#because he's missing class every other week because the GODS keep giving him quests and the professors HAVE to excuse it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makeste · 3 years

Note

hello! I’ve seen some debate as to whether the 2nd meant allies in general would bolster izuku and although I do think that’s true (ofc any sort of support system that he lets himself rely on would bolster him) I feel like if that was what was meant it would’ve been made clearer? maybe instead of just katsuki showing up, the final panel would’ve had several students burst onto the scene. what are your thoughts?

agreed. and incidentally this is another big reason why it's not Toga. if it was her then Horikoshi wouldn't have devoted any time to OFA II's little hype speech. it just makes it kind of pointless, unless this whole time we've been sleeping on Toga's hidden ability to bolster Deku lmao.

but anyways, yeah. and I mean, Two's commentary here is really just acknowledgement of something we've long since known already. Kacchan is the one who will ultimately be able to reach Deku. we don't actually need a piece of dialogue to tell us this, because the manga has been showing it to us since day one. his resume is fucking stacked. I mean, let's go through it.

he is mean.

I love this you guys. I honest to god love it. because the thing is, if you ask anyone what Kacchan's absolute worst quality is, this would be the obvious answer, right? "he's an asshole" lmao.

but that's exactly what we need right now!! someone who's not afraid to tell it like it is, and won't try to sugarcoat things. someone who's not afraid to argue back and risk hurting someone's feelings. because right now Deku is walking all over anyone who can't do that. All Might tries to feed him lunch and he's like "nah I'm good, anyways bye." Endeavor tries to tell him to rest and he's all "I'm fine" and fucking hangs up the phone. nuh uh. enough of that. what we need is someone who will call him out on his shit. "hah!? don't tell me you're fine when it's obvious to anyone you can barely stand on your own two feet, dumbass."

he is stubborn.

kind of ties into the other thing, but yeah. right now we need a bullheaded asshole who won't take no for an answer if he thinks he's right. good luck trying to sweet talk your way out of this one, Deku.

he understands the situation.

this one is important, because in fairness, simply standing in front of Deku and saying "you shall not pass" isn't gonna be enough to actually accomplish anything here. ultimately he's going to have to be able to reason with Deku too. and so in that respect, it certainly doesn't hurt that Kacchan is someone who understands the OFA situation as well as anyone, and has always had clear judgment about it. he understands the threat of AFO ("they all died young"), and he understands the burden of All Might's legacy. he knows what Deku is dealing with, and that's going to give him an edge when it comes to finding that elusive-yet-critical talk no jutsu knockout blow.

he's been where Deku is now.

Kacchan knows a thing or two about burdens. granted, they've more often than not been ones that he's put on himself, but that didn't make them any less heavy. Deku right now is struggling not just with his feelings of responsibility, but also with all of the misplaced guilt that's feeding into it. AFO is targeting him. if innocent people get caught in the crossfire then that's on him. every minute that AFO stays out there getting stronger and causing more chaos is all on him, because he hasn't defeated him yet. and so on and so forth.

and Katsuki knows what that's like. because he blamed himself for what happened to All Might. that feeling of "if I'd only been stronger" is one that he's intimately acquainted with. that feeling of blaming yourself, of not being able to look someone you care about in the eye because you think it's your fault they got hurt. this is something he knows. this is a road he's already been down. and so if Deku tries to pull any "you don't understand" nonsense, Kacchan is uniquely situated to immediately shoot that shit right down.

he's immune to low blows.

lol I keep thinking of all the different counterarguments that Deku could make, and all the different ways in which Kacchan is perfectly equipped to handle them. anyway, so this particular thing is a very recent development, but very fortunately timed. so as we all know, Kacchan was a first class dick to Deku during their childhood. something which Deku, with his abnormally kind and forgiving nature, has never once confronted Kacchan about, even though he would have absolutely had the right. but anyway, so here's the thing though -- right now I fully believe that Deku can and will do or say just about anything in order to get Kacchan and the others to leave. and that includes hurting them in order to save them. so it would not surprise me at all if Deku goes as far as to throw Katsuki's old, cruel, selfish behavior back in his face as part of a last-ditch effort to get him to back down. desperate times and all that.

and maybe there was a time when that actually would have worked. but here's the other thing -- we know something Deku doesn't. namely, that Kacchan has recently leveled up emotionally and has finally unlocked his atonement quest. he finally understands that it's not all about him. which means that it doesn't matter even if Deku pulls out the big guns. he may hurt his feelings, but he's not going to scare him off, because Kacchan's focus right now is on atonement, not forgiveness. he's not doing this for a pat on the head. he's doing it because it's the right thing to do. and no amount of insults will be able to sway him from that.

he learned from the best.

I said this in another post a couple of weeks back, but yeah. Angsty Nomad Deku has nothing on early Kacchan in terms of pushing people away. early Kacchan was the motherfucking king of pushing peeps away. if you so much as LOOKED at this kid in such a way that SUGGESTED you might even be THINKING about possibly trying to save him, he would straight up throw a ten-year hissy fit lmao. Deku's "All Might, you don't have to tag along anymore"s ain't got SHIT on all of Kacchan's "STAY BACK DEKU"s and "I'D RATHER LOSE!!!"s and "OMFG HOW DARE YOU BE THE ONLY PERSON TO TRY TO SAVE ME FROM THIS RAMPAGING SLUDGE MAN WHO'S ABOUT TO SUFFOCATE ME TO DEATH"s. Kacchan is the undisputed goat here lol.

but anyway, so what this means is that he has accumulated a whole HOST of iconic lines and fateful parallels which he can throw back in Deku's face at a moment's notice. and the best part is that he learned it all from THIS EXACT MOTHERFUCKER, RIGHT HERE. what is Deku even gonna do!! argue against his own past actions?? "well, uh, I guess now that you mention it I should have just sat back and watched you die all those times" OH REALLY?? YOU DON'T SAY. THAT SOUNDS SO CONVINCING.

and so guess what, Deku -- if Kacchan was worth saving, then you're worth saving too. it's an ironclad argument. congratulations son you played yourself.

he always wins.

okay so real talk, we all know that what's really driving Deku right now is his fear of losing people. he's helpless against that. he saw Kacchan get stabbed right before his eyes and it fucked him up. he saw all these other people getting hurt and killed because he couldn't save them, and he straight up could not deal with those emotions at all. he's scared. he's more afraid of that happening again than of anything else. and AFO knows that, and that's why he's resorted to his current tactics, which have isolated Deku even further and caused him to push even All Might away.

what Deku is missing right now, and what he needs to have restored, is trust. trust is the antidote to fear. and when you're as scared as Deku is, it takes an extraordinary amount of assurance in order to ease those fears. basically you don't want to place your faith in anything less than an absolutely sure thing.

but Kacchan is exactly that. this is the exact type of situation that Kacchan's "aiming for the top" overkill confidence was made for. he's the one who never loses!! the hero who's going to surpass all other heroes!! Deku inherited All Might's compassion, but Kacchan inherited his determination. Kacchan is someone who brings reassurance. his confidence is unwavering. and in the end, I think it will be strong enough to pull even Deku back out from the darkness.

he is strong.

