where Blake realizes that Weiss is in trouble too, looking between her two teammates, unsure of who to help.

I'm calling it now: Blake will be the third semblance upgrade, splitting herself into multiple fighters capable of functioning independently, rather than just shadow clones to take hits.

It would make as much sense as anything else.

Cinder at least is fighting smart, attacking the civilians rather than Weiss directly, then blowing her glass up in Weiss' face. She then manages to catch herself in the air, but, you know, couldn't do the same for Yang.

At the very least don't have Weiss using these abilities seconds later, c'mon.

We thankfully leave this nonsense for, well... more nonsense. Vine and Harriet get into a fight about what Clover would have wanted, which means nothing to the viewer because we didn't know Clover long enough to develop that sense for ourselves. I'm sorry, but following an order to peacefully bring Qrow in for questioning is not proof that he would have seen things through in the sense of blowing up Mantle, yet that's what we're supposed to believe based on Harriet's assertions and Vine's take that "perhaps Clover was wrong." I really hate that RWBY has taken to bashing the guy before he had the chance to actually do anything. Everyone is criticizing Clover based on lies or assumptions about what he might have done if, you know, he hadn't been murdered. Qrow blames Clover for defending himself, not his own choice to team up with Tyrian. Robyn asserts that Qrow is a better huntsmen than Clover, even though the one scene they had together was Robyn deciding to attack Clover because she didn't like him doing his job. Now Vine is like, "Yeah, Clover might have tried to blow up a kingdom needlessly, but maybe he was wrong and a bad person, you know?" I don't even like Clover that much, but the story has really gone out of its way to criticize him when he's obviously not around to prove, disprove, or otherwise defend himself. That’s messed up.

The one good part about this scene is Harriet losing it, all her firm beliefs crumbling to reveal just an aching grief for losing Clover. Hark, is this humanity for the other Ace Ops I see? Some development and characterization? Vine reaching out sympathetically to comfort her because they've always been a team, no matter what Ruby might say about it?

Oh wait, no. They're interrupted by Robyn screaming as she slams her ship into theirs.

I think Robyn is, officially, my least favorite character in the series. Which isn't to say there aren't objectively worse characters than her — we saw one get blown up this episode — but no one has this particular combination of horrible acts, self-righteous attitude, and an absolute dearth of other positive qualities to distract from that. Robyn has brought nothing to the last two volumes except frustration and I can only hope she goes off to do her own thing when our finale is done.

Qrow goes feral, turning into a bird and changing at the last second to slam through Harriet's window. He taunts her about getting the fight she wanted and we see Watts hacking her ship while they're distracted.

Watts, I'm really loving the evil schemes, but don't you want to, uh... leave? Atlas is falling and you're one of maybe three people left on it. Best get a move on, chop, chop.

Those other two people are Winter and Ironwood, both of whom have come to the vault looking for Team RWBY. Ironwood lands a hit with his new gun, giving a short speech about how though he was always on the lookout for betrayal, he never expected it from her. He tells Winter to stand aside as his final order, to which she replies, “I’ve never wavered in fighting the enemies of this kingdom," preparing to fight.

I've explained the problems with Ironwood's downfall ad nauseam. I don't think that's needed again here. However, there are two final points I'd like to make.

Winter's characterization took a hit along with Ironwood's. Why didn't he think she'd ever betray him? Because they clearly cared for one another. The fact that Winter so quickly and easily gave up on Ironwood is a disservice to both of them. Even in the throes of being an emotionless killer, we still understand Ironwood's devastation at this betrayal: his shock when Winter attacked, his request that she step aside now, the single tear.

There's nothing like that on her end. No denial that the man she faithfully followed would do this. No insistence that the man who helped her escape her abusive upbringing be reasoned with. Nothing. Winter dismisses Ironwood with the same callousness the narrative has.

Which brings me to my second point: this isn't hopeful. I know the Emerald lovers don't want me making comparisons, but the story has already done that for us. You can't give us an all out villain — someone responsible for countless deaths across the series, attacks on kingdoms, lying to our heroes, willingly working for the enemy — and say that it's good to forgive her instantly, but it's not acceptable to even consider forgiving the man who has also killed, also threatened to attack a kingdom, was honest with our heroes, and always fought against the enemy. You can't give us an entire story about hope and forgiveness — Ruby reaching out to Raven, Weiss wanting to rescue Jacques, Oscar putting all his trust in Hazel — while saying that this character isn't worth compromising with. This character needs to be denounced to the whole world so there's no possibility of forgiveness. This character will commit horrific acts and his allies will immediately jump ship, but others? Their horrific acts are forgiven the moment you give them a way out. I'm supposed to believe that Yang, who knew Emerald only as the woman who attacked her school and has helped make their lives a living hell since then, will laugh with her within an hour, but Qrow, after years of being an ally and friend to Ironwood, is suddenly ready to murder him over an arrest he had no context for? That Ruby will try to make peace with every enemy she comes across, but not the guy who was the ally she betrayed? That Winter would extend more compassion to her abusive father than the man who helped her escape that? Ironwood's downfall isn't just horribly written, it messes with RWBY's core themes. Everyone deserves a second chance, is worth crying over, is worth reaching out to no matter how many horrible things they've done... except this guy here.

And when that guy is the PTSD riddled military vet who crumpled in large part because the heroes continually lied to, betrayed, and took extreme action rather than working to find a compromise... that's a really bad take. That shows a lot of bias on the part of RT. They're trying to write a story about the evils of the institution, but think they can reduce that to the evils of a single man driven to the brink. That doesn't send a teachable message to the audience and it certainly doesn't send a hopeful one. All it does is reiterate that if you rip away someone's support network when they're already falling they will, shockingly, fall harder.

Which brings us back to characters like Emerald. Because no, no one has to help Ironwood. When someone is hurting you and committing the crimes he has this volume, no one is required to extend a hand at their own, personal peril. But when the narrative is so heavily pushing forgiveness for other mass-murderers? When child torturers are extended a hand during the torture? That reframes everyone abandoning Ironwood into something unpalatable. Having Ironwood’s allies, friends, and really, family, so quickly toss him aside while other, equally bad people are welcomed in says that everyone struggling like him isn’t worth the effort. From a genre perspective, this isn’t a tragedy because the characters don’t care. No one is striving to bring Ironwood back from the brink. No one is crying over the man they lost. Hazel gets a moment of silence as Emerald kneels, stricken in the aftermath of his death, but one of the heroes since Volume 2 gets nothing but hateful looks from his second.

But we all knew we'd end up here. My current theory? The portal should still be open at the vault. Winter will fight Ironwood, escape through it, and it will close right before he escapes too. He'll fall with Atlas and everyone will act as if it's some beautiful, poetic justice for him to perish with the city.

Here’s hoping I’m very wrong!

Finishing with Oscar's group, Ren's aura breaks after trying to mask everyone coming through the portal. Oscar realizes that Penny should have come through by now and runs back to find her, only to discover that the portal is closed on this side. Why? Because Weiss wished for a "one way trip to Vacuo." Not only is this another example of our heroes being stupid — they come up with this complicated wish that doesn't actually makes sense, but don't bother to be careful with their words like Ruby was when helping Penny? — but it also just... doesn't add up? How does Oscar know what Weiss wished for? How does Ozpin? (His one line in the episode.) They recall this together, the flashback acting like a memory, but neither of them were there. Neither was Ren. Neither was Emerald. They haven't spoken to the Relic group since separating.

It looks like RT still needs to edit their scripts.

As Oscar realizes they're trapped, the emotions of the group summons a huge number of grimm to the area. At this point, my only thought was why none of them had used the time Ren was buying them to try and find Vacuo. I mean, they're not the only fighters with semblances here. They have the Happy Huntresses too and, I would think, the Atlas students (unless the army was abandoned like Pietro and Maria were. Where are Neon and Flynt?) There's no one in this huge crowed with an ability that might make scouting ahead a little safer? No one is even going to try and figure some plan out? Everyone on these teams is too passive. They encounter a problem — where's the city? — and instead of trying to solve it while they can, while they’re in a good position to, they wait around until the situation becomes unimaginably worse and they have to figure something out or risk dying. Now, the people are being carried off by grimm, they know something has gone wrong on the pathways, and Ren is about to enter another fight without his aura. Let's hope he doesn't take a hit like Yang.

Summary of "Worthy"? Excellent villains, terrible heroes. It's better than what we've gotten in a while, but choices like Yang's fall ensures it's still not good. Given the trajectory of the volume, it was inevitable that we would end up here: moments that look significant at first glance, but are (quite likely) no more than window dressing in the long run.

Finally, bingo is rather boring this week. Unsurprising, considering we're almost out of space. I'm keeping our "Army of grimm conveniently doesn't kill any civilians" square checked because the point there was for Salem to kill people, not for the group to lead the refuges into a grimm infested desert. We'll have to see how many people they lose though and whether Atlas "somehow survives." Here, like Robyn, I'm talking about the citizens, not the now clearly doomed hunk of land. At this point, Oscar doesn’t seem to at all care about his near death experience, but I'll hold off on that square until we're truly done, and there's still a near certain possibility that Ironwood will die, with a likely possibility that Qrow grabs a bottle when first given the chance. What RWBY has avoided though is a Jacques-Watts team up 2.0. Considering, you know, Jacques is dead.

Gold star for not doing the expected, iffy thing, RWBY.

That's the square I would have least minded seeing though 😬

Anyway, finale next Saturday, folks! What insanity will the end bring? Only time will tell. But I can't wait to see what state the fandom will be left in for hiatus!

Until then 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby worthy

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

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Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 3: About pacing and terrible dark revelations played as jokes.

And here we are at the second part of the arc, which was titled “Abandoned”. And just as a word in advance: While “Underappreciated” was mostly defined by the shitty behavior Sam experiences by his crew and how Dobson crossed comedic lines to the point Alex and her crew come off more as abusive than “funny” in the way they treat Sam or interact with their environment, this one is defined by another major issue Dobson has in his bigger stories overall: Pacing.

See, the right pacing in a story is really one of the most important basics a creator kinda has to grasp. He or she needs to know primarily the following things in relation to pacing, when planning out a story: What are major events/storypoints/key scenes I want to work towards to, what happens inbetween these points and at which speed do I get from point A to B, C etc.

Cause the truth is, a lot of stories out there follow certain tropes or expectations, particularly when they are part of a certain genre, so people more or less have ideas when a certain “point” is hit, what the next point, if not even the endpoint is going to be down the line. And people also kinda want to reach the endpoint of a story, particularly if they expect doing so will finally give the protagonists they care for (and the audience itself) some sort of satisfying conclusion.

The one thing you can now do however, which can in the worst scenario totally kill an audiences/readers enjoyment of the story and even break your creation apart, is get the pacing wrong. For example by unnecessarily dragging out your story instead of just getting to the point, especially when people just want to reach the next major beat, resulting in increased annoyance by them. This can e.g. be seen in a lot of fanfics when writers create damn arcs within their own shit, or (to give a professionally published work of fiction as example) the manga Bleach, when instead of fighting Aizen and his two major supporters directly, the “war” against him was unnecessarily dragged out by having e.g. a pointless flashback sequence that barely shed new light on certain characters and gave EVERY damn main and sub captain of the Shinigami a shot at some random villain/minion Tite Kubo created on the spot but no one cared about really, just to make the story arc run longer.

Obviously, the opposite can also be the case, where people just rush too fast from one point to the other instead of giving the audience time to even properly comprehend or explain what happened and why it happened. Which can get additionally frustrated, when by rushing through plot points the work of fiction gets overloaded with concepts and ideas that may on first glance look interesting, but don’t have any real payoff in the big picture of things, making it come off as pretentious in some cases and pointless overall. Like the movie Southland Tales, which deserves to be burned off the surface of the planet.

The “best” case scenario when pacing a story, is to know when you need to slow things down (give characters and the readers e.g. moments to breath and emotionally comprehend a situation they are in, giving also insight into a characters emotional state or personality) and when to speed things up (e.g. when there is a big battle, to know which moments are meant to focus on, but also when to be “faster”, giving really the impression that time is of the essence, that high stakes in a short amount of time are given and to hit a key event at the right moment to get a satisfying reaction from your audience)

And now, after giving a glance on my general opinion on pacing, in order to avoid me commiting the cardinal sin of dragging things out, lets just get to Dobson’s actual artwork.

As you can see, the chapter starts off again with the island, but this time now with Sam not part of the picture and its consequences (no one cleaning up the place in the morning). This is not really a bad thing to start the chapter of, primarily because it creates a nice contrast to the beginning of the first part.

Page 3 to 5 however…

Lets just say I get what Dobson tries to show here, but I think is exaggerated to a degree that kinda hurts the narrative; the fact that without Sam, shit does not quite get done.

The problem is the execution of the idea. See, instead of putting the fact Sam is missing into the forefront, the fact stuff has not been done is. Stuff the crew should be able to handle after a very short time of adjustment easily. I will admit, Talus suspecting they were robbed but then asked if he had also looked into the cabinets, is kinda funny. I mean, it fits the character (and sometimes people in real life) to be so adjusted to seeing a certain situation as routine every day, that when it is slighty changed they may initially assume the worst but in reality just one convenient step of the routine was left out. Less forgivable I think is the fact that seeing how Sam did the clothes the day prior, I have to wonder how dirty those guys are that already everything is left in piles of dirt to the point they have only the following alternative as wardrobe.

Halloween costumes.

…. Ok, why is there Halloween, and likely a modern day variant of its celebration, in a comic set in a fictional world compared to ours, in a time period it would not exactly exist anyway? Christ on a pogo stick, consistency is all I ask for. Oh and of course NOW they realize Sam is gone. Because they finally put together that their daily luxuries they took for granted are no longer available.

Hey now, Talus. You all are guilty of being terrible friends. In fact yu are so terrible, you would make Twilight Sparkle vomit at the sight of yours. Also, why of all characters are you wearing a costume? Unlike those two bitches, you still had clean clothes on a few pages ago. Speaking of bitches, Atea in the middle panel looks readyto be edited in a cumshot video. Just saying for all those “creative” editors out there.

YAY! Lets get our slave back so he can do all the stuff we care about but do not want to do.

Seriously, if Dobson tries to convince us they want to get him back because they care for him as a person, he fails miserably. Both by the choice of wording in this page, where Atea and Talus react angrier about the fact that without Sam things don’t work smoothly, rather than concern about his well being, as well as any behavior expressed in the previous chapter. These people are not reacting like friends in worry, they act like spoiled brats. Especially Talus who could still get his stupid burgers if he, as the cook of the crew, would just do his job. All he has to do is additionally open a few cabinets. Also, where in the heck is Uncle Peggy? Oh just go to the next pages so we are getting this over with.

Oh great, the lolcat pirates are back. Because they were so hilarious the first time. And look, they got defeated again. And what is their contribution to the story? To give information on where Sam may have gone.

And it is here now where I have to stop and come back to the pacing issue. Cause the last ten pages here? They are a good example of what I meant with rushed pacing and how it ruins things.

Once more I need to say, I get it. I get the major points Dobson wants to get across. That a) Sam is gone that b) without him things are not all that good for the crew anymore c) they decide they want to find him d) they get information of where he is by going after the one feline that can provide a potential hint. Four major story points Dobson wants to get across. And he is free to get them across. But the way he does it, is just way too fast. Neither the characters, nor the reader really gets time to comprehend that Sam is gone and what that means aside of the surface level loss of luxury Alex and Co are now experiencing. The emotional weight of Sam’s “loss” is pushed aside for the sake of cruising through the plot defined by its surface premise, as fast as possible. And considering that the meat of this story is supposed to be how much Sam means to the others as a person as well as his personal tragedy, intend and execution, thanks to this pacing, does not compute.

Pacing and overall structure are way off and fail to engage us in addition to just killing any suspense in what is going to happen next or surprise us in an interesting fashion. In other words, I am not entertained by this story. It is not funny, it is not sad, it is not “adventurous”.

