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ladyrynofsunnydale · 3 years

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Bo Katan Week Day 5/ Satine Lives AU

Title: How Do You Pick Up the Threads of an Old Life?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze Summary: Post-Lawless, but Satine lives. Bo-Katan and Obi-Wan were able to save Satine, and with the Republic’s help Satine was once again ruler of Mandalore. Everything should be happy and back to normal, right? After being apart for almost twenty years, two sisters, once on opposite sides of the same conflict, have to learn how to work together again.

Author’s Note: Day 5 of Bo-Katan Week! I am having so much fun this week and am so enjoying writing, editing, and also reading and seeing other’s work! So this is part of a novel length AU fic I’m working on, so I took a snapshot to post for this week. I would recommend reading ‘End of One Era, Beginning of Another’ first as there are some references, but it’s not necessarily mandatory. Credit for the chapter title to Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Click on the link up top to read or continue reading below

Satine sat in her sitting room, her head in her hands. After helping retake Mandalore from Maul’s Death Watch, Obi-Wan and the rest of the Republic troops had left that afternoon. She had just barely kept herself from asking him to stay, instead just hugging him then letting him walk out of her life once again. She’d just have to worry about him being a General in the Grand Army of the Republic alone.

Her door whooshed open and armored boots came into view.

“Orange tea still your favorite?” Bo-Katan’s voice asked, reaching out a steaming cup. Satine stared at it for a moment before sitting up and reaching for it.

“Most days,” she responded, taking a sip before looking back up at Bo. She sighed resignedly. “Bo we’re going to need to have a talk.” Bo sank into the chair next to her.

“I figured.”

Satine watched her as she stared into the fireplace. Suddenly, looking at her there, she looked so young. The big sister in her wanted to reach out and shield her, tell her everything was going to be ok. But in reality, she didn’t know if that was true. Mandalore, Satine, Bo-Katan, her commandos, they had a long road ahead of them. Yes Bo-Katan and her fighters had come in at a clutch moment, rescuing both Satine and Obi-Wan before Maul could get them in his grasp, but that didn’t negate all the rest they had done prior to Maul’s takeover.

“Tomorrow?” Satine asked. Bo looked over at her, then back to the fire, nodding.

“Tomorrow.”

Satine finished her tea and they sat in silence, the only sound the popping of the fire.

“I have something for you,” Satine said and got up to move to her desk. Bo followed her with her eyes while she opened up one of the locked drawers and removed a small wooden box. Returning, she handed it to Bo. Bo gingerly accepted it, her eyes wary, and opened the lid to look inside. The wary look quickly changed to surprise as she lifted the beskar leaf brooch out.

“How?” she asked, turning the leaf over and running her finger along the edge.

“Fenn Rau. After...he thought I’d want it. To have something of yours.”

“You kept it? All these years? Even after…?” she trailed off.

“You were, are, my sister Bo. I love you, and I wanted to be able to remember our good days.”

Bo stared at the box, then handed it back to Satine.

“Keep it. As a promise from me. That that Bo-Katan is not dead.”

Satine took the box back and the two of them just stared at each other until there was a knock on the door and it slid open. One of her aides walked in with a tray of food.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten so…” she paused, glimpsing Bo-Katan.

“Thank you, Leanna,” Satine said, standing to accept the food. Leanna looked from her to Bo.

“I can…”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyways,” Bo said, standing, but Satine reached forward and grasped her arm, releasing her when she flinched.

“Please stay. Leanna if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said and bustled out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with another tray and Bo sighed as she took it and sat beside Satine. They ate in silence until Satine stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bo asked, looking up from her tray.

“You still eat like an anooba,” she answered, smiling behind her hand. Bo’s eyebrows pinched together, wrinkling her brow.

“Yeah, well, no real eating etiquette in Death Watch.”

“I would say no fashion sense either, but your hair is quite fashionable.”

“It’s utilitarian. Keeps it out of my face.”

“Hmmm,” Satine hummed, amusement filling her voice. “Keep telling yourself that ner vod.”

“Your hairpieces are the worst.”

Satine made a face.

“I must agree.”

“Then why do you wear them?!”

“Because it’s expected.”

Bo shook her head, shoveling more food into her mouth.

“Yeah, you can keep that whole Duchess title thing,” she said after she swallowed. “I’m good.”

Bo walked into Satine’s office the next day. Despite the sense of normalcy they’d had the night before, tension was in the air once again.

“Please, sit,” Satine said, gesturing to the chair across her desk. Bo took a seat but perched on the edge, staring at her sister. “I meant what I said when I told the populace we’d be reevaluating the protection of Mandalore. But Bo-Katan, I can’t just forget everything that happened.”

“I don’t need you to tell me I’ve made mistakes. I’m quite aware of them. But the people are right. Mandalore needs to be able to protect itself. Me. My people. We’re loyal to Mandalore.”

“But are you loyal to me? I don’t want to have to worry about an insurrection every few months.”

“Satine, I meant what I said last night. The Bo-Katan you grew up with, she’s not wholly dead. But our people are warriors. It’s in our blood. Mine and even yours. It’s been a while, but I know you have some fire too.”

“But I won’t let it…”

“Destroy Mandalore, I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I, and most of those who follow me, want to see Mandalore prosper. Thrive. If you do right by our people, we will stand by you.”

“I need to know if I can trust you.”

Bo felt a stab of hurt, but also shame, in her gut.

“I will stand by you, ner vod. I still do not quite understand you, but I do understand that you are trying to do right by our people. And I meant what I said to that Chancellor. I have no interest in ruling.”

“And your people? Do you trust them?”

Bo thought of her commandos. Those who’d followed her. She’d lost a fair amount of her Nite Owls to Maul’s allegiance, but many still remained. And a good many ex-Death Watch remained with her as well. She knew a passable amount of them personally and many more through their superiors.

“Ursa, who was my second in command of the Nite Owls, I trust unconditionally,” Bo responded. “A few others I trust as well. We are going to need to go through the remaining and confirm their loyalty. It will take some time.”

Satine nodded her head.

“Take all the time you need. And a new name. You’ll need a new name.”

A few days passed and Bo was sitting in her office using a stylus to write up reports on one of her datapads. There had been an incident already between a few of her commandos when Bo had declared that they were going to continue to stay under Satine’s rule and were not going to overthrow her government. Luckily no one was seriously hurt, but she did have a few commandos in the medcenter and also a few now in the brig. She knew this was just the tip of the iceberg and it was going to be a long process of weeding through her commandos.

She felt a stab of guilt at the thought and paused in writing the commandos names she had locked up. She would have to do something about those who refused to bow to Satine’s rule, even though they had been loyal to Bo. Loyal to Death Watch and Mandalore. They had stayed with her and hadn’t hesitated to fight bravely against Maul and their brothers and sisters who’d thrown their lot in with him. And now she was asking them to throw their lot in with a government Death Watch had sworn to overthrow from Day 1? She was sure there had been grumblings when she’d made the decision to break Satine out of prison and to use her to get Mandalore back. And her commandos had trusted her then. Trusted that she knew what she was doing. But using Satine to take back their planet from a Sith and permanently allying themselves to her were two different things. Granted yes, it was the right thing to do; she’d rationalized that and understood that. Mandalore couldn’t keep on the trajectory that Death Watch had stood for. It would only lead to ruin and destruction, and her people deserved more. She hoped to be able to convey this and help her commandos understand. Her people respected her, she knew that. They wouldn’t have followed her if they hadn’t. But she had never quite made herself approachable. She’d have to do that over the next few weeks to hopefully allow those who had reservations to approach her and talk about it instead of dealing with it with blasters. How much the ex-Death Watch members would actually be willing to talk instead of fighting is another question, but she wanted to give her people as much of a shot as possible.

She continued on writing up her report when there was a knock on her door. She startled and dropped the stylus to reach for her blaster, but calmed herself. From what she knew and remembered of the palace, this was a small office. But to Bo, it felt lavish and gaudy. Sure Vizsla had been governor of Concordia and she had become familiar with his large office, but she herself had never had an office, despite being Lieutenant and leader of the Night Owls. This probably had a lot to do with Death Watch being offplanet and in one system or another for most of the time she had been Lieutenant. When they had still been on Concordia she’d used Vizsla's office in the mines when she’d needed it. But that office was spartan. A table with a few chairs. This office was bringing back memories of her childhood and was more richly decorated than even the Concordian governor’s office. The chairs were thickly padded with some type of leather and the desk was large and metallic with multiple holoscreens she could pull up and all the drawers she would ever need. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the flowing water in the gardens outside and could smell the leather, and in a way she could pretend she was nine years old and watching her Buir work, her small legs swinging while Satine, with her long blonde hair done up in a braid, sat beside her, discussing one thing or another about Sundari and governance.

The knock on her door sounded again and she released her blaster to reach for her stylus again and continued writing.

“Come in,” she called, and the door hissed open. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Sati... your grace. This is a surprise.” Satine waved a hand at her and walked forward to grasp the back of one of the chairs.

“Please, Bo-Katan, you are still my sister. You’re allowed to call me Satine.” Bo closely watched her sister, and she noticed she seemed nervous. Some tells remained, despite how many years had passed. She glanced down at Bo’s hands and the stylus she was still holding. “You write your notes out with a stylus?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice. Bo glanced down at her own hands and with Satine standing in front of her she couldn’t help the memories that flooded her. Of all those nights those first few months with Death Watch. The flimsies and charcoal she’d stolen and all the letters she’d written to Satine. Of how she’d planned to find a way to send them to her sister. And how her big sister would swoop in and save her from these people. Those days were long gone, but even after, she’d preferred writing over typing or dictating. It gave her a sense of calm.

Gods she needed to stop this sentimental crap.

“Old habit I suppose.”

Satine nodded, her hands gripping the chair tightly.

“I’ve come to see if you would like to take dinner with me tonight.” Bo shifted uncomfortably and Satine quickly spoke again. “It would just be me, I promise. No advisors, no dignitaries.”

Bo twiddled with the stylus in her hand, flitting it between each of her fingers, and stared at the woman in front of her. She was dressed formally, her hair done up with lilies woven in it. She paused, looking at the lilies. She’d forgotten how much Satine had loved lilies. She almost always had a bowl in her room, until they’d had to flee to Concordia. The compound had always felt very sterile. Dinner, did she want to do dinner? Sure, she’d spent some time alone with her sister the past few days, but those times were few and far between. And looking at her now she felt like she was agreeing to have dinner with the Duchess, not her sister. The face looking at her was the face she’d learned to hate for so long.

But she needed to try. She’d loved her sister once. And if she was really honest with herself she’d missed her. She could try.

“Yes, I could do that,” she responded, clearing her throat, and she watched Satine relax. “What time?”

“In two hours if that works for you?”

Bo glanced at the chronometer on her desk.

“Yes, that should work. In your private rooms?” Satine nodded, a smile slipping over her face.

“Yes. Thank you, Bo. I’ll see you then.”

Bo gave up doing any work after thirty minutes of staring at her datapads and trying to write. She was able to finish up her report and then returned to her rooms, deciding to take a quick shower and wash her hair. Her rooms were close to the Protector barracks and though close to the royal wing, were not in it. There had been some discussion, very brief, about whether she should move into the royal wing, but objections both from Bo and the Protectors had silenced that debate quite quickly. The bedroom and sitting room were average sized and sparse, but they fit Bo fine.

After drying her hair, Bo stared at her wardrobe, or rather lack of it. She had been able to snag an extra flightsuit, and had a loose tunic and pants that she slept in. Flightsuit and armor would have to do.

Walking to Satine’s rooms, many of the people in the hallway gave her a wide berth, dropping their eyes and hurrying past, but Bo kept her head up and paid them no mind. The Protectors stationed in the royal wing and outside Satine’s doors glared at her but let her pass, and faster than Bo would have liked she was knocking on the door to the royal private dining room and was being told to enter.

Satine, to her surprise, was dressed casually in a simple dress and her hair was loose around her shoulders. The table was set simply, two place settings at the end of the table across from each other. Perfect distance for casual conversation without them being right on top of each other. Satine already had a glass of wine in her hand and she gestured for Bo to take the place setting across from her where there were two empty wine glasses.

“White or red?” she asked, placing her wine glass down.

“Um, red,” Bo answered, feeling out of her depth as she took a seat and Satine poured some of the red wine into her red wine glass. Bo ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the place setting. Of course there was a white and a red wine glass, and why were there so many forks?

“I tried to get them to allow me to set the table myself,” Satine said, and Bo looked up and met her eyes, “but you know how protocol is. You can use whatever fork you like.” Bo felt a small smile slip over her face. “I remember how much you disliked etiquette lessons.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it. I think our Governess would have strangled me if she could have.”

“Her screeching does still ring in my ears.”

Bo felt herself relax a little and reached for her wine and downed a little more than was proper. She’d had dinner with Satine before, just the other night in Satine’s office, so she didn't know why she was so nervous. She stared down at her place setting again.

“Which fork do I use first again? The outside and work my way in?”

Satine actually chuckled.

“See, you learned some things.”

“Do you remember that one time I showed up for my lessons covered in mud?” Satine smirked, setting her glass down.

“I don’t think her face could have gotten any redder. I had never seen her so angry. You know, I never asked. Where did you get so covered in mud?”

“Mom’s rose garden.” Satine actually laughed at that and Bo cracked a smile. “J’onn said that trickster nymphs grew at their roots, and that is why they had thorns but also had such beautiful flowers. I told him he was a liar, and uprooted one of mom’s bushes to prove it. They’d just been watered, so uprooting and then replanting it left me less than clean.” At that point Satine was laughing so hard she was crying and Bo was chuckling.

“I can see why you never offered up that information before,” Satine said, wiping some tears from her eyes and getting herself under control. Their mom loved her roses and protected them quite fiercely. “You were quite the wild child Bo.”

“Someone had to keep Mom and Buir on their toes. They’d become quite complacent with you.”

Bo felt herself relaxing even more as one of the chefs placed a salad on the plate in front of her. This felt...normal. Familiar. Before their parents had died, Bo had never failed to get Satine to crack a smile. That look that Satine had given her when she’d seen her that day in the marketplace ten years after she’d disappeared, when Bo’d just about said she hated her, had haunted her for years, despite lying to herself that it hadn’t. She knew Death Watch, Vizsla, would have hailed her a hero if she’d been able to kill Satine then. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pull the trigger. The lies Death Watch and she herself told herself each day had kept her from breaking down at seeing her sister again, but she couldn’t kill her. And now here she was, making her laugh again. Eating dinner with her again like nothing had happened.

The silence was comfortable as they ate, and when their main meal finally came they moved on to discussing plans at the docks and how they were dealing with food shipments in from the Republic. Once their mostly empty plates were taken away, Bo leaned up against her chair back, her wine glass in hand as she swirled the red liquid around. The alcohol had loosened some of her inhibitions and she actually relaxed her spine to slouch, though she did have to shift so that her armor didn’t dig into her hips.

Satine was the one to finally break the silence.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know. What happened, at the compound all those years ago and…after.”

Bo stared at the swirling liquid in her glass before she set it back down on the table and pushed it away.

“You don’t want to know Satine.”

“I do. Please. I need to know.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and stood up and began pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. She finally came to a stop, her hands on the back of her chair.

“Carlson and I were about halfway to the hangar when I remembered Buir’s beskar’gam. He wouldn’t let me go, so I kicked him and ran. I couldn’t leave it for them to take. It was ours. Our family’s.” She paused. “Did...did Carlson make it?” she asked, and Satine shook her head sadly. Bo dropped her eyes and went on. “By the time I’d made it back to the right side of the compound, there were attackers between me and the hangar. So I headed for the garden. After the compound exploded, Vizsla found me. He said you’d left me, and he took me back to his camp. I was so angry. They kept me under guard at all times, forced me to eat, drink. I was constantly plotting on how to escape, get revenge. But then I started meeting other foundlings they’d taken in. All of us had been left behind or had our families killed. And then they brought me to the range and tested my shooting skills. The praise I got, it,” she paused, a nostalgic though melancholic smile on her face, “I finally felt nu'amyc. They taught me how to fight, how to defend myself, and eventually I stopped fighting back. Death Watch gave me a sense of belonging. There was finally this stability in the world of chaos we’d been living in for so long. They became my family. A very violent and often angry family, but a family nonetheless. And you remember me back then, I was relentless when I put my mind to something, and I was determined now that I was given the chance to be the best warrior I could be. I quickly moved up the ranks and they used my knowledge of the inner government workings on Sundari to help recruit people.”

“That’s what you were doing, that day at the Marketplace, weren’t you?” Satine interjected softly and Bo nodded, seeing the look that Satine had given her that day again in her mind’s eye.

“I was recruiting Senator Merrik.”