Kacchan is Deku's rival in every sense of the word, and I fully believe he's capable of matching him step for step even now. and so Deku can try to push him away, but Kacchan is capable of withstanding that force and staying his ground. Deku can try to run, but Kacchan still has him matched for speed. and as a last resort, Deku can even try to defeat him -- but Kacchan won't ever concede to defeat.

and all of this ties back into what I was saying about trust. because Kacchan is strong. strong enough not to die. strong enough to live. strong enough to not make others worry about him. and that's what Deku so desperately needs right now in order to finally let go of his fears. Deku needs someone who can get him to trust in others again, and to do that, he has to be able to trust in their strength.

and last but not least...

he has a secret weapon up his sleeve.

several, as a matter of fact. his hero name reveal. his apology, if he chooses to give it now (though I could see him waiting for a more sincere moment, rather than whipping it out now when it could be misconstrued as a manipulation tactic). but perhaps most importantly...

never underestimate the power of an iconic role reversal. because that's what I'm getting at here, if it wasn't clear lol. this probably would have worked better if I had a picture of him actually reaching out to Deku. but I mean, that's kind of the point lol. I don't have one because he hasn't done it yet. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE. good luck withstanding that, Deku.

so yeah. look at all that. he really is a one-man Deku-saving army. which is not to say that the other kids won't have a part to play as well, or that it's not important for them to be there, because it is. but as far as the lead role goes, it's Kacchan. like that astronaut meme guy says. always has been.

oh and as a bonus he was smart enough to finally leave the mask at home today lol. LET DEKU SEE THE SINCERITY IN YOUR EYES. YESSSSSSS.

#bnha 318 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

156 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

kookie-doughs · 3 years

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 9: Percy Forces Me To Join A Quest

The next morning, Percy moved to cabin three. Luke was the only one I could hang out with from my cabin. He was also the one who took care of my wounds after the thing happened. Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that I managed to command a hellhound; and two, I came with the son of Poseidon. They all assume I would be as great as Percy. The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Only Luke struck around. Yes, even Percy started ignoring me. I figured it had something to do with water and stuffs. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what happened in the woods, so he had one-on-one with Luke. I usually sit in to watch them in hopes of Percy talking to me again. But nada. "You're going to need all the training you can get," Luke promised, as they were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions." Annabeth still taught Percy and I Greek but on different times I had mine in the mornings. Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored. I stayed with Luke most of my time. We'd gotten close that talking about gods wasn't such a touchy subject. He also told me stuffs about himself, like how he got his scar and small stuffs. I was still in bed in cabin eleven. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn't dreamed that. It was so early that most of the campers were still asleep. "Good morning?" I saw Luke standing near the door. "Eh... good enough I guess." I said sitting on my bed. "It's really boring since I don't do anything." "Not sure if I'm bringing you good news or bad," He smiled taking the seat beside me. "But Mr. D wants to see you." "Really? Will I finally get to do something fun?" "I feel like I should be offended." He gasped dramatically. "Why? Am I not fun?" I laughed, "Pretty much yeah." "Ouch. Anyways, I'd better let him tell you what's up." "Walk with me?" I asked with an UwU face. "I would, but commitment and all that." He joked. "Aight then. I'll get ready, wait for me outside." "I said I won't!" "Geez don't need to be in a hurry. I won't take long." I got dressed and went out to see him with an exaggerated frown. "You better walk fast. I'll leave as soon as you get there." For days, I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that Percy was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for him just to be alive. They're probably suspicious of me now as well with Percy and I's relation. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict. "So... with Percy being a big three material. What would that make me?" "Well, putting aside the fact that you suck, you drown at every body of water that's at least a foot deep, you don't smell like a half-blood. I'd say you're... one of the big three's. Maybe Zeus's." "Har har. I'm just really worried you know? With Percy getting claimed as Poseidon's... and I came with him. And water just loves me so much. I'd assume I'm somewhere along the lines of Zeus and... Zeus. Is there someone stronger than Zeus?" "Depends on who you asked." "If I asked Zeus he'd definitely answer Zeus." I heard a loud thunder echoed. "Someone's brave." Luke laughed. Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Luke if we needed an umbrella. "No," he said. "It never rains here unless we want it to." "So my kiss under the rain fantasy is a no?" "If it has to be here... probably." I pointed at the storm. "What the heck is that, then?" "Bad news. But don't worry, it'll pass by us." I realized he was right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley. But this storm... this one was huge. At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm. When Luke saw the front porch of the Big House. "Whatever they say. Don't choose the option where you'll die." "Half a promise. Depends on the other option." "Well I'll give you an easier promise. Don't die." "Not really easier but okay."