Personally, I would suggest to actually use the “premise” of those ten pages and turn them at least into two independent chapters of this story overall, to give the premise actually some meat on the bone. The first chapter being a multipager with the crew realizing Sam is gone first BEFORE realizing that without him their luxuries are gone (putting also emphasize this way on the fact they care for Sam also more as a person instead of just the things he does for them) and then once they realize he is missing, deciding to go after him. Only to realize that when they want to prepare themselves for the task (getting their gear together as well as lunch e.g.) that everything is dirty or damaged because Sam normally takes care of it. Leading to a sequence of them having to experience doing Sam’s work for once, making them already there indirectly in part realize what he all does they took for granted.

The second chapter would then be them on the sea, trying to think of where to look at and eventually stumbling upon the cat pirates. Only instead of defeating them easily this time and getting the information, expectations are subverted and the cats actually fight back first, leading to a more hilarious confrontation where Alex and her crew can actually also show how they can be funny and badass, instead of Dobson just always “talking” and trying to convince us they are cool. And look, I do not expect a multi chapter One Piece like battle against the cat captain who turns out to be a master of Scratch Jutzu or something the moment he sniffs catnip. But please, give me something in this story. Some conflict, some diversion, something for characters to actually do that shows they can be badass, funny and awesome. Something that is as cartoony as Dobson likes to claim Alex ze Pirate is, but has never shown in its entirety.

Instead we get to this page, where of all characters Talus is the one who finally seems to realize how he and others took Sam for granted.

And again, even this page is a good example of terrible pacing. Cause this realization, now shoved in within this and the next page? It would mean so much more if it happened in parts somewhere else in this story before or after, slowly to everyone stepwise. Cause then it would actually feel like a “development” of a chain of thoughts and internal realizations. Instead it is half heartedly thrown in all at once in those pages, to get the point across that NOW Sam’s “friends” finally realize, they took him always for granted.

Congratulations on realizing that you are the real scum in this story. What do you expect from me now? To give you hugs and feel pity for you like you are characters in Steven Universe, all because you had an epiphany? You do not deserve mine or any readers sympathy, just because NOW you feel bad for your terrible behavior. Cause if I did, it would just feel rewarding in a certain manner. And you do not deserve a reward. You have to make things up first or at the very least put in some sort of effort to show me, that you are not just feeling bad, but are willing to change for the better. Otherwise you are in the future still just the same toxic abusers you were two pages ago.

... man, that really felt like me already venting at Steven Universe.

Anyway, we have reached the town where Sam is from…

And it looks NOTHING at all like the artwork from Legends implied parts of the town to look like

Where are the badly drawn docks? The houses that imply this is not just a small village on the beach but an actual small town? The twon square where they sell underaged boys as slaves? Jesus Christ, what is the orphanage going to look li-

Nevermind. The orphanage is crushed. And all the people that lived in it are dead.

... WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU, DOBSON! This is genuinely a sick joke here. Look, I am all for black and dark comedy myself, but this feels cruel. I need to remind you, Alex ze Pirate in Dobson’s eyes was also meant to be a comic for all ages. Meaning something also little kids should be able to read and enjoy. Pushing aside how much of that would be bullshit by the shitton of sexist and sex jokes in other strips of the comic alone, this here is not the kind of joke I would like to see a little kid being exposed to when reading any form of story.

Look, I am not saying you can’t make fun about death. But Death is also a major part of life, which many of us are already being exposed to at an early age. And I think it is important that when we talk about death as a subject in a story for kids, we should actually address it in a “mature” manner the kid may understand. That death, as in the genuine loss of a life and not e.g. an awesome interpretation of the Grim Reaper as written by Terry Pratchett, is tragic. That it means permanently losing someone you or someone else loves. That when talking about it, we should talk about it in a serene manner. And there have been great kids stories who tackled the subject directly or indirectly. A Land Before Time for example, the loss of Littlefoots mother and how he “copes” with it while the majority of the plot still focuses on an adventure to find the Great Valley… that is great. But this thing here that Dobson does? To create a shocking revelation and then sell it as a joke based on the fact that Alex, Atea and Talus react with jawdrops to it? It is not handling the death of those children with any form of gravitas in a story that supposedly is meant to be emotional and play with your heartstrings. And yes, we know nothing about those kids, they are essentially non entities to further the plot. But in context of the story, you have to consider, those kids that are “unimportant” to the reader? For the character of Sam, those people were family. At page 14, we as readers start to realize what Sam finding this locket and going back to his hometown only to find out everyone he knew is dead must mean for him. We, people with even an ounce of empathy and understanding how tragedies should be in part written realize, that shit just hit the fan for Sam and that the story should genuinely focus on how Sam would deal with such a tragedy. But does Dobson treat this revelation with any grace or dignity? NOPE!

It is just a bunch of information dropped on us randomly by an old guy who (I guess similar to Dobson) does not even care that kids died. They are just a plotdevice. Oh and also most of those kids died of an infectious disease where most people die of dehydration after literally shitting non stop. Just to add additional gravity and dignity to the loss of prepubescent lives that should count as Sam’s siblings.

You know, I have to change my opinion on Alex. She is not the worst abuser of Sam. The worst person to ever abuse Sam is Andrew Dobson himself. Cause at least Alex did not kill his extended “family”. And to think this “children comic” was written by the same guy who made a “So you are a Cartoonist” strip where he talked about how kids media can tell more mature comics with more gravitas than live action stuff and novels meant for people that aren’t just children, young adults or mentally stucked manchildren. Dobson, after this page you have no right to call your stuff “appropriate for children” or mature anymore.

I am genuinely furious at this page right now as that I can go on. So here, have the last page of this chapter so I can wrap this up and enjoy some good forms of fiction…

Well Atea, everyone he knew from this village and potentially cared about died in an house collapsing with no one having removed the remains still and he is going on a cemetery. UNLIKE DOBSON WHEN WRITING THIS, USE YOUR BRAIN YOU INSULT TO LESBIANS!

#Andrew Dobson #adobsonartwork #syac #alex ze pirate #sam the cabin boy #fuck you tom preston #tom preston #webcomic #comics #comic review #talus #atea #loss #so you are a cartoonist

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terramythos · 4 years

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TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Books 15-18 of 26

Titles: The Murderbot Diaries -- All Systems Red (#1), Artificial Condition (#2), Rogue Protocol (#3), and Exit Strategy (#4) (2017-2018)

Author: Martha Wells

Genre/Tags: Science Fiction, Cyberpunk (ish), Novella, Agender/Nonbinary Protagonist, Asexual Protagonist, First Person

Rating: 9/10 (note: this is an average-- see under the cut for individual ratings)

Date Began: 6/15/2020

Date Finished: 6/23/2020

Murderbot is a SecUnit -- a humanoid security construct created to protect contracted clients in a corporate, spacefaring future. Following mysterious/murderous events in its past, Murderbot hacked the governor module controlling its actions. Now it prefers to watch media serials and half-ass the whole “protecting human clients” thing.

This changes when it discovers someone is sabotaging its clients’ planetary mission, putting the team in grave danger. Even worse, these new clients start to treat it like a person, much to Murderbot’s discomfort. In the resulting fallout, Murderbot finds itself answering questions it’s avoided thus far -- who it is, and what it really wants.

I’m doing something a little different and combining these four novellas into one review; they are too short and interconnected to review individually in my regular format. Under the cut, I’ll start with my overall impressions of the series, then a look at/rating of each individual story.

Who knew being a heartless killing machine would present so many moral dilemmas.

(Yes, that was sarcasm.)

Overall Thoughts

I really enjoyed this series! The strong point is without a doubt Wells’ excellent characterization of a distinctly non-human viewpoint character. Murderbot is a very interesting protagonist, and its constant snark and parenthetical asides are a joy to read. Much to its dismay, there’s also a lot of emotional punch entwined in Murderbot’s character arc and interactions. Murderbot may not be a human, but it’s definitely a person.

It seems obvious to me that Murderbot is intended to be autism spectrum/ADHD coded. I’ve never encountered an unambiguously heroic protagonist that displays similar behaviors to my own, and it’s affirming to read. Difficulty with processing emotion? Hyperfixating on media to comfort itself? Issues with direct eye contact and touch? Truly a bot after my own heart. Honestly, I dreaded the point in the story where these are presented as weaknesses for Murderbot to overcome... and was overjoyed that it never happens. In fact, characters accommodate these aspects of Murderbot’s behavior/personality and respect its boundaries. This totally surprised and impressed me.

Finally, I do really appreciate Wells’ approach to nonbinary characters. While it’s nice that we’re getting more representation, it can be very grating/telling if all nonbinary characters in popular media are nonhuman. Wells asks “why not both” and introduces a nonbinary human that uses neopronouns in Artificial Condition! I don’t use neopronouns myself, but I know plenty of people who do, and this is the first “mainstream” thing I’ve ever seen use them.

I found this first arc in The Murderbot Diaries relatable, entertaining, approachable, and easy to read. I’m super excited to see where the series goes from here.

All Systems Red (#1) -- 8/10

It’s wrong to think of a construct as half bot, half human. It makes it sound like the halves are discrete, like the bot half should want to obey orders and do its job and the human half should want to protect itself and get the hell out of here. As opposed to the reality, which was that I was one whole confused entity, with no idea what I wanted to do. What I should do. What I needed to do.

This is a good introduction to the premise. Murderbot's interactions with the human characters are a highlight throughout the series, but I think it’s especially true in this part. Wells does an excellent job, as many others have said, making a distinctly nonhuman perspective character sympathetic, interesting, and relatable. I like that the human characters treat Murderbot like a person/member of the team by default and generally respect its personal limits-- AND we didn't get some trite cliche about it-- AND that this throws Murderbot into an emotional crisis because it hasn't experienced this before.

If I have criticism here, it’s that the plot feels incidental; more a vehicle for certain character interactions than an involving story in and of itself. While the conflict and central antagonist do return in Exit Strategy, in this one they don’t feel especially relevant. The narrative thrust is more about Murderbot's personal development and denial/coming to terms with its attachment to the human characters, especially Dr. Mensah.

To be fair, it is weird to give this a numeric score because it feels like rating the first fourth of a full novel. So take this with a grain of salt.

Artificial Condition (#2) -- 9/10

But there weren’t any depictions of SecUnits in books, either. I guess you can’t tell a story from the point of view of something that you don’t think has a point of view.

Artificial Condition introduces another nonhuman character who is distinctly different from Murderbot, yet still fun and compelling: ART the research ship! Who’s moonlighting as a cargo transport. It's the ship on the cover, which I didn’t know going in, and this blew my mind for some reason. Anyway, the friendship between ART and Murderbot was really fun and genuine. I know ART shows up later, so I’m very excited for that; it adds a lot to the narrative. While I didn’t find the human cast as interesting as in All Systems Red, I do appreciate that there’s an actual nonbinary human character.

The plot of Artificial Condition is still pretty secondary, but it does connect to Murderbot’s past, so I found it more engaging. In general, Murderbot gets a lot of interesting character development, and over time gains a lot of nuance. I think this is great, considering how complex and well-written it is from the start. There’s an excellent moment of delayed emotional payoff near the end when Murderbot helps a character after learning something earlier in the story. It’s hard to describe without spoilers, but I thought this was really cool.

Rogue Protocol (#3) -- 9/10

Or Miki was a bot who had never been abused or lied to or treated with anything but indulgent kindness. It really thought its humans were its friends, because that’s how they treated it.

I signaled Miki I would be withdrawing for one minute. I needed to have an emotion in private.

Like Murderbot, I find myself missing ART, but we do get an alternate nonhuman character in Miki. Overall, Murderbot's character arc feels way more connected to the conflict and action in this story than the previous installments, which is nice. While this is presumably a throwaway cast based in the ending, I thought Miki and Don Abene's friendship was an interesting foil to what I assume is going to happen with Murderbot and Dr. Mensah.

While this trait has been present throughout, this installment makes it very clear that despite its protests, Murderbot genuinely does want to help and protect people of its own free will, even when doing so is not the quickest or most self-preserving choice. There are multiple points in this story (and the previous ones) where Murderbot could choose to save itself or abandon people in need. But it doesn’t; it just sighs and complains about having to protect stupid humans. I love Murderbot.

Also, this is one of those works where the meaning of the title doesn't really hit until you finish it, and oof.

Exit Strategy (#4) -- 10/10

So the plan wasn’t a clusterfuck, it was just circling the clusterfuck target zone, getting ready to come in for a landing.

This one just slaps from start to finish. We get the full post-development emotional payoff re: Murderbot’s complicated feelings about the humans from All Systems Red. The characterization, plot, humor, and action are all on-point and the best in the series.

I don’t really have anything else to say except this is an awesome conclusion to the first arc, and definitely my favorite of the 4 stories. I’m excited to see where things go from here.

#taylor reads #2020 reading challenge #9/10 #thank god someone made a composite image of these or i was going to Struggle #8/10 #10/10

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years

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BBB Week 30 Roundup!

Go give our participants some love!

Title: The Gold in Our Skin Collaborator: TiBun Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Jealousy Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Teen Major Tags: meet cute, soulmates Summary: Bucky’s lonely, Clint’s down on his luck, and there’s an offer for a pity coffee to take up. Word Count: 3390

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Title: A Wonderful Night Collaborator: BookDragon13 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C1 - Sex Magic Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Explicit Major Tags: edging, sex spell Summary: Bucky gets hit with a sex spell and spends a night with you Word Count: 649

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Title: Once In A Blue Moon Collaborator: Judy_The_Dreamer Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - Bucky/Steve Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: creature fic Summary: Steve struggles with the nature of the super soldier serum, Bucky does not. Word Count: 722

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Title: I Need You To Pretend You're Secretly FBI Collaborator: plutosrose Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Terrible Choices Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Drunk Texting, Blow Jobs, Past James “Bucky” Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Past Infidelity (from Brock), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: His phone fell straight out of his hands. He blinked at the muscular, blond man, who was most definitely not Brock. “Nat, I’m going to have to call you back." - Bucky wakes up in his apartment and believes that he's hooked up with his scummy ex-boyfriend. Turns out he went home with someone else. Word Count: 2264

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Title: Revenge Snack Collaborator: hddnone Link: AO3 Square Filled: U2 - what doesn’t kill me makes me mad Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Graphic Violence, Cannibalism, Wendigo Bucky Summary: It was supposed to be just a field test of the latest Stark weapons. That’s why Obie had Tony tag along with Rumlow’s group. Tony hated it, but he could survive this stupid woodsy camping trip. Turns out he’d be the only one. Word Count: 2217

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Title: Ask For Much - Chapter 1: Change the Locks Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - Writing Format: Drabble Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Alternate Universe: No Powers, Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, Best Friends, Friends with Benefits Summary: Bucky just wants to relax, but his best friend doesn’t know how to sit still. For some reason, Bucky allows himself to be sucked up into the maelstrom that is Steve Rogers. OR Bucky Barnes doesn’t ask for much, but maybe he should. Word Count: 100

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Title: A Blue Moon Halloween Collaborator: Caiti (Caitriona_3) Link: AO3 Square Filled: U5 - High School Ship: Clint/Darcy/Bucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: high school AU, supernatural Summary: Fighting the forces of darkness might help keep the world safe for children, puppies, and caffeine lovers, but it didn’t pay the bills. That meant getting a real job – and Darcy Lewis figured she could count herself lucky to have a job at Shield High. Word Count: 1735

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Title: Deep as the Ocean Collaborator: riotwritesthings Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y5 - Occupational Hazard Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: established relationship, hand wavey comic book magic, banter, humor, octo!Bucky, consentacles, Confirmed monsterfucker Tony Stark Summary: Another day, another magical mishap. At least most of the team gets hit this time, and Tony is really trying to focus on that rather than one person in particular. It’s not his fault! He grew up with the internet! Word Count: 6688

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Title: It's What You Bring - Chapter 1 Collaborator: sarahbeniel Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - Learning to be Loved Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Mature Major Tags: Anxiety, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Consensual Sex, Mention of Child Death (past), Hopeful Ending Summary: After a chance late-night encounter, Darcy and Bucky gradually grow closer. A Follow-up to Tomorrow Might be Better. Word Count: 2167

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Title: Of Writer's Block and Mario Kart Collaborator: iamartemisday Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 - Roommate AU Ship: Bucky/Jane Foster Rating: Teen Major Tags: roommates AU, college AU Summary: Jane has nothing to do one Halloween night. Then someone knocks on her door... Word Count: 2549