Bo didn’t miss the grief in Satine’s eyes so she dropped her head again. “I eventually started my own unit, the Nite Owls. We were so efficient that I eventually made my way to Lieutenant. I didn’t realize until it was too late, but my safety and security and my quick rise to the top came with a cost. I sacrificed a lot of myself to become the person I was.”

“No one could blame you for assimilating,” Satine said, but Bo shook her head.

“Mom and Buir raised us better than that. I just wanted to belong.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and glanced at her to see her looking intensely at her armor.

“So your beskar, that’s...?”

“Buir’s. They reforged it for me.”

“At least it’s still in the family,” Satine said sadly, but Bo didn’t respond.

Mando’a Translations Anooba – carnivorous desert animals native to Tatooine Ner vod- my sister Nu'amyc - normal

#bo katan week #bo katan kryze #satine kryze #satine lives #fanfiction #star wars au

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

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Platinum Cherry Blossom - Kujo Jotaro (1/2)

MULAN x STARDUST CRUSADERS & VENTO AUREO (just a tiny bit)

Cast:

Fa Mulan - Reader Li Shang - Kujo Jotaro Fa Li (Mulan’s mother) - Bruno Buccellati (You had it coming...) Fa Zhou (Mulan’s father) - Leone Abbacchio (Godamn it, me...) Little Brother (Mulan’s dog) - Ghirga Narancia (Wtf am I doing?) Grandmother Fa - Guido Mista (By this point, you can go ahead and throw me out of the window) The Matchmaker - Trish Una (Sorry, girl, I never liked you) Chi Fu (Annoying Advisor) - Enyaba The Emperor - Joseph Joestar General Li - Sadao (Jotaro’s dad that’s not busy playing the sax anymore) Shan Yu - Dio Brando Yao - Jean - Pierre Polnareff Ling - Kakyoin Noriaki Chien-Po - Avdol Muhammad Mushu - Iggy Cricket - Sex Pistols (Mainly #5)

Oh boy, this is gonna be quite the ride... And BOY am I gonna have fun with this!

ALSO, I will make this a 2 part story because apparently it’s getting too damn long and I wouldn’t want to make a novel on a single post!

CLICK HERE FOR:

PART 2

Somewhere, far away, during a night with the full moon peeking from behind the clouds, many soldiers were walking up and down the Great Chinese Wall, making sure no threats were to befall the Kingdom...

However, this very night seemed to be rather problematic for one simple soldier, whose helmet had been stolen by a bird...But it was not just any bird, it was a hawk.

The man stared in confusion at the bird that perked itself on a spear, croaking into the night, and almost as if on cue, a grappling hook was thrown high into the sky, latching itself onto the stone wall.

As the man stepped forward to see what was going on, countless more hooks rained in the sky, grabbing onto the wall, and it was then that he realised they were under attack, which made him yell out for his comrades, telling them to light the signal, running towards the little base.

Much to his dismay, instead of his allies, huge huns came out instead, so he quickly jumped on the wooden ladder before they could chop it off, and climbing on the roof, he grabbed a lit torch, only to be met face to face with the abominable Hun leader, Dio Brando, his hawk obediently latching itself on his master’s shoulder.

The loyal shoulder realised he had no chance to win a 1 on 1 combat, so he threw his torch in the tar filled fountains, and thus, alerting all the other bases situated on the Wall, and in turn, all of them lighting up the signal.

“Now all of China knows you’re here!” the solder spoke bravely, feeling a sense of pride as he was able to at least alert the Emperor of the potential danger.

In turn, the enemy leader only smirked widely, breaking the Chinese flag and lighting it up on fire, only saying one word - “Perfect.”

His plan was going accordingly, and the little soldier that only did his duty as instructed, fell right into his master plan.

---

In the Palace, General Kujo, along with 2 of his soldier, went to alert the Emperor of the grave new befalling the Empire, and thus, kneeling and bowing in front of him, his face grave and stern.

“Your Majesty, the Huns have crossed our northern border.” Sadao informed the Emperor, but he was quickly cut off by his advisor. “Impossible! No once can get through the Great Wall!” Enyaba sneered at the general, hitting her staff on the ground. “Dio Brando is leading them. We’ll set up defenses around your palace immediately.” the general declared, but his words were denied by the wise Emperor. “No. Send your troops to protect my people.” Emperor Joestar informed. “Enyaba.” “Yes, Your Highness?” the old woman asked. “Deliver conscription notices throughout all the provinces. Call up reserves and as many new recruits as possible.” Joseph ordered the advisor. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I believe my troops can stop him.” the General tried to reason with his master. “I won’t take any chances, General. A single grain of rice can tip the scale. One man may be the difference between victory and defeat.” the Emperor explained to the man in front of him, while also giving him a gentle new lesson of life.

---

In another part of China, there was a girl that recently turned of age, and had to be sent to the Matchmaker very soon, to find a suitable husband for her - Until then, she had to revise constantly the lessons of proper etiquette and lady mannerism that have been taught to her since she was but a little babe.

“Quiet and demure. Graceful. Polite. Delicate. Refined. Poised. Punctual!” the girl sat in bed, eating rice and neatly writing the words on her arm, so she would remember them later on, when needed.

However, as soon as she spoke out the last word, the rooster sang and she quickly jolted up from the bed, calling out for her little brother, Narancia, while blowing on her skin so the ink would dry. “Narancia! Nara...! Ah, there you are!” the girl found her little brother snoring on the floor, no doubt having fallen asleep again while playing. “Aww, Nara, who’s the most adorable little brother in the world?! Come on, help me out, it’s gonna be fun!” she said, dragging her hyperactive brother out of his room. “You want me to help you with your chores, right? You’ve got it!” he grinned widely, as the girl took a bag of grains, roped it around her brother’s waist and gave him a nice treat, telling him where to run so the chickens would all get to eat.

But of course, just as he was going out of the room...He missed the door and hit himself on the wall. No worries, though, he quickly recovered and started running around the garden, trying to use up all the energy he had.

On the other hand, their father, Leone, kneeled inside the shrine of their ancestors, bowing and praying for them, knowing very well what kind of daughter he had and how she needed to be tamed, in a way.

“Damn it, Ancestors, if you truly are there, PLEASE help my daughter impress that annoying Matchmaker today. I promise I won’t drink sake for the rest of the week.” just as he said that, Narancia got in the shrine, circled his father, and left, just like that.

The grains that remained in the shrine attracted quite a lot of chickens, which only exasperated Abbacchio further.

“PLEASE help her, or at least help my headache, or I have no idea what I’m gonna do.” he groaned, facepalming.

In the meantime, Y/N had enough time to dress up nicely and brush her hair, pulling it in a neat tail in the back, as she went to the shrine, hurriedly bringing her father some tea, only to bump into him, make the cup fall and shatter.

But she was prepared, she already knew she may or may not fuck up, so she brought a spare cup, smiling in victory at her witty plan.

“Remember, the doctor said 3 cups of tea in the morning, and 3 at night. Only that will help you with the pain caused by the war against the Hun Diavolo.” she smiled, not caring that her father was constantly calling out her name so she would pay attention. “Y/N...Why aren’t you in town already? We are counting on you to-” he began saying, only to be neatly cut off by the girl. “To uphold the family honour.” she smiled at him.

In truth, Abbacchio was rather annoyed with having to constantly repeat that ‘Honour’ bullshit, almost as if he was some robot manufactured only to bring honour, but he was aware of how cruel society can be to those who don’t abide the rules, so even if he had to hurt his daughter’s feelings, in a way, by not letting her be free and do as she pleases, he’d rather her live a normal life than be hated and shunned.

“Don’t worry, papa, I won’t let you down.” the girl smiled sweetly at him as she unconsciously tugged down on her sleeve to cover the words written in ink. “Wish me luuuuck~!” she thrilled as she started skipping down the stairs. “I’m...Going to pray some more...And drink some sake...” Leone sighed, looking down at his little son as he came next to him, munching on some nice treat.

---

In town, Bruno was pacing up and down, waiting for her daughter to appear already, until some woman came out of the building, calling out to him.

“Bruno Buccellati, is your daughter here already? The Matchmaker is not a patient woman.” she informed the worrying man as she went back inside. “Of all days to be late...I should have prayed to the ancestors for luck.” he sighed, looking up to the sky with a worried expression. “How lucky can they be? They’re all dead! Besides, I’ve got ALL the luck we’ll need! This is your chance to prove yourselves, Pistols!” grandpa Mista smirked, looking at the playful bullets in his little birdcage, wanting to do a little test of luck.

He covered his eyes with his hand, letting his lucky bullets guide his fate as he passed the street, despite Bruno’s warnings... But of course, Mista was on the other side of the road, not touched by the traffic. The same can’t be said about the traffic, however, as there was only chaos and mayhem where she stepped.

“Yep, these bullets are lucky ones! Now, as long as there’s no Number 4, Y/N won’t have to fear a thing!” Mista cheered carefree, showing off the birdcage in which the bullets were cheering as well.

As if on cue, a gorgeous black horse, ridden by none other than Y/N, came in sigh, and she quickly jumped off in front of her ‘mother’, claiming that she’s there...With an ear of wheat stuck in her hair.

“What? But, Mama, I had to -” the girl tried to reason her tardiness, but her mum had none of it. “None of your excuses. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” Bruno cut her off, getting her inside the building.

“This is what you give me to work with Well honey, I've seen worse We're going to turn this sow's ear into a silk purse” the woman sang as she undressed Y/N and threw her in the bubbly bath.

“It’s freezing!” the poor girl shivered, hugging herself. “It would have been warm if you were here on time.” Bruno scolded her gently.

“We'll have you washed and dried Primped and polished till you glow with pride Trust my recipe for instant bride You'll bring honor to us all” the woman sang again as she started washing the girl’s hair with much pride.

“Y/N, what is this?” Bruno raised his eyebrow in confusion as he tried to scrub the girl’s arm and noticed the scribblings. “Uhhh...Notes? In case I forget something?” the girl tried to play it cool, awkwardly taking her arm back. “Hold this. We’ll need more luck than I thought.” Mista chuckled, giving Bruno the bird cage with the bullets, as the girl finished bathing and put on a simple white robe.

“Wait and see, when we're through” the first woman sang, cheerfully brushing half half of Y/N’s hair. “Boys will gladly go to war for you” the second woman sang, brushing the other half of her hair, then tying it up in an updo with a red ribbon. “With good fortune” the first woman began her verse, letting the other one continue. “And a great hairdo.” the other one said, putting the mirror in front of her and the girl. “You'll bring honor to us all” the women sang, accompanied by Bruno.

“A girl can bring her family Great honor in one way By striking a good match And this could be that day” all the women were singing outside the building as Bruno was walking Y/N to the seamstresses, and in the way, the girl stopped to ponder the best move for checkers, beating the elderly man who thought he won...Before being dragged by her mum.

“Men want girls with good taste” the seamstress dressed in green sang “Calm” the one dressed in blue chirped simply. “Obedient“ Bruno cheered, helping the women with the red sash. “Who work fast paced” the plump seamstress jumped off the stool. “With good breeding and a tiny waist” Bruno sang, throwing the other end of the sash to the blue seamstress. “You'll bring honor to us all” they both sang as they suffocated the poor girl the the sash tightly knotted, but she at least looked stunning.

“We all must serve our Emperor Who guards us from the Huns A man by bearing arms A girl by bearing sons” everyone seemed to sing this overly annoying and indoctrinated song as the poor girl was dragged to the make up artist.

“When we're through You can't fail Like a lotus blossom soft and pale How could any fellow say "no sale" You'll bring honor to us all” the make up artist caked her face with the traditional make up for soon to be brides, and the girl simply took out a strand of hair to cover her forehead, admiring herself in the mirror.

“There, you're ready.” Bruno smiled tenderly at his daughter, taking out a gorgeous lower comb and putting it in her hair, caressing her face with pride and love. “Not yet!” Mista hurried inside with a huge grin. “An apple for serenity.” he began, putting a shiny red apple in her mouth. “A pendant for balance.” he continued, putting a lucky charm in her sash. “Beads of jade for beauty.“ he trailed on, putting the necklace around her neck. “You must proudly show it!” he raised up her chin, so she’ll carry herself with pride. “Now add the Pistols, just for luck! And even you can't blow it!” Mista put the birdcage to the sash, winking at the girl and doing a playful hip-hit with the girl, urging her to join the rest of her peers.

“Ancestors, hear my plea Help me not to make a fool of me And to not uproot my family tree Keep my father standing tall!” the girl smiled up at the sky, praying and rushing after the rest of the maidens.

“Scarier than the undertaker We are meeting our matchmaker” the rest of the girl sang, as Y/N quickly caught up to them. “Destiny, guard our girls And our future as it fast unfurls Please look kindly on these cultured pearls Each a perfect porcelain doll” all the women around sang, encouraging their daughters.

“Please bring honor to us- Please bring honor to us- Please bring honor to us- Please bring honor to us- Please bring honor to us all!” the girls sang, opening their coloured sun umbrellas and kneeling in front of the Matchmaker’s house in sync...Well, almost.

“Y/N” the Matchmaker Trish took out the pen from her hairdo and phlegmatically called out her name. “Present!” Y/N raised quickly, raising her hand enthusiastically. “Speaking without permission.” Trish sneered, turning her back to the girl and walking inside. “...Oops.” Y/N muttered, facepalming, realising that she was already fucking up. “Who spit in her bean curd?” she could hear her grandpa ask Bruno, which made her giggle softly.

Inside, Matchmaker Una started severely analysing her, saying she’s too skinny, not good for bearing sons, all while one of the Pistols, specifically Number 3, managed to escape the birdcage and was jumping around like a little cricket, making the girl quietly try to catch it, only to have to put it in her mouth as the pink haired ugly lady turned around, getting annoyingly close to her face, telling her to recite the final admonition.

Taking out her fan and hiding her face behind it, she quickly spit the bullet and started reciting what she remembered from the poem she kept repeating over and over at home.

“Fulfill your duties calmly and...Respectfully. Uhm...Reflect before you snack...Act! This shall bring you honour and glory.” the girl sighed in relief as she got it right and got away with the little cheating she did, despite the Matchmaker looking to see if she had anything written on her fan. “Now, pour the tea.” Trish dragged her by the wrist to the table, and so, getting ink on her hand without realising, much to the girl’s horror. “To please your future in-laws, you must demonstrate a sense of dignity...And refinement.” Y/N didn’t even relise she was spilling the tea on the table, just next to the cup, as she was staring blankly at the beard Matchmaker Una did on her face with her fingers. “You must also be poised.” the girl quickly poised herself and poured the tea in the cup this time, only to see #3 bathing peacefully in the warm beverage. “Uhmmm, pardon me...” the girl tried to warn the magenta haired woman as she took the cup to drink, only to get scolded. “AND silent!” she glared at the beautiful girl, raising the cup, taking a sniff of it. “Could I just take that back? Just one moment.” the girl asked, crawling on the table and taking a hold of the cup...Only to spill it on the Matchmaker’s face and clothes. “WHY, you, clumsy...!”

The pink haired woman was ready to shake the girl and scold her, only to realise she had something in her clothes, that make her shake and walk backwards, hitting the immolated coals used for the tea, and falling on them, creating a hole in her clothes and for her to jump up and down, trying to put off the fire, while shrieking like a monkey.

Y/N’s brilliant idea was to fan the hole, only to make the fire grow even more, and the woman burst out of her building, yelling for someone to put the fire out, as the younger girl threw the tea at her, successfully extinguishing the fire...

And her chances of marriage.

She softly handed her the teapot back as she covered her face and started walking back to her family.

“YOU ARE A DISGRACE! You MAY look like a bride, but you will NEVER bring your family honour!” Trish Una screeched in her face, as make up and tea were smearing down her face.

Everyone on the streets left, as only Bruno and Mista stood there, quietly trying to console the girl.

In vain, though.

She rode back home, not even able to face her smiling father, as she walked her horse back to the stables, looking at herself on the water sheen, watching herself with disappointment and anger.

“Look at me I will never pass for a perfect bride...” the girl sang to herself as she exited the stables and walked by the house, only to see Bruno tell Leone what happened at the Matchmaker and their reactions crushed her. “Or a perfect daughter Can it be I'm not meant to play this part Now I see That if I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart” she sighed, taking out the Pistols and letting them hang around her as she walked to the beautiful garden, on the way there jumping on the bridge rail and skipping on the posts.

“Who is that girl I see Staring straight, back at me Why is my reflection someone I don't know” she sang, watching herself in the pond before looking at the sky with a sorrowful look, before making her way to the shrine.

“Somehow I cannot hide Who I am Though I've tried When will my reflection show who I am inside When will my reflection show who I am inside” the girl continued, bowing down in front of the graves, using her sleeve to wipe away the dreadful make up and letting her hair down, before going back to the garden and sitting on the stone bench under the gorgeous Cherry tree.

Just as she sat down, she heard someone clear their throat, only to reveal the lavender haired man she called father looking at her with an expression that was much gentler than usual.