After he ruffled my hair, I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents--two sets of cards hovering in the air. "Y/N!" Grover greeted. "Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity finally got his request." I turned to see Percy who was looking at me and then moved away. I waited for him to greet... "Come closer, both of you," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father." A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said. Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. "If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm." "Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in. "Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father." "Mr. D—" Chiron warned. "Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do." Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass. He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind. Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, please. You too Y/N and Grover." We did. Grover sat between us. Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use. "Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?" "It scared me," I said. "If Y/N hadn't told it to stand down, I'd be dead." I saw Percy turn to my direction, which made me roll my eyes. "You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done." "Done... with what?" "Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?" I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers. "Um, sir," I said, "you haven't told me what it is yet." Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details." Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together. "Poseidon and Zeus," Percy said. "They're fighting over something valuable... something that was stolen, aren't they?". Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?" "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And... I've also been having these dreams." "I knew it," Grover said. "Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered. "But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!" "Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt." I laughed. "A what?" "Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives." "Oh." "Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers." "And it's missing?" "Stolen," Chiron said. "By who?" "By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you." "At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best', 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it." "But I didn't—" "Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief." "But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!" Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Luke had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid. "Er, Percy...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky." "Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy. Chiron was waiting for an answer. "Something about a golden net?" He answered. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?" "Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw." "But I'm just a kid!" "Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you.... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?" "But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?" "Bad?" "Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight." "Bad," I repeated. "And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath." It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of Percy. I was furious. "So he has to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus." "What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?" "If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" "I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle." "Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?" "Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge." "Good reason." "You agree then?" He looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Easy for him. He wasn't the one Zeus wanted to kill. Percy then turned to me, "All right," he said. "But, I'll go when Y/N comes with." "Woah there! I am not going anywhere." I hissed. You ignore me for days and now you want me to die with you now? "Why do I have to go with you?" "Percy---" "I don't want to leave without her." He looked down. I felt guilty about turning him down. Which was stupid since he's the one at fault. I gave a sigh, I hope Luke won't get mad at me. "It's better than you being turned into a dolphin." I mumbled. "I'll go." "Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more." Before Percy came up he took my arm and pulled me in a hug. "I wanted you there, so we could save our parents together. After this quest, you me your mom and dad and my mom, will stay together." I hugged him back and nodded. "Thank you." Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. After he went up. Chiron turned to me. "Hmm? Something to say?" I asked in a hopefully not rude tone. "I've had enough of people staring at me thinking, I summoned that hellhound." "Y/N, I assure you I don't think you'd do that. I am just confused as to why it followed your command." "Did you maybe forget to tell us something? I really can't seem to find out who you are." "Well... I don't think I forgot to mention anything. Maybe the fact that water hates me, I've never been on a plane, and I am low-key kinda scared of the dark depending on the situation." "Water hates you?" Grover asked. "First time swimming, beach, I was 5. I drowned at a supposedly 3 feet deep water. I haven't been near any bodies of water ever since. Until I met Percy, I drowned at the beach again. If I wasn't mistaken I was few meters away from the water and it pulled me and I almost drowned." "It would seem, Poseidon hates you. Why would he?" "My parents must've realized that fish god hates me and didn't take chances on the others." I could tell Chiron wanted to continue but Percy came down, "Well?" Chiron asked. He slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. I could see he wasn't happy. "Are you okay?" I asked him. He looked at me warily and nodded. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen." Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!" "What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important." "She . .. she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned." "I knew it," Grover said... Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?" "No," He said. "That's about it." I took a hold of Percy's hand. And he gave me a look that said, 'I'll tell you later.' "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass." "Okay," I said, anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?" "Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?" "Somebody else who wants to take over?" he guessed. "Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken." I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades." Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility." A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?" "A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades." "Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon... ." "A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest." "Great," Percy muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me." "Hey, I beat you, I got all of them." I smirked. I was trying to lighten up the mood and Percy finally cracked a smile. "But a quest to..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year." "Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth." A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. I wasn't feeling scared of anything right now. I felt like I could face anything. I was ready to take him on. Anyone in a matter of fact. Besides, if my mom and dad might be in the Underworld... which would be unlikely. Who knows maybe I could bribe him and talk him into reviving them. Or what if he's misunderstood? What if there's a plot twist somewhere here, and it actually wasn't Hades's fault? Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips. The poor guy needed to complete a quest with us so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was. This was suicide. "Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads." "It might not be him you know." I added. "She's right, suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?" "You're saying I'm being used." "I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you." "Damn, my parent doesn't? I'm going on a deadly quest thanks to Arthur Curry right here. Least they could do is support me and let me know They'll be proud of me saving the world." I huffed. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?" "I had my suspicions. As I said... I've spoken to the Oracle, too." I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling us about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too. "So let me get this straight," I said. "We're supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead." "Check," Chiron said. "Find the most powerful weapon in the universe." "Check." "And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days." "That's about right." Percy and I looked at each other then we looked over at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts. "Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly. "You don't have to go," Percy told him. "I can't ask that of you. "Oh..." He shifted his hooves. "No... it's just that satyrs and underground places... well..." He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. Both of you did. If... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down." I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with us. "All the way, G-man." Percy turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west." "The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America." "Where?" Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles." "Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—" "No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?" I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash. "We're not allowed to fly because Zeus is a stuck up who doesn't want others touching his stuff without permission." "Y/N!" Grover panicked when loud thunder echoed above us. I wanted to yell, 'Oh shut up thunder boy.' But I still wanted try fulfilling my promise to Luke with all I can. "Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive." Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed. "Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland." "That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other is Y/N. But someone else has already volunteered, if you will accept her help." "Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?" The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket. "I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up." "I'll gladly give you my spot and all but... Percy and I are a duo." I lifted my fist which he bumped. "But she's right, we can't leave the world at the hands of two idiots and a scaredy-cat." "Can't we have four people on a quest?" "You can also pick more than two people to join, but this is considered dangerous as three is a sacred number. Any more than three on a quest could result in a catastrophe, including a member of the quest going missing, dying, or the quest failing." "Willing to risk it Peabody?" She gave me a glare. No. I assure you no one shall be lost in this quest. They were all looking at me weirdly. "What did you say?" "I asked if you were willing to risk it...?" I was confused. "Y/N you're doing it again." "Doing what? I am literally not doing anything wrong. Wanna fite me? I will back out of this quest." I gave an exaggerated glare. Annabeth turned to Chiron, who was looking down on me. "I suppose... if Percy is willing to risk it and all parties approve. I could allow this as a four person quest." "Well, I call not it to the dying person." I raised my hand. "But you can come Peabody. We need a not so stupid guy." "Well, if she say yes..." "I-I... don't really..." "I want to come." "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?" Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?" "A quartet," I said. "Hopefully it works." "Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own." Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather. "No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing." I took Percy's hand and gave him a look to remind him about his quest. "I'll tell you later."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

UwU Haha I'm better now :) I am sorry for being on haitus And for some parts that I might've forgotten to erase UwU -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Lightning thief #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #pjo #x reader #Book 1 #Chapter 9 #Fanfiction #fanfictions

53 notes · View notes

blushing-starker · 3 years

Text

Cold mates and black coffees

For @starkerfestivals prompt of mates

There is, he supposes, something beautiful about a world such as this, primitive yet advanced and sophisticated. Children no taller than his knee carry around super computers that fit in the palm of one's hands, talk to friends thousands of miles away whenever they want. It used to take him months to receive his preferred concoction for the early night wake up call, now stores inhabit every corner of every city. They patiently wait to receive their dependents, all sorts of people relying on some version of the simple black coffee to jolt their system. Convenient, sure, no doubt about that. A quick stop at a Starbucks and violá, five hours of productivity guaranteed. But nothing builds character like swimming laps through a freezing lake infested with piranhas to keep away the urge to rest for just another five minutes. Unfortunately, sleepless days were the norm for him and Rhodey whenever they endeavored to race each other underwater.

There are clothes, too. Clothes for each season available year round. Fox fur adorns a lanky mannequin next to a twin showcasing how breezy summer fabrics can be. Riding boots that he would have spent a small fortune on decades ago shine below man made light for the cost of a nice meal over at Pepper's. Jewels fine enough for the family vault enchant any who take so much as two steps in either direction. Everything is for sale; it just means swiping a plastic card, presenting a number off a super computer or giving the cashier the remains of ancient trees. He could buy an ice cream cone (with sprinkles, of course, he's not an idiot) and immediately wander over to a restaurant selling sizzling curry. It's what his father dreamed about, a thousand years ago. How odd then, that his only heir couldn't be more nonchalant to all this.

It's his what, first month back from sleeping for half a century? He got accustomed to this whirlwind of a consumerist world by the first week. The soft purr of self-driving engines, flashing neon street signs, a melting pot of twenty, thirty languages, glittering clothes clashing with garish makeup, an overwhelming scent of smoke, perfume and money is as familiar as the palm of Rhodey's left hand or Pepper's right. Is it fantastic, being alive for the wild ride that is the twenty-first century? Yes, of course it is. But it's his father's dream; not his. His dream is the same as what drove Maria Stark into the world: finding his mate. Which, logically speaking, won’t happen until time has colored his hair with quite a bit more starlight and streaked thin lines around not too shabby cheekbones. (Rhodey’s teasing words.)

Going along with logic, there is a chance his mate will never show up. It was mere luck his father met the only woman besides Peggy that could stand his whole. Well, that could just stand him, period. A mate is found by scent, identified by touch and only bound with words. If his father had gone for one more drink, he’d probably be as real as the tooth fairy. In the back of his head, there lives a voice. And this voice he named Miss Lucky. She told him how lucky he would need to be in order to find a mate not too close to cradle or grave, a person that saw eye to eye in the majority of the basics and was open to his predilection. Someone that wouldn’t fear or expose him, wouldn’t want to strike the killing blow themselves. And Christ, with or without Miss Lucky, it’s a fool’s idea, thinking that in the middle of New York amidst one of the coldest winters to ever grace the city, his mate, his soul’s match, his other heart will chance upon him and actually accept the fact that he barely exudes a scent. Let alone something useful enough to help others recognize his class.