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Title: Ask For Much - Chapter 2: That Gold Bikini Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K3 - AU: Star Wars Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Halloween costumes, friends with benefits, Bucky Barnes needs a hug, Alpine is unimpressed Summary: Bucky makes it up to Steve. Or There are benefits to being friends. Word Count: 1323

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Title: Ask For Much - Chapter 3: Please Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U3 - Kink: “Please let me come.” Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Halloween costumes, friends with benefits, porn with feelings, orgasm delay/denial, bottom Bucky, top Steve Summary: Bucky's really glad he waxed. Or Steve has no use for that gold bikini. Word Count: 1505

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Title: Proudly Brewing Collaborator: plutosrose Link: AO3 Square Filled: U2 - Barista Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Barista! Bucky, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Thirsty Steve Rogers, Flirty Bucky Barnes, Incorrect Coffee Orders Summary: He’d only walked past the coffee kiosk twice before he’d stopped in front of the Barista and said, “Steve, you can call me Steve. You don’t have to call me Captain. I’m not a real one, anyway.” The Barista’s eyes glinted mischievously, and he whispered huskily, “But what if I like the idea of you ordering me around, Captain?” - Avengers Tower gets a coffee kiosk. Word Count: 1536

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Title: Trust Collaborator: BookDragon13 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B1 - Wax Play Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Teen Major Tags: wax play Summary: Bucky trusts you with something new Word Count: 100

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Title: Unexpected Package - Chapter 1 Collaborator: TiBun & BigWolfPup Link: AO3 Square Filled: C1 - Intimacy without sex Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mpreg Summary: Clint arrives back home at the farm, eager to just relax and spend time with Bucky and their pets. However, he’s not feeling the greatest, and he starts to expect that it’s not just motion sickness left over from traveling. Word Count: 10,949

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Title: They Can’t Have You Collaborator: alwaysabrighterdarkness Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Kink: “So-Glad-You’re-Alive-Sex” Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: dom/sub undertones, possessive behavior, possessive sex, explict sex Summary: Though, Bucky hadn’t kissed him like this, with lips furious against his own and tongue sweeping in and teasing until Steve was drowning in it. Not back then. Not until much later. Not until they finally figured out what that thing between them was meant to be. Not until the time when he was sixteen and Steve mouthed off one too many times. Bucky had taken it upon himself to shut him up in the best way he knew how. Word Count: 3291

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Title: Light in the Dark Collaborator: arrowsandmixtapes Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y2 - image: hurt Bucky Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: Language, angst, canon typical gun violence, GSW, blood. Summary: Avoiding Bucky seemed to be the thing to do after the two of you broke up, until a mission gone wrong shows you how much you have to lose. Word Count: 2415

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Title: Sacrifice: Part 4 Collaborator: startrekkingaroundasgard Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y3 - Plums Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Mature Major Tags: angst, guilt, canon divergence, time travel Summary: Peggy helps Clint to return to 2020, however things aren’t quite the way Clint remembers. Word Count: 3055

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 30

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avrelia · 5 years

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Rereading Going Home Again AtLA comic

I love Going Home Again comic. And I love it because it sheds light on all the characters involved in it – their personality, their motivation, their stories. It could be a great episode in itself (and maybe initially it was a plan for an episode that didn’t fit it).

The story’s alternative title could also be called “Zuko and the girls.”

Let’s start with Azula. She is on top of her military career, so to say. She accomplished impossible: she killed the Avatar, she took over enemy’s capital without a drop of blood, she apprehended her uncle Iroh as a traitor. And yet. She still cannot go home, because she was specifically tasked with bringing Zuko in. And Zuko is being difficult, so she is trying everything to convince him to come, because she need the full victory.

And of course Zuko is being difficult. He badly wants to go home, and he can see the door is open, but is it a trap? He envisioned his return very differently: with the caught avatar in tow, not with his uncle in chains. He feels everything is wrong, but doesn’t let himself to think what exactly he should do about it.

Joo Dee update is smart and terrifying. Azula masterfully re-purposes Dai LI resources for her immediate plans, but I wonder how will it work out in the long run?

Ty Lee remembers that Zuko and Mai had mutual crush and very much on board with getting them together. But they had to be reacquainted first.

Which means they not only didn’t get together the moment they saw each other, they also didn’t talk much yet. Which is totally understandable, as they are two most socially awkward people in the world, and each of them is not in good place at all.

Anyway, obviously their date isn’t going anywhere. Zuko is busy anguishing in silence, and Mai does everything in silence, and so many things happened to them in the past three years they have no idea how to relate to each other any longer.

And then they meet Jin. And this scene is absolutely brilliant. Because here we have two very smart girls who both immediately understand each other (well, Jin has no idea about Fire Nation aspect, there is that) and one clueless boy.

Jin kind of understands “Lee”’s weird behavior on their date, and Mai starts to finally recognize the boy she liked in this sullen teen. There is no argument between girls, either – nobody is fighting over a boy, they are kind of united. And Mai could choose any target to show off her knife-throwing skills, but she chooses Zuko, and Zuko lets her. He trusts her and her skill.

But then, she quite amiably offers an icicle to Jin, and Jin agrees. Of course, she wants to throw something at Zuko. And here is Zuko actually nervous. But he still stays – nobody tied him up to the fountain, he can always say “girls are crazy” and stomp away. But he stays with a fish on his head and lets two girls throw icicles in his direction. It’s beautiful. Except Jin’s aim is bad, and Zuko makes a wrong step to avoid being hit, slips and falls into the fountain. The girls are delighted.

It breaks the ice between him and Mai, and she actually reads that scene correctly: finally she met Zuko she knew three years ago, he is still there, and the happiness is sudden and makes her laugh, and she runs away overwhelmed with feeling. And that pulls Zuko to run after her, too.

So now he recognizes the girl he used to know. Finally there is something of the world he left and wanted to return to. And so when Mai kisses him, he happily kisses her back.

It’s not enough to break Zuko’s reluctance to face return home – so Azula has to scrap for another solution. It was nice to be together with Mai, but not essential. They survived without each other, and can do so again. When Azula mentions offhandedly that Iroh might not survive the journey, it’s all that need to bring Zuko aboard.

It showcases so well Azula’s way of manipulating people: she prefers not to push or use threats, if positive incentives don’t work she makes it so the cost of any other decision seems too high to pay. We can see in Return to Omashu with Ty Lee and Mai, we see it with Zuko. Both Mai and Ty Lee are used to calculating costs, and that’s what happens in the Boiling Rock. Azula literally miscalculates: the cost of following Azula becomes too high, even comparing to cost of own life.

Going back to Mai and Zuko’s relationship. I didn’t need to see how they got together, but I am glad we have this story. It fits really well with what we know about them, and what we see after. They would not have a hot teary reunion, they would have a very awkward meeting under Azula’s watchful eye. They would not be able to talk about three years that passed, because of who they are at that moment. But they did wait for this moment for more than three year, and once something happened to break the ice, to remind them of everything underneath that ice, they were together.

Using meeting with Jin to break that ice was the best idea, too, since the date with Jin was the most normal experience Zuko had, and Jin herself is a wonderful character. It also allowed to connect all Zuko’s girls and fountains together… And to allow Mai interact with someone outside her usual cycle of people.

And Jin is left alone. Soon enough she’ll see Fire Nation forces marching through the streets of Ba Sing Se and she will put two and two together. The weird boy out of nowhere, the lights on the fountain, sudden appearance of a knife-throwing girls and being overturned by Fire Nation… She is smart.

Joo Dee will love ruling over Ba Sing Se though.

Story by Aaron Ehasz, May Chan, Katie Mattila, Alison Wilgus, art by Amy Kim Ganter, coloring by Wes Dzioba. Lost adventures, 2011.

#atla maiko #mai #atla mai #zuko #atla comics #going home again #jin #atla azula #joo dee #ty lee #atla commentary #my posts

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justfor2am · 5 years

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steven universe the movie au but it’s sanders sides

I’m calling it the Thomas Universe AU!

(creative, I know)

okay but hear me out

anyone who is human irl is still human in this au...this would take place in FL where Thomas lives, and this goes with the assumption that the sides are real and his friends + family know/can see them. patton + deceit appear unconventionally, and i know it wouldn’t make sense for the canon sanders sides universe rules, but i’ve already disregarded most of those so...

also, i know it wouldn’t work EXACTLY like the movie obvs and some stuff would have to be left out (like the diamonds....sorry babes)

also also I’m sticking a cut in here because i just realized this is gonna be a long one

Characters

Steven/Pink Diamond: Thomas (I’ll explain the PD later)

Garnet: Roman + Remus except it’s the opposite of a love story; learning to love themselves “unfused” as individual creativities (no remrom here please)

Amethyst: Virgil (i considered him as Pearl and you could make a case either way, but song-wise this works slightly better)

Pearl/Pink Diamond: Logan (see above, you could also make a case for him as Amethyst, and I’ll explain the PD later)

Bismuth: JayisJo (because i love them)

Lapis: Joan

Peridot: Talyn

Spinel: Patton + Deceit Fusion (yes, i know i know. i’ll explain)

Plot

Thomas is his best self, healthy, happy and surrounded with friends + family. They’re in the middle of fixing up their new office (Little Homeworld), and home (Thomas’s Apartment) is stable. The sides are all getting along, even as insufferable as Remus can be.

In this universe, Patton + Deceit were never thought to be “real” like the other sides. Whereas Thomas would film using his actual sides, he and Joan “invented” Patton and Deceit for the series’ storyline. They were, accidentally, repressed to the back of Thomas’ mind, and finally through their feelings of abandonment, come forth as one fused side called “Ethos”.

Ethos plants a bug in Thomas’ mind that would repress all of his sides back into his mind. He wouldn’t be void of personality, but it would hurt, and ran the risk of contaminating his friends. Since his friends don’t have sides, it would drain their personalities instead, and it’s a race to get Ethos to stop the bug.

Title Character Backstories

Steven Universe is self-explanatory enough, title character yada yada. Thomas also being Pink Diamond is meant as a younger Thomas, more so as a symbol of immaturity and also because I didn’t want to use Thomas’ actual mom because that literally wouldn’t have worked.

(For Logan, see Songs: Drift Away)

“Garnet” would have been the result of the great Creativity Split. Roman and Remus, once expected to stick together as one side, have learned (sort of) to co-exist with each other. In this universe, Thomas has accepted Remus (after a lot of wor) and the two creativities are more brotherly.

“Amethyst” would have been a reflection of Virgil’s time with the “dark” sides. Young and impressionable, him learning to accept love from the “light” sides and be himself despite the fighting between the two halves.

“Pearl” is a call-back to Logan’s quickly shifting from “Teacher Guy” on Vine to “Logic” in Sanders Sides. He felt his only purpose was to help Thomas; any emotions he felt were meant to be disregarded.

“Spinel” as a Patton + Deceit fusion still has her original stretchy powers, because with Deceit’s constant usage of shapeshifting and Patton’s joking manner, it just makes sense. They have Deceit’s Director!Patton Disguise, with four arms and two eyes, one blue and almost constantly tearing up, the other Deceit’s snake eye. There’s a monocle on the blue eyes, and small patches of snake skin. They also have a top hat, because snazzy.

alternatively: pick whichever fusion of them that @fangirltothefullest drew because that’s kinda the best way to visual them.

Weapons

• Instead of a scythe-style Rejuvenator, Ethos have a collapsible staff that can be split in two, each half with a long, thin blade inside. Swiping the sides with a blade does the same as a Rejuvenator + plants the “bug” in them. For Thomas, it only plants the bug.

• Roman uses his sword, and his shield to launch Remus in the air for attacks. Remus sticks with his morning star. Neither have future vision.

• Virgil doesn’t have a weapon, his “power” would be speed and darn good punches. He still has his “tempest tongue” ability, when his anxiety is extremely high.

• Logan has a shortbow, but is not above straight up wacking people with it.

Songs

Let Us Adore You:

Since I don’t have a Diamond equivalent, this song only really matters during its reprise.

Happily Ever After:

Moves the plot from Thomas’ house to “Little Homeworld”. Logan is being taught the bass by Jamal at his house (Logan is summoned by Thomas to the office later). Thomas drives to the office and talks to Roman and Remus, who’re play-fighting and writing scripts.

He walks into a room to be stopped by Virgil, because he was about to step into a can of paint. (This is one of the unfinished rooms). Joan, Tayln and Jay are there too, helping out. By the end of the song, Thomas is standing outside with all of his sides, enjoying the sunshine and being happy.

Other Friends:

Ohhhh boy. Ethos monologues at them for a bit, perched up on a lamppost. Logan recognizes them (this will be important later). They’re clearly unstable, and the sides get ready to fight.

Ethos uses their instability to their advantage, fusing and unfusing quickly around them to avoid getting hit. Ethos also uses their rubber powers to throw Logan into the air and letting him fall, trapping Virgil in a tree, and knocking Remus’ and Roman’s heads together. He finishes it off by scaring Thomas and pushing him into the ground, jumping back on the lamppost.

They all regroup, in pain, and after Thomas’ obvious lack of recognization, Ethos is only more unstable, yelling. He pulls out the staff and poofs the sides. Thomas manages to poof Ethos as well, but not without getting hit first.

system/BOOT.PearlFinal(3).Info:

We have this nice intermission where we see all of the sides “reset” and Logan narrates as his episode 1 self. Here we see Remus and Roman fuse automatically, without showing their individual forms. They pose still and quietly, without their individual quirks. Virgil forms as his Pre-AA self, bitter but also quiet, looking very nervous and trying to blend in.

Ethos reforms, but not fused. Deceit and Patton are both happy and friendly, acting like a Spinel-duo. Patton specializes in jokes + puns while Deceit does more physical humor. Deceit’s outfit is white instead, and he has no hat. Patton’s outfit is is original cardigan one. Patton and Deceit also finish each others sentences.

Thomas beings to notice the bug affecting himself, stinging him occasionally.

Who We Are:

Thomas is moping around while Jay, Joan and Talyn try to help figure out a solution. They set on the plan to make them all remember who they are.

Isn’t it Love?:

Remus and Roman accidentally unfuse, and they both feel a breath of fresh air. Neither of them have a proper “form”, and they take the song to pick out who they want to be. While they’re both much happier apart now, they still don’t know themselves.

No Matter What:

One of my favourite songs from this movie, and the key reason why Virgil would work better as Amethyst. Thomas takes Virgil back through his memories, showing him the music he used to like, how to sew, and they retake the sorting quiz together and talk about it.

Thomas puts on a few Halloween movies and Virgil starts to come back. He goes to stand in his corner by the stairs, and Thomas runs up to his room and gives him the ‘famILY’ card. With that, Virgil comes back.

Disobedient:

I don’t have as much to say here, but for funny purposes Logan “belongs” to Jamahl.

Independent Together:

A Thomas/Jamahl duet, they don’t “literally” fuse, but they’re still singing together. Logan remembers who he is and duets with Virgil. It’s a sweet moment.

Drift Away:

Ohhhh boy (part 2). Deceit and Patton are singing over each other here. The “Garden” is Thomas’ mind, and Logan/a younger, immature Thomas are Pink Diamond. Inadvertently, as Thomas was maturing, he wanted to put silly, childish things behind him. Logan, acting as his Logic, realized that meant Ethos, and went to “put them away”.

He told them Thomas was growing up, and that he would come back to them soon. But Thomas was young when this happened, and he soon forgot about them. Deceit is the one to pose the question: “Is this how it works, am I doing this right?” Patton is unwilling to ask such things, not wanting to doubt Thomas.

They stay there, mostly silent together. They see Thomas grow up, but never the other sides after Logan, because they don’t know the two are stuck back there. Patton keeps making excuses for Thomas, that he’s not ready yet, that he’ll be back soon.

The tipping point is when Deceit’s “character” is introduced. Patton was more than happy to excuse his own “character” into the Sanders Sides Series, but Deceit wasn’t. Upon seeing himself, and hearing Thomas and Joan talk as if Patton and Deceit weren’t really there, broke him.