The girl couldn’t even face him, so she quickly snapped her head away, combing her hair with her fingers, looking down with her eyes closed, as the man sat down next to her.

“Huh...We have quite the nice blossoms this year...Oh, look at that. That one’s blooming rather late. I bet all the sake I have that when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of all.” Abbacchio tried to reassure his daughter, taking the flower comb from her lap and fixing her hair, making her smile at him with a thankful expression.

They shared a tender look of love that was quickly interrupted by the sound of drums, making the man frown in confusion and dread.

He realised what was happening, as all the family went out to the gates, but while Bruno told the girl to stay inside, Mista pointed to the boxes she could use to jump on the gate to spy on them.

The Royal advisor was telling them that the huns have invaded China and that at least 1 man from every family must serve the Emperor, and unfortunately, their family was called as well.

She watched her father limp with his chin up in front of the soldiers, bowing respectfully and taking the scroll from his hand, saying how honoured he is to serve the Emperor.

“Papa, you can’t go!” the girl jumped off and went in front of him, shielding him. “Please, sir, my father has already fought bravely and he is also injured-” she tried to beg them, but the hag Advisor rode in front of them, yelling at them. “Silence! You would do well to teach your daughter to hold her tongue in a man’s presence!” the Advisor cackled, riding her horse away. “Y/N...Godamn it, you just can’t stop dishonouring me.” Leone looked away from his daughter as the grandpa gently pulled her away, feeling sad, knowing her benevolent intentions.

Abbacchio nodded at the soldier as he told him the orders and limped back in the house, not even looking at Bruno or bothering to take his cane again, all while the advisor kept saying more and more names.

Leone went back to his room, looking at the armor, taking his sword and trying to wield it, just like before when he wasn’t injured, and took out his Stand, but soon, his leg gave away and was barely able to grab on a pillar and keep himself straight, panting in pain and cursing the huns for disturbing their peace and taking him away from his loving family.

What he didn’t know was that his daughter was watching him from the hallway, crying as her heart broke seeing her father go through something like that.

Their dinner was silent, as she poured everyone tea, thunder and lightning striking outside, but every little noise pissed her off, driving her to the edge, until she slammed her cup on the table, raising and looking at her father.

“You shouldn’t have to go!” her voice was raised, but it was cracking. “Y/N...!” Bruno gasped, trying to calm her down. “There are plenty of young men to fight for China!” she tried to reason. “It is an honour to protect my country and my family.” Abbacchio looked away, reciting the words he was indoctrinated to say. “So you’ll go there to die for your stupid honour?!” she gritted her teeth in anger. “I will die doing what’s right, for goddamn once!” he retorted back. “But if -” she tried to reason again, but he got to his feet, towering over her. “I know my place! It is time you learned yours!” he spoke so harshly, like never before, it was like he was someone else, which made the girl snap her eyes wide open in shock. “If you think that a graveyard is your place, then fine, do what you want! But don’t expect China to sing you praises and don’t expect me to mourn for you!” she started crying angry tears, running away from that place, done with the whole fanaticism around.

That’s when she knew what she had to do...But she was afraid to admit it. She stood on the stone totem, letting rain soak her as she cried, and from outside, she could see her father trying to console her mother, but Bruno couldn’t even look at his husband...

And it hurt.

So much.

She was ready.

She knew what she had to do.

She went to the shrine, lighting up an incense stick, praying to the ancestors, then went to her parents’ room, taking the scroll and replacing it with her flower comb, took the armor and sword from the wardrobe, cutting her gorgeous long hair so she would resemble a man, putting it in a bun.

She put on her armor, went to the stables to her horse and so, they rode away to fulfill the role of a man in China.

Just as she left the place, Mista woke up with a gasp, as Number 5 kept crying that Y/N was gone, so he lit a lantern and went to Bruno’s and Abbacchio’s room, alerting them of what happened, which made Leone stare at the older man with horror and remorse, taking the flower comb in his hand and rushing, with his cane, to the wardrobe -

The armor and sword were gone.

He ran outside, in the rain, not caring about anything but to have his daughter back...

“Y/N! GODDAMN IT, Y/N, PLEASE COME BACK, I’M SORRY!” his voice boomed through the place, but he slipped and fell down. “Leone, you must go after her! She could be killed!” Bruno worried, helping his husband get up. “If I reveal her...She will be...” Abbacchio bit his lip so hard, trying not to cry, that blood started to go down his mouth.

Instead, all he could do was curse himself for arguing with the daughter he loved so much and try to comfort Bruno, who was crying in his shoulder, while Mista could only watch in sorrow the pair while praying to the Ancestors to have her be okay.

Somewhere in the Shrine, the ghost of Kars summoned someone named “Iggy” who awoke from a dark and fiery mist, screeching “I LIIIIIIVE!”

Kars had to scold Iggy for his over enthusiasm, as he hit the gong, waking all the ancestors to discuss the fate of the girl. The Zeppelis and the Speedwagons were fighting between themselves, there was the whole chaos that resulted in Iggy destroying the statue of the protector, and cursing himself for having to create a plan not to die. Outside, he met with #5 and together, they went in search for the girl.

---

Somewhere in the mountains, Dio was riding his army of Stand users as the D’arby brothers found two spies and threw them in the middle of them.

As Dio jumped off the horse, Pet Shop, his hawk, perched itself on the shoulder, and the man went in front of the 2 scouts with a smirk, watching their terrified looks.

“Nice work, gentlemen. You found MY army. Dio’s army.” Dio spoke tauntingly. “Emperor Joestar will stop you!” the younger scout was brave enough to speak up. “Stop me? Haha! He invited me! By building his stupid Speedwagon wall, he challenged my strength...My authority! Well, I’m here to play his little game.” the blond man took the poor spy by his throat, taking out his Stand, before throwing the man to the ground, feigning to put The World on them. “Go! Out of my sight! Tell Joseph Joestar to send his strongest armies! I’m ready. None may challenge me.” Dio made them run away, before stroking his chin, mockingly. “How many men does it take to deliver a message, I wonder~?” he crossed his arms, waiting for The Empress to act. “One, my Lord.” she laughed as she attached her Stand to one the men’s arm, easily killing one of them.

---

Y/N, who was looking through the bamboo forest at the army camp, glanced at her horse and clearing her throat, did her best manly impersonation, only to have the horse roll on the ground, neigh-laughing at her, which only made her roll her eyes in annoyance.

What neither of them was expecting was a big fire to form behind the rocks and the silhouette of a dog, and a dark voice calling out to them.

“Did I hear someone ask for a miracle? Let me hear you say AAAARGHHH!” the voice roared, scaring the girl, screaming and hiding behind a rock along with her horse. “That’s close enough.” the being chuckled in a lighter tone. “A ghost?” the girl whispered to herself, unsure of what she was seeing. “Get ready, Y/N, your canine salvation is at hand! For I have been sent by your ancestors to guide you through your masquerade! So heed my word! ‘Cause if the army finds out you’re a girl, the penalty is DEATH!” the scary being’s rawr echoed through the place. “Who are you...?” she asked, peeking from behind the rock. “Who am I? WHO am I?! I am the guardian of lost souls! I am the powerful! The pleasurable! The indestructible Iggy!” from behind the rock, Y/N saw a small and adorable dog grinning at her with a shit-eating smirk.

The girl and her horse felt rather disappointed at the help they received, so much that the cabalin started trampling on the dog because of the fear it sent them through, only to have the girl gently push it away and pick the dog by the tail, no longer a pancake on the ground.

“Uh...My ancestors send a little puppy to help me?” she asked in disdain. “Hey, hound! Hound, not puppy! I don’t to the tail wagging.” Iggy said, only to wag his tail rapidly. “You’re, uhm...Tiny. Very tiny.” the girl looked at him weirdly. “Of course, I’m travel-size for your convenience. If I was my real size, your cow here would die of fright” Iggy boasted, as the horse tried to hit him with his hoof again. “...Down, Bessie. My powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straaaaight through your armor...OOH!” Iggy wagged his tail, almost lecherously, making the girl put her arm around her chest instinctively, kicking the dog away, only for him to stumble next to #5. “All right, that’s it! Dishonour! Dishonour on your whole family! Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow-” he began, making #5 take a note of all the things she brought dishonour to.

“Okay, I know, it’s a little late for that anyway. I’m sorry, Iggy, it’s just...I’m very nervous. I’ve never done this before.” she apologised, which made Iggy start scolding and teaching her as they all walked to the camp. “Okay, now show me your man walk.” he instructed, hiding in her hood. “Shoulders back, chest high, feet apart, head up and strut.” he said, controlling her, and prancing through the camp, looking awkwardly as everyone was staring at her weirdly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Iggy asked in amusement, as the girl started at everyone in disgust. “No, they’re disgusting.” she scrunched up her nose, seeing someone use chopsticks to get the dirt from between his toes. “No, they are men. You have to act like them, so pay attention.” Iggy instructed again.

Of course, somehow, she got in front of a man showing off her red dragon tattoo on his plump belly and chest, saying it will protect him from harm. The silver haired man punched him in the gut, making the red haired one laugh healthily, patting the silver haired on the shoulder, telling the unfortunate one that he should get his money back.

“I...Don’t think I can do this...” she looked in horror and disgust at the display in front of her. “What are ya looking at?!” the one who punched asked, looking at her with a weird look. “Punch him! It’s how men say hello!” Iggy urged her, and she complied, punching the buff silver haired man, making him stumble into the smiling black man, who patted his shoulders. “Oh, Polnareff, you’ve made a friends!” he hummed in amusement. “Good. Slap him on the butt, they like that.” Iggy told her again, and she complied without question. “WHOA WHOA WHOA! I’m gonna hit you SO hard, it’ll make your ancestors dizzy!” Polnareff took her my the neck, glaring down at her. “Polnareff, relax and chant with me.” the man took him by the shoulders and started chanting some traditional tune, trying to calm down his friend, which seemed to work. “Ayyy, you ain’t worth my time...Chicken boy.” he insulted, making Iggy get out of her hood and yell out, incredibly offended, the same insult, almost in disbelief. “Say that to my face, ya limp noodle!” Iggy cried out, making Polnareff try to hit them, but instead, she dodged and he hit the red haired boy instead, blacking his eye. “Oh. Sorry, Kakyoin.” Polnareff chuckled sheepishly.

And so, somehow, the girl tried to hide while the 3 were fighting, but Kakyoin saw her and they ran after her, only to get fooled and have to abruptly stop by the food line...

And Avdol not to be able to stop in time and to send everyone down, like Domino, while the girl was looking at them with a guilty expression.

Meanwhile, in the general tent, Sadao was explaining strategies to his son, Jotaro, telling him that he will have to stay here and train the new recruits, waiting for Enyaba’s approval to get into battle, naming him Captain Kujo, who smirked in pride and accomplishment, thanking his father.

Leaving the tent, however, he noticed the mayhem that left him jaw-dropped, and his father left, letting him to whatever he wanted as he went for the surprise attack on the Huns.

Jotaro stepped in front of them, yelling out for them to shut the hell up, only for them all to stop and point at the poor girl, saying she started it all - Girl who was huddled on the ground in a fetal position, trying to keep herself from getting hurt.

She quickly got up from the ground, noticing the man’s aquamarine eyes glaring down at her, and dusting herself, she gulped, awaiting a good scholding.

“I don’t need anyone causing trouble in my camp.” Jotaro grunted, towering over her even while she was standing. “Sorry. Uhm...S-Sorry you had to see that...Uh..You know how it you...But you know how it is when you get those uh...Manly urges and you just gotta kill something. Fix things. Cook outdoors.” she did the best manly impression, which was extremely exaggerate, especially by the awkward punch on Jotaro’s arm, or the way she would punch her chest. “What’s your name?” the brunet man asked the girl, who started stuttering, and looking away, trying to come up with a name. “Your commanding officer just asked you a question!” Enyaba scolded her, hitting her legs with her staff. “Uh...I’ve got a name. Ha! And it’s a boy’s name, too! Uhmmm...” she trailed on, waiting for Iggy to say something. “How about Kakyoin?” he whispered softly. “His name is Kakyoin.” she answered, not realising that Jotaro was getting closer to her. “That’s not what I asked.” he grunted, glaring at her. “Ah...Ah Chu?” Iggy giggled. “Ah Chu.” the girl said, absent-minded. “...Ah Chu?” Jotaro raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Gesundheit! Haha...I kill myself.” Iggy giggled even more at his own silliness. “Iggy...!” she tried to warn her companion. “Iggy?” Jotaro raised his voice in annoyance. “Fugo! Say Fugo, he was my best friend-” he trailed on, making the girl shush him by quickly grabbing his mouth. “Fugo. My name is Fugo.” she finally answered. “Let me see your conscription notice.” Jotaro snatched the scroll from her sash, opening it. “Abbacchio Leone? THE Abbacchio Leone?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t know Abbacchio Leone had a son.” Enyaba was just as shocked. “He, uh...Doesn’t talk about me much.” she tried to play it cool, by trying to spit on the ground...And failing. “I can see why. The boy’s an absolute lunatic.” Enyaba tried to say to Jotaro, only to have everyone snigger in amusement. “Thanks to your friend, Fugo, you will all spend tonight picking up every single grain of rice. And tomorrow, the real work begins. Don’t think either of you can slack off.” Captain Kujo ordered before leaving for his tent, everyone around growling at the poor girl. “You know...We have to work on your people skills.” Iggy said, making the girl sigh.

At the end of the day, she pitched her tent away from the others, just in case, and it’s needless to say that she fell asleep within seconds.

The next day, Iggy woke Y/N up by making #5 cry, snatching her blanket, forcing food down her throat, trying to get her to look more fierce and making her get up and run, while he tried to bring her the sword, but it was too late.

By the time she arrived, everyone was making fun of the annoying Enyaba, until Kakyoin noticed her and her tardiness, while Polnareff mocked her by asking if she was hungry.

Thankfully, she was saved from a ‘Knuckle Sandwich” by Jotaro who yelled for them to shut up and went to the wooden lances, taking off his shirt, as the girl could only whistle in her head how hot he was, not even caring what he was talking about discipline and whatever.

Of course, Polnareff had to mock him, which only resulted in everyone stepping back from the line, highlighting him, while Jotaro took a bow and arrow, making his Stand, Star Platinum, shooting it to the top of the wooden pole.

“Glad someone volunteered. Go retrieve that arrow...Without your Stand.” Jotaro smirked in amusement seeing Polnareff’s crestfallen face that quickly turned into a scowl as he cracked his knuckles, ready for action. “I’ll get that arrow, pretty boy.” he murmured, glaring at the arrow. “And I’ll do it with my shirt on.” he walked in front of the pole, readying himself to jump on it, only to get stopped by the captain once again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, getting 2 golden weights and wrapping them around the man’s wrists. “These represent discipline and strength. You need both to reach the arrow.” he declared, while everyone was silently chuckling, seeing the silver haired man go through such torture.

Of course, no matter how much he struggled, neither he, nor Kakyoin, Avdol or the girl could do anything else but fail.

“Yare Yare Daze...We’ve got a lot to do.” he tipped his hat, going to the wooden sticks and throwing everyone one.

Of course, the petty Polnareff had to catch Y/N’s lance and use it to hit her legs, making her fall, acting as if nothing happened.

“Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns” Jotaro sang, showing off by easily twirling the stick around, then getting the 2 vases by their handle, throwing them to the sky and easily breaking them, making everyone gasp in awe.

“Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons?” he sang as everyone was supposed to replicate everything, but Kakyoin wanted to pull a prank on the girl, putting a beetle in her clothes, making her hit and knock down everyone as she attempted to get the disgusting creature away.

“You're the saddest bunch I ever met But you can bet before we're through Mister, I'll make a man out of you” he continued as he used the stick to jump into the air, doing a fancy flip and landing in front of the girl, who hit him in the gut without realising, which in turn made him take her by the shirt, glaring at her to stop her foolishness.

“Tranquil as a forest but on fire within” he tried to teach everyone how to properly shoot arrows in the bullseye while also getting an arrow, which made Iggy try to give the girl an arrow that already had an apple, but they easily got caught

“Once you find your center, you are sure to win You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot And you haven't got a clue” this time, he had a wooden water basin on his head, using his stick to dodge or hit the rocks thrown at him by everyone else. When it was time for Y/N to replicate, the basin fell on her head, blinding her as she got hit by all rocks, and even managed to sent on his way, which he swiftly dodged, rolling his eyes at her.

“Somehow I'll make a man out of you” he showed them how to catch fish from the river, but she somehow managed to catch Polnareff’s toes instead, and had Iggy bring her a salmon.

“I'm never gonna catch my breath” poor Avdol sighed, trying to dodge the burning arrows sent his way.

“Say goodbye to those who knew me” Polnareff fell to the ground, an arrow lodging itself in his butt.