That’s the one downfall to living in this time; so much tension regarding one’s class. It is infinitely better than before when there were only three possibilities and the social restrictions could very rarely be shattered. But now it’s about pulling rank, percentages listed on a piece of paper could be used against you or signify one’s survival. A double-edged sword. To be a nurse, any applicants must be less than thirty percent alpha. Soldiers were forbidden from entering foreign countries if they had more beta characteristics than not. Lovers, in some parts of the world, could marry exclusively when their percentages were compatible. In the old times, if you smelled like an omega, you were treated as such. That could entail being thrown into a whorehouse or perceived as royalty destined to bring life into the world. Once puberty came, a simple prick and a vial of blood determined one’s next decision regarding the future.

He took the test. Just out of curiosity and it’d be rude not to provide a mate with information so readily accessible merely because of an unjustified fear over his identity. He is an alpha. And if the test had said otherwise, it would have been no problem. Of course not, he would have been proud to identify as a beta or omega. His mother was a beta and his nanny, basically his second mother, was an omega. No shame would’ve clouded his mind at receiving such news. The matter was this, though, he had believed to be an alpha the entirety of his life. If the paperwork said that was his lowest percentage, different rules and procedures, updated to today’s society, would need to be learned.

And he’s so tired of it all when only a handful can smell the fact he’s an alpha. What was he supposed to do, carry the results in his pocket in case a bigot searched for a fight? No, that would be, as Pepper had made very clear before, extremely silly.

He carries the test in case his mate considers such matters important. Or their family. Yes, it’s not because he worries that society will somehow doubt his identity. In the end, being an alpha is an integral part of who he is. It shouldn’t be that way and he barely knows what that means, but it’s true. Miss Lucky comes back around swiftly now, what if his mate isn’t interested in him because of his percentage? What then? Learn what the other classes represent to that person and behave in ways they believe suit said classes? Could his match be with a pureblood, intent on “staying true” to their highest percentage? Would he be able to, cinnamon. Wait, cinnamon and honey? Is that rain and sunlight? Since when does Starbucks incorporate those smells? And how the hell does he know what sunlight smells like? He’s insane. There’s no other explanation, oh that must have hurt.

A young man has just barreled into him. Slammed into his arm like a linebacker. A linebacker that weighs a feather and a half. How is he this light, a breeze had more force. What should he, what’s the proper ritual here, oh my god

“Your nose is bleeding- “

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking. I’m just late for class and- “

“Calm down and let me buy you some coffee; you’re half dead- “

“Shit, your coat. I will pay you back, I swear.”

He hums, looks down and apparently he was too involved in his quest to find a mate that he completely bypassed the thought that this man had accidently crashed into him while holding a coffee…

A mate. He doesn’t know what sunlight smells like. How could he? Unless that’s what his mate smelled like. The young man inhales sharply, lets out a little “oh, I think, I know it’s you.” and, on further reflection, he notices this kid has the voice of an angel. Soft and kind while not being so lilting he’d think it weak and demure. Ah, he looks like an ethereal entity too. Of course he does.

It’s the eyes that do it for him, enchant him enough he wants to kneel and propose right there in the hopes of waking up each night to those amber pools as familiar and mysterious as the universe itself. The rosy lips, pink cheeks and sweeping lashes are also quite nice. He has the body of a being from the old tales, a nymph or a muse destined to bring light and joy to the world. And black coffee to coats older than his father and grandfather combined.

“Could I touch you properly? I think spilling sugar over that coat didn’t really give me the chance to feel my mate, Mister?” Rhodey’s gonna annihilate him. This is a child, twenty-one at most. They could exchange numbers; communicate when his best friend wouldn’t be tempted to take one look and accuse him of going for jailbait. He could make a plan, organize a way to gently explain how he’s an undead creature of the night whose low circulation means that somehow his hormone production slowed and therefore he barely smells like wood let alone an actual human being. They could make it work. If he’s lucky, Angel here won’t fall for another. If he’s lucky, lots of things won’t happen. Or they will anyway.

“Stark. Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you, all things considered. When I learned one’s mate smells like something unknown, I didn’t quite expect literal sunshine to be what I noticed. And don’t worry about the coat; it’s nothing.”

Marie Antoinette gave him this coat as a gift on his sixteenth birthday a few years before her death. It’s fine.

“Oh. I, I wouldn’t have thought I smelled like that. It’s really nice, actually. You smell, and please don’t take this the wrong way, like alpha. And home. I know it’s weird, but I can’t explain it any other way. I’m sorry if it’s too- “

At least he already knows he dislikes that worried furrow on such a happy face. He surges forward, clasps a soft hand and lets slip a shocked gasp, sees the mirrored reaction because Jesus, it’s as if he licked his finger and then stuck it inside a power outlet. Every hair on his body stands on end and when was the last time his heart beat that fast? Surely it was the night his old flame left or when they, no. No memories of a past lover when his mate is right here, clutching his hand like a lifeline.

“I don’t believe I know your name. Seems a little unfair, don’t you think? Wanna even the odds?” It’s meant to make the young man smile and he does.

It’s only when he grins that Tony notices the sharpened incisors and the slight cold coming from the small figure. The same fog that follows him around even on the hottest of days. The exact shape of teeth Tony cleans in front of his bathroom mirror each night.

“Peter. My name’s Peter. Nice to meet you, Tony.”

#alpha!tony #tony stark #Vampire!Tony #vampire!peter #dark!starker #well #supernatural!starker #a/b/o au!#a/b/o!starker #starkerfestivals #my writing #peter parker

39 notes · View notes

aknosde · 3 years

Text

Okay, you know earlier this week when I dropped a paragraph of a fic? I actually finished it, and the end isn’t the best so I’m posting it here and not on AO3.

Loneliness - (featuring my HoH Percy and Clarisse head cannons)

TW for attempted self harm and a generally bad mental space

Percy’s never really had a mentor. When he was young he was put in a few organizations as a mentee. The type of organizations that are supposed to make things easier on kids like him, brown and black kids with “authority problems”. They never really clicked though, sometimes it was him, a lot of the time it was the supposed mentor. He had never cared much, it’s not like they could help him in a way that mattered.

Then there was Luke. Luke who was tall and strong and quick and really, really, really good with a sword. Maybe some of it was a crush, but he had never met someone who he was so encapsulated by. Luke was cool, intelligent, and good looking. He was everything Percy ever wanted and ever wanted to be.

Luke left a bitter taste in Percy’s mouth and a scar on his hand and a distaste for soda. Luke left Percy with an even quicker brain and a knot in his stomach that turned into a murder plot for his stepfather. He drew Percy in time and time again with a hatred that was laced with unrequited love and left Annabeth with blood stains on her dagger and both of them with salt stains on their cheeks and the taste of ash on their tongues.

After Luke was Beckendorf. Granted Percy had had a bit of a crush on him too. Beckendorf was pure, not in the way some white campers might call Hazel innocent. He was just kind, and genuine, and warm. Percy looked up at Beckendorf, big, strong, brave, caring, and he thought this, this is something I could do. I might not be able to be a big hero, but I can do this. I want this.