Deceit called Patton out for excusing Thomas’ behavior, and grief breaks over him. With Deceit’s anger and Patton’s sadness, the two fuse into Ethos. Deceit wants revenge, Patton wants answers. While Deceit is the stronger of the two in the fusion, Patton does have his moments of fronting.

Found:

Thomas talks to Ethos, offering him a place in the Mindpalace again, and apologizing. Ethos takes him up on the offer, Patton clearly fronting. He turns off the bug in the sides and in Thomas.

True Kinda Love:

Remus and Roman finally come to themselves, play-fighting again before working together to protect Thomas + co. from Ethos. Ethos reactivates the bugs to work faster, and runs away from Thomas’s office to his home. Joan and Tayln offer to look after the sides while Thomas goes to find Ethos, who’s perched on top of his house, curled up.

(work with me here,) Thomas goes up the fire escape to the roof, (pretend his roof is flat would y’all?) to face off.

Change:

Ethos is ready to fight. Thomas is not. He actively avoids hitting/getting hit by Ethos, moving the fight back to the ground and darting between the park near his house, letting Ethos punch the trees instead. He talks to Ethos, who’s starting to come undone. After getting punched into a tree, Patton pulls himself out of the fusion and goes to help him.

Deceit sees him do this, and after a moment of self-frustration, refuses with Patton to turn off the bug before unfusing again. Thomas takes them back to the office to check up on the other sides, who are now doing just fine.

Let Us Adore You (Reprise):

Finally, this song comes in handy! Instead of the Diamonds singing to Spinel, the sides offer Patton and Deceit a place back in the Mindscape with them, while Thomas says that if they need some time alone, he understands.

The sides all apologize, especially Logan for leaving them alone for so long.

Patton all but jumps at the idea of having a real home, and is thrilled to have a place. Patton sings first, “Today, right here, right now, I'll love again. I've already found someone.”

He starts walking toward them, but stops. Deceit has his arms crossed, and is standing farther back. Patton offers him a hand, and Deceit finally takes a step forward. He’s more hesitant, mostly because like ten minutes ago he was trying to kill all of them. But he misses playing with Thomas, even if as a side his purpose has corrupted with time.

“Yes, I know that you're not her and I was her's. You know what it meant to love her, and you remind me so much of her.” A group hug ensues, and Deceit and Patton are both holding on tight to Thomas. A few tears are shed, and the healing has started.

Finale:

Thomas is continuing to work with all of his sides to make sure Patton and Deceit are adjusting well. The office is eventually finished, Patton and Deceit even get to play themselves in the series. All is well, and Thomas is looking forward to the future and what it brings.

And yeah, that’s all folks! Feel free to do whatever for this, I might write some things for it too. But if y’all do stuff with this, please tag me, I’d love to see whatever y’all make! :-)

#sanders sides #steven universe the movie #steven universe #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #fusion #justfor2am #justfor2talks

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chrystening · 5 years

Text

Silent Elegy | Daenerys Targaryen / Female Reader

Title: Silent Elegy Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: M Words: 2.4k Summary: There’s only so long you can suffer in silence. Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, viserion is your kid too

commissions open :^0

You skirted through the corridors of Dragonstone. Its cold, hard floors echoed under the urgency of your heel.

Not in her quarters–

not in the the throne room–

not with any of her advisors, not even Missandei–

Your brow furrowed slightly.

In your search for Daenerys, you had come across everyone despite the queen herself… and only a single other person.

Your stomach churned with unease. You knew you were correct, but did you dare think it?

You all but jumped down the steps of Dragonstone, briny air hitting your nose. In your hurry, you stumbled into the path of three Dothraki screamers, landing against one’s bronzed chest. Dany’s khalasar.

You muttered an apology in the common tongue. He looked irritated for a second, before vague recognizance of who you were hit their eyes. Few were spared from the wrath of the Dothraki under their khaleesi’s rule – Daenerys made sure early on that you were one of them.

“Finne ajjin khaleesi?” you spoke.

The Dothraki clucked his tongue, before returning a curt reply. You jaw tensed.

You didn’t know enough Dothraki to be fluent, but you could recognize a few words: Cave. Foreigner. Alone.

You froze, letting them brush past you. You continued, more dread in your step.

When you arrived at the mouth of the cave, Daenerys was leaving. You felt the acidic burn of jealousy sear its way through your veins. At her side, and the possessor of her attention, was Jon Snow. They conversed fluidly.

Daenerys didn’t look hostile. She was courteous, even if her eyes lacked the rosiness you had see when you spoke to her but still – you noted the small breadth of space between them both as they strode.

But, still!

Oblivious to your internal screaming, Daenerys finally saw you. Her face softened, and the ghost of a smile graced her face as she strode more quickly towards you. Jon was left in her wake as she came closer. Your heart twinged with delight. You wished you could muster up any sorts of smile in return, but your spirits were too low.

“There you are. I haven’t seen you all day,” she said, lines of pleasure at her eyes.

That’s my line, you thought hopelessly.

You smiled weakly in response.

“Well… here I am,” you said lamely. You inwardly cringed at the pathetic chuckle you made in order to seem unaffected.

Daenerys tilted her head to the side in confusion. Her smile was withstanding, though, telling you that she was oblivious to the reason behind your odd behavior.

You heard a low clearing of the throat. Right behind Dany was Jon, suddenly.

“Your Grace,” he began, looking to Daenerys, who looked back. “If we could continue our conversation?” Daenerys’s eyes sobered with recognition. What conversation? You desperately thought. Why can’t you just say it in front of me? Daenerys nodded after a pause. She looked at you.

You swallowed drily. You couldn’t burden her. Not with all that was on her plate.

She was staging an invasion , spearheading an entire war… it wouldn’t have surprised anyone that you nodded along, shifting out the way to let Daenerys pass.

She gave you a passing glance, smiling in apology, before she strode off without another word. The murmur of their voices was lost in the washing of the waves. The farther they got, the more they shrank in your view.

Suddenly, you felt forgotten.

Suddenly, you felt small.

Whenever you closed your eyes, you could see Viserion. You could see him soaring through a cold, blue-gray sky, and you could the large spear of ice that ripped his throat open. Pools and pools of blood rained down. It was more blood than you’d ever seen pour out of anything .

Oddly enough, you could also see yourself. Your face was frozen in terror, your mouth agape but no scream spilling out. You were in so much disbelief and shock that you couldn’t make a sound. All that moved of you were your eyes, trailing after Viserion’s plummeting figure. His wings failed to catch the wind, weakly beating like the wings of an angel cast out of heaven.

Viserion landed in a lake frozen over by winter, skidding and cleaving through ice until the friction slowed him to a stop. He stopped… and then he sank.

Your eyes shot open.

Feeling alone… It was perhaps bearable back on Dragonstone. Just almost bearable .

You felt yourself grasping at the dregs of your sanity.

Now, it was not – not after everything that had happened.

“Without him, my lady, you would not be alive,” Brienne spoke. The room was tensely silent besides the crackle of fire. And of course, besides the voices of people talking. Talking, talking. So much talking, politicking.

Who cared? Who could care when… You fingers found their way to the three-headed dragon pin on your breast. Three dragons on her banner, yet one gone. You shook silently with grief where you sat.

Viserion. That was his name, but to you he was Prumia – heart. Heart, because he was so loving and so affectionate, compared to his brothers. You could remember the first time he dipped his head by you, allowing you to climb atop his scales. Riding him was as natural as walking. You had always felt like a second mother to Daenerys’s children but that… that was when you knew you were.

Your eyes rose from your seat amongst the Northernmen. You were in Targaryen black, red flint-like jewels sown in the hems – and yet you were not up there, not with Daenerys. Not by her side. Instead here you were beside Bran, a Stark. You cast a passing glance at him. He was seated, as he had no other alternative. He was composed. If not a little empty , you thought, curiously. You looked up at Daenerys, who felt so far away.

Your eyes slid from Daenerys’s strong, graceful figure to the brooding one beside her. Your mind spiraled, swam with despair.

“What does the Warden of the North say about it?” You saw her look to Jon, searching for his answer. Trusting his judgement.

You hated him. Well, of course you didn’t – you found it hard to truly hate anyone – but you wished you did.

You bowed your head, solemnity creasing your face.

If Jon was to say Daenerys pardon Jaime, then the kingslayer was to be pardoned.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jaime replied, bowing his head.

Everyone in the Great Hall stood, now that the nobility were excusing themselves.

“He’s with him, you know,” you heard. It was low and quiet, so no one could’ve but you could’ve heard. Your head snapped to the boy beside you, the only one who wasn’t standing.

Bran stared not at you, but far off, like he was seeing something no one else was. He seems... to do that. You made to disregard him but your heart quickened at his next words, so quick and rapid it was painful.

Bran turned to you calmly. His brown eyes, dark and as lifeless as coal, bore hollowly into yours.

“Viserion.” At the name, your blood ran cold. “He’s with him – the Night King.”

It felt like your throat closed, because suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

You whipped your head towards Dany, eyes wide with fear and terror, looking to her as if she had any idea of the news you had just received. Daenerys’s eyes flickered to you. Her expression morphed from confusion to controlled distress, alarmed at the utter horror on your face. Her visage swam as your eyes washed over with stinging tears.

Your Prumia, now an living-dead slave… Your Prumia, now your enemy...

Even if he was lying, even if Viserion wasn’t the pawn of humanity’s worst enemy, the wound was still fresh. And worst of all, you were alone in knowing it. Daenerys was all but gone to you, dancing around Westeros to secure her seat to rule. You were alone, full of grief and no one to share it with. It was too much. You had to leave.

Before you had known it, you were clipping through shoulders, feet speeding to the nearest exit. The gruff noises of indignation from Northernmen were all you left in your wake.

Daenerys watched you go, about to take a running step towards the door before she managed to contain herself into a hurried stride.

I can’t handle this – I can’t handle this –

Outside, you were running blind, narrowly brushing past corners. You were atop the battlements of Winterfell when you heard your name called out.

“Wait!”

Your eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, the floor turned to butter and your legs flew out from under you. Your eyes opened quick enough to see the snowy ground come up to meet you. Your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the impact – but there was none. You registered thin arms wrapped around your waist holding you up.

You tried to turn your head, but it was hard to with Daenerys’s face in the way.

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asked incredulously.

You gathered your bearings and shrugged her off. She fidgeted at your cold shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. You turned away and tried to shield your face from her view. If you met her eye, you’d break.

“You’re not,” she pressed, stepping closer.

You didn’t respond, crossing your arms and stepping away.

Daenerys called out your name, distraught. When you didn’t turn around, she called it again, her voice hard.

You stopped in your tracks, before reluctantly turning.You still didn’t raise your eyes.

“Why are you…” she said, dumbfounded. She eliminated the distance between you both. She tried to compose herself, tempering her frustration. “You’ve been… distant… to me,” she finished, matter-of-fact. You balked at her in disbelief. Seeing her oblivious face brought out the worst in you.

“I’ve been distant lately?” you erupted. You couldn’t contain it. “Me?”

Daenerys flinched at your raised voice, before standing a bit straighter. “You’ve been avoiding ever since we got to Winterfell.” Her voice was measured and composed, but with an icy bite. Icy. Cold. That’s what she was all the time, wasn’t it…? Or how she wanted to appear.

But not with me. Never with me, you thought.

Your lips tightened bitterly. Somewhere inside you, you knew you were being cruel, utterly unlike yourself. “I’m surprised you cared enough to notice.” As a wind swept by, you bid yourself not to shiver. The cold of the north was unrelenting, but you refused to show weakness.

Daenerys bristled. “What does that mean?” she asked, exasperated.

There it was. You could see it on her face – she was disengaging from you, as she had been for the past few months.

Something in you flared.

“It means you can see to Jon if it’s company you desire,” you gritted.

Daenerys was taken aback. She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it’s my fault for daring to care–”

“Well, you didn’t care to be with me before!” you cried. “You were just fine before. You were fine for months. ”

You could see on her face that she finallyrealized what this was all about. She looked at you indignantly, her voice rising as well. “I apologize that I was too occupied organizing an army to coddle you.”

Suddenly you felt like a child. Coddling?

Your eyes grew as cold and hard as coal. “And I apologize for being the only one of us who bothered to grieve for Viserion.” As soon as you said that, you could feel the pain you inflicted, and it hurt you as well. Her face faltered, hurt flashing across her features. Suddenly it was her who looked like a child.

“How could… how could you say that?” She stepped forward, fuming. “That’s not true–”

“Isn’t it?” you cried. You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You didn’t stop for a second and I grieved alone . I grieved alone because you were...” You sighed, fatigue showing in your visage. Your voice pitched. “Occupied.”

Daenerys was crestfallen.

“Occupied with trying to rule Westeros,” you croaked. Then in a whisper, “Occupied with Jon.” Daenerys looked guilty. Even if nothing had happened, she had caused you such turmoil.

“I love you.” You didn’t look up until she grabbed your hands. “I love you ,” Daenerys asserted.

She was deathly serious, her eyes bidding for you to understand. Believe me , they said. Of course, you did. You always had.

“I know.” Your body shuddered, tears starting to sting as you babbled. All your vitriol dissipated. “I just didn’t want to worry you, you’ve been so busy– and now Viserion is with the Night King– And I was just going to handle it by myself– but… it’s... been hard.” Daenerys’s eyes widened with horror as her hands brought you closer. “It’s been so hard,” you whimpered. Once Dany’s gloved hands brushed against your cheek, you felt the dam inside you burst.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you could hear that she meant it. “I’m so, so sorry,” Daenerys croaked. Her eyes were wet.

The clammer of smithing and the bustle of people down below, preparing for the long night, caught your ear. You nudged Daenerys away from clear sight. No one could see her like this. You felt shame. Daenerys wasn’t allowed to be vulnerable.

“It’s fine,” you breathed.

“No, it’s not,” Daenerys whispered in the embrace. “It’s not fine.”

“You’re trying to reclaim a throne ,” you said softly. “You’re trying to re-establish a dynasty.”

“And you’ll be by my side when I do,” she declared. She swiped at her eyes, recollecting herself.

You smiled even with wet cheeks. “I envy you. You’re always strong.”

Daenerys took a moment to look at you, truly look at you. She looked at you in disbelief. Daenerys played at being strong.

But you… she thought.

She clasped your hands, warming them instantly. “You are true strength. My true strength.”

She embraced you again, holding you close. It was cold out here. But you still didn’t want to move. The fur of her coat caressed you and her hair tickled you. It was hard to want to move while listening to the steady pat of her pulse and smelling the scent you had come to associate with home.

“He’s with him, Dany,” you muttered, pain twinging your chest.

Daenerys shushed into your ear, something she knew would calm you. And even though it couldn’t take you away from reality, it did calm you.

You blinked away the bleariness of your eyes, looking to the pale blue of Winterfell’s sky. In the distance, Rhaegal and Drogon seemed to float on the winds. You closed your eyes, but your heart still hurt. You smiled weakly into her skin.

It hurt, but it held a duller ache and you were here, in her arms.

It hurt, but it felt like healing.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #daenerys imagine #daenerys x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #mine

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rainsonata · 5 years

Text

Doppelgänger 4/15

Chapter 04: Revelations

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: T Word Count: 8,302

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —

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Class Notes:

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen

Alternate Path: Rune Slayer, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

————————————————–

Aether Sage

Her journey with Knight has been a long one, for better or worse. Five years of camping and fighting alongside with a teenager with muscles for brains, who grew up to be a considerate man with more experience in the battlefield and was better about thinking before he spoke. Aether had seen the many faces of her teammate - the good, the bad, and the stupid. So why did it feel like she was talking to a stranger?

What happened to him? ‘Knight’ slouched in his seat, made casual comments, and lacked tact in his words, eager to point out his observations. It was remarkable in the attention to detail he had and surprised Aether when he asked if her gloves were insulated to withstand magic backfires, but annoying when he started interrogating Crusader about his armor.

“Did everyone change clothes while I was out?” He asked the night before.

Hair as red as his eyes and perhaps showed too much with the unbuttoned jacket. Wasn’t he cold? It was summer in the Demon Realm according to Ishtar, but summers continued to be shorter than those in Elrios.