“Boy, was I a fool in school for cutting gym” Kakyoin whined, hitting his head on a stone, trying to break it, but only getting his face smashed instead. “This guy's got 'em scared to death” Iggy chuckled, as he tried to wash Y/N’s face as Jotaro blackened her eye in a hand to hand sparring. “Hope he doesn't see right through me” she thrilled, trying to get herself up, despite feeling like her horse jumped on her. “Now I really wish that I knew how to swim” Avdol cried out, as they all tried to jump on the poles in the water, only to stop, almost falling, and getting everyone to fall off instead.

“Be a man We must be swift as the coursing river Be a man With all the force of a great typhoon Be a man With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon” they chanted as they tried to learn how to use the firework explosives, only to somehow get Kakyoin to fool with Y/N’s dragon and make Enyaba’s tent catch fire.

At the end of the day, Jotaro was sitting on a rock far up above the camp, sighing to himself, not realising how much of a drag everything was going to be, and feeling as if he was getting nowhere with them.

“Time is racing toward us till the Huns arrive Heed my every order and you might survive” the next day they had to get water by carrying 2 buckets on a stick on their shoulders, but the poor girl really wasn’t used to such exhausting physical labour and fell on the ground, making Captain Kujo go to her, take the buckets, looking at her with disappointment, before jogging to the front of the line again.

“You're unsuited for the rage of war So pack up, go home, you're through How could I make a man out of you?” at the end of the 2nd day, he took her horse’s reigns, giving it to her, not wanting to look at her, that’s how much of a disappointment she was.

However, that only seemed to motivate her further, as she quickly knotted the weights around her wrists and started trying to climb up the pole, despite being the dead of night and needing a much deserved sleep.

“Be a man We must be swift as the coursing river Be a man With all the force of a great typhoon Be a man With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon” it took all night for her to be able to catch the drift of how it was done, and when the morning Sun rose and her fellow colleagues were starting to get out of their tents, she was almost there, reaching the top.

She still stumbled a bit, being drenched in sweat, but her ambition and motivation were strong enough for her to pull through, and she managed to get on the top of the pole, making everyone cheer as she weakly panted in victory.

As soon as Jotaro got out of his tent to see what the whole chaos was about, an arrow was thrown at him, as he then noticed the girl perched up on the pole, waving and smiling sheepishly at him.

It was then that he could finally feel a sense of accomplishment, seeing his worst student succeed after so much training. It was her resolve - Unbreakable - Just as his.

“Be a man We must be swift as the coursing river Be a man With all the force of a great typhoon Be a man With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon” by the end of it, everyone was able to properly shoot, the girl easily managed to knock him out in a hand to hand combat, everyone was able to get their balance on point and skip on the water poles, they could all carry the water buckets, catch fish from the river, be proper comrades and even be disciplined enough to use the stick.

Everything seemed fine to them, but they had no idea that Dio managed, with the help of Pet Shop, his hawk, to find out that the city in the pass was guarded by the imperial army, and they were going to kill those arrogant men who thought they could best him, Dio Brando!

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PART 2!

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irelise · 4 years

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Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider

Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.

Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!

Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused) aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.

Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.

So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.

The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships

at the end, on a dusty road (8154 words, Yassen/Alex) aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!

Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:

The wind scatters your brave songs Across the green field. Songs of the past, Leaving them alone with your glory, And right at the end, on a dusty road…

i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.

ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”

ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:

1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.

2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.

He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.

He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.

...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.

(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)

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Lemniscate (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen) Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type

Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)

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This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia

closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen) aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?

This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:

Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing

Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days

Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.

Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.

There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.

Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.

A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.

Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.

And an excerpt:

Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.

Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.

He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.

There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.

The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”

In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.

#fandom: alex rider #My writing #meta

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things2mustdo · 3 years

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It is often said that chivalry is dead, but why is that so and who is mourning? A recent article lamenting the rarity of the gentleman within the millennial male populace would seem to provide something of an answer to that question. The author of the piece, Hope Rodriguez, contends that millennial men are severely lacking in gentlemanly traits, and explains to us why they should “man up” and correct these errors.

1. Elevator etiquette I don’t care how big of a hurry you’re in, or how slow she may walk, if there is a female or five on the elevator with you, you hold your arm in the door and let them off first.

2. R-E-S-P-E-C-T (sing it to the tune of Aretha Franklin) If a female walks past you, for God’s sake, do not turn your head and stare at her behind. If she is talking to you, don’t stare down her shirt. If you’re driving down the road, don’t honk or yell “hey sexy!!!!” Gross. Undressing a girl with your eyes is one of the most disgusting and degrading things you could possibly do to her. Don’t worry about getting a date, you’ve already ruined it by being a pig.

3. Give up your seat. Whether she is old, young, pregnant, active, fat, skinny, whatever; if the bus, classroom, etc. is full, get up from your chair and offer your seat to a female who is standing. If you chose to stay in your seat and force ladies to remain standing, make sure you remember to take off your maxi pad on the way out. (oops, did I just say that?!)

4. Pay attention to the fact that the world is more threatening for females We are automatic targets everywhere we go, especially at night. I don’t need to get into the subject of rape. Walk your female coworkers to their cars at night. Just watch out for the women around you, they’ll definitely appreciate it.

5. Be polite. Compliment a lady today. They aren’t going to automatically assume that you want to have babies with them just because you said they look nice today. You would be surprised by what can make a woman smile. Little things, men. Little things.

6. Hold the door. If we are pretty far behind, we don’t expect you to hold the door open for us. It makes us feel like we need to hurry to the door. However, if there is a woman walking behind you or relatively close behind you, do NOT let a door shut on her.

7. Driveway etiquette My son will know that he will NOT drive up to a female’s house and honk the horn or shoot her a text that says “I’m here, come get in the car.” If a guy comes to pick my future daughter up for a date, and he honks the horn or texts her to pick her up, I’m going to walk outside and tell him to go home. Walk up to the door, knock on the door, and then walk her to your car. At the end of the night, walk her back to her door. I don’t care if you’re just friends or you’re married. It’s what you’re supposed to do.

Guys: man up. Bring back gentlemanly behaviors. It would definitely be appreciated.

Unfortunately for this author, her requests are simply incompatible with the notions of gender equality that our society has embraced wholeheartedly and integrated aggressively into its legal and social order.

For example, the modern man on an elevator with women has been raised and conditioned to respect those women as his equals. Equals do not receive special consideration over other equals on the basis of gender or any other marker. Equals are treated… equally. Providing the benefit of this etiquette to women simply because they are women would fundamentally contradict notions of equality that we’re heavily invested in as a society. A man who truly believes in equality and all of the values that it represents is going to practice that elevator etiquette with everyone he meets regardless of gender. He will be polite to everyone. He will respect everyone. He will practice driveway etiquette with everyone, and he will hold the door or give up a seat for anyone who actually needs it. He will not engage in these behaviors selectively on the basis of gender because he has been taught not to discriminate in that way.

A few of Ms. Rodriguez’s other statements betray outright ignorance, naiveté or both. Take these, for example:

…Walk your female coworkers to their cars at night…

… Compliment a lady today. They aren’t going to automatically assume that you want to have babies with them just because you said they look nice today…

The first statement sounds like an excellent way to invite a sexual harassment suit or attract potential discipline for violations of workplace conduct. Your typical corporate millennial females are unlikely to tolerate this unsolicited “escort” on the part of their male coworkers, much less appreciate it. Unless they have already been deemed attractive by these females (most men won’t be in this category), the men attempting to provide this escort will be labeled “creepy” at best, and accused of stalking at worst. No good can come of this.

The second just sounds naive: any man who has interacted with modern millennial females for any period of time will understand that many of them will jump to precisely that conclusion, and will also sometimes react negatively upon doing so. Hope Rodriguez is not a man and so could possibly be forgiven for not understanding these things at the outset, but she needs to change that if she hopes to have any advice she writes for men taken seriously.

That brings me to my next point: Ms. Rodriguez seems not to grasp the true nature of the chivalrous ideals she yearns for or the environment in which she currently lives. The concept of chivalry required men to be perfect gentlemen in their conduct, but said behavior was not intended for every female they met. It was more specifically designed to govern male conduct with ladies. Chivalrous codes of conduct required a gentleman to execute them, and a lady to receive them..

Ladies had their own rules to follow, and it was only through the adherence to those rules that they could qualify for the receipt of chivalry from a gentleman. Chivalric codes of conduct traveled on a two way street: the gentleman cannot exist without the lady, and vice-versa. Both genders were required to adhere to certain standards in order to engage in the chivalric exchange. The gentleman and the lady are like the yin and the yang.

Ms. Rodriguez is probably right to note that an ideal chivalrous gentleman would be more measured and restrained in his observation of an attractive female that he had not yet been acquainted with. He probably wouldn’t be too forward with her to begin with, and would remain exceedingly polite during his first interactions with her while avoiding overt sexualization.

In order to get that treatment, however, a woman would need to be the ideal lady. Ladies in the age of chivalry were modest in their conduct. They were not particularly sexually suggestive in their speech, dress or dance, and this made it relatively easy for a gentleman to approach and engage them in a more polite, less overtly sexual manner.

Most modern millennial women do not adhere to the codes of conduct inherent to the lady. Their dress is often highly sexually suggestive, designed to invite overtly sexual approaches and draw the very suggestive gazes that Ms. Rodriguez scolds millennial men for wielding. Their dance is often even more sexually suggestive, roughly approximating the act of intercourse itself.

Modern millenial females express their sexuality more openly and freely than any lady of a bygone age would have been expected to. A lady expecting to keep that label and thus benefit from the chivalrous conduct of a gentleman could not engage freely and openly in casual sexual relationships with multiple men while unmarried. She could not engage in simulated sex on dance floors with men she didn’t even know well (or even men she did know somewhat well). She could not walk around in clothing designed specifically to expose and draw attention to the more sexually alluring portions of her body. The modern woman can do all of this, however, and very often does. Why?

Because she wants to, and that’s alright. Women have spent generations fighting for the ability to remove social limitations on their sexuality, and they now enjoy the fruits of that effort. Don’t get anything twisted here: I have no problem with this and neither do most millennial men. Women are free to dress as they like, dance as they like and fuck as they like. I’m certainly not going to stop them, but there’s a price to pay for all of this.

As noted before, the gentleman and the lady come together. One cannot exist without the other—the code of chivalry was designed with this understanding in mind, and it dealt with that understanding by creating standards of conduct for each gender seeking to participate in the chivalric exchange. When we freed women from the obligation to adhere to those standards of conduct, we necessarily freed men as well.

How can we change this and bring back the missing gentleman Ms. Rodriguez so desperately desires to interact with? Well, gentlemen require ladies. If you want more gentlemen in the traditional sense, you’ll need to create more ladies in the traditional sense, and that would require a re-imposition of the same social and legal restrictions on female sexuality and expression that women have fought so hard to eliminate during the last few generations. There would need to be a rescission of the legal progress females in our society have made toward true equality.

To further illustrate just why this is, consider the way in Ms. Rodriguez’s suggestion that men give up seats and hold doors (among other preferential and somewhat deferential things) specifically for women solely because they are women. Such behavior was once common, but why was this?

Because women were seen as the weaker sex. This notion of the inherently “weak” female governed the discriminatory legal and social landscape in which the code of chivalry was born and practiced. Men did all they did for women because of the implicit understanding in society that women, by virtue of their being women, were not equal to them. They were weaker and needed assistance and men, by virtue of their being men, were stronger and therefore obligated to provide that assistance.

Men are no longer behaving this way because they have been raised to understand that their female counterparts are not weak, but strong. They’re not dependent, but independent. They’re not inferiors, they’re equals. Our modern legal system takes these statements as fundamental, unassailable truths and uses the force of law to ensure that they are treated accordingly. This will, in turn, prevent men from doing many of the things Ms. Rodriguez would like them to, as they have become increasingly unable to see women as their true inferiors.

If Ms. Rodriguez wants the chivalric code to make its way back into the mainstream, she’ll need to bring back the old view on gender relations that gave rise to it. Modern notions of gender equality will need to go out the window.

That is unlikely to happen, however. For all of her yearning for the “chivalry” of yesteryear, I doubt that Hope Rodriguez or any other modern woman would like to see the return of the social mores necessary to sustain it. Millennial women live in what is undoubtedly the best time to be a female in the history of humanity. At no point in human history have women been as wealthy, as free, as respected and as influential as they are today. The return of te social norms necessary to sustain chivalry in the traditional sense could only inhibit their enjoyment of all that, and they know it. Women have made their voices heard loudly and clearly: they will not tolerate this.

Hope Rodriguez seems like a nice girl and I’m sure she’ll find a man to treat her well sometime soon (if she hasn’t already), but she’ll not succeed in bringing back the ways of a bygone age. Chivalry is dead and, at the end of the day, that’s just the way that most millennial women want it.

https://www.returnofkings.com/28660/the-concept-of-chivalry-has-been-distorted-to-create-subservient-men

From Wikipedia:

Chivalry, or the chivalric code, is the traditional code of conduct associated with the medieval institution of knighthood… It was originally conceived of as an aristocratic warrior code… involving gallantry, individual training, and service to others. Over time its meaning has been refined to emphasise more ideals such as the knightly virtues of honour, courtly love, courtesy, and less martial aspects of the tradition.

The term “martial” here, of course, means relating to war: the code was originally meant to guide medieval warriors– not peasants, aristocrats, or even lords. And certainly not modern day men, living in the world we do today.

This fact alone sheds light on why the code has changed over time. Warriors slashing each other with swords simply don’t exist today. Yet chivalry has stuck around. So has its meaning been refined? Or completely distorted? Let’s take a look at its conception.

The first noted support for chivalric vocation, or the establishment of knightly class to ensure the sanctity and legitimacy of Christianity was written in 930 by Odo, abbot of Cluny in the Vita of St. Gerald of Aurillac.

This passage sheds more light on its intended purpose. The knights, and their chivalric code were meant “to ensure the sanctity and legitimacy of Christianity.” Take fearless warriors like these knights, put them in wartime scenarios, and what do you get? Things like rape and pillaging come to mind, and are commonplace in wars even to this day. Chivalry was meant to ensure that the Christian values that these knights were supposedly fighting for were observed, even in battle.

But as time went on, the application of this code began to encompass more areas of a warrior’s life. Below are the three fronts that chivalry embodied as the middle ages went on:

1. Duties to countrymen and fellow Christians: this contains virtues such as mercy, courage, valor, fairness, protection of the weak and the poor, and in the servant-hood of the knight to his lord. 2. Duties to God: this would contain being faithful to God, protecting the innocent, being faithful to the church, being the champion of good against evil, being generous and obeying God above the feudal lord. 3. Duties to women: this would contain what is often called courtly love, the idea that the knight is to serve a lady, and after her all other ladies.

The first two areas mentioned here represent the origins of the code. Knights were to uphold the Christian values of mercy, courage, protection of the weak, and service to god as they carried out their battles and crusades. The third point, however, is what we are most familiar with today.

This is the expansion of the code into court life where the knights were expected to respect and serve women. But not all women 0nly to Christian ladies of the court, i.e. noble women. The same way these courageous warriors were to protect the weak, they were meant to protect and serve women. In addition to their primary wartime purposes, of course.

Today

What does chivalry mean today? Apparently, now that we don’t have a defined knightly class to battle with swords and protect Christianity, it has expanded to mean that all men should follow it. But not the whole thing. Just the part about serving women.

And there’s nothing wrong with this. A manly man opening the car door or carrying a heavy load to help a feminine women out is a great and attractive thing. This at least resembles the traditional dynamic of a knight protecting and serving a medieval lady. But when you remove some key aspects of this dynamic, does it still apply?

If you take a bratty, drunk girl who’s whining and complaining to her man, does it still apply? What about a girl who is so committed to being on her own and free of dependency on any man that she always tries to order them around and flip the script? When a poor beta man rushes ahead of her to open the door, is that chivalry?

I think not. I think she just made him her bitch.

So is chivalry alive today? In the modern sense of a man protecting and serving women it certainly can be. The strong, confident alpha male who takes it upon himself to treat women as medieval ladies and take care of the manly tasks like carrying heavy bags or walking on the outside of the sidewalk to protect her is a shining example of chivalry in its true sense.

Unfortunately many modern men aren’t like this. They are weak and timid. When you combine this with a women who’s susceptible to taking advantage of such a man and the idea of chivalry, you have the makings of a disaster. A man like this going out of his way to serve all women is only going to further damage his sense of self worth. Rather than being her “knight in shining armour” he becomes something that more closely resembles a servant or a slave.

In the end, it all depends on the context. Chivalry only applied to the knightly class in medieval times. Today, it’s become something that all men are encouraged to follow, whether alpha or beta. While it certainly is an attractive and acceptable behaviour of the alpha, it only serves to further emasculate the beta.

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misssophiachase · 4 years

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I’m back, hope you liked the first part! You can read from the beginning on AO3 and FF.