Beckendorf left Percy with no body for the shroud to cover. He left Percy with inside jokes that would never again be completed and a desire in his brain to constantly be in the forges and to keep as far away from them as possible. Beckendorf left a hole in Percy’s heart that was filled by blood and guilt. Percy looks at the acid scars on his foot with a longing for the time when Beckendorf was taken by giant ants.

And after Beckendorf there was no one. Suddenly Percy was one of the oldest campers. A war veteran. Supposedly the strongest demigod alive. He wasn’t just a counselor now, of his cabin that was solely him, he was a senior counselor. Jake Mason sat in Beck’s seat and Percy cried because suddenly he was alone.

He shouldn’t feel alone. When Annabeth holds his hand while they wait for breakfast he shouldn’t feel alone. When Grover makes enchiladas in the kitchen of the Big House and they eat them together in a field Percy shouldn’t feel alone. When Nico comes running into Percy’s cabin telling Percy that Mythomagic is apparently run by demigods and that they made a card of Nico he shouldn’t feel alone.

It only gets worse when he’s back at home. His mom goes through their normal post-quest routine. She gives him time and space and love. She takes him to the doctor’s. His old prescriptions get refilled, adderall, meperidine. Sally tries again to find a demigod therapist, to no avail. They don’t celebrate his birthday this year.

He’s at Goode without Rachel and he has no other friends. He’s never really been good at that, the whole friend thing, and now it’s practically impossible finding someone who isn’t uneasy around him. He sits in the back of his physics class and eats alone at lunch and sleeps in Paul’s office during breaks.

A teacher hands him back an essay and there’s a paperclip in the corner keeping all the pages together. There is a B+ on it with a smiley face, and Percy takes the paper clip and sharpens it and tries to scratch his skin. It doesn’t do anything. His skin still won’t break, there is just a faint redness. Only after scratching away mindlessly for weeks does he realize that he’s writing words. Last words. “Go!” “Don’t let it happen again.” “Tell him I’m sorry.”

He can fill up his schedule with school and homework and swim and skating and basketball. He can wake up in the morning and eat breakfast and take adderall and carry around the other small orange bottle waiting for his skin to revolt against him. He feels disgusting and empty. Like a demon in a suit of skin that used to be Percy. He misses two years ago when the war wasn’t looming over head, when he and Annabeth and Silena and Beck would all hang out, when he and Clarisse had weekly midnight basketball games.

Grover knows. Grover’s gotta know. For one thing, there’s the empathy link. And Grover is calling multiple times a week, and he always asks how Percy is, if he’s alright. Percy lies “I’m all good man, don’t worry. How’s work?” Then Grover goes off on a tangent about pollution or some shit he saw a human do and the way he purses his lips when he’s worried doesn’t come back until they’re hanging up.

He hates it, the lying. He’s only told lies to protect others, when he doesn’t have enough information yet, when he needs to save them. Now he is lying for himself. How fucking selfish does he have to be? But he’s so lonely, and he can’t bare to lose anyone else. It feels like the smallest step out of line will make his world crumble.

So he lies. He lies his ass off, and he doesn’t know if he’s good at it, but he could be. When Annabeth comes over one weekend, all the way from California, and she asks about the pill bottle rattling in his pocket he says that it’s adderall and she turns back to the tv. When his mom asks if he’s made new friends he says yes, and proceeds to tell a mortal version of something that he and Beck did last year.

One day Rachel comes into the city to visit her parents. They’re sitting on a bench in Central Park and he takes the paperclip out of his coat pocket and goes to work on his wrist while they talk. It’s habit by now. Rachel stops in the middle of her sentence and gently pries the paperclip from his hands and in its place she leaves a blue eyeliner pencil.

Soon his arms are covered in names and words and horrifically beautiful drawings. Blue pigment against brown skin and pink scars, all swirling together. The pencil runs out quickly, but a week later, just as he’s about to take the paperclip back out, an envelope arrives. Sitting in the bottom is a new pencil of blue eyeliner. Percy throws the paperclip in the trash.

By Thanksgiving break Percy isn’t feeling good exactly, he’s feeling mildly better. Loneliness still hits him, in pangs. He’ll be walking to lunch and he’ll have to jump in the canoe lake because he can’t handle it, and swimming is a good excuse for missing a meal.

He wakes up early in the morning and sits in Rachel’s cave waiting for her to wake up. She makes hot chocolate and points out drawings she particularly likes, and then he’ll wash his arms off ready to begin again.

Days are filled with meetings. Meetings with Chiron and meetings with other counselors, trying to make up for being away at school. When he’s not in meetings he trains. Sometimes himself, but a lot of newer or younger campers. The disarming technique he teaches throws him back to Luke and he gives the campers a five minute break hoping the feeling leaves.

Evenings are being tossed between one person and another. Racing up the climbing wall with Annabeth and laughing at the top and sitting there for way too long. Stopping by the Aphrodite cabin where Drew will catch him up on everything he’s missed being away or being busy. He sits on the floor of the Hades cabin trying for the fifth time to understand Mythomagic.

Every night since he’s gotten back Clarisse raps on his door at two in the morning and they play one v. one on the basketball court until they end up on their backs under the stars. There’s rarely any talking. It’s dark outside and Clarisse has left her hearing aids in her cabin and he’s left his back in Manhattan. Not like he ever uses them in public.

He’s still lonely.

Maybe Clarisse can read his mind because she taps his leg and they sit up facing each other. He can just barely see her fingers in the moonlight.

“Sometimes people can be lonely not because they are alone but because they miss someone. You have a lot of people to miss.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” He signs back.

“Oh be quiet punk.”

They both break into laughter then, before she continues.

“Miss them. As much as you fucking want. I was in love with Silena, and she died, and Drew is a bitch about it, but she has a right to be.”

Percy is struck again by how similar he and Clarisse are, their lives and their feelings and their actions. The only difference is that Clarisse grants herself the freedom to do what she wants, and he’s scared to death of doing that himself.

“But, and do not ever tell anybody I told you this, a lot of people would miss you. You can pull away and feel lonely but you can’t disappear. Annabeth needs you, Rachel needs you, Nico and Will and Drew need you. And gods fucking dammit, I need you.”

Clarisse stands and pulls him up behind her. They part ways, heading back to their cabins. Percy mulls her words over in his head as he finally drifts into sleep, his body completely and utterly exhausted. Suddenly there is a blue-gold light, and he remembers Annabeth, and then everything is dark and there’s the smell of pine.

#chart writes #percy jackson #pjo fic #clarisse la rue #max.txt #fic: loneliness

27 notes · View notes

devourer--of--books · 4 years

Text

SGE x PJO AU: wiki pages

PART I: Hester

Okay, so hm, before we start.

Warning: some minor cursing, as well as spoilers for all percy jackson and the olympians, heroes of olympus and school for good and evil books. Basic knowledge of the main plot points is heavily recommended.

Now that that’s out of the way, an unnecessary note:

I was unsure on how to structure this au, as I was originally going through the events of the novels book by book, but turns out that made the posts way too long (longer than they already are) and more like a mini-fic than an au post, so, for now, we’re sticking to a character-based wiki-like structure, one at a time.

This is obviously an au, so while we'll follow loosely the events of the riordan-verse, there's many tweaks, so it's easier to follow if you're familiar with the canon material but hopefully, I'll be able to answer any questions y'all might have.