Concern was obvious on Empire’s face, “I’m sorry it took us longer to get here. I’m sure Ain can heal those for you.”

“I’m fine,” the younger Sieghart insisted when she wanted to inspect the injuries. “They’re not as bad as they look.”

Aether wasn’t as convinced but didn’t press on. She didn’t want to break up a moment between the siblings because the mage was sure she would have liked a moment with her grandfather if they were separated in similar circumstances. ‘Knight’ must have thought the same because he didn’t argue with Empire and let the elder knight dry him off with a towel. Damping his forehead with a hand cloth, the smile on the edge of Empire’s lips reminded her of a distant memory of her mother doing the same when she was a young child.

“You look different, Elsword. A little...thinner.” Ishtar commented.

“Do I?” He exclaimed, “Fighting demons is stressful!”

The demon sovereign studied the man, scanning the knight with her lips sealed into a straight light. Did she sense something? Aether did not hold the ability to detect El as much as Bluhen and Ishtar, or had access to technology that could as Bringer and Esencia did. It was a useful ability to have and could change the nature of battles on the whim if one took advantage of it.

Ishtar covered her mouth and giggled at his response, “You need to pay more attention to our fights then. You clearly haven’t fought me enough times to know what demons are capable of!”

“I might have to do that more often!” ‘Knight’ agreed.

Aether facepalmed. No, he was definitely Knight. Only an idiot would respond to a challenge in the same manner he did. It was very like him to grin at the face of a fight and see it as a way to build his strength. Demon sovereign or not, beneath the regality was a demon eager to find an excuse for fights and Knight was frequently happy to fulfill that with the occasional spars and with their other teammates.

Daybreaker asked, “Where did you find him?”

“Not too far from here,” Aether said. “You’re lucky you weren’t here yesterday. He looked worse without the bandages.”

On his back covered in burns and scratches, ‘Knight’ was unconscious when they found him, but was responsive to the potions. They found shelter nearby in the form of trees covering them from most of the wind and Crusader brought extra clothes and sleeping bags in case they found their friend. What they didn’t expect was the unusual behavior.

When he woke up in a jolt, a fire flared in his eyes before the redhead recognized their faces and stopped struggling, pausing to examine them with caution. What did the demons do to make him react to them as enemies?

The initial confusion met with bewilderment, demands for answers to questions of things she had no answer to. Why did ‘Knight’ have a sudden interest in what she wore and how she put up her hair? His reaction to Crusader was strange too, the inquiries to how the destroyer worked and what made the guardian of Hamel decide to stick to the original cannon he built. These were questions Bringer would ask, not the knight whose head was more often consumed by battle tactics and swords. The sudden attention ‘Knight’ held, interested in his teammates as if it was the first time they met. It was uncanny and out of character.

Daybreaker chuckled, “Then it’s a good thing he has you and Chung to take care of him.”

Aether stole a glance to the knight again, seeing him bobbing his head in agreement to something Bluhen said, awe and amazement when the priest closed his wounds with a flash of green light. It was an advanced form of magic she had read about in books.

“Don’t move too much,” Bluhen warned. “I healed the worst of the injuries, but your body needs time to recover.”

“Sorry for making you worried,” ‘Knight’ couldn’t take his eyes off his healing leg, mesmerized by the efficiency. Wiggling his toes, he spotted Rage and said with a sly grin, “Raven, you didn’t tell me! You finally realized the power in being shirtless!”

Aether couldn’t believe he had the gall to comment on the older male’s choice in armor. Well, she had thoughts of asking, but that was rude and inappropriate when what he wore was none of her business! He was going to get a lecture of a lifetime.

Bluhen was amused, “He’s right, Mr. Half-Nasod. You don’t wear a lot of clothes.”

“What?” Rage was taken back. Looking down at his armor, or rather ahem, a lack of it to where his vital organs were, the older male turned coughed with embarrassment. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Elsword!” Aether hissed, “Don’t say weird stuff!”

“Ow, not my ear. Please don’t curse me,” ‘Knight’ winced in seeing her hands ready to grab him by the ear in irritation.

Curse him? Aether pulled her hand away. She was skilled, but curses were not in her repertoire. It would take a mage years of experience and special training to perform the most basic form of the sort. Knight must have placed her in high regards to think she was capable of that. It was flattering, yet worrying. She wasn’t that kind of person.

It was as if ‘Knight’ had never left them. For a guy who found bruised and covered in bandages, the man was back on his feet, chatting and commenting on something Apsara said. Discussions about meat and barbeque were overheard when Aether leaned back to catch her breath. He asked Esencia about Remy and Moby and greeted Chevalier when he caught the butler sitting to the side of the conversation with a cookbook out.

“Do you know who attacked you?” Rage asked, “How many were there?”

‘Knight’ didn’t answer right away, opening his palms to reveal runes carved in red. “There are demons that shoot spikes and thorns on their back. Never saw them. There were probably at least eight or nine of them, maybe more.”

That explained the puncture wounds on his body. They must be strong if they took their leader by surprise, Aether was alarmed. She never heard of those demons. There might be more lurking in the woods and they were recovering from the fight with the Nephilim Lord. Their survival was because of Bluhen’s persistent healing and Empire’s quick thinking to come up with the strategic tactics to split the team for one group to distract Nephilim Lord and the other to hit the weak spots.

“How long were we in Demon Realm?” ‘Knight’ asked.

Bringer wasn’t one to mince his words and snorted, “Did you lose your brain cells? It’s been six weeks!”

“You know what they say,” he sang. “You lose track of track of time when you’re having fun~”

What kind of answer was that? The brawler stared, questioning if ‘Knight’ was all right in the head and Aether would be lying if she said she wasn’t too. What could be fun about surviving in the wilderness to avoid being spotted by demons? Although Knight was never good at sneaking around because he would rather take them head-on and bulldoze his way through things.

“That’s not nice to say!” Apsara scolded. “Elsword has gone through a lot. Let him rest!”

“No one is stopping him,” Bringer shrugged. “It’s not my fault if he slows us down.”

“It’s not a problem if it helps Elsword,” Bluhen interjected.

So much for the team meeting, Aether sighed. Her teammates were as lively as ever. This was supposed to be an opportunity for them to regroup and sort out their thoughts to address any questions before making their way back to Elrianode. As soon as ‘Knight’ came into the picture, their discussion dispersed into utter chaos. She almost couldn’t hear her thoughts through the noise her teammates were making. Aether debated on leaving the tent until she caught him chuckling.

“I’m glad you guys get along.”

“Who? Us?” Bringer pointed at himself and Bluhen, “You really have lost it.”

“Well, you’re not what I expected either.” ‘Knight’ grinned.

“What did you say?” Bringer glared and shook him by the shoulders. Despite gaining a couple of inches in recent years, ‘Knight’ remained shorter than the brawler by several inches, but laughed.

“How about we stop the conversation here?” Daybreaker appeared between the two. A vein popped on the side of the elf’s head, “You wouldn’t want to put Ain’s efforts into vain, would you Elsword?”

‘Knight’ caught the hint and rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course, not!” He sweated and changed the topic, “Uh, Chung! Was there anyone besides me back there?”

“When we found you? No.” Crusader’s expression darkened, “Did they hurt you?”

Hands covered in calluses and scar tissue webbed over the burns and cuts ‘Knight’ sported on his body. He waved his arms in frantic, shaking his head. Side bangs hung from the side of his head and his ponytail flicked over.

He kept his arms closed, legs closed inward that drew Aether’s attention to the red markings on his lower stomach and arms. There was no reason for ‘Knight’ to be wearing that ridiculous outfit after Crusader offered him a change in clothes. A nagging feeling edged in the back of her mind. Did Knight ever learn to read and understand runes? Aether was troubled in that she could not answer the growing number of questions she had about her teammate.

“That’s not it,” ‘Knight’ winced at the harshness in the guardian’s tone. “They protected me and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What do they look like?” Crusader asked.

“Funny you should ask that,” he said with no humor.

This gnawing feeling wouldn’t go away. It didn’t make sense. Was it that Aether didn’t know her teammate as well as she thought she did? Did those years she spent with Knight mean nothing when she couldn’t recall if he ever had interest or hobbies beyond sword fighting and battle tactics? Knight’s decision to sacrifice himself to the El cemented how much she and the rest of the group underestimated him for what he was capable of. It took yesterday’s disappearance for Aether to realize how little she knew of Knight as a person, not the leader of the El Search Party. She couldn’t even fathom why he chose to pursue things by himself until Crusader pointed out the obvious.

Aether couldn’t breathe.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he began.

————————————————–

Knight Emperor

“How big is this place?” Knight gazed to see miles of his environment in a repeated pattern.

Crystals, cave, walls, more crystals, the occasional thorny demons not unlike the one that ambushed him and Rune. Their needle thorns pierced his skin and drained his stamina, but he had learned to dodge them after his legs grew numb for the tenth time. It left a tingling sensation before the effects take place and left him struggling to move.

The cavern layout was a maze looping itself around several times with more demons waiting for them. The Shadow Guards had bulkier shoulders with tall narrow teeth that charged and tried to crush Knight with its muscular arms. Wisp-like demons circled Knight and the child, eager to sap them of their strength and disappearing as quickly as they came. Longer fights and stronger enemies extended the further they drew away from their original point.

“Behind!” Knight shouted.

He pushed the child away from the charging demon, blocking its attack with his sword and using his weight to push it away. Narrowly avoiding getting bulldozed by the demon, Knight dug his sword into the ground to stand his ground in the earthquake and in the aftershock created by the demon. He drew his blade and swiped the Shadow Guard, pulling his sword into the chest and watching it twitch before it went limp in his hold. Jet black ink sprayed over the dusty floor. Knight leaned on his sword for support and breathed.

“You need to stop running off,” he gasped for air. “I don’t want you to get lost! What if something happens to you?”

Do they have a home? A nagging voice tugged at the edge of Knight’s mind. He didn’t know anything about the child. Who they were, where they’re from, why they were here, or even what their face looked like, but that didn’t stop him from being concerned. When he and Empire lost their family, they had each other and the village for support. What if the child had no one and that’s why he was alone?

The child covered their mouth with both of their sleeves, cat ears drooping from the top of their hood. Muffled cries came out and their body shook, the child lying on the floor with their legs sprawled out in a position that could not be comfortable. Worried when there was no response, Knight rested his hand on their arm, careful not to scare them. It then hit him how scrawny the child was underneath the layers of clothing. Their arm was thinner than Knight’s when he was around their age.

“Here, let me see your hands.” Knight let them wrap their hand around him in a tighter than expected grasp. “You’re okay.”

Was this how Empire Sword felt when she raised him? She used to track him by the trail of mud left at their door to catch Knight covered in scratches and grass-stained knees.

Arms covered in puffy sleeves and magenta gloves flopped over. Knight missed the curled lips for a moment when the gloves came off to reveal pale translucent skin. Pink and sweaty from running around with Knight, but otherwise no scratches for any indication that they have fighting demons.

He raised a brow.

It might be connected to their keen ability to sense demons, Knight theorized. Despite their small size, or maybe that was the advantage, the child was good at not being detected by the demons and snuck up on him more than once. He sometimes lost track of them and found them on the opposite side of the rooms without an explanation.

The child laughed. A soft chuckle laced with amusement and an all-knowing smile that held secrets they refused to proclaim, certainly not to a person they had met hours ago. Knight would be hard-pressed to think he was going to get the full story behind the child in the span of hours he had known them.

“See? Not a single scratch!” Knight patted the child on the head, “Just a little further and I’m sure we’ll be out of here in no time!”

The child hissed, shrinking away from his hand and turned their head. Knight retreated his hand with an apologetic look and mumbled a sorry. Right, they didn’t like being touched on the head. He hoped that his friends wouldn’t mind having an extra mouth to feed until they could find better living arrangements for the child. The battlefield was no place for someone as young as them.

Where was out? They were in a part of the cave where the air became acrid and unbearable for Knight to breathe, gagging when he inhaled dust and debris. It was dead silent for the entity of the trip except for the sound of their breathing and the rustling of their clothes brushed against the damp walls.

Glowing crystals lit the narrow paths Knight chose to follow to avoid the bigger demons, although, with his poor luck, there were more demon encounters than he could count. Numerous and crawling in about every corner of the caves, these demons were persistent and went after them once they spotted the humans until confronted. Most were weak and couldn’t stand to a few swipes and kicks, but there were a few craftier ones that required more creative strategies.

To his relief, no humans or signs of their presence were seen on their search for an exit from the heart of demon territory. Rune must have escaped and avoided the same fate as him, Knight smiled. If things didn’t work out on his end, he could at least count on his alternative to be safe. Another Elsword could always take the torch and find a way to restore the El.

The child stopped in their tracks, kneeling and lying one hand over the ground and leaning their head into their knee. Chains at the end of their coat curled at the edges, serpentine in movement as they swayed to the side. Knight thought they were chains from their mechanical appearance, but he could have sworn he saw them twitched the number of times he checked to see if the child was behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Knight asked.

A harsh screech pierced the damp air, echoes bouncing around enclosed walls and shaking the foundations for each bellow. The ground beneath them shook, gravel loosened and dragged Knight to his knees and head hung low. His tendons protested in the tugging and pulling, impatient and demanding as Knight hugged one arm around a giant crystal in desperation.

An earthquake. There were smaller tremors when he explored the cave, but this one felt bigger than the previous ones. Was this the culprit for the ones he felt yesterday?

Swinging his weight to a pink-colored crystal about a meter away from him, Knight used his remaining strength to pull himself up for a better view before he saw the looming figure emerge from the shadows. What was that thing?

Its body was enclaved with gems and ores. Luminescent stones erupted from its back, forming a crown around its head with blades on its limbs and lower body. Crystals formed vertically down one what appeared to be the mouth with little imagination needed beyond the many rows of teeth. Smoother crystals had curved surfaces embedded into the folds of the monster’s rough exoskeleton - on its chest, hips, and extra appendages sticking out from its body for purposes Knight would have preferred to be kept in the dark about.

Unlike the Shadow Drillers and Shadow guards that reached the height of a grown adult, the new monster’s shoulders dragged across the sides of the wall. Why should it let limited space hinder its movements through the tunnels? It left claw marks on the ground with its eerily humanoid hands, swinging a giant lantern made of the same material as its body with speed Knight wouldn’t have expected from a behemoth.

It vanished into the darkness and phased back into existence, appearing before Knight and swinging a chained sword in its wake. A dull, but blunt blade materialized in its hand. It had a weapon too?

He let out a less than heroic yell, throwing his body to the floor and sliding between the Dark Agate’s legs and pulling himself back up with his greatsword. Knight unceremoniously scooped the child up in a dash away from the unworldly monster, their legs hanging over his arms and hugging his neck for support. Nothing he couldn’t do, Knight reassured himself. This wouldn’t be the first time he fought a demon or a monster several times his size.

“Hang on tight, Knight told the child. “Don’t let go.”

They clung to him with their arms pressed tight around his neck. Good, they understood the dire situation.

Bringing his sword over his head, Knight took a leap, slashing the heavy blade over the Dark Agate’s numerous eyes. He used his legs to kick and roll away from impending attacks, letting gravity pull him to the ground in helping him dodge the spikes and needles shooting from the monster’s back. Its hoarse screams echoed the chambers and shook its foundations, forcing Knight to press his weight against the wall for support.

There was little time for him to catch his breath. A bronze sword swung at his direction, narrowly blocked by Knight’s greatsword. He struggled to redirect the blade, overpowered by the towering Dark Agate. Red flickered in his vision and the first blood dripped from his neck.

Reaching for his back pocket, Knight chugged half a bottle of Ventus’ Wing Elixir. It felt like he had swallowed the ointment Chevalier used to heal burns, a cool but burning sensation in his throat. In exchange, his legs became light and nimble as air. He saw his chance and ran.

The lantern it held in its hand brightened into dusty purple as the Dark Agate opened it, a blinding light rivaling the crystals in the caves. Knight charged, aiming for the wrist with the lantern to knock it off before it went off.