Synopsis: She skipped bail and he’s tasked to track her down. As a seasoned bounty hunter, it’s a fairly routine job on paper for Klaus Mikaelson but then he meets Caroline Forbes and has no idea what to do with her.

Thrill of the Chase - Part Two: Man Down

Cumberland County, TN, (Interstate 40) - Caroline

Karma was a bitch, currently disguised as a blown-out tire.

Caroline kicked it a few times in frustration but then stopped realising her heels weren't fully equipped to soften the blow.

"Mother chucker," she hissed, rubbing her sore foot.

Caroline decided then and there she was woeful at this whole ‘on the run’ lifestyle. Not only with her poor choice of footwear but the fact she had no spare tire, and even if she did, no jack to change it.

Only she would decide to skip her bail hearing and not complete the requisite checks required on the vehicle aiding and abetting her getaway from New York City.

She could hear her idiot, car-obsessed ex-boyfriend berating her for not taking proper care of her convertible. Caroline figured she must have done it despite him. Unfortunately, her stubborn ability to hold a grudge had led her to this moment and he was clearly still tormenting her from afar. Ass.

It really wasn’t her day. Actually, who was she kidding? It wasn’t her year.

2.5 hours earlier

“How’s my little fugitive?” She’d asked after the call connected, while Caroline was still singing along with Rhianna about shooting a man down in Central Station.

“I’m fine,” she lied, turning down the music.

“Liar,” she countered. “I heard Rhianna, things must be desperate.”

“I’m getting into character,” she offered.

“This isn’t high school drama club, Care,” she sighed.

“What ever happened to you being the bad influence?” She growled. Katherine Pierce had been well renowned at their prep school on the Upper East Side for her questionable reputation. “I recall having to cover for you more than a few times.”

“For smoking in the girls’ toilets.”

“And the rest. I also seem to recall other less PG things happening in that bathroom too, Kitty Kat,” she laughed, despite everything else.

“Good times,” she chuckled. “So, where are you now?”

“Bristol.” For some reason, every time she crossed a state border, Caroline felt relieved. Like the more miles she put between herself and Manhattan the better.

“Welcome to Tennessee,” she squealed excitedly. “You’ll be here in Nashville with me before you know it.”

“Thankfully,” she murmured, pleased to see a familiar face. “But I can’t stay too long.”

“I know,” she drawled. “You’re a woman on a mission.”

“I promised,” she insisted.

“And, as your best friend, I know more about your ability to keep a promise than most. Please tell me we can get obscenely drunk before you go at least?”

“Are you kidding? We have so much time to make up for,” Caroline smiled. “And now that I’m a felon on the run who knows what I might do under the influence?” Katherine’s laughed intermingled with her own until she stopped suddenly and Caroline could already tell what she was going to say next.

“Do you think maybe you should have stayed and…”

“You are really killing my fugitive vibe, Pierce,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t stay there, you know that. I needed to get away, it was stifling and had been for a while.”

“Your father certainly has that suffocation gift down.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. Katherine was responding but she was breaking up and difficult to decipher. “Kat, I can’t understand you.” She could hear her voice cutting in and out until the line went dead.

As stupid as it sounded, Caroline really didn’t want to talk about him so it was probably good timing the cell reception dropped out when it did.

Although interstate 40 was a busy route, Caroline hadn’t seen many cars that time of the day. She’d noticed mile marker 337 not long before her tire blew out, interrupting her fugitive themed playlist in the process.

Now, here she was stranded and trying to get someone to pull over. Easy, right?

Although, wasn’t that how people were kidnapped and killed? That’s what her parents had drummed into her since she was young and although she was supposed to be rebelling against society it still didn’t feel right or safe.

Caroline winced thinking about her parents again. She’d already ignored their steady stream of calls since leaving New York and was too afraid to listen to her voicemail. She was fairly certain if Liz and Bill were disappointed in her after committing her crime they were royally pissed about her running away.

So, the fact her cell reception was non-existent was timely because her parents’ calls weren’t getting through but it also meant no calling for help hence her current predicament.

She decided to push aside every sensible thought and think about what would Thelma and Louise do? Well, besides that driving into the Grand Canyon part.

Caroline was madly trying to remember if general hitchhiker etiquette was to hold out a thumb or not. Pity she was wearing jeans otherwise she might have flashed a little leg like she’d seen in movies.

While inwardly arguing with herself, Caroline heard a loud crunch synonymous with tires on gravel.

The silver Lincoln was impressive looking but what she couldn’t get past was the person behind the wheel.

Even wearing aviators, she could make out an enticing pair of crimson lips curved into a curious smile and untamed, dark blonde hair that curled over his ears teasingly. His black henley was open at the top, a few necklaces peeking out that were just begging to be pulled upon.

Looks like her Brad Pitt had arrived just in time.

Caroline just hoped he wasn’t going to ask too many questions.

Klaus

Usually, when Klaus had to apprehend a skip it took a lot more than two hours but yet here she was standing on the roadside.

He had to open and close his eyes a few times to check they weren’t playing tricks on him. But here she was basically standing there waiting to be caught. His intel from Lucien was supposedly a reliable destination in Nashville but it looks like he wouldn’t need that anymore.

Klaus recognised her straight away given the picture his friend had sent through had been running through his mind ever since. One thing was for sure that her photo, albeit flawless, still didn’t do her justice.

Those fitted, dark jeans were showcasing a lithe pair of legs, her red and white striped tee highlighting her creamy skin and those golden waves were fanned out perfectly over her shoulders. And that was before he’d even studied her face of expressive, blue eyes with some kissable, pink lips.

Given Sex on Fire was blasting through his speakers, it seemed almost apt given the way his nether regions weren’t cooperating.

But Klaus was a professional and knew he had a job to do.

He still couldn’t believe he was doing this in the first place but Lucien had begged and pleaded. Lucien never did that. Ever.

2.5 hours earlier

“Even if I could help, you know Rebekah would murder me if I don’t...”

“Kol tells me the family reunion is in a week, you’ve got the time, mate.” Klaus balled up his fists remembering to kill his brother when he saw him. “

Who is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“This walk in the park? In and out, no trouble? Last time I checked that’s a little beneath my skill set, Castle.”

“Agreed but this case is special. I, uh, sort of know her father.” Klaus nearly swerved off the road given how unexpected that confession was.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Klaus, please?” He pleaded. “Let’s just say he’s well-known in the city not to mention extremely powerful and can’t risk this getting out publicly.”

“So, let me get this straight,” he growled, his frustration growing. “You want me to chase down some rich, daddy’s little girl who decided to ruffle his feathers by getting arrested?”

“Well…”

“Wow,” he groaned. “Rebekah’s demand is suddenly not so bad.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Klaus,” he insisted. “And if you do this I’ll be in your debt. Any skip you want I'll get.” Klaus had to admit it was an enticing offer, especially given all of the revenge he could exact.

“Keep talking.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“I want to know everything first,” he replied gruffly. “Who her father is and what the hell she did.”

When Lucien told her what Caroline Forbes had done he was surprised but another part of him was intrigued. Seeing her picture had done nothing to dampen his curiosity either.

Her father was a whole other story and Klaus was beginning to realise that she wasn’t just any other skip. She was a liability, an expose waiting to happen. No wonder he was hoping to keep it under wraps as long as possible.

Now, peering at her through his windshield, Klaus had to decide how he was going to handle this. Handle her.

Should he use the handcuffs or not? Should he identify himself from the outset or not? Was she a flight risk and more savvy than expected? Or was she just crying out for attention from daddy and would be compliant and come easily?

Klaus never had to question himself. He always worked on pure instinct and it had served him well in the past. Let's hope it did this time.

As he opened the car door and eased himself out from behind the wheel, Klaus knew was this certainly wasn’t going to be dull.

Soundtrack: Man Down (Rihanna) Sex on Fire (Kings of Leon)

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #thrill of the chase #misssophiachase #my writing #man down #hope you like

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naferty · 4 years

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1. You CAN NOT give me BuckyxPeggy with Tony as their son and not give me more?? BECAUSE THATS THE SOFTEST FUCKING SHIT IVE EVER HEARD?? Big strong daddy that showers him in love and affection and chases away the monsters at night?? Strong sweet mother who spoils him a bit and never fails to give him kisses? Parents who show up to every single science fair and cheer the loudest at any sports he may take a wack at? BITCH ITS WHAT HE DESERVES!! 2. Rhodey x Bucky? Hm. You've peaked my interest 👀

Dear Anon, please, take a seat. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Let me serenade you with veteran Bucky, who lost his arm during combat, but he won’t let that stop him from holding his son for the first time. He won’t let his arm stop him from taking baby Tony to school, telling him he loves him, promising to be there right on the dot when he gets out of school and using his only arm to hold Tony’s as they walk over to their favorite ice cream parlor and get rocky road and vanilla.

Director Peggy, who’s a working mom, who’s a very important and powerful woman, who runs a business like a general runs a base, never fails to set time away to give all her love and attention to her baby boy. Who is never late to a science fair. Who is first to the stage for the play starring her boy as scientist #3, often only beaten by Bucky who dropped Tony off and stayed until the play ended.

Mama bear Peggy, who will deck you for mocking her son for trying ballet and will leave the scraps for Papa bear Bucky to throw out. Papa bear Bucky, who will help teach his son how to play baseball even if it ends with them both groaning and screaming at the stupid ball for not going where they want because Bucky’s one arm is of no use for balance and baby Tony has the reflexes of a dead cat. And if someone dares laugh, well, Bucky only needs that one arm to kick anyone’s ass.

Peggy and Bucky joining a cooking class with Tony because they’re all shit at cooking and someone needs to learn soon. A growing boy needs more than take out and the lettuce in a taco isn’t enough vegetables. Peggy and Bucky also joining a tap dancing class because Tony wanted to be like the penguin in Happy Feet and Peggy taking it like a duck in water while Bucky and his lack of arm is left nearly falling multiple times.

Peggy and Bucky cheering the loudest when Tony finished performing as a lead in a ballet performance and Tony is left turning bright red because the audience was staring at these two when the etiquette was to clap and only clap, not scream or whistle.

Bucky throwing a butt naked Ty out of his home after he and Peggy arrived sooner than expected and Peggy giving a sulking Tony a stern talking to about protection and thinking things through. Peggy later holding Tony when he comes home crying after Ty broke things off and needing to call uncle Jarvis to help her restrain Bucky from committing murder.

Tony groaning when he spots his parents trying and failing to hide behind a giant potted plant and needing to remind them that “he’s just a friend!” Peggy and Bucky both exchanging smug looks when later on that ‘friend’ ended up proposing to their boy and they can’t wait to rub this in for the rest of their lives, but not before they both remind the guy that Peggy has a pistol and Bucky has a rifle and they both know how to use it.