I just might do mini-fic posts or write a one-shot or two, but that takes a while so maybe tell me if you’d be interested in that, because as usual, I am fueled by validation.

This is so goddamn self-indulgent.

Hester Ravenswood

Daughter of Nemesis

Occupation: Head counselor of cabin 19 / High school student.

Early years: Used to live with her father, until he tragically died in a mysterious factory fire when she was 10.

It is unknown how Hester got to camp, aside from the vague explanation she gives to Sophie and Agatha: she ran away from an orphanage and her mother guided her to Camp Half-Blood using dreams. She arrived at camp in the same night as Chaddick Edwards, and witnessed his death at Half-Blood Hill.

Camp years: Hester used to be a year-round camper at cabin 11. Since Nemesis didn’t have an actual cabin at the time, Hester was placed there, as per camp tradition, and while she often flaunted her parentage, she never got officially claimed.

Within her first year, Hester dueled an older, unnamed demigod for a bunk bed at cabin 11. She wins the duel, but ends up with a bad reputation as a “shady back-stabber” around camp, due to her use of a hidden knife to win. The bottom bed of said bunk used to be always empty, despite Hermes’ cabin being very crowded, until Agatha’s arrival a few years later.

Hester is the third member of the quest to retrieve Zeus’ lighting bolt, alongside newcomers Agatha and Sophie.

The following summer, she runs away from camp with Sophie Martin to help on the quest for the golden fleece.

Later that year, she participates in the mission to retrieve Yara and Willam Thomas from Westover Hall.

During the quest to rescue Artemis, Hester is absent due to being given another quest by oracle/camp director August Sader: scouting the labyrinth.

Next summer she leads the quest to find Daedalus, but after the incident in Hephaestus’ forges, she chooses to remain at camp to prepare for Kronos’ invasion, as well as aiding Dot Nottingham with Anadil Bloodbrook’s recovery after her time wandering by herself in the labyrinth.

A year later, Hester and Agatha blow up the Princess Andromeda cruise together, and she is heavily involved in the events leading to and during the Battle of Manhattan. Hester and Anadil are responsible for convincing a few minor gods, including Hester’s mother, to betray Kronos and help the campers fight off his army once Kronos cuts off connection between himself (alongside Sophie, Agatha and Yara) and his army to get to Olympus.

Post-war, she attends school alongside Dot Nottingham. It’s unknown what she plans to do after graduating, though it’s implied she might have to retake the year, as she often skipped classes to look for Agatha with Sophie. In one of those missions, Nemesis guides Hester to rescue Nicola Saylor, bringing her to Camp Half-Blood.

Currently: Hester is one of the seven demigods of the prophecy, and is abord the Argo II, headed towards Camp Jupiter.

Connections:

Dot Nottingham

While Hester mostly kept to herself during her first years at Camp Half-Blood, she has a secret soft spot for Dot, as she once overheard the girl standing up for her against Beatrix Jolie.

She is the one that teaches Dot how to use a dagger.

Every year, Dot offerers to house Hester for the school year, and every year she refuses, until after the Battle of Manhattan, when she accepts the invitation.

Agatha Schwartz

Hester and Agatha become friends shortly after her arrival, alongside Sophie, at Camp Half-Blood, when Hester claims to be impressed by Agatha’s confrontation with Aric Lesso, which seemed to freak every other camper out.

Through the years, Hester develops a not-so-one-sided crush on her, leading to a, rather messy, undefined romantic relationship between them after Hester kissed Agatha at Mount Saint Helens, but the two decide they are better off as friends after the Battle of Manhattan.

Hester is greatly distraught by Agatha’s disappearance after the war and feels horribly guilty for ignoring Agatha’s attempts to contact her prior to it due to remaining pettiness post-break-up.

Sophie Martin

Off to a bad start upon meeting, the two become tentative friends during the quest to retrieve the lightning bolt, and they even manage to join forces to aid Agatha, Hort Scourie and Aric Lesso on their quest for the golden fleece.

However, Hester quickly grows suspicious that Sophie might be a spy for Rafal at camp. Once she hears that this accusation was proven true, during the quest to rescue Artemis, it causes an irreversible shift in their mostly playful previous dynamic, even though Sophie changes sides again after Rafal betrays her trust at Mount Tamalpais. The peak of their animosity is at their duel after “Agatha’s funeral”, in which Hester nearly strangles Sophie with her whip while blinded by grief, only stopping due to interference from Agatha herself.

Thankfully, things seem to have smoothed over between them after Sophie stabs, and sucessfully kills, Rafal in the Gods’ Throne Room, "ending” the Battle of Manhattan by keeping Kronos from destroying Olympus.

Sophie and Hester grow closer during Agatha’s disappearance, often meeting up for search missions whenever one of them believes to have a lead on their friend’s whereabouts.

Anadil Bloodbrook

Hester first meets Anadil during her first mission an the labyrinth, in which she manages to convince Anadil to help her escape Kronos’ forces, but isn’t able to take her along, feeling horrible guilt, believing Anadil to have been killed.

Once she learns that Anadil managed to escape and is actually alive, having been wandering through the maze on her own for months, Hester vows to save her, stepping down and handing over the quest for Daedalus to Agatha.

Hester manages to find Anadil, whose mind appears fragmented after so long in the labyrinth, and begs Dot to help her find a solution. The daughter of Dionysus eventually does, combining her mild influence over madness with Reena Shazabah’s healing talents as a daughter of Apollo.

Anadil and Hester keep in touch often after that, becoming very close friends and formulating a plan to secretly recruit minor gods and their children back to the olympian side.

The two of them start dating officially a few weeks after the end of the war and are currently still together.

Nemesis

Hester is contacted by her mother more often than most demigods, probably due to Nemesis status as a minor goddess. Nemesis offers to help Hester on occasion, but Hester always stresses that her mother is anything but kind; no help from her ever comes free of charge.

August Sader

Despite making a few jokes about the oracle’s host being past his prime, Hester shows a deep respect for the camp director, even if she doesn’t always agree with his tatics.

Reena Shazabah

Hester’s active dislike for Beatrix during her first few summers at camp lead to her passive dislike of all of the daughter of Aphrodite’s friends and flings, including Reena, but they eventually become friends and, after Reena aids Dot in healing Anadil’s mind, the two of them can often be spotted training together at the arena.

Rafal

While they were in the same cabin and Rafal was one of the few campers that didn’t avoid her, Hester tells Agatha she does not trust him.

Once Rafal reveals himself as Kronos’ son, offering Hester a spot in his army, due to her being a child of a minor goddess, she tells him to “get fucked” and stabs him in the arm with her dagger, establishing their dynamic for the rest of the war.

Nicola Saylor

Hester is initially resentful of Nicola, for her presence reminded Hester of her own failure to find Agatha, but once the roman girl reveals that Agatha was most likely stuck at Camp Jupiter without her memories, Hester starts acting less hostile towards her.

Yara Thomas

Hester is part of the rescue party that retrieves Yara and her brother Willan.

At first the two seemed to get along, but after Yara joins the Hunters their friendship sours, as Hester has a very strong disdain for the group.

However, they start talking again during the Battle of Manhattan and grow closer once Yara offers to try and track down Agatha once she goes missing.