Strong energy levels of Dark El resonated from its body, solidifying and washed over them in waves. It became harder to breathe. Knight felt lightheaded and struggled to concentrate. His legs grew weak and he struggled to stand up. A familiar metallic taste reached his tongue, swallowing his own blood and feeling the heat travel to his head.

The room went pitch black.

Knight blinked and he heard the chains. He strained for signs of the monster, but his senses have gone numb from the battle. The sword in his hand suddenly felt too heavy for him to hold, slipping from his sweaty hands. Dark laughter echoed the caves and light flooded back into the room.

Knight didn’t notice until it was too late. Spikes hardened into crystals and pierced into his chest. His vision went red as his body went into shock and became limp.

He promised his friends he wouldn’t disappoint them again. They must be searching for him now and wondering where he was. Knight should have waited for everyone to be awake instead of going off by himself with only Bluhen for support. Lady of El, he made Bluhen worry for him again. His friends were going to be hurt because of him. Some friend he was.

Knight waited, lying in unbearable silence and darkness. Demons, monsters, the Dark El, they lost importance in a seemingly infinite amount of time. Darkness surrounded him and cradled him in a state that was half awake, half asleep. Pain returned to his body when he heard a familiar cackle from a distance. Gasps and whispers filled his head until it became too much, overstimulating yet underwhelming all at once.

The knight woke up with panic.

What happened? He had crystals buried into his body, but his skin was now free of shards and blood. His body looked fine, but Knight remembered how much it hurt. He should have died from the impact of having a few dozen shards shot through his body. How was he alive?

“Good morning!” A voice rang.

Knight froze. They didn’t sound like Rune or anyone from the El Search Party. This voice was nasal, a low whisper fringed with bemusement and mockery in tone.

Standing before him was a man with long hair that reached down to his ankles, curtained down the back like a billowing cape. A long-sleeved top covered his body with the collar hiding his neck. An unzipped hooded jacket draped loosely over his small shoulders and pants with belts were looped with chains. At the center of his chest held a pink core glowing in unison with eyes the color of the night sky. He sported a single scar slashed down one side of his face and had a set of six drones floating beside him.

“My hero!” Shark teeth peeked behind the man’s lips, “That’s what you were going to say, right?”

Knight recognized the drones, the sarcastic remarks, the unnerving giggling, and made the connections. There was only one person that spoke in a condescending tone like that.

“Add?” He choked.

Mad Paradox grinned.

————————————————–

Rune Master

Rune was a magnet for the strange and bizarre - lizard men, ghosts, mermaids, and man-sized crab to name a few. Trouble liked to stir where he and his friends ventured, which was to be expected when one led a life of pursuing the El down its unwinding path of destruction. If Glave had the leisure to toy with him and the El Search Party with duplicates of former enemies that no longer existed in their world, then meeting his alternative self and those of his teammates was another weekend to the fire user.

At first impression, Knight’s mannerisms and the emblems embroiled were one of a Velder soldier with high honors. Red armor, a cape, and a well-balanced sword. It was a dream Rune once fantasized as a child.

Unlike the shadows from the Temple of Trials in Hamel, Knight was of flesh and blood, unashamed of prioritizing the safety of others before his own. Rune knew that much when the other fought off the demons to help him escape. There was no mistake that they were of the same core.

Did things have to be this way? Would the results differ if Rune held ground and insisted on fighting the demons in Knight’s place instead? Rune could muse on the what-ifs, but he would only come to conclusion with hollowed potentials that never came to be.

It was night time. The rare shining of the dimension’s sole sun had disappeared when they had lunch earlier. Rune’s first night in Demon Realm taught him that the moons rotated in irregular cycles; one of them lasted for half an Elriosian day and the red one took a few hours to cross the night sky.

“What do mean you aren’t him?” Crusader demanded to know. His question held the authoritative weight suiting for the future leader of Hamel, assertive and unfaltering. The man in armor looked and sounded like Phantom, but lacked restraint and wore his emotions on his sleeves with pride. Frustration was visible in his features, lines forming between furrowed brows.

Confusion, anger, denial. Painful raw emotions reflected off the people that resembled the people Rune came to see as family. In the minimal time he had the chance to meet and observe this new El Search Party, it hurt to stay silent and pretend he was their leader. He felt like a poor imitation of Knight and it showed from the reactions he garnered when he came out to them. It didn’t feel right to leave them in the dark and let them continue traveling with a liar.

“I’m not your Elsword,” Rune said with kindness reserved for evaluating villagers. A gentle and mild tone followed by a smile was met with quizzical stares. “I’m here to let you know the truth.”

“You’re here because we found you,” Aether corrected.

“You did,” Rune hummed.

“If you aren’t Elsword, then who are you?” Rage asked.

“William Phoru, silly!” Rune teased and stuck out his tongue like the mature adult he was. When there were no responses, the rune user sighed, “Doesn’t he follow you guys too? And I never said I wasn’t Elsword.”

It was the minor differences that kept Rune from mistaking them as his El Search Party. Aether left smaller footprints in conversations, small interjections and stealing a peek when she thought he didn’t notice. Angkor’s absence was an odd detail that left the fire user pondering if the demonic bat existed in Knight’s dimension. On the other hand, Rune didn’t mind because that meant he could have uninterrupted sleep without waking to the brat digging through his bag for spare El shards.

Rage was not the only party member who looked different from his counterpart, but he carried himself in a sluggish walk - a Nasod arm and a ridiculous proportioned blade dragging through the wet forest grass. He was effectively a walking Nasod-human hybrid tank covered head to toe in armor and blades.

“But you said…” Rage said.

Rune huffed. “Look, I can prove to you I’m not your Elsword.”

Saying his own name left a bitter aftertaste for Rune, foreign. Just because they looked different didn’t mean they were complete opposites. What did Rune have that Knight didn’t? Rune reached for his sword from his back, only to come out empty-handed and bit his lips. Did he lose his sword in the fight against demons?

“What’s wrong?” A woman with hair the color of fire looked at Rune with a serious expression, his older sister! Alternative universe or not, seeing Empire’s face was a reassurance that the red knight would be a consistency and things were going to be alright. Rune could always count on her to know what to do, or at least he hoped this one did.

Ashamed to admit he lost his sword, Rune backed away from his original plan. Then again, he could always resort to his plan B and do what he did best. Moving his mouth until someone told him to shut up.

“Then what are you?” Crusader asked. “An illusion?”

“He’s no illusion,” Bringer said. “Too annoying and talks too much to be one.”

Rune took one look at the brawler and chuckled, appreciating the bluntness one would expect from Dominator’s counterpart. That was one consistency he recognized, but the same couldn’t be said for Bringer’s clothes. Tight shirt and pants with arms covered in tattoos? Now that he knew it was possible, Rune was going to bother Dominator when he finds the scientist into wearing more black and leather.

“What are you laughing at?” Bringer turned pink.

“I’m glad you’re the same, Add.” Rune said, “But I never thought I would see you wear black.”

Bringer scoffed, “Is that what shocks you?”

“Not the strangest thing,” Rune shrugged. “Aisha formed a contract with Angkor-”

“Who the hell is Angkor?”

“A demon god.”

“You have a wild imagination, I’ll give you that.” Aether commented, mumbling to herself. “A contract with a demon god? In what universe? How hard did Elsword hit his head?”

Rune twitched. He heard that! Fall on his head? More than once. Damage his head? Unlikely, but he should probably reassess his personal bias. He didn’t count on having a tough crowd to win their hearts, but he sure as hell was gonna try if it meant breaking his head. Maybe not if he valued not getting stabbed by Ultimate. Or Richter. Or both.

“Aisha would never do that.” Crusader agreed with the mage, but paused. “What about me?”

“You became a marksman and infiltrate enemies before they can find you,” Rune was giddy in getting Crusader’s attention. “Raven’s arm looks different, Ara wears more black, and Ain doesn’t heal.”

“I wear too much white?” Apsara looked at her clothes.

“You told me the last one before,” Crusader sighed. “What about you?” Concern painted in sky blue eyes, a million of thoughts racing in his head in an inquiry that quickly turned into a series of tall tales he wasn’t ready to accept.

“You see, I’m very different.” Rune smirked, “I can shoot fire.”

It was satisfying to watch the shock on everyone’s faces. He didn’t remember seeing Knight using runes or fire magic when they fought together. This was going to be easy! This had to work, otherwise, he was going to have to get creative and start splitting hairs.

“Uh, huh.” Aether failed to be impressed by the claim. “And I can control time and space.”

Ignoring the skepticism, sparks emitted from his palms. Small fireballs danced at his fingertips, casting shadows stretching across his face.

“See?” Rune grinned. “Pretty cool, right?”

“You’ve been doing that since Ruben,” Bluhen cocked his head to the side. “Was there supposed to be more?”

For real? Poster boy had access to fire abilities too? Then why didn’t Knight take advantage of that when they were fighting? Rune extinguished the flames and hung his head, sighing in exasperation. That was the most obvious clue, so now what?

Rune didn’t hear the footsteps, a hand rested on his shoulder. Lifting his head up, he was greeted by a matching pair of crimson eyes gazing back. There was a visible determination not unlike Flame’s, but stern and unhesitant, holding a scabbard in hand. A black and sleek scabbard engraved with the title Knight Emperor.

So that’s what their leader called himself. Fitting name for a person with an equally impressionable sword that was missing from its case.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save your sword. This was all we could find,” Empire apologized. “I’m glad Aisha and Chung found you.”

Tongue-tied, Rune gave a solemn nod. From Empire’s perspective, her brother disappeared and then showed up with off-putting claims, ignorant of Knight’s true fate. He could argue with Aether and Rage all day on who he was, but things were different with Empire. She looked too much like Flame for him to find the heart to correct her.

“Thank you,” Rune finally found his voice and accepted the scabbard.

Well-polished and clean, it was maintained with care. Strips of leather wrapped around the edges into a scrap for the owner to wear around the belt outside of battle. It didn’t feel right to possess something belonging to a man he had talked to for ten minutes at best. Is this what Knight would have wanted?

“Why are you telling us this?” Rage asked.

“Because I’m going to leave,” Rune turned to face his back to the side, away from the others. “I need to find my friends.”

He was going to make a plan and pray that the other was somewhere in Demon Realm. Rune wanted to believe his counterpart would be as tenacious and stubborn on dying as he was.

“Great, just what we need.” Aether rolled her eyes, “Two Elswords!”

“But we are your friends!” Crusader protested.

“Can your Elsword do this?” Rune stepped outside the tent. Flames exhausted from his oily palms. Red flares engulfed the oxygen in the air, smoke-infused with a sharp crisp scent of the forest. Fire burst into the sky in the form of a phoenix greeted by the stars.

“What are you doing?” Aether saw the fire shoot past her vision and hissed, “You’re going to give away our location to the demons!”

“I think the red brat might be right.” Bringer snarled at Bluhen, “Check his El Resonance. What do you see?”

Bluhen frowned, “It’s the same, but his energy is different today. His magic levels are higher.”

“What should we do?” Cavalier asked.

“The enemy might find us if we don’t leave now,” Daybreaker said. “Let’s move!”

Before he had a say in the matter, a pair of strong arms (one human, one Nasod) lifted Rune off the ground. His legs dangled in the air as Rage threw him over the shoulders, upper body behind and lower body hanging loose on the other side.

“Hey!” Rune pounded his fists on the older male’s shoulders. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

“We’re leaving,” Rage said. “You’re going to have to stay with us longer and tell us more about the other Elsword.”

Rune did not appreciate being manhandled. Plan B in convincing this El Search Party that he and Knight were different people was successful, but like the numerous plans he came up with, he failed to consider the next step once he reached his goal. Where were Blade and Ultimate when he was stuck in a rut?

————————————————–

Richter

He looked at the starry heavens, reaching for the spot where he saw the burst of flames minutes ago, unmistakably Rune’s Phoenix Talon. Richter recognized the wing structures in the display of fire and sheer power.

On the day he earned his title as Richter, he also made a promise to himself in protecting Rune and the El Search Party for the things they have done for the priest. The time they invested into him despite the inconveniences when the Dark El attempted to seize his very being. For those reasons, he could not ignore when Rune was taken by demons. As foolish as humans were, they taught him the lesson that it was that ambitious trait that made humans survive longer than expected.

Humans have a phrase about having holes in their chest after suffering a loss, which Richter was quick to dismiss when Elsword first explained the concept. What humans failed to tell him was how much it aches when Rune was gone. Not even a month has passed since Rune was retrieved from the El and the redhead vanished.

Their team didn’t designate leaders, but Rune was the heart in their group of friends. His encouraging words and willingness to open his heart pulled them together; he was an optimist that gave people second chances even to those that didn’t deserve it. Numerous of their friends had the brains and intellect to come up with plans, but Rune held a moral compass that was hard to come by.

Richter felt a spark. Rune was alive, his El resonance electrified the air as soon the sky was lit with fire. Anxiety lingered as the celestial ran through the forest, ignoring the prickling sensation and his skin turning hot in overstimulation to the presence of Dark El and demons surrounding them.

“Is he still there?” Anemos kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb the forest’s inhabitants. It was admirable the lengths humans and elves sometimes underwent for the sake of others. He appreciated her for not feeling the need to fill the moment of silence with pointless chatter as some humans did.

“He’s moving,” Richter said; he felt Rune’s El resonance drifting in and out of his range.

“Then we move too,” Flame caught up with him and Anemos, hand over her claymore and legs closed together.

They were a group of eleven people, demons and Nasods or half-Nasods included. Richter was tired of counting, holding irrational hope that he had missed a number each time. Ms. Dark Mage and Mr. Ancient were caught up in a debate Richter could care less about.

“Extracting this is more efficient!” Dominator argued.

“What are you, stupid?” Oz retorted. “That’s a waste of resources when you can use a substitute!”

Devi was effective in dissipating their banter in a single sentence and a smile that made the two shudder. Richter did not envy whoever faced the wrath of the woman hailed from a kingdom now swarming with demons.

“Things will be smoother if we were quieter,” Phantom remarked.

“With our group?” Abysser snickered. “That’s not happening.”

“Maybe if half of us didn’t have such huge egos,” Timoria was bemused by the adults holding useless banter.

“If things go wrong, remember the setup we discussed.” Blade reminded them. “Get into your positions and wait for my signal.”

A former enemy, Mr. Half-Nasod was once the result of crude experiments conducted by Nasods. Years of observing the mercenary grow to become a reliable and irreplaceable team member left a bitter aftertaste for Richter. He didn’t hate Blade, but being next to the mercenary made his core seize in ways that irked the priest. The half-Nasod was demanding, throwing orders like Rune was no longer there.

Despite initial aggression and the visible conflict Blade had with his Nasod arm up until recently, Rune looked up to the older male. He pestered the mercenary, joked, and asked questions on the trivial things humans worried about (“Is it gay to want to kiss your best friend? Asking for a friend.”). If the mercenary’s expressions were to speak for themselves, Mr. Half-Nasod was uncomfortable answering those types of questions, urging Rune to ask his sister instead. Although Rune was a magic user, he continued to home his sword and went to Blade to enhance his skills and knowledge in the way of the sword. This remained true when his sister joined their growing party.

That familiar spark again. Rune, he was nearby. From below?

His eyes fell to where his feet were, something shimmering gleamed in the undergrowth. Richter felt the power of an El Shard coming through. He lowered himself to brush the leaves off, blinking when he felt for its form.

The grip and blade were infused with crimson material similar to Rune’s. A blue stone glowed where the cross guard met with the blade, an El Shard fragment. It was lighter than it looked and maintained balance when he tested it with one hand in checking for abnormalities. The owner took care of the sword and it showed.

“My scans detected Elsword,” Ultimate announced. “He is ahead.”

Richter hoped that it was the correct one. Things would be unfortunate if their target turned out to be Rune’s counterpart, but would it matter? They would still be Elsword, kind-hearted and naive with the strong belief that everyone could get along. It was a childish belief, but Richter had witnessed the Rune Master achieve the impossible more than once.

But would the other Elsword recognize him? What if Richter never existed in the other Elsword’s universe? There would be nothing for Rune’s counterpart to remember if Ishmael found another solution in restoring the El. Was that something Richter could live with?