Just the Stark-Carter-Barnes family here.

~~~

Also, Rhocky. What’s not to like? Two hotheads who’s only funny joke is to answer together when their name is called.

“James.”

“I’m James.”

“No, I’m James.”

“No, I am.”

“So, who’s the real James?”

“I AM”

#ask post #mal gets an ask #lovely anon #good ol' buckypeggy with tony as their son #i don't know i really like the idea #and rhocky is good too #all the good ships #naferty writes #baby boy au

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dungeons-and-divination · 3 years

Text

FIGHTER Echo knight - Stout HALFLING - Secret identity

I am gonna point this out later with their backstory, but this character is a little bit of an exception. It could fit better with one particular setting, but I did my best to keep as foggy as possible on the details so that anyone can actually do a little bit of changes and put them wherever they wanted. Other then that... Let’s just say that their name and age are a little bit of a complicated matter. Hope you enjoy this mysterious character.

Name: Iraeonos

TAROTS

Mind: Eight of swords (upright) This tarot could mean actual persecution or imprisonment, but I feel like for poor Iraeonos this is more of a internal struggle. While I was shuffling the deck I was so focused on that hidden identity and I think the tarots really absorbed my train of thoughts. To get back to the meaning, Iraeonos feels like they have to censure somehow who they truly are, cause they're scared that if their secret identity was ever discovered, they would actually be persecuted. For sure this situation brought a lot of psychological issues with it. They have to silence themselves somehow, so they would absolutely struggle with their identity, with anxiety... Lots of very funny things indeed. Not.

Body: Knight of Pentacles (upright) And here comes the dilemma part the previous card sometimes hints at. Like said, while Iraeonos is scared shitless of being discovered, they still have this sense of responsibility that makes them use the abilities that would make them be discovered to help those in need. And at the end of the day, the person they are hiding? It’s still them, it’s not someone else. It’s a part of who they are. And it’s not at all healthy to deny part of your own identity. There’s also this deep loyalty to home, even though home is a little bit of a complicated matter for them (later this will be clearer, but just trust me on this for now). Also, just as a thing I have to add as a note, I do see them having a little bit of a soft spot for animals.

Spirit: Strength (upright) Someone would say that this card is a little bit in opposition with the “mind” tarot the deck gave me. But that their mind is so conflicted and almost weakened while their spirit is so strong, just tells me that their fears are related to Iraenos overthinking instead of following their intuitions. At their spirit Iraenos is a person that is always gonna find the inner strength required to face their fears and anxieties, they just need the time to stop thinking so much. They just need to act cause they need to find that trust in themselves to know that they are on the right path. And this tarot confirms once again the animal lover side I just hinted at, but most of all, it confirms that they are compassionate and reliable for those around them, despite all of the lying the have to do to survive.

Past: Seven of wands (upright) When it’s related to Iraeonos, “past” is a little bit of a complicated issue (what isn’t with them?). Because they kind of had another entire life before the one they “just” started living (things will be clearer in the backstory, no worries). So, it was hard for me to decide before picking a past card if I wanted to focus on Iraeones first life or their more “recent” past. For a bit I even considered picking two cards, but at the end of the day I just trusted my deck to know better. I think my confusion translated into my draw. I wouldn’t call this a bad card in a normal read, but in this case it’s just very generic. It speaks of struggles and standing up to them, of taking the high road and never giving up even when under attack. I admit, since I wanted their backstory a little looser so that they could eventually fit into any setting, I decided not to clear this confusion with another pick despite my curiosity. I left the matter of this issue for later.

Present: Ace of cups (upright) Any “new beginnings” card for Iraeonos is a little bit of a wink to their rebirth as a new person as far as I’m concerned. With that, I decided to consider the “past” tarot related to their previous life, and the Ace of cups more of a nod toward the person they’d become since they were reborn. And I’m happy that Iraeonos found friendship and people accepting their “new” personality. There’s that hint of happiness and possible love that I actually decided to leave more as a possibility for their actual present, maybe in someone else in the party when they get to start their adventure.

Future: Ace of wands (upright) Yet again, a “new beginnings” card. I think it’s hilarious to get two of these for the person that’s already been reborn. Anyway, I see them finding a new talent in the near future, maybe a new passion. Also, being bold in the decision making process. And while I always leave open these kinds of things to whoever decides to play the characters, in this case, considering the Strength card coupled with this once, I do very much suggest having Iraeonos accept their previous life and multiclass in what was probably their class in that life.

FULL BACKSTORY

Let’s immediately clear that Iraeonos was reborn from the Luxon. For any Critical Role fan, they pretty much need no extra info, they already got an idea of what is going on here. But for anyone new to the setting or that does not want to dabble into that part of the lore of Exandria, let’s just say that I decided to leave Iraeonos’ previous life foggy enough that their “past life” could be built with a DM and quickly fixed for any other setting. SO, back to Iraeonos’s origins. Iraeonos was born from a sweet couple of halflings in their humble home. Their parents actually named them Euris Boycee (I'm aware that having dead names in a backstory is bad etiquette, but it’s this is more of their true identity name vs an alias they picked for other reasons that are later clearer. I hope nobody gets offended by this mention of a name Iraeonos doesn’t use anymore.) Iraeonos never lived in the good side of town, but their mom, Juli, and dad, Taragh, were honest people that worked hard in an establishment for horses&ponies training. So they always had enough food and lived an overall peaceful life. Despite the happy childhood, Iraeonos always had a fascination for the “bad boys” running around the rundown area they lived in. Iraeonos used to get into trouble a lot with their friends when they were early teens. Their mom wused to say to them that they would end up in jail one day, like a true criminal, but Iraeonos was just trying to live their dream of becoming a strong fighter like those they saw sometimes walking around town. Iraeonos had always had very weird and realistic dreams, but they were usually brushed off as just that: Iraeonos having a vivid imagination. When they turned 15, those dreams became more and more insistent and violent, till they started to feel like they weren’t dreams at all. Iraeonos was sure they were glimpses of a previous life that they’d always been in denial to be slowly remembering, and maybe even the reason why they had always wanted to be an adventurer in the first place. They never again talked about the dreams, and became more and more closed off to the world, trying to hide how much they actually remembered of their previous life. At the time their memories of that were still vague, but they remembered enough to know that they did not want to go back and that they wanted Agar’thaw Melch, his previous-self name, to stay in the past with whatever that person did in the place he came from. Their dream of becoming a strong fighter became even stronger, maybe in a desperate desire to fix whatever mistakes they were sure their previous self had made into the world. Or maybe cause they wanted to be like the person they used to be, but at the same time, not at all. So, they ran away from home before even turning 18. Already confused about their identity, they actually abandoned the name their parents gave them and embraced the identity of Iraeonos in the hopes that nobody would ever relate the person that grew up with that sweet couple, with the mysterious fighter Iraeonos wanted to become.

(As you can see, I decided to really leave open to choice how much they wandered and how old they are at this point. Are they at the very start of the journey? Or did they leave their home a long time ago?)

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Intelligence and Dexterity, Low Strength (YES, for a fighter, I’m not going crazy) Skill proficiencies: History, Acrobatics Other: like I said, I suggest multiclass. I kind of pictured them as a Rogue (either Assassin or Inquisitive), but I would honestly be perfectly okay with a Wizard too (Chronurgy or maybe War). It really depends on how you change their backstory anyway. Anything could fit since I left it so vague this time. If you are wandering why, while still trying to hide, they would tap into a magic that belongs to the very place they are trying not to go back to (I’m talking about choosing the echo knight archetype), like I said: they’are struggling to admit that the two people are not two people at all. They still have those memories of the past, and the ways and magic of the Kryn are still part of them. They know it’s stupid to waste potential they have. Which is also the reason for them to embrace the class they used to be in the past, once they realize that it’s basically the same line of reasoning on a more conscious level.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: The best way to get me to do something is tell me I can’t do it. Ideal: I am in the habit of not talking about myself. My business is none of yours. (If I do talk about myself, I usually lie.) Bond: I’m reborn from the Luxon. Ever since I remembered my previous life, I’ve been doing everything I could to avoid going back to my “homeland”. Flaw: I feel no compassion for the dead. They’re the lucky ones.

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verai-marcel · 5 years

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Inescapable Rapture (RDR2 Fanfic, Ch. 5 of 5, 18+ ONLY)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Also on AO3 here.

Chapter 5: Belonging Forever

Notes: Too far gone.

WC: 2964

You woke up wondering if you had imagined his words last night. Looking over at Arthur, who was busy getting dressed, you stared at his back for a few moments before you too, got up to clean up and get ready for work.

Then you saw the travel bag at Arthur’s feet. And you saw that your suitcase was closed up and sitting next to his bag; you had left it open on top of his dresser since you got here and hadn’t moved it.

“What’s that for?” you asked.

Arthur stopped short of putting his suspenders on, and turned to you. “I’m takin’ you to the hotel in town to stay for a couple nights.”

You just stared at him as he walked over to you and put his hands on your shoulders. He gently ran his knuckles across your cheek, below the cut and bruise, looking sad.

“I’ve kept you close for more than one reason,” he confessed. “There’s a serial killer on the loose that a group of us rangers been trackin’ for a while now. When he escaped last time, he was last spotted heading northeast from St. Denis, so a few of us went to stay in different towns to keep an eye out.”

He leaned in and kissed you gently. “He’s been spotted south of here.”

Everything clicked into place. “You made me stay here, knowing I was stubborn, to keep me safe.”

Arthur nodded. “I’d do anything for you, darlin’.”

You stared at him, unable to say a word.

“The sheriff is takin’ a posse out to go catch him,” he said. “So while I’m gone, you stay in a hotel in town until we’re back. Make sure the doctor walks you to the hotel every night. Don’t ever come out alone. Lock the doors behind you—”

“I know!” you nearly yelled. He didn’t have to worry about you; he had enough on his plate. You felt very afraid for him, for what could happen. You knew he was strong, but things could go wrong out there, and being a ranger was dangerous work. Taking a deep breath, you regained some composure. “Be careful,” you finally said, trying to maintain your calm.

“I will,” he said fiercely.

You kissed him and hugged him tight. You weren’t sure when you started to feel this way, but the thought of losing Arthur made you feel like hyperventilating. You were pretty sure that wasn’t a healthy response. But nevertheless, it was how you felt.

He eventually had to pull your arms off of him. “I already packed your things. Now go get ready.”

You did as he asked, the rest of the morning in a haze. You washed yourself quickly, got dressed, ate some breakfast, and went into town. He checked you into the hotel, led you up to the room, and then shut the door.

You both looked at each other for half a minute before he pushed you onto the bed and lifted your skirt. Kissing each other passionately, you couldn’t stop clawing at him, wanting to curl yourself around him and never let go. He quickly freed himself from his pants and eased himself inside your tight entrance, rutting into you fervently as you clung to him, wrapping your legs around him and lifting your hips, wanting him deeper, harder.

He breathed your name, desperately, reverently, over and over, like a prayer to keep you forever with him.

And when you came in his arms, calling out his name with the same desperation, he held you close, barely managing to pull out in time, spending himself on you before collapsing beside you.

When you had both caught your breaths, he quietly helped you clean up and change skirts. Once you were ready for work again, he escorted you outside and down the road to the doctor’s office, leading his horse so he could walk with you, delaying the time he’d have to leave as much as he could.

Outside of the doctor’s office, you started to walk up the steps, but he called your name, softly.

You turned back to him. “Arthur?”

He took a step closer to you and looked at you, memorizing your features.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “I won’t let you walk the world alone.”

You just nodded. If you said anything, you were sure you’d cry, and you didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw before leaving. So you gave him a brave smile. He caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles, and stepped back, his eyes on you until he turned around, got on his horse, and galloped away.

You heard the doctor call out your name, and you took a deep breath. You could focus on work until he got back. Because he would come back. He promised.

***

You worked yourself to the bone, just trying to keep your mind off of what-ifs. You had to believe that Arthur would come back.

The doctor had already been asked by Arthur to walk you back to the hotel every night, and of course, he gladly did. He knew what had happened when the office was robbed, and had given you a gun to keep in your desk just in case it happened again. And Arthur promised he’d take you out shooting later so you’d be able to protect yourself if he wasn’t around.

So many promises to return. You had to believe.

***

Two nights had passed.

Staring out the window on the third morning, the doctor finally waved his hands in front of your face to get your attention.

“Oh! My lord, I am so sorry.”

The doctor laughed. “It’s quite alright, my dear. I understand. The sheriff and his boys should have caught that man by now. Quite a dreadful business, I must say.”

Then he pulled up a chair and sat down across from you. You straightened up in your seat; he looked serious.

“Now, you’ve been helping me for a year now, so I’d like to think I know you well. At least, well enough to know when something’s changed.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“That Deputy Morgan? When he said you were staying with him, and you looked rather, shall we say, irate about it?” He waved his hands about. “I thought that perhaps I should step in, talk to the lad about propriety and etiquette. But the next day? When you were a bit calmer? I figured you had come around to the idea, and that he was treating you well.”

You inwardly laughed. Could not have been further from the truth. Arthur had just fucked you into submission. And you hated to admit it, but you liked it. You supposed that you really had come around to the idea, just not in the way the doctor thought.

“Anyway,” the doctor continued, “I see something between you two. He cares a lot about you. But once this serial killer is caught, you’ll be going back to your own home, correct?”

You hadn’t thought about it. You supposed that was going to be the case.

You suddenly realized that you didn’t want to go back.

The doctor was watching you, and the realization must have shown on your face. “My dear, if you want to stay with him, then make sure he makes an honest woman of you. Don’t let him lead you on just because you’re close to him.” He stood up and patted you on the shoulder. “Come now, we should get the office prepared in case the sheriff and his boys come back injured. Better to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, correct?”

You voiced your agreement and stood to help prepare.

***

Around noon, the posse had returned, with men injured left and right. You and the doctor had your hands full treating them all. You had asked some of the less injured patients about Arthur’s whereabouts, but you only got partial answers.

“Last I saw’im, he was shootin’ at the killer, runnin’ after’im over the ridge.”

“He and another deputy was chasin’ a couple of the gang past the riverbend.”

“After all the dust settled, he was carryin’ a dead body, sayin’ something about bringing it to St. Denis.”

“That ain’t all,” you heard a new voice say. You turned around to see the sheriff walking into the office. “That fella weren’t just a deputy. He was a ranger. I knew he was too good to just be a regular lawman.”

You silently scoffed. The sheriff didn’t know shit from sand, but you kept that opinion to yourself.

“He said he was stayin’ in town, even after his mission was over. I told him as long as he’s in my town, he follows my lead, and guess what? He agreed.”

“That’s fine,” another deputy piped up. “He’s a good man to have at your back. We ever gotta do this shit again? He’s worth five regular men.”

The other injured men in the office shouted their agreement.

The sheriff looked at you. “And I suppose you’re the reason he’s stayin’. Everyone knows he’s watchin’ you for more than just your safety.” He leered at you, and you glared back. You heard some of the deputies chuckle, and you whipped your head around to scowl at the other men.

“That is none of your concern,” you snarled. The other deputies immediately grew quiet. Before Arthur had arrived, you had a reputation: kind to patients, but off limits to men. The doctor had taken you in like a daughter, and no one wanted to anger him, but on top of that, you were standoffish with men in general. Arthur had gotten the closest to you, and you could tell that some of them were jealous, especially the idiot sheriff who had never truly gotten the hint that you were not interested.

The sheriff just held his hands up in surrender. “Now now, I didn’t mean anything by that. Just sayin’, if I had a fine woman like you, I’d stick around too,” he said, looking you up and down.

“If you’re not injured, you can go,” the doctor interrupted, clearly sick of hearing the sheriff disrespect you.

“Or I can give you a reason to stay,” a gravelly voice said from the doorway.

Everyone turned to look at Arthur, who was leaning against the door frame, a casual smile on his lips, but his eyes spelled murder. He was dusty from the trail, blood splattered over his clothes, and had cuts and bruises all over.

The sheriff took a step away from you. “I was just on my way out.” He brushed past Arthur. “Take care of her, or someone might take her from you,” you heard the sheriff mutter to him.

“I’ll make sure that never happens,” Arthur growled back, glaring at the sheriff.

There was a tense second, then the sheriff slowly smiled and tipped his hat to him. “Best of luck to ya then,” he said, and left.

Arthur immediately turned to you and held his hand out. “We’re going home,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

You glanced over at the doctor, and he nodded. “You’ve done a lot today. Go home and get some rest, dear.”

You bid him and the other patients good night, and took Arthur’s hand as he walked you outside. You noticed that your suitcase was already tied onto the back of his horse. He lifted you up onto the saddle and got on behind you, gripping you tightly to him as he rode home at a fast gallop.

***

Once you both entered his house, he slumped down in the chair and sighed. You quickly kneeled down beside him to check his injuries. He seemed alright, just a few minor cuts and grazes. Not bad for having been gone for almost three days. You set to work, warming some water and grabbing some clean flannels. You quietly grabbed some whiskey to disinfect his wounds and washed him down, taking off his clothes gently, as he groaned when you moved him.

“How sore are you?” you asked him.

“It’s not that bad,” he grumbled. “Just tired.”

You merely nodded and got him cleaned up. He had some spare bandages, and you wrapped up his arm and leg where the grazes were the worst.

By the time you were done wiping him down, you had gotten him naked, and despite his tiredness and injuries, part of him was still rather excited to see you. You were eyeing his member for a few moments, wondering if you should.

“Kitten.”

You smiled. Kneeling in front of him, you kept your eyes on his as you engulfed his cock in your mouth, watching his eyes turn a dark stormy blue. Never breaking eye contact, you started to pleasure him with your tongue while you bobbed your head up and down, playing with his ball sack and caressing his thick thighs. He bucked underneath you.

“Where’d you learn that, you dirty whore,” he mumbled, digging his hands into your hair.

You came up for a breath. “I thought you might like this,” you said before swallowing his cock.

He let out a pleased sigh. “So good,” he muttered.

You kept going, slowly giving him languid licks and sucking playfully on his balls while you stroked his cock, until he finally grabbed you by the shoulders, forcing you to stand. He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

“I thought you were tired!” you exclaimed.

“You got me worked up,” he growled, kicking open the bedroom door and tossing you onto the bed.

“Now spread’em. I need you now.”

You nodded, already spreading your legs for him. As you lifted up your skirt, his eyes widened and he whistled. You had gotten new underwear, the crotchless kind. It was convenient for many reasons, and this was one of them.

“Fuck,” was all he could manage to say before he shoved his face into your pussy and started sucking on your clit. You screamed as he tongued you, unable to help him unbutton the rest of your clothes. All you could do was shimmy out of your clothes once he had gotten all the buttons loose, and soon you were naked before him, your breasts heaving from your deep breaths.