The current status of their friendship is unknown, as Hester will probably be livid once she finds out Yara met amnesiac!Agatha at Camp Jupiter months prior to Nicola’s arrival at Camp Half-Blood.

Hort Scourie

She doesn’t really care much for Hort at all before he is revealed to be one of the seven, but tolerates his presence on occasion, though Hester does state that kicking his ass on the arena is one of her favorite hobbies.

Weapons and Powers: Hester is very skilled with daggers and knifes, though her weapon of choice is usually a whip given to her by her mother on a deal they made when Hester first found out she was a demigod. Whatever Hester had to give her mother to keep her end of the bargain is currently unknown.

The whip is shown to have a mind of its own, moving in fast snake-like motions that Sophie describes as “demonic”, glowing red when “awake”, but its use is rather dangerous for long periods of time, as it draws energy directly from Hester’s life force.

Hester has some sort of control over chance, being able to strike deals to tip the scales of balance in her favor, allowing her to succeed in unlikely situations, but more often than not, the price for doing so is way too high, being a last resort for her.

#school for good and evil #The School for Good and Evil #hester of ravenswood #hester sge #sge au

27 notes · View notes

fanfictrashdump · 3 years

Text

Queening a Pawn, 17

((Y’all know the drill. I was supposed to be doing something productive in my life and I wrote this trash, instead))

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

"–out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itsy, bitsy spider went up the spout, again."

Delilah grinned from ear to ear as she spied into the classroom where the handful of four year-olds were huddled into while their parents were at work. When she was first informed that Loki had volunteered to take the afternoon shift for the pre-school kids, she had feared the worst.

On the best of days, Loki's patience lasted about as long as it took him to drain a full cup of coffee. On others, just about as long as it took his heart to beat. When it came to the imps, as he called them, his tolerance for half-hour stories that went nowhere and non-stop renditions of nursery rhymes was utterly boundless. And so it became that every now and then, when her day was going awful and she needed a pick-me-up, Delilah peeked around the doorway to watch him interact with the kids.

Today, he was chasing after a boy that was covered, head to toe, in finger paint while another child trailed behind singing Itsy Bitsy Spider on a loop. The Asgardian Prince snatched the boy up just before he clambered onto the pristine, white armchair in the corner, ignoring the fact that, he too, was now covered in cheap water-based paint.

With a lazy half-smile, he deposited the boy into one of the seats at the art table, where three other kids were sitting, doing their crafts before snapping his fingers and ridding them both of their colorful mess. Before retreating, he ruffled the boy's hair with a chuckle and immediately took a knee in front of the child trailing him.

"Yes, Aria. You have my undivided attention," he assured and the child repeated her song, seemingly satisfied when he smiled and applauded her at the end as she turned tail and went off to do something else. "Tidy up and go wash your hands. We're having snacks in ten." There was a chorus of acknowledgement around him that made Lilah sigh and smile delightedly at the extra beats her heart skipped. As if sensing the fondness, Loki did a double-take at the door, trying to smother a smile as he skirted towards the door with his hands clasped behind his back. "Wasn't aware I was to be under scrutiny today."

"We like to keep inspections a surprise. Make sure the rules are being followed at all times," Delilah responded with a feigned severity.

"And, is my performance satisfactory?" He leaned against the wall beside her, choosing to cross his arms over his chest, seemingly so he could watch the kids while also flirt. It was never to be said that Loki wasn't good at multitasking.

"Well, there is the small matter of how the child became utterly covered in paint, but I suppose you're passable."

The unspoken challenge drew a wolfish grin from his lips. "Will there be an opportunity for me to prove myself later? I can assure you that I can be more than passable."

"There are literal children here–"

"And I have said nothing untoward. Have I, Miss Delilah?" He pushed away from the wall with a grace that was unfair of such a tall person and turned towards Delilah to bow slightly, fist over heart. "I must feed the children before they riot. See you later?" With a dazed grin still on her face, she nodded and quietly slipped backward into the hallway to walk back to her office.

The grin, however, fell off her face when she opened her door to find Thor frowning at her desk. "I was having such a good day, too," she complained under her breath before plopping down in her chair. "I know I'll regret asking, but why are you so sulky?"

"Nothing. Just mentally preparing myself for the answer to my question: how is my brother doing?"

Delilah furrowed her brow, confused. "Loki? He's doing great. I just left his class he was giving the kids snacks."

"I just wanted to offer my services, should there be any need to–"

"I'm going to stop you right there…" Delilah leaned forward, leaning her face into her hand and sighed. "Last week he learned every child's favorite color and made them each a snowflake that never melts in that color. I think we're fine," she finished in a mock whisper. "I don't want to say this, but you look the littlest bit disappointed that your brother hasn't fucked up."

Thor sighed, shoulders slumped. "It's not that I am disappointed at his current success–"

"You're disappointed you voted to keep him imprisoned. To be fair Cap and Sam voted with you. It wasn't exactly an unpopular opinion, bud."

"But he is my brother."

"He also tried to, you know, take over the world."

"You trusted him."

Delilah gave him a tight-lipped smile. "No. I hoped I could." She chuckled, shaking her head absently. "You know, when Loki taught me how to play chess, there was one thing he said that always stuck with me. I remember him setting the board and staring at me over the pieces. The crux of the matter is this: you can learn the rules and hope that I'll respect them, you can distract me and hope I don't catch on, or you can interest me, and that, pet, is where the game really is," she finished, perfectly imitating his purposeful pronunciation. "A whole new world with a decade full of new things to discover– who wouldn't behave for that? It was practically Loki's wet dream."

Thor made a face at the turn of phrase that did nothing to resolve his already pinched expression. "I wish I were that confident of his behavior."

"I'm not. That's the whole point. Loki will mess up–he's allowed to mess up. He works so hard when he doesn't assume you're waiting for him to fail." She chuckled. "And he's good at his job– great at setting examples. None of the kids are afraid of trying new things because they know they are entirely free to fail."

"Failure is not something to strive for."

"It's better than hiding in the back of a ship with Quill and Rocket," she snapped back and Thor showed surprise at the retort. "Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

"I am performing a duty for the Universe."

"It didn't start out that way, though, did it?" She pressed, single eyebrow raised and the god of thunder shifted uncomfortably. "Bottom line is that your brother is actually an astounding person. You should meet him sometime."

Amidst tense silence and a staring contest, the doorway was filled by the devil, himself, who looked between his brother and his lover with a small notch forming between his brows. "I can sense I am already in trouble. Consider me well and thoroughly lectured, brother dearest," he said to Thor, not bothering for a response before turning to Delilah. "It seems that Byron has thrown up his snack because he insisted on running a lap around the room right after eating. His parents are awful hypochondriacs– do I need to tell them?"

"Yes, but preface with the running and end with the fact that the rest of the kids are fine."

"Excellent. Oh, and Bruce was looking for you. He said he'd be in his lab." With a flirty wink, the clone disappeared from the doorway, leaving Thor and Delilah back in awkward silence.

Delilah smiled quietly, hands folded together upon the desk, while Thor decided if he was going to accept defeat graciously or not. "Was there anything else on your mind, Thor?" She asked when he didn't say anything.

"How… how have you done this?" He asked, heaving a great sigh. "It's like there's a different person occupying his body."

"The really sad part is that there isn't. That's just Loki, except we didn't give him a goddamn chance the first time around."