“We’re almost there,” An arm reached out, a firm hand resting over Richter’s. Flame smiled, “He’s waiting for us.”

Claymore out, Ms. Fire walked in stride with her legs spread out and a fierce grin directed at Richter. Wild braids combed past her back and the fire knight had sparks dancing in her palms. It was easy to understand why Rune looked up to her. She held confidence and purpose in her words, unchallenged and unapologetic in her actions. Her words shook Richter from his trance.

“He has caused trouble,” Richter said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s why we’re here to rescue him again.”

A rare smile appeared on Richter’s features, “He won’t appreciate hearing that.”

“I know,” Flame grinned.

Through cupped hands, Blade let out a soft caw, crowing into his mic piece. That was the signal. It started out as a joke when they were investigating the fires in Velder, but the idea stuck.

Richter took the lead, summoning blades that materialized in his hands. His feet brushed past the grass and leafy terrain, no longer concern on making his presence known. Rune was here, minutes within their reach. He was going to repair what he did wrong. The priest refused to make the same mistake and lose sight of his friend, not after the El Search Party went through hell in the Hall of El.

He sensed them. Rune wasn’t alone. There were others, several of them at least. Their El resonance was luminous in his third vision, akin to fireflies in the summers he remembered in Velder. Each of them had a unique wavelength, a rainbow palette near identical to the people Richter had traveled with.

Humans. An elf, a Nasod, a cyborg, two demons, and a replica, Richter noted with disdain. There were several of them. Their faces were mirrors of his friends, impersonations that looked like the El Search Party, but the disparities were ludicrous, flimsy caricatures of themselves. Mr. Ancient’s claim was correct. He had found their counterparts. Richter strained his eyes for red hair.

“I’m behind,” a female voice spoke to him through his communicator. “Don’t attack.”

Footsteps followed closely from behind. Leaping through the forest on high heels, Anemos landed beside him. Mr. Guardian and Ms. Dark Mage were with her. The demon that followed Oz seemed right at home, flicking his tails and snickered to the dark mage for reasons Richter failed to see.

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Oz saw the small group. “I don’t see Elsword yet.”

“There’s more of them,” Dominator said. “They’re being careful if they’re moving in smaller groups like us.”

That meant they had people in their group doing the planning too, Richter thought. He wouldn’t expect less from their counterparts. This was where Rune has been hiding? He glanced at the gray-haired man swinging a pendulum similar to his. It appeared that the Ain of this world chose a different path. Richter could not sense Ishmael’s will in him. Seeing the fear in his own face made the priest frown. Why was he scared?

“Who’s there?” The replica turned his head to where Richter and the others were hiding, “Show yourselves!”

“He’s demanding like you,” Dominator snorted.

Richter leered at the scientist. His counterpart wasn’t a fool then if they sensed their presence. The priest pulled himself away from his hiding spot to get a better look at his other self, but a pair of legs dashed past him before Richter would speak up.

“You have a keen eye,” Anemos commended his other self. “We have a friend that can do that too.��

“We?” The other Ain blinked, “Why are you here?”

“We’re looking for a friend of ours,” Phantom said. “He’s about this tall, red hair, yells like an idiot.”

His counterpart stopped smiling, lips curled at the end, but conflict was visible in their eyes in their struggle to articulate. Richter understood the feeling. They were overwhelmed, speechless in the sudden appearance of people who looked and sounded like their friends. He almost pitied himself if not for the fact that they provided no answers.

“We’re looking for a red brat too,” a man in a black coat interjected. Mr. Ancient? His physique was a diversion from Dominator’s, lean but muscular with the face of a delinquent. “It’s been two days since he left.”

“You didn’t answer his question,” Dominator studied his counterpart before gazing at the rest of the opposing El Search Party. “There are supposed to be more of you. Where’s Nasod arm?”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” Mr. Ancient in black scowled.

“That’s too bad,” Dominator drawled. “Because I thought you would be more cooperative. I guess a muscle head like you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Fuck off!” The brawler growled.

The scientist smirked, “Do you speak to your mother with a mouth like that? No matter, I have ways of making people like you talk.”

“I’m getting a headache listening to these two talk,” a woman that looked like Ms. Dark Mage muttered to a butler dressed in shades of blues.

“Where did you get that?”

Richter looked to see where his counterpart was pointing at. It was the greatsword he found on the ground earlier.

“I found it,” Richter said.

“Ain?” A male voice came from a distance, “Hey, Ain! Guys!”

Both Ains turned to see Rune flopped over the back of a man with a Nasod arm. The redhead pulled his upper body up to wave at Richter, “You looked for me?”

“That’s Ain?” The other Ms. Fox exclaimed with bewilderment.

“Of course we looked for you!” Oz shouted, “Don’t think we were going to leave without you!”

Rune was safe, Richter breathed. But what was the other Mr. Half-Nasod doing with the fire user and what kind of clothes was he wearing? It was the type of attire Rune once tried to convince Blade that it was what adventurers wore for casual wear.

“Why do you have his sword?” His counterpart asked. “What happened to him?”

Richter looked to the other with no answer. That sword belonged to the other Elsword? He empathized with his alternative in losing someone they were close to, but he remained silent. They had Rune and he wanted him back. There was no point in talking if nothing he said would give the other El Search Party a lead to where their Elsword could be.

“Give him back,” Phantom looked to Blade’s counterpart for compliance. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to let Elsword go.”

The other Mr. Half-Nasod turned the other way and ran off with Rune over his back. Rune opened his mouth, but Richter could not discern what the fire user was yelling through the wind. They were heading deeper into the forest.

The brief moment of peace between the two parties disputed into utter chaos. Screams of panic and accusations flew back and forth between the groups like bullets, lasers and magical blasts exchanged to one another.

Light flashed around Richter, long blades emerged from the power of the goddess to lend him her powers. His blades ran their course, glowing in a hot flash of anger. Wind currents followed the priest, leaving cracks in his footsteps in his pursuit for Mr. Half-Nasod’s look alike.

A white spear with an orange orb enclaved at the center appeared in Richter’s peripheral vision. Its owner performed a deadly dance, a transparent veil wrapped around a wide-eyed woman who looked like Devi. The demons’ and Ms. Nasod Queen’s other selves were also here. He could make out their outlines as they shouted at Devi’s look-alike for instructions.

Richter glared at the shadowed figures. He was surrounded.

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whoisjeti · 5 years

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About (2009) Watchmen...

About Watchmen (2009)...

Decided to watch the older (2009) Watchmen, for a bit more context I guess, and I just...

Girl.

###

First of all, it leads me to immensely, IMMENSELY—can I type this any bigger? IMMENSELY!!!!!! appreciate the current Watchmen series on HBO that much more. So much more. Like...I was already absolutely positively here for it, and now I’m HEEEEEEEEEEERE FOR IT! There’s some headline out there that argues the 2019 series (starring my Shero Regina King! And my ex-lover in my mind, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II!) ignored the 2009 film, and I beg to differ. They simply inverted the hell out of that mess—AND I LOVE IT.

The lesser—but significant!—gripes:

(1) I was promised MORE Carla Gugino (OG Silk Spectre) in garters, dammit! Then you make her apologize for her rapist-baby daddy???! What in the, and I cannot stress this enough, ABSOLUTE FUCK??????????????????

(2) Laurie (Malin Maria Åkerman), daughter of the OG Silk Spectre, has clearly invested in the best conditioner money can buy. But, girl, I’ma need you to coif that when you go dropping in prisons and burning buildings. Even *EYE*—and my no-can-fight ass—would have snatched you by the wig and ended this. And, truly, that woulda been the that on that.

(3) Same goes for this cape-wearing fool, Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson)! Has Edna Mode taught us nothing? Nothing?!

However, I have much deeper concerns about the commentary the film appears to have been making in 2009: a time that just so happens to coincide with the beginning of “the Obama era”, and the reactionary rise of the tea party..................😑😒🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

As much as I love looking at Jeffrey Dean Morgan, any reaction to The Comedian’s death other than a bit from Samuel L. Jackson’s oeuvre is some Joker-esque/My-Poor-Little-Fascist soliloquy mess.

Rorschach’s role as narrator and avenger of The Comedian, is a really hard (But unsurprising 🙄) pill to swallow when all his sins are laid bare. As a matter of fact! Let’s recount those sins now, shall we?

Off top: He raped his coworker!

Not to be outdone: To avoid responsibility for his non-white child, he wasted no time killing the very, very pregnant mother! Of his child!

He opened fire on unarmed civilians—laughing all the way!

He didn’t dissuade his daughter from hitting on him!

And Rorschach—this moody bish—Rorschach considers The Comedian’s behavior “a parody” of all the ill in the world, and like... bitch, how!?

This ‘evil in the world today’, frankly, is never ever ever actually demonstrated in the film except by the hand of The Comedian. We don’t get to actually witness a world that deserves—at the narrative level—whatever false ‘justice’ The Comedian thought himself to be meting out.

In entirely too broad strokes, we’re made aware that this alternate 1985 is a world threatened by Soviet influence, and nuclear war. Bad, bad, bad. Nixon won a third term—bad, in no uncertain terms, BAD—but this lot of superheroes voted for him. (Vintage.)

It’s a presumption we’re all making as viewers, and a presumption that’s been made on our behalf by the filmmakers, that we know who the “real” villains are in this film, but do we?

Adrian Veidt, the billionaire, is the “real” villain because of his work to incite World War III, and because he—since Rorschach won’t let us forget—KiLlEd ThE CoMeDiAn.

Which, can I just say, is suuuuuuuch classic billionaire shit. To be the guy who does too little charity too late—or in the case of causing nuclear war, does THE DAMN MOST because you couldn’t get your way—then expect us all to kiss your ass about it? Then, we find out, he didn’t even do it on principle, but because The Comedian found out about his WWIII plot?? Vintage.

Then, there’s the (tired) hero’s journey embodied by Dr. Manhattan, who’s so unemotional, he’s naive. So powerful yet so aloof that he’s easily taken for a fool. And then there’s Dan (Nite Owl II), who knows Rorschach is unhinged but does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to check him. Knew The Comedian was a terror, but didn’t quite have the wherewithal to shut him down.

Unsurprisingly, the queer femme in the OG Watchmen Squad died—and was not revived as a Next Gen Watchmen member—before 👏🏾 we 👏🏾 even 👏🏾 made 👏🏾 it 👏🏾 through 👏🏾 the 👏🏾 title 👏🏾 sequence, because we—and by “we” I mean “y’all”—just cannot resist narrative punishment for women who refuse to fit as trope-y narrative devices. Just loooooove killing queer womxn off!

All of it, feels so incredibly well-suited to the present-day social order.

What’s most striking to me, however, is that this building (yt)(cis)(het)(male) resentment can be encapsulated by Rorschach’s mask—the very mask used by (one of the) the terrorist force(s) we’re introduced to in the 2019 series.

And that is such a clever subtlety...I freakin’ LOVE IT.

Anywho... not to tell you how to feel, but oohchile: hated it!

Y’all go hurry up and watch the new HBO series to correct the balance of Earth! GO.

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blog-spanking-partners-blog · 5 years

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Seven Spanking Substitutes

Moms and dads often wish they had more tools in their toolboxes, especially when it comes to trendy. Here are some tried and true tactics for helping kids learn to follow rules-you just need to decide which one is best for you in any given situation. 1 . Time Out: The first thing to understand time-out is whether your child needs this or you do. If it's your child, continue reading. If it's you (you're so bored you're likely to do something you'll regret), find tip #6. Time out is most effective when it's used to interrupt a conduct and/or when the child is old enough to think about what he or she has completed (ages two and up). If you have just about any queries concerning where and how you can use スパンキングパートナーの募集, it is possible to contact us at our own web-page. Make use of time out calmly, and tailor the amount of time to the child's age: no more than about a minute per year of age. A five-year-old has a five-minute time out. A ten-year-old, 10 minutes. 2 . Privilege loss: If the kid has abused a privilege, such as throwing a toy, he or she can reduce the privilege of playing with the toy away for a time period. If she or he doesn't turn off the TV or computer when you say to, you can take away that will privilege for a time, as well. With earlier childhood, use an hour or the afternoon. For older elementary, try again the next day. 3. Time In: "Time In", by the book of the same title, is a technique that seeks to avoid and to teach, using four strategies: Ask, Act, Attend, and Modify. (Thanks to Jean Clarke with this information). Use "ask" to help children remember the rule. Ex: "What is our rule about tossing things? " "What is the rule about hurting others? inch Use "act" when you need to take action. This might look like moving a child to a safe place to finish his temper tantrum. Use "attend" when you know the child is in need of some attention that will help his or her behavior. Perhaps you may notice when they are on-task or sharing. Use "amend" when harm has been done to someone or something. Attend to the hurt kid first, and then engage the offender. Ex: Calmly say, "Look in Jacob's arm. It's red in which the block hit him. You need to make amends. " Depending on the age plus ability of the child, he or she can choose (with your approval) what to do. If they are very young, you might say, "Go have the cold pack from the freezer therefore he can put it on his arm. " With amends, you help the offender decide what to do to make points better, help him or her do it, and move on. Be careful of demanding the verbal apology. This can lead to insincerity and sometimes, frankly, isn't sufficient. 4. Natural Consequence: If it will not cause harm, you can let the organic consequence take place. A child who refuses to wear a coat might be frosty during an outing. A child who else doesn't do his homework might have a displeased teacher or obtain a poor mark in school. 5. Considering Time: This is a version of time out there where you engage the child after they have had time to think and calm down. Ask: a. What happened? b. Why do you consider it happened? and c. So what can you do differently so that it doesn't happen again? It's important to listen and to problem-solve if you use this technique. For children below five, ask for two alternatives. After age five, typically developing kids can usually come up with three appropriate alternatives. 6. Take a break: If you're the main one who's losing your cool, it could be time for you to up your self-care, take a break, and recharge. Whether that means a long bubble bath by yourself, a night out with friends, or date night together with your partner, find a way to make it happen. Everybody will benefit. 7. Learn about Development: Many parenting struggles come from not being aware of what to expect at each age. Knowing what's natural, what's helpful for parents to undertake, and what you can say can go a considerable ways to smoothing the ride. For more information, check out these books: Growing Up Again, How Much Is Enough?, Is This a Phase? and Kids Can Cooperate, Amount of time in.

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less-than-hash · 6 years

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Standards Transmission

I’m going to talk a little about bugs. Specifically about how we classify bugs, and the bugs we developers ship our games with.

I’m also going to talk a bit about how I think we, as developers, can mislead players and reviewers about the state of our game prior to launch.

I’m also going to try to convince you not to pre-order games.

Thoughts below the cut.

Games - especially the big, expensive ones - have grown significantly in complexity over the last two decades. If they’re not online, they’re open world. Sometimes they’re both. Fortunately, the proliferation of the internet combined with the tools provided by digital distribution platforms have made fixing issues post-launch significantly easier than back in the pre-PS3 days.

Developers should be able to relax, knowing that not every little issue that ships with a game is part of that game forevermore.

Relax a little, anyway.

Meanwhile, during my time in test it seemed that the console certification standards for games also relaxed significantly between the last generation and this. I suspect this, too, a reaction to the reality that games are easier to patch post-launch.

But if the developers relax their standards and console makers relax their standards, what incentive do the developers have to maintain any standards at all?

We've seen a number of utterly broken launches in recent years. SimCity's infamous release was over five years ago now. Fallout 76's was a few months ago. These games were rightly raked over their coals for their usability issues. But they're also outliers.

I'm more concerned about games like Skyrim, which largely gets a pass on its bugginess as the natural outcome of its scope and complexity, or, to bring it home, Deadfire, which shipped with no small number of bugs. Both games received largely positive critical response.

And here's the thing: when we send games out to reviewers, it's often with a statement along the lines of "this is not the shipping game; There Will be Bugs; we are working to address them."

But that's basically a lie.

By the time we send out a review copy, the build's essentially locked down. We're not changing anything unless the behavior being addressed is so reprehensible as to justify the risk of potentially destabilizing the game right before launch. You hit a lot of crashes or an incomplete critical path quest bug, there's a reasonable chance we'll be trying to address that.

Anything short of that? No chance in hell.