He approached you on all fours, like a beast about to possess you. His body was above you, his arms on either side of you, and his legs forced yours open. He aimed his cock at your entrance and slowly took you, watching you pant with desire as each inch entered you. His eyes glittered and his smirk widened as he felt your channel clench tightly around him.

“So perfect,” he gritted out as he sank all the way in. “Just for me.”

For all the times he had fucked you, this time was truly intense, for his eyes never left yours; with each thrust and each kiss, he never broke eye contact, never looked elsewhere. Only at you.

“Let me make you mine,” he asked.

“Haven’t you done that already?” you asked breathily.

“I meant forever,” he said, his hips slowing.

Feeling every inch of him slide in and out of you, your mind thinking that this was how forever felt like, you answered the only way you could.

“Yes, I’m yours forever.”

He responded with a low, long growl, and his hips sped up as he fucked you hard, pressing his forehead against yours. He reached down and touched you in just the perfect way that he did, your body convulsing as pure bliss coursed through your body. You came undone as he kept pounding into you. He leaned down to kiss you hard, holding your face in his big hands.

“I love you,” he whispered as he gave one final thrust, shooting his spend deep into you.

He spent a few minutes just staying inside of you, catching his breath. In that time, you watched him, touching his face and wondering if this is what it would always be like, to be thoroughly possessed by him.

“What, darlin’?” he asked quietly, looking at you tenderly.

You took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Of course it would always be like this. He didn't know any other way with you. You answered him in a soft voice, full of a deep truth.

“I love you too.”

***

You woke up sore, but deliriously happy. It felt like something had clicked into place, and your life felt whole. But you had to ask. You got up and got dressed, then walked out to the main room. Arthur was slicing up some bacon for breakfast.

“You really meant what you said last night?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are you going to make an honest woman out of me?”

He smirked. “Well, you ain’t gonna burgle no more, right?”

“Arthur!” you huffed as you stamped your foot.

“Of course I’ll marry you. How kind of you to ask.”

You groaned as he laughed.

But then he came up to you, and got down on one knee. He pulled out a ring; you recognized it as the one that you had particularly liked when you stole from the rich man in St. Denis, and had kept it in your nightstand.

“Marry me.”

“That’s my ring!”

“Is it?”

You were silent.

“Thought so.”

“Fine! I’ll marry you, you brute,” slapping him on the arm, but unable to keep the smile off your face.

Arthur laughed and picked you up, swinging you around once before holding you close. He kissed the top of your head tenderly before leaning down and giving you the sweetest, softest kiss on your lips.

“I love you, my little thief.”

#writing #fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #low honor arthur morgan #deputy morgan #nsft #lemon #dubcon #deputy arthur #deputy AU

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randomwordsandstormydays · 5 years

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The One Where Livy And Drummer Boy Kiss

Another exciting installment for Livy!

TW: alcohol consumption

The first month of Livy’s tour with the Railroad is a whirlwind of information. Between learning the eight different secret codes, memorizing dead drop schedules, discovering all the safehouses, and being taught how to handle a scared and traumatized synth, she’s at the end of her rope. Her only break is when Drummer pulls her out of her lessons in order to take her on a dead drop run, and she treasures these brief recesses.

Today’s run is a little different.

Just this morning Drummer had pulled her aside to inform her that the dead drop mission today was going to be her first solo one. His recommendation had gone up to Carrington and Desdemona, and they agreed that she was ready to run a small op by herself. She had argued, stating that she wasn’t even done with her training yet, but Drummer had shut her down, replying that she was miles ahead of their other trainees, some who had gotten there way before her.

Now, she’s just down the street from HQ, trying to steady her breathing as she heads towards her drop, coded message hidden in her backpack. The desire to not fuck this up is overpowering, and Livy is having a hard time fousing. What if she fails? What if her incompetence leads to her people getting hurt, synths getting lost, or - god forbid - the location of their headquarters getting discovered. It’s a lot of pressure, and she wishes that Drummer Boy was with her. He’s always been a comforting presence on runs, letting her take the lead but also allowing her to fall back on his experience if she needs it. It also probably doesn’t help that she’s developed a bit of a crush on him.

She knew that her first solo mission was coming soon, but somewhere in the back of her mind she had hoped that it never would. That maybe she could partner with DB. The issue with that is that runners don’t get partners, they run solo, both to minimize the likelihood of discovery and to allow them more people to run more messages. Plus fraternization between agents is a big no-no, so she’d have to hide her feelings. Eventually, no matter how hard she works, or the accomplishments she achieves, she’ll always be alone.

That train of thought does nothing to help calm her fraying nerves, so she shakes it from her mind and pushes forward, gun held tightly and the perfect image of calmness plastered on her face.

When she returns to HQ, she’s almost disappointed. The road she traveled was clear the entire time, no enemies or wild animals to contend with, and she spent most of her journey bored and, again, wishing that DB had been with her. However, as she steps off the elevator and into the backmost room of the Switchboard she’s surprised to see Bluebell and Drummer waiting for her.

“Welcome back, Crow! We got word from Mercer that the dead drop was received.” Bluebell wraps her in a hug and squeeze a little too tight, forcing her breath from her lungs.

“Jeez, Bell, she made it back alive don’t kill her now.” Drummer teases. That startles a weak squealing of air out of her, which turns into a real laugh when the death grip around her torso is released.

“Thank Drummer, who knows what kind of damage Bell could do with one of her hugs.” Livy rubs her ribs, half as a joke and half not.

The other girl smiles at her fondly before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her deeper into the building. “As a ‘good job’ Desdemona has approved a night-off, how do you feel about 200 year old whiskey?”

Livy grins, already eager to take a break. “As long as it’s gonna get me drunk I don’t care how old it is.”

Drummer seconds her statement as he trails behind them. “Let the drinking begin.”

An hour and a half later Livy is beginning to realize that her fourth shot should have been her last, but the whiskey was spiced, and had hardly even tasted like alcohol on the way down. So, she had five, then six, and now seven shots in the room is a little spiny and she’s craving fancy lads.

Most everyone ignores her as she moves from the designated celebration room and unsteadily makes her way down the hall towards the kitchen, and the ones that do see her merely ask her to bring them snacks back. Half way down the hall their requests have been forgotten, she’s too busy making sure she doesn’t get lost maneuvering down the winding halls to remember who wanted what. She’ll just grab a bunch of shit. Lucky for her the door is unlocked, so she doesn’t have to try and find the key. Before long the center table is piled high with a mismatch of food and drink items, but she still hasn’t found any snack cakes.

She spots a chair and a poorly planned idea begins to form. With the alcohol guiding her she drags the chair over to the cabinets and begins to climb, one shaky foot at a time. Her hand is wrapping around the handle to the highest cabinet when the door swings open behind her. Without thinking, she turns quickly to see who has caught her. Her swinging motion causes her delicately balanced body to lose its equilibrium, and there’s nothing she can do to stop herself from tumbling to the ground.

She never actually hits the ground, instead she collapses into a body, one that catches her before she can kill herself on the harsh concrete. They’re a tangle of limbs until her savior manages to maneuver her onto her own feet, and she looks up to see a very concerned Drummer boy staring down at her. Heat blooms across her cheeks and she ducks her head, grateful for her long hair that covers the embarrassment.

“Are you okay?”

Livy nods, making herself dizzy, before she pushes out of his arms and steadies herself. “Just peachy, DB.” She turns away from him and begins to climb back up on the chair. A hand on her shoulder stops her advancement. It’s impossible for her to suppress the shiver that runs through her body from the contact.

“What are you doing, Crow? You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

She huffs, in the way that only a drunken person who’s being told no can, before relenting to him. “I need snack cakes.”

He glances at the table covered in food before looking back at her. “If you’re here for snack cakes then who is all that for?”

“I can’t remember,” she shrugs, “Bluebell wanted something, so did Deacon, and Professor, but I can’t recall who wanted what.”

“So your plan was to bring the whole pantry,” Livy nods, “okay, how about you sit in this chair, I’ll get you some fancy lad’s, and then we can take these snacks back together?”

That’s a satisfactory plan for her, so she takes her seat, spinning it around so she can watch him. He’s much less drunk than her, obvious by the way he moves, but still he has trouble getting to her treat. For a few seconds she zones out, merely watching as he moves, allowing herself a moment to stare. By the time he’s got the package down she’s tapping her foot on the ground and licking her lips. As soon as his feet are back on the floor, Livy hops up and grabs the food from him. Drummer laughs as she shoves an entire cake into her mouth.

“Good god, Crow, breath for me, would you?” Her mouth is still full when she replies. Instead of asking her to repeat Drummer Boy rolls his eyes and takes a seat in the chair, “I’m not nearly as drunk as you are, but that still made me kind of dizzy.”

Livy would laugh if she could, and without replying she hops up onto the counter to rest. They both sit for a while, enjoying their food, before Drummer speaks. “So, it’s basically against all etiquette rules and protocol, but I was hoping you’d answer a question for me.”

“I don’t much care for half the rules we’re supposed to follow, go ahead.”

He hesitates one more time, swallows roughly, licks his lips, and then goes, “why did you join the Railroad?”

The question shocks her, because if she’s being honest, she’s tried very hard not to discuss her father or her circumstances with anyone since her initial questioning, and she figured he already knew. She voices this to him, and he goes on to explain that recruitment isn’t really his job. He just shows the new kids around HQ and gets them through orientation and job assignment. Plus, an agent’s recruitment reason is something private, that most people don’t share. It’s maybe the one topic agents don’t gossip about, too many deep cut wounds that never healed properly could be torn open from that line of questioning, and a general consensus not to discuss it became an unspoken rule. He never wanted to violate her privacy by trying to find out without her permission.

His response makes sense, and even though she knows it will hurt, she finds herself wanting to talk about her dad. Not just what he was and what had happened to him, but everything he did for her. So she does. Through tears and with a wobbly voice Livy tells him about her father, before and after he was replaced. It’s more difficult for her to discuss his capture, but she stumbles through it.

“I’m impressed, you took on a Courser and didn’t die. Not a lot of people can say that.”

She shrugs, not impressed with herself. “I would rather that I killed him, then I could say that I took on a Courser and that I saved my dad.”

“Then you might not have even joined us.” His statement is true, and not one she had every really considered before. She likes what she does, even if every mission she runs could be her last. Helping makes her feel like she’s making a difference, like the dead drops she helps deliver are letting agents rescue synths, like her dad, and get them away from the people who only wish to do them harm. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss him.

“Maybe,” her hand comes away wet when she wipes at her cheek, “anyways, enough about me, how did you join?”

He smiles and shrugs. “By accident, if you can believe it.” Livy listens as Drummer Boy begins to describe how he joined. It’s funny to her that his introduction to the Railroad was an accident, purely him being in the right place at the right time to assist on a rescue mission. “Watz, one of our heavies, let me help out, but didn’t tell me that the settler he was rescuing was actually an escaped synth.”

The sound of him opening a Nuka Cola opening startles her, and he smiles at her before taking a sip and then continuing. “Afterwards he asked me how I felt about helping people, and then he asked me if I thought synths were people. Obviously, you know my answers since I’m here.”

She considers his story for a moment before asking, “why do you care so much about helping if you have no personal connection to synths?”

“At first it was just something to do, it gave me a purpose beyond just drifting from place to place, looking for where I belonged,” he stares into his bottle, like it could comfort him, when he looks back at Livy he seems both happy and sad, “but now everyone here is family, I’d die for any one of the agents here, any one of the synths.”

“I know how you feel,” she admits, “at first I just wanted to avenge my father, but now, I can’t imagine not being here with everyone. You guys are my new family.” Suddenly a wave a guilt passes over her and she jumps off the counter, tears threatening to spill. She speaks in a rush. “Not that I don’t still miss my dad, or consider him family,” Drummer stands and steadies her with a hand on her arm, “it just… it hurts less seeing people that care, and are willing to help.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I know you miss him, we’re not trying to replace the family you had.”

Livy leans into him and rest her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Drummer, for everything,” not being able to see his face makes her less nervous to say what she wants to say, “you’ve been the metaphorical wind beneath my wings this whole time and I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

His arms come up to hold her in place. “You’ve done most of everything on your own. You’re pretty amazing, Crow. It seems like everyday you impress me with something new.”

“You’re the impressive one, the work you put in everyday to keep this group alive.” Feeling a little flirtatious, possibly a mixture of the whiskey she had to drink and being so close to him, she leans back to look him in the face. “Plus I mean, c’mon, you’re pretty impressive to look at, too.”

Livy has to stifle a giggle as shock passes over his features, and finds herself amused. He stutters with his response for a few seconds, fumbling over his words. Eventually he settles on the less-than-eloquent, “you too.”

That has her pulling away just far enough to burst into laughter and before she knows it Drummer has dissolved into his own case of the giggles. She laughs until her sides hurt and by the time she’s done she feels lighter, less likely to crumble under the weight of her new responsibilities. Drummer Boy also manages to contain his laughter and she stills when he reaches up with one hand to brush her hair back.

Before he even starts to lean in Livy closes her eyes, letting him set the pace. When their lips finally meet there are no fireworks, no ringing bells. Instead an overwhelming sense of familiarity and comfort washes over her. She turns into him, letting him mold their half embrace into a full one, and finds that she’s happy, really happy, for the first time since the Courser came for her father.

It’s a quick kiss, more about the two of them finding a home in each other than lust, but still Livy finds herself wanting another. Instead of tugging him down by his jacket and kissing him like she wants to, she leans up to press her lips to his cheek, then his jaw, before pulling back.

He’s smiling at her when she looks at him, and she finds herself grinning back. She might have lost her father, but she’s finding that she’s gained a much larger family than she ever imagined, and although the loss still stings, Livy knows that this group of people will help her heal, one mission at a time.

---

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#oc: livy larson #random's ocs #random writes #randomwordsandstormydays #drummer boy

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riding-alpacas · 4 years

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Buenos Aires

The first stop of my trip is done and it was a promising start. Vancouver waved goodbye as only Vancouver can: With grey skies and plenty of rain. But a bit more than 24 hours and two stopovers later Argentina welcomed me with bright sunshine on a hot afternoon. Oh how much I missed this. The remainder of my first day turned out to be pretty lousy but in hindsight I blame my extreme fatigue for that (I didn't catch any sleep during the flight).

First thing I wanted to do after I checked in to my hostel was to get some cash and buy some food. The first two ATMs I tried didn't give me any money though. Everything on the screen was in Spanish, so I didn't really understand what the error message was saying. No problem I thought, then I'll pay for my food with my credit card. The first supermarket I went to didn't accept my Visa though and I had to leave confused, hungry and still empty-handed. Fortunately I managed to find one that did - but the process was quite laborious: They had to see my passport and didn't have these fancy electronic machines to transact the payment. I had to sign a receipt instead. This wasn't a surprise to me, I've read about this procedure before. But going through it for the first time when you're basically just buying some bread and butter just changes your perception. I was tired, I was overwhelmed, I just went to bed and hoped things would get better. Luckily they did.

There weren't many people in the hostel, but I managed to find a guy who explained the money situation in Argentina a little bit to me. Skip a few paragraphs if you don't wanna know. First of all, in Argentina cash is king (am I back in Germany?). Also the country is suffering from inflation - a lot. As a result, locals try to save their money in US dollars. All this shemozzle means that a few things are happening:

ATMs regularly run out of money during the day

You can't withdraw more than 4,000 pesos in one transaction (currently equals AUD 100 or 60 EUR)

You can't withdraw more than 8,000 pesos in one day

You are being charged between 300 and 600 pesos for every withdrawal (thankfully my Australian bank rebates these fees)

The government is making it hard for locals to exchange money and there are a lot of limitations in place

On top of that out of the two ATM networks here, one simply won't give me any cash. Ever. I tried many times. So far with the other ATM network my success rate was 50-50. I also found out that quite a few places actually accept credit card payments. You simply need to know where to go. My strategy now is to do little payments in cash and larger payments with credit card and I generally try to stay away from Argentine pesos as much as possible. You feel SO much better once you understand this stuff and can put a strategy in place.

Let's get back to Buenos Aires - the Paris of South America. This is actually true, a lot of buildings look very European and the majority of them look very French to me. The reason for that is quite funny, too: During it's best time (Argentina was the third richest country once), people wanted to differentiate themselves from all the other cities in South America. The rich travelled to Europe on a regular basis and when they came back, they tore down their buildings and decided to replicate all sorts of things they saw in Italy or France.

Teatro Colón

Well, rich humans just do super weird things when they are bored and it's quite apparent here when you dive a little into the history of this city. The most spectacular story I came across was the one about the church Basílica del Santísimo Sacramento. First of all only European material was used to build it. 100%. Every doorknob came all the way across the ocean. Then there is the motivation behind it: Mercedes Castellanos de Anchorena really, really wanted to be noble - nobody in Argentina was noble at that time. So she decided to build this church just across the road from where she was living in a decadent palace. She gave it to the church and ding - the Pope granted her a noble title. But the crazy story doesn't stop there. There was another rich woman called Corina Kavanagh who was the lover of one of Mercedes' brothers. Apparently Mercedes prevented them from getting married. Corina wasn't happy about that and she knew that Mercedes loved to see that church of hers from her balcony. So Corina went and bought the land right in front of the church, decided to put a high apartment building on it and block the view for Mercedes. At that time, this building was also the highest building in South America and became quite an iconic landmark for Buenos Aires. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

A church that makes you noble

I spent three days in total in the capital and it turned out to be the right amount of time. The city is quite big, very modern and I walked most of the time. First I explored San Telmo which is the oldest part of Buenos Aires. Lots of cafes and antique shops can be found on these old cobblestone streets. I also found some nice street art and the narrowest home - not wider than two doors basically. And it’s called La Casa Mínima. Spanish can be quite amusing.

Tiny house - not a new phenomenon

I continued strolling along Plaza de Mayo which is THE city square. On one end you find a big pink building which one might know from a speech held by a person called Madonna Evita.

Casa Rosada

For the rest of the day I decided to walk along a famous shopping street in the quest for one my most important purchase of the whole trip: A new pair of Havaianas. After finding them, I finished the afternoon with my first dulce de leche ice cream. Spoiler: There will be an extra paragraph about the food.

On day two I was mainly exploring Recoleta. This is where the posh people live and it was by far the cleanest area in Buenos Aires. It's also where I picked up the stories above. I learned a lot about the Falklands war, too and it made me hate Margaret Thatcher even more. The whole thing is still an important topic for Argentinians and during elections candidates are still being asked what their position is in regards to the Islas Malvinas. That whole conflict and how it came about left a huge scar in the nation's heart and it's still far from being processed.