And there’s a lot of bugs short of completely game-breaking that can make playing a game an unpleasant or wildly unfair experience.

When testers submit bugs, they (or a lead, or a producer - this varies wildly between studios) assign said bug a Severity. Studios also have very different standards from one another in how they assign said Severity, but it’ll generally look something like this:

A1 - Crash The game experiences a critical failure and the program ends. May take your computer or console with it.

This can also include things like infinite loading screens, though those can also occur without the game technically crashing.

A2 - Absolute Critical Path Progression Break An issue prevents play from continuing along the primary critical path of the game. This can be an issue with content (level design or art, a system, or a quest or narrative failure) or programming, and may manifest as things like:

Not being able to connect to a necessary server

Not being able to enter play

Not being able to turn in or complete a quest

Not being able to transition into a new scene

Not being able to load a save file

Falling out of the world

Regardless of exactly what happens, the player is going to have to restart the game or reload a previous save in order to progress through the game’s primary experience.

A3 - Progression Break As above, but the player can work around it and continue play, or it impacts a sidequest or some otherwise non-critical content.

B1 - Major Breakage Some system doesn’t function in some significant way. It’s going to be highly visible and will impact most players. Perhaps health packs don’t actually heal, for example. Perhaps the UI falls apart if interacted with in a particular order. Perhaps subtitles don’t function in languages with non-Latin alphabets.

Perhaps the color green displays as yellow. Always.

At many studios, this’ll be classified as an A bug. I personally consider bugs like this unacceptable for ship.

B2 - Breakage Something specific isn’t functioning like it’s supposed to. It could be something wide-ranging like a system (arrows inflicting fire damage instead of physical for example) or art asset (empty barrels don’t have textures on the inside, and thus appear “invisible” from within). Or it could be something specific, like a winch that’s supposed to lower a dumbwaiter simply not working or a piece of art being upside down.

At this level, a bugged aspect of the game is clearly not functioning correctly to any player who understands how it should function, AND that failure of function negatively impacts play, BUT the game experience isn’t entirely destroyed.

C - Issue Nothing’s perfect. We tend to forgive a lot of little problems in the things we experience - when we notice them at all. C bugs might include minor narrative or art inconsistencies, minor framerate drops during a specific encounter, or a strange animation when switching between one weapon type and another.

There can be a few other types of bugs that I’m not going to get into here, such as suggestions, subjective bugs, and the like.

Along with Severity, Bugs tend to be measured along a few other axes called Priority, Reproducibility, and Likelihood. The first represents the import given an issue in comparison to other issues of the same type, the second the probability the issue will occur if the player performs the action that causes it, and the third the chance that any given player will perform the action that causes the issue. Generally, Priority is assigned based on the combination of the bug’s Severity, Reproducibility, and Likelihood. (Which is why a crash might not get fixed - it’s so rare an occurrence that it’s difficult to reproduce and investigate.)

Here’s the thing: the closer that we get to shipping a game, the higher a bug needs to be up that Severity chart to land on a developer’s plate, much less actually get addressed. There comes a point in every project I’ve ever worked on, for example, where remaining C bugs cease to be something we intend to address (for ship). There’s simply not time to make everything entirely perfect, no matter how much we’d like to.

Here’s the other thing: Since any given change to the game has the potential to cause new issues, we developers have to weigh the importance of fixing an issue against the possibility of introducing a new one. Attempting to fix a B bug can result in a far more severe issue.

For example, if a conversation that includes a player dialog option seems to ignore that option, it may be because the alternative didn’t actually get made. Simply cutting that node could break the conversation and, by extension, the quest. Sometimes it’s possible that the entire conversation can be cut without breaking anything, and sometimes that happens. Other times we decide that it’s best to just leave the bug in there. A player experiencing the issue is better than possible alternatives.

A line I really loved in BioShock: Infinite that played between Booker and Liz on the boardwalk simply stopped firing shortly before release. It had been written, recorded by the voice actors, and implemented. It had functioned just fine up until it entirely stopped playing. Chances are, the fix would have been easy. But we didn’t know what the problem was, time was tight, and we determined that avoiding introducing new issues was far better than trying to rescue a line that players would never know they missed.

So the production realities of bugfixing combined with the timing of reviews means that once a developer has sent review copies out, or, for that matter, once they’ve launched an open beta, they’re very close to release. At that point, anything short of an A Severity bug will almost certainly not be addressed for launch.

But that doesn’t stop us from telling reviewers (or Beta players) that “hey, we’re still polishing the game and fixing bugs.”

That misleading statement influences reviews. When I see bugs mentioned in reviews, which isn’t particularly often, it's generally with the caveat that "I was playing on an early build, and the developer has assured me that it will be fixing bugs towards launch."

Sure, many of these bugs will get resolved over the update cycle of a title. But they won't all be. And they definitely won't be at launch.

Because the current calculus is "how not-busted a product can we ship without it hurting our bottom line?"

I think that the industry could stand to have its bottom line hurt on occasion.

We need reviewers to call us out on our bugs. We need players to hold off on buying products - especially products from studios with a reputation for releasing buggy titles - until after they've hit market and been fairly evaluated. If a company is releasing software that's buggy as shit, don't financially support them.

I’ve almost started thinking of major bugs I encounter in games as insults. A publisher or producer determined that this bugged product was good enough for the likes of Alex.

And to be absolutely clear: this is not the fault of QA. QA, assuming they're not woefully understaffed (its own issue), will almost certainly have found, reproduced, and reported the defect you encountered. They're as frustrated that you experienced it as you are. Possibly more.

Nor does fault generally lie with the developer(s) who actually caused the bug. They would likely be all-too-happy (assuming they haven't been worked to the breaking point) to fix the thing that they broke. They got into this gig because they want to make fun, exciting experiences, and nothing's less fun than broken-ass shit.

The fault lies with the money people.

The managers and the publishers. The people who don’t care whether you deserve better because you've accepted everything they've served up so far. The same people who would rather have you spending money on loot crates than experiencing narrative content. Who would rather have you be someone else’s content (and them yours) than actually pay to make content for their players.

And the same people who would rather fire hundreds of developers rather than take a cut in their own pay.

When you've decided that games have become unacceptably broken, they're the ones you have to convince.

You won’t do so by purchasing their games before anyone’s had a chance to play and evaluate them.

#bugs #gamedev #game development #preorder #qa #quality assurance

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lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 6 years

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LGBTQIA+ Historical Romances for Valentine’s Day

Rainbow Bouquet: an anthology from Manifold Press (Released on 2/14/19)

- Authors featured are Harry Robertson, Edward Ahern, Victoria Zammit, Erin Horáková, Cheryl Morgan, Sarah Ash, Kathleen Jowitt, Sean Robinson, Garrick Jones and MJ Logue, and the settings vary from a mediaeval monastery to the 'final frontier', give or take the odd supernatural realm along the way. Stories of love in the past, present and future - all as fascinating in their variety as love itself.

The Auspicious Troubles of Chance by Charlie Cochet (An MC named Valentine is cheating, but…)

- The Auspicious Troubles of Love: Book One Chance Irving is a young man with a gift for getting into trouble—not surprising, as trouble is all he’s ever known. After losing everything he held dear one fateful night, he decides to leave New York and his past behind, and joins the French Foreign Legion. But even in Algiers, Chance can’t seem to shake his old ways, and he ends up being transferred to a unit made up of misfits and rabble-rousers like him—a unit he finds just in time to be captured and thrown into a cell with his new commandant, Jacky Valentine. A highly respected commandant with a soft spot for hard luck cases, Jacky is the kind of guy who would go to war for you, and the three equally troubled youths from his unit he’s more or less adopted feel the same way about him. Suddenly Chance starts to think that his life doesn’t have to be as desolate and barren as the wastelands around him. But even after their escape, with the promise of a future with Jacky to buoy his spirits, or maybe because of it, Chance can’t stop making mistakes. He disobeys orders, lashes out at the boys in Jacky’s care, and blazes a trail of self-destruction across the desert—until someone makes him realize he’s hurting more than just himself. A Timeless Dreams title: While reaction to same-sex relationships throughout time and across cultures has not always been positive, these stories celebrate M/M love in a manner that may address, minimize, or ignore historical stigma.

Will and the Valentine Saint by Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee (Victorian Holiday Hearts Book 2) (This is possibly the sweetest story in the series, though they are all charming.)

- A Valentine bonbon from Devon/Dee. Will Andrews wishes to escape the craziness of his bohemian family and create some order in his life. Hiding his eccentric theater background and presenting false letters of recommendation, he interviews for a position at a legal aid society. The last thing he expects is to fall hard for his genteel employer, Hugh St. John. When Hugh needs a secretary, one magnetic candidate draws him. Will Andrews shares his vision for the Society and is also the most attractive man he’s ever met. But Hugh has never even kissed a man and would never throw himself at an employee. As the pair plans a Valentine charity dinner, they grow ever closer to surrendering to Cupid’s arrow. But when Will’s false credentials and true background are revealed, can Hugh forgive his lies and omissions? Can fragile romance blossom into true love after trust is broken?

Aunt Adeline’s Bequest by Amy Durreson (Part of the A Valentine Rainbow series)

- One snowy evening, wounded WWI veteran Jasper Pritchard arrives at Valentine Nugent’s sweet shop with an unusual request. Jasper’s deceased great-aunt has left him a fortune, along with a box of indiscreet letters she wants returned to the writer, and the only clue is a tin sold in Valentine’s shop over twenty years ago. As they search the shop’s records and uncover a love story from long ago, they find far more than the answer to the mystery. A part of the “A Valentine Rainbow” set of 14 holiday stories.

How to Talk to Nice English Girls by Gretchen Evans (Releases on 2/14/19)(f/f!)

- In the aftermath of The Great War, everything is changing. But not for Marian Fielding. Marian’s life is quiet and predictable in the solitude of the English countryside, where she plans to remain and care for her parents. But Marian’s world is turned upside down when she meets brash, confident Katherine Fuller. Katherine arrives at the Fieldings’ estate for the wedding of Marian’s sister and immediately shakes things up. Instead of keeping an eye on the ill-mannered American girl and keeping her out of trouble, Marian finds herself magnetically drawn to Katherine’s vivacious nature, and they are swept into a whirlwind romance that will change both of their lives. But will Katherine’s unconventional behavior ruin their chance at happiness? Can Marian leave her old life behind? Will two women from different worlds find a way to be together against all odds and expectations?

The Princess’s Valentine by KT Grant (Pirates of Flaundia #2.5) (f/f!)

- Daisy and her ex-pirate wife of one year have created a wonderful life together on an island paradise, after many years of separation and heartache. Daisy worries that Chelsey has become bored and misses her life on the open seas. When she catches Chelsey in the arms of another, she runs away with a broken heart. Chelsey made the mistake of trusting an unscrupulous individual who ended up playing a cruel joke on her. Now she must regain Daisy’s trust before their relationship is ruined forever. She uses abduction and seduction to claim her princess’s heart and soul again.

Eidolon by Jordan L Hawk (Whyborne & Griffin 1.5)

- Griffin Flaherty wants nothing more than to create a perfect Valentine’s Day for his lover, Dr. Percival Endicott Whyborne. Dinner at a fancy restaurant, an evening at the theater, and a romantic interlude at home should do the trick. But a new client with an urgent case puts Griffin’s plans in jeopardy. A magic talisman has been stolen, and if it isn’t returned by sundown, it may unleash disaster not only on the thief but the innocents around him. Can Whyborne and Griffin track down the thief and return the amulet by nightfall, or will dinner reservations become the least of their worries?

In Trouble with Angels by Felicity Ivey (Part of the A Valentine Rainbow series)

- With the increasing commercialization of Valentine’s Day in the 1950s, the Pagan deities of Love, led by Eros, gather to make sure everything runs smoothly. Shy, quiet angel Shateiel offers help, and Eros is quite taken with the cute angel, though he keeps his lust to himself. When the higher-level angels discover Shateiel’s little rebellious streak and how he’s been spending his time, they intervene to keep him from falling from grace. Now, Eros may wish he’d admitted his feeling before it was too late.

Paper Valentine - by AJ Llewellyn

- London, 1840. At the height of Victorian hypocrisy, two men meet and fall in love. Their romance is forbidden, punishable even by death, but their passion blossoms thanks to a paper Valentine.Saint Valentine s Day has become a new and very popular day for lovers. Thousands of Londonites are clamouring for the ideal romantic gift. While men buy chocolate and posies, they yearn for something more unusual, more personal. Enterprising brothers Aldon and Samuel Barnaby hit upon the idea of paper Valentines, creating lavish presentations decorated with silk, lace, and paper flowers.Aldon is fortunate to have his perfect valentine going to his expectant wife, Geneve, but Samuel still longs for his own true love, pouring his heart and soul into his beautiful creations. Samuel s romantic verses inside his paper Valentines are in huge demand, yet not a single local girl can lay claim to his heart because his passion lies not in a woman, but another man Jude, a handsome but shy widower.Jude’s heart, haunted by grief, hasn’t been ready to consider marriage again. But slowly, through his inclusion in the Barnaby family’s lives…and his frequent excursions to stop and stare at the Barnabys shop window…he begins to wonder in what direction his future lies.Can Samuel possibly allow his heart to explore love with another man? Could Jude ever love him in return? He sends Jude an exquisite, anonymous paper Valentine, not suspecting that his entire world is about to be turned upside down.

Rooks and Romanticide by J I Radke (Turning Valentine’s Day theme upside down with this one!)

- In an alternate world, Romeo and Juliet are gunslingers. Verona gives way to a steampunk Victorian London. The victims of turf wars are dumped in an alley they call Lovers’ Lane, and the moment the son of his family’s enemy touches his face, Cain’s revenge is poisoned by love. Fate would have it no other way.

Levi Ruslaniv is the heir to the Ruslaniv family gang, but ridiculous ancient feuds do not interest him. Cain Dietrich’s vengeful hatred for the Ruslaniv family is rooted deep, since he believes the Ruslanivs arranged for the murder of his parents. But his encounter with Levi pierces him deeper than hatred ever could.

With bullets and blazes of glory, schemes, spies, and pack mentalities, loyalty runs as deep in the veins as passion or revenge, and there is only one way to end the fighting. From the start it was inevitable—a bloodstained fate for children with bloodstained hands, and the streets of New London will never be the same.

Madcap Masquerade by Persephone Roth (The MC is Valentine, but this is such a sweet read, I had to include it on this list. Val is naive is some ways, but has a lot to teach too, in this May/December staple of the genre.)

- The Randwick family is as noble as any but lives in greatly reduced circumstances. When Loel Woodbine, Duke of Marche and heir to three fortunes, makes an offer for Miss Valeria Randwick’s hand, it seems like a godsend, but the young lady has already promised her heart to another—and a commoner, at that.Desperate to avoid the marriage, Valeria concocts a wild scheme that depends upon the good graces of her monastery-raised brother, Valentine. When the prospective groom sees through the ruse, he surprises Valentine by agreeing to cooperate. But can Marche and Valentine fool London society while dealing with an accusation of murder and the distracting fascination between them?

A Timeless Dreams title: While reaction to same-sex relationships throughout time and across cultures has not always been positive, these stories celebrate M/M love in a manner that may address, minimize, or ignore historical stigma.

The Winter Triangle by Nikki Woolfolk (Novella prequel to Sweet & Steamy series)(f/f)(POC MC)(Wonderful piece, with some comedy and flirting, as well as a dose of intrigue in an alt steampunk version of Victorian WV.)

- In the town of Stubborn, West Virginia, 1880, happily single Cassandra Holloway has decided to come out to her father, Walter, on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Before she can reveal being a woman of “two-spirits” her well-intentioned, but offspring obsessed father has set her up on another blind date with someone named Morgan. When Cassandra attempts to cancel the date she is faced with a first. She must choose between a beautiful, deaf Astronomy Professor at the local University or the Professors’ handsome sign-language interpreter— both named Morgan. With a comedy filled evening that Cassandra’s cupid playing father could not have planned, she must make a choice as the sun rises on Valentine’s Day. Which Morgan will be her Valentine?

#lgbt books #historical romance #m/m romance #f/f romance

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