I finished the day checking out the famous Recoleta cemetery. It was cruel and impressive at the same time. I'm always amazed when I go to cemeteries outside of Germany, they are usually so different. I think the correct term to use is "monumental cemetery", whilst in Germany "lawn cemeteries" are more common. Similar to what I've seen in Paris and London this cemetery is structured like a little town with street names and stuff. There are impressive monuments everywhere, some in really good shape, others sadly falling apart. Of course I had to go to Evita's grave which is actually quite easy to find - don't let tour operators fool you. Yes, there are cemetery tours up to 2 hours long. Now to the cruel part: I did a little research into how the remains of Evita and the national hero José de San Martín (there are statues of him everywhere) were treated and boy oh boy, humans can be so shitty to each other. Even when they're already dead. Both of them were basically constantly moved around, buried upside down, their coffins put in an angle... and all because they believed in things or did things in their life that other people didn't approve of.

I see dead people

On my last day I went North and explored the neighbourhood of Palermo. Apart from the usual stuff (shopping, restaurants, cafes...) there were also two museum in this area that sounded interesting: The Evita museum and a place called MALBA. The Evita museum obviously gives you a deep insight into Eva Peron's life. Very informative and nicely done. MALBA is an art museum in a pretty cool building. One of the exhibitions was quite interactive and fun.

MALBA

One of the things I missed the most on all three days was water! I have no idea how the citizens of Buenos Aires survive these hot summers without access to a natural body of water. There were some little pools that were totally crowded and even though it looks like the city would be by the sea, it's actually at the mouth of River Plate which is definitely not feasible for swimming as it is super silty.

One of the last things I have to write about is the food. I was looking forward to try the Argentine cuisine and so far I haven't been disappointed at all. In fact, if I continue eating like I did in the last few days I will very soon look like the guy in the illustration. This is the stuff I've tried so far:

Steak My favourite cut so far is called bife de chorizo. They sometimes put egg on it which makes we wonder if the dish then qualifies as breakfast.

Yum!

Pizza The difference to Italian pizza is that Argentinians like to put loads and loads of cheese and olives on their pizza. As a person who usually puts extra cheese on their frozen pizza, I surely won't complain about this.

Empanada Should be renamed to "pockets of gold". Small, fried dough pockets stuffed with... well... meat! Prepare me a bath of Empanadas and I will swim in it the whole day.

Helado Argentinian ice cream. Coming from a country where I was struggling to find really good ice cream, pretty much every ice cream I had in Buenos Aires so far was a gazillion times better.

Also yum!

Alfajores A type of biscuit: Dulce de leche sandwiched between two crumbly cookies. Not my favourite but still a lot better than bloody Oreos.

Medialunas Like a croissant but a bit smaller and denser. I think I prefer them over croissants because they are less messy.

Mate (the tea) I'm not entirely sure yet what I should think about this drink. It will surely get a separate blog post at some point as it it closely linked to a whole social event with a mate etiquette etc. Stay tuned!

Short version: I think I'm in food heaven and it will be hard to continue with my one or two veggie days a week strategy. There is still a lot more to try and I can't wait to participate in my first Asado.

Tango tango

All in all I would say that I enjoyed my time in Buenos Aires. I felt pretty safe, the weather was great and the food was to die for. It would have been nice to have a few more people in the hostel (on my last day we were down to three) but this will probably change now that I'm on my way to Patagonia where it's peak season. I'll be in cold Ushuaia for a week or so before gradually going up North again.

#argentina #buenos aires

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ascendantly · 7 years

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tagged by: no tagging, we steal memes and delete them a few hours later like men. tagging: ^ ( tho please feel free to nab this and @ me so i can read it. i lov headcanon posts. )

instructions: fill out the questions about your muse, repost, and tag as many people you want.

1. what does your muse smell like?

varies, but there’s a constant baseline of leather about him, as well as the sharp tang of metal, though its prominence depends on how hard they’ve hit the field that day, what they’ve fought and if it bleeds. even princes sweat, needless to say, so he’s prone to taking up a ripe scent depending on how long it’s been since last they had access to running water ( and that’s any kind of running water; he’s not opposed to dunking in rivers or streams ) --- on particularly bad days, he’ll insist on keeping a number of layers on and his arms down, if he can help it. his diet really does him no favors here.

when he’s lucky, he smells like the ocean, salt breeze caught crisp in his hair from a few hours stolen on the end of a pier.

but perhaps the most curious of all is how he smells after warping. there’s a faint ozone scent to him, like lightning, charged but quick to fade. with the blood of kings strong in his veins, noctis is meant for smooth blinks through the air; he doesn’t burn along his path like those who would borrow the crystal’s power ( @ the glaives get wreckt ), and the scent of it clings to him for some moments after, bright, heady.

otherwise? motel soaps and shampoos, and stick deodorants of inconsistent brands, though he prefers ones that are ambiguous in fragrance profile ( that is, he’ll opt for something that isn’t too masculine without toeing flowery either ).

2. how often does your muse bathe/shower? any habits?

the shower is noctis’s third favorite place to be, with the first two being the regalia and his bed, respectively. most of the time, though, the preference isn’t so much a matter of enjoying the water pouring hot on his skin as it is about being in a space where he can be alone with his thoughts. no one can reach him with anything requiring his princely attention until he chooses to be done. it’s someplace where he can decompress and just --- center himself.

so if someone ends up using all of the hot water, it’s noctis.

his habits really depend on whether or not it’s a bath or shower ( rest assured that there are no circumstances in which he sings, too embarrassing ).

if bathing, he’ll massage his bad knee for a while, though in that case he’d like to have epsom salts on hand to make the most of it. he’s not keen on bubble baths because it’s not uncommon for him to fall asleep, slide too far in, and get a mouth- or eye-ful of soap.

if showering, well. aside from blanking out for twenty odd minutes and saving the necessities for when the water starts to run cold and he has to start scrubbing and sudsing furiously, he makes use of the private time.

3. does your muse have any tattoos or piercing?

none. noctis has a strange sense of ownership regarding his body in that he knows it’s his, of course, but wouldn’t dream of modifying it in some permanent way that would reflect poorly on his lineage ( on his father, more to the point ). not that noctis has ever desired to get anything tattooed or pierced, but it’s never actually been an option to him, either.

4. any body movement quirks ( ex.knee shakes )?

he’s dependent on closed off body language for personal comfort, so it’s not hard to find him standing around with his arms crossed, or his shoulders rounded forward, back curved in a noticeable slouch. his idle posture is casual and aloof despite fifteen years steeped in etiquette, and while he hasn’t forgotten all he’s learned, he can’t be assed to break it out unless the situation calls, and rarely does it ever.

his nervous energy tends to manifest in his hands, and to hide it, he’ll most often rub his neck, clench his fists or, again, fold his arms so as to tuck his fingers into his biceps. sometimes he’ll mess with his hair --- his bangs can be finicky for their length, after all --- though this isn’t always a result of unease.

when sufficiently tired or worn down, he’ll get a degree of pain and stiffness in his left leg, and can be seen limping to accommodate for the trouble. albeit his training has more or less ensured that he’s equally efficient with either side of his body, noctis generally favors his right half due to the old injury, even when not acting up, which leads to a bit of predictability in his attacks and movements. it’s something he attempts to be mindful of when sparring.

5. what do they sleep in?

provided he consciously decides to get ready for bed instead of knocking out the second he goes horizontal ( or sits down or leans against his chocobo ), it’s temperature-based, but as a rule he’ll elect to sleep in just his shirt and shorts when camping, jacket rumpled in a pile somewhere near the mouth of the tent, boots kicked off nearby.

if it’s cold, he may dip into his informal attire for a longsleeve, and if it’s hot, he might remove any shirt he’d gone to bed in, but that’s only if the heat’s too much to sleep through, and it seldom is.

6. what’s their favorite piece of clothing?

“piece” of clothing smh. put broadly, it would be his father’s suit ( royal raiment ), the entirety of it, for reasons that should be obvious. despite not quite loving the feeling of a tie around his neck or the collar buttoned so high, wearing it helps noctis connect with regis, helps him stand a little taller and walk a bit prouder, too, though whether that’s because of the fit or because the outfit inspires in him a comforting blend of nostalgia, dignity, and competence is anyone’s guess.

7. what do they do when they wake up?

try to go back to bed. please let him sleep.

really though, the only time he can wake up without needing five or ten minutes to sit and process everything is when he’s coming out of a nightmare --- which, coincidentally, is the best way to know if he’s had a nightmare, because noctis isn’t a fitful sleeper nor does he feel comfortable announcing his dreams aside from a very basic and implied i wish i didn’t remember them ( episode duscae // prompto: i always wake up before i can remember anything. | noctis: what i wouldn’t give for that. ).

he’s always the last to get up and ready to go, but unfortunately he can’t bring himself to hurry through ( much less multitask ) putting on his clothes or brushing his teeth, so there’s a definite grogginess that stretches out everything he does in the morning. for example, if he intends to wear his jeans, he might dress one leg, wait a good minute, then move on to the other.

8. how do they sleep? position?

he canonically sleeps through prompto veering off the side of the road, several peals of phone alarms, being jostled around, etc. --- it’s pretty safe to say noctis sleeps like the dead. if permitted to shut his eyes and stop moving for even the shortest amount of time, there’s a decent chance he’ll doze off, or at least try to.

position is irrelevant. he can sleep on his back, front, side, sitting up --- doesn’t matter. what he prefers, though, is that there is someone nearby when he starts to snooze. noctis has had a distinct aversion to sleeping alone since his youth, and while he’s more than capable of resting by himself as an adult, there’s a simple and invaluable comfort he feels when nodding off in the presence of someone he trusts. helps with the nightmares.

economically speaking, it’s a necessity that they sleep two to a queen-sized when lodging at a motel or inn. noctis usually lets the guys decide around him after he picks a bed, but of the three, he’s admittedly not the biggest fan of sharing the mattress with gladio. though noctis isn’t the sort to sprawl out anyway, gladio’s rather broad and exudes too much heat ( and body hair ), so noctis’s preferences lie with prompto and ignis.

he doesn’t shift around excessively in his sleep. there are no accidental cuddles, nor is there anything which could resemble them, either. any imperceptible closing of space is intentional solace-seeking and passed off as a product of rest. on occasion, noctis might also leave the bed to scrounge for food ( bad habits are hard to break and he’s a midnight snacker through and through ).

light snoring isn’t totally unheard of where the prince is concerned. drooling, neither.

9. what do their hands feel like?

dry, creased. cool. clammy, when noctis is especially nervous.

he doesn’t take any particular care of his hands, so they may come across as the oldest looking part of his body, knuckles ashy some days, a callus or two hard and peeling on the inside of his palms, while the skin itself appears strangely thin, delicate.

his hands aren’t rough, per se, but they certainly aren’t smooth or soft, though the gingerness of his touches make them seem so. still, when his grip isn’t tenuous, there should be a strength to his grasp that is paradoxically unsurprising and unexpected.

10. if you kissed them, what would they usually taste like?

what did ignis last cook.

i want that to be a joke but i’m also very serious. kissing isn’t something noctis has done, nor does it really cross his mind, so he wouldn’t be prepared for it in any breadth or scope. it wouldn’t be listerine fresh or cutely flavored, unless he’s been into sweets when he shouldn’t have been ( and he is, constantly ). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#; ic: headcanon.#; ic: meme reply.#( cut for length.#i just *clenches* really love to never shut up about my favorite royal shishkebab. )

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doycetopia · 4 years

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Ravenloft Ironsworn, part 8, The Fortune Teller

The left fork of the road slants upward slightly, heading up into the mountains – it this road up which most of the spirits continue to travel.

The right fork slants slightly downward, toward what looks like the base of the mountains, rather than their peaks.

At the fork, I see Liqa, standing next Reinhardt. They are both staring silently down the righthand, downward traveling path, away from the route the other spirits have taken.

Reinhardt regards the smaller path solemnly, then turns to me. As I approach, the two spirits stare meaningfully at us, but say nothing. They look back at the smaller path, then turn – seeming exhausted – and trudge up the larger road the rest of the spirits have already taken, leaving me at the crossroads, with a decision to make.

I’m heading right. It seems like there are clues to be found there.

Okay.

The canopy of mist and branches overhead suddenly gives way to a clearing, near a wide spot in the river. Dry grass rustles in the wind. Colorful wagons are parked along the banks of a pool. The strains of an accordion mix and a somewhat desultory fiddle mix with the the wind in the trees. Several – perhaps as many as 10 – brightly clad figures surround a large, roaring fire. The seldom used road passes close by this camp.

As I approach, several voices call out “Hale from the fire, join our singing and break bread with us” – a traditional greeting among the mysterious travelers known as the Vistani.

I’m a little surprised to realize they know I’m here, as I’m still far from their firelight, but they seem friendly enough.

As we approach, they wave us in toward the fire and offer bread and a skin of wine. Ismark and Ireena accept both graciously – Ireena in particular seems comfortable with the fireside etiquette – no, that’s not fair – both of them are, but it’s more surprising that Ireena can tip the wineskin and get a perfect stream into her mouth. Ismark seems more the type, I suppose.

I accept both bread and wine, taking what hospitality requires, and ask the vistani why they make camp so close to the castle in the mountains. (The pool next to their camp lies near a waterfall that tumbles from the heights above, and Ireena glances at it often.)

They shrug it off a bit. “we know how to stay safe from night creatures,” they say, but at the same time none of them look up at the high cliffs where the castle looms far overhead.

“Also,” one adds, poking the fire and not looking at us directly, “Madam Eva told us we might have visitors tonight… If you are willing, she wanted to speak with you.”

They nod in the direction of one of the wagons. Not the largest, but the most brightly painted.

We spend a few more minutes with the Vistani, so as not to seem rude, then I use the lateness of the hour as an excuse to visit this Madam Eva quickly.

[Spooky fortune teller! Check off another Bingo box for creepy fantasy story]

Madame Eva doesn’t even look up when I enter the shrouded door of her wagon. She is shuffling and dealing an oversized deck of cards onto the small table in front of her.

[Gather Information – a strong hit, which I’m going to let ride throughout this scene, since it’s potentially chock-a-block with information both explicit and vagued-up.] “They said, at the fire, you wanted to talk with us,” I say.

“They lied to you, at the fire.” She glances up and catches my expression. “Oh, not about that, I did want to talk to you – all of you.” She shakes her head. “But the reason we don’t have to worry about von Zarovich is because some of our people do his bidding and have insured – they believe – the Family’s safety from his other minions.”

She makes a show of miming spitting to the side in disgust.

“Do they really believe he will leave your Family alone?” I ask, trying to seem unperturbed at being surrounded by enemies.

Eva shrugs. “He has, for several Generations. We are… useful… to him.” Again she looks disgusted.

Her eyes flicker up to us again, then the cards. “But I can see you will attempt to bring the monster down, and I would offer you what guidance I can,” she says, gesturing to the cards spread in front of her, and the stools on your side of the table.

“You view the future?” I ask, easing onto the leftmost stool. “I’m assuming in vague bits and pieces that we’ll understand only too late.”

She shrugs again, unoffended, while Ismark and Ireena join me. “The images I see are often incomplete, but combined with wisdom and insight and…” she smirks “a little bit of luck, they can help you.”

I tilt my head toward her. “Well, I appreciate any help I can get.”

“Excellent.”

She gathers up the cards, shuffles them, and has me cut the deck before she begins to deal out an array. She lays five cards out, face down, then slowly turns each over and studies each one before speaking.

“These may tell you more of the things you seek, and whisper what the monster’s ultimate goal might be…”

[And thus a new Oracle enters the game – the famous/infamous fortune telling straight from Ravenloft – I6. Sorting this draw out took QUITE a while.]

She indicates the first card… “This card represents an object of great power – a powerful force for good and protection against the forces of darkness. It is in a place of tranquility, a harbor for the mighty and powerful; a place of wisdom, warmth, and despair. Great secrets are there.”

Ireena whispers “fathers holy symbol that was stolen.”

I nod. “That’s what I was thinking”

Madam Eva taps the next card.

“This card is good for you. It is a card of power and strength; the victor’s card. it tells of a weapon of light – a weapon with a vengeance. You may find this amid the ruins of a place of supplication and prayer.” Istvarr: “Well… that sounds… Promising.” he winks.

I rock my head left to right. “I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Madam Eva taps the next card.

“This card speaks of history. Knowledge of the ancient may help you understand your foe.” “This knowledge lies in the Monster’s mother’s place.”

Istvarr makes a face. “Probably that book the priest was yammering about.”

I nod. “Maybe.”

“I don’t fancy digging around his mother’s four-hundred year old unmentionables looking for it.”

Ireena rolls her eyes.

Next…

“This is the object of your search – the monster! Ah! I see darkness and evil behind this card! A powerful man whose enemy is light, and whose powers are beyond mortality.” She closes her eyes, concentrating. “A king’s throne is the place to find him.”

“Subtle,” Ismark says.

“The cup indicates there is a very good influence there. If you are there, the powers of good will aid you.”

It does not surprise me to hear count Strahd would surround himself in the symbols of royalty. It does surprise me to hear some hint that he may be at a disadvantage in that place. [Making a note in case we face off in some kind of throne room.]

And finally….

Eva’s eyes are still closed when she reaches out and touches this card. “And here is the root. The reason and foundation for darkness and chaos. This card shows the purpose of all things. It is the key to life and death and beyond.” Her eyes open, wide. “The darkness loves a light and desires it.” She looks at Ireena, who pales. “Great plans are in motion about you; plans that the dead may find warmth from the living.”

“Like hell,” I mutter. I study the cards for a minute, then stand. “Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us, but if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”

“My people do not all feel as I do about the monster in that castle” Madam Eva says, as I step toward the door of wagon. She is not nearly as old as I’d first assumed. “Many simply ignore him. Some serve him. You may encounter them when you reach the castle, or even before; I cannot say.” Her jaw clenches, her dark eyes bright. “But know that some that oppose him, and I am one of them, and I hope this helps you as much as it can. You and your friends,” she says, looking mostly at Ireena.

The ghosts are gone well ahead by the time we return to the main road.

[And with that, I’m marking off milestones for a couple different vows related to Strahd. Lots of information – here’s hoping we recognize it when it’s useful.]

One of the things I find really cool about how Ironsworn is interacting with Ravenloft is the list of ‘stuff’ that this card reading lays out for me. In the original module (and in World of Dungeons), these are your basic magic weapons or holy symbols with bonuses to specific foes or turning undead or whatever. That’s fine. In Ironsworn, on the other hand, this event basically lays out a road map for acquiring stuff that will make beating Strahd achievable. I mean, I’ve set him and the related quest up as Epic, and without boring everyone I’ll say that a 1v1 versus an Epic foe is pretty much a self-inflicted death sentence.

However, it’s very straightforward in Ironsworn to say “this thing lowers the threat level of [particular thing or category of thing]”, so if you get [magic weapon] and [holy symbol] and [fight the guy in this one blessed location], you can, through significant prep work (all of which conveniently advances the quest itself), get the Big Boss Showdown to something manageable, which in every version of the game (DnD, WoD, Ironsworn, whatever) is the point of the stuff in the first place.

It’s just really… neat.

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#Actual Play #ironsworn #pbta #ravenloft #randomaverage

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