Thor frowned, looking down at his boots. "You love him."

"Of course I do. How can I not?" Lilah sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with frustration at the tears that prickled the corners of her eyes. "He's a beautiful creature who thinks he's a monster all because Asgard failed him. They failed him, and you know it."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. You take it up with him," she retorted, harshly. "Now, get out of my office." Thor merely nodded before vacating his seat, and disappearing out the doorway. When he was out of sight, she drew a deep breath, wiping at her eyes and anxiously ruffling her hair. "Stop hiding. I know you're there."

The illusion melted away and from thin air, Loki appeared looking surprisingly sheepish. "I thought you hadn't spotted me." Delilah gave him a look and he raised his hands defensively. "I am aware I should know better." He smiled, taking long steps to close the distance between them before bending to kiss her crown. "Stop fretting over me, darling girl."

"Someone's got to do it. It's not like you fret over yourself!"

"My love, I don't care what Thor thinks. Or the Valkyrie, or anyone in these blasted nine," he argued, carding his fingers through her short hair. "Only you. And if I please you, even if unworthy, I am happy." He kissed her forehead and sighed. "Just you… and that spoiled cat of yours."

"Lilah, do you happen to–" Thor's voice boomed as he crossed back into her office, stopping mid-step at finding Loki with an arm around her slight frame, looking content and soft. "Oh... Brother, do you have a moment…?"

Loki cut his eyes down at Delilah, who shrugged noncommital. "Certainly, Thor." Smiling warmly, he bent once more, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead and brushing his fingers on her cheek as he straightened. "I adore you, my love," he whispered gently. "I'll find you for dinner, alright?"

Loki followed Thor quietly, hands clasped behind his back. The god of thunder looked conflicted and Loki knew better than to interrupt the man when he was on the verge of emotions stronger than silly giddiness. The hulking blonde stopped just short of the in-house bar, sucking in a deep breath before meeting his blue eyes to his green.

Thor steeled his resolve. "Loki–"

"There's no need, brother. No need to dwell on the past."

The older brother furrowed his brow. "She has done you good. I would have thought you'd relish the idea of having me grovel for forgiveness."

"I just spent eight hours dissolving quarrels because one child stared at another for too long. Being petty for the sake of it is highly overrated," he offered, leaning against the corridor wall with a leg propped up on the surface.

Thor chuckled, nodding absently. "You always did have exceptional patience."

"Yes, you've trained me well in that regard." Loki offered his brother a lopsided smirk in response. "Come. Let's have a drink. I've been on a steady diet of apple juice and mandarin oranges all week."

#Loki #Loki MCU #Loki fanfic #MCU #MCU fanfic #MCU fanfiction #Loki x oc #Loki x ofc #alternate timeline #time heist #fix it #Queening a Pawn

2 notes · View notes

therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 022 [Winchester’s Starting Line]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 3,282

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“You know you’re fighting in a losing battle, Making a noose out of your hollow crown. I hold a match up to your paper castle, and watch it all burn down.” Ellie Goulding, “Hollow Crown”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The smoke cleared and the boss was on the other end of the room, his body embedded in the back wall. The male standing in front of me was breathing heavily, sword poised in front of him in both hands. Wait, I recognize that mop of green hair!

“Izuku?”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving me a nervous smile. “H-Hi, Jen-san.” He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt under a green vest. His hands were covered by gloves and he wore a brown utility belt around his waist, legs covered by blue pants. He’s also a swordmaster.

“Deku?! What the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugo yelled, stomping over to the boy.

“U-Um, I… you looked like… you n-needed help…”

“Hah?! As if I’d ever need help from a nerd like you!”

“You say that, but Winchester would have been a goner if he hadn’t stepped in when he did.” Iida approached the two, dressed in a suit of armor, his helmet tucked under his arm. He’s the knight class.

“That’s her fault for being a fucking weakling!”

“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes, coughing again.

“Don’t worry, Jen, I can heal you!” Ochaco smiled brightly as she kneeled beside me, dressed in a short tan dress with a red hood over her head. Black leggings covered her legs, disappearing into brown boots. She carried a wooden staff, her right hand wearing a red glove. She’s the mage class. Ochaco hovered her hand above my stomach and it started to glow purple before my health shot up. “There, all better!”

“Thanks,” I pulled myself to my feet, dusting off my pants.

Iida snapped his gaze to me. “Why are you here? You’re not even level fifty yet!”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m half a pubic hair from being fifty. Fuck you.”

His cheeks burned. “E-Either way, this area is far too advanced for you! Show some responsibility for your actions.”

“You know, you really fucking piss me off, Prep.”

“P-Prep? My name is -!”

“I don’t fucking care,” I scoffed. “Oi, Bakuhoe. You got five minutes to finish this bitch off before I call it quits. I’m fuckin’ hungry and now in a bad mood.”

“Che, don’t tell me what to do!” He turned his back to me. “Let’s go, shitty hair!”

“Right!” Kirishima blew smoke from his nose.

Izuku and Iida joined the fight, while Ochaco stuck close to me with a magical shield up in case the boss decided to attack me again. Ten minutes passed and Kirishima dealt the finishing blow with a swipe of his clawed hand. Or is it a paw? Dragons don’t have paws right? Feet? But that makes me think of the back legs not the front.

As the boss shattered, an annoying jingling started to go off in my ear like I had just won the fucking jackpot on a slot machine. My level shot through the roof, jumping from forty-nine to seventy-nine. My body feels lighter, stronger, and now I have a shit ton of power points to assign again. For fuck’s sake.

Kirishima’s body started to shrink back to human form and he fell back onto his ass, a bright grin on his face. “I can’t believe we did it! You’re super strong, Midoriya!”

The greenette flushed at the praise, not missing Bakugo’s glare. “N-No, I’m really not -”

“Of course he is!” Iida pushed up his glasses. “Not only is he max level, but he also has the legendary Allmiber!”

Allmiber? What, is that the fucking love child of All Might and Excalibur?

“How the fuck did you hit max level?! And where the fuck did you get the most OP weapon in the damn game?!” Bakugo demanded, trying to grab the front of Izuku’s shirt, but the anti-PVP system prevented him from doing so.

“That’s so cool!” Kirishima jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. “Only five people in the entire game have managed to find Allmiber!”

“And you, shitty hair!” Bakugo’s vermillion eyes snapped to the red-head, pointing an angry finger at his face. “How the fuck are you a Dragonling?!”

“What’s a Dragonling?” Ochaco whispered from behind me.

Izuku answered, his eyes shining. “Dragonlings are the rarest race in the whole game! They can’t be chosen or even bought, you can only get it as a drop from a powerful boss. The drop rate itself is only .01% and the drop location changes every week. They say that Dragonlings are unbeatable because of their massive health bars and insane defense and armor. They’re also the only race in the game that can change their forms in battle! Their dragon forms have been called the gods of the game! Did you know that the creator -”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, sweatdropping as he continued to ramble on about the game. A simple, ‘it’s rare!’ woulda been fine, ya know. But Ochaco and Iida are listening intently to him, as usual, nodding their head every few words.

Kirishima laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just killing some scarecrows for a quest and it dropped.”

“You got a Dragonling from a fucking level five quest?! I’ll kill you!”

My lips tugged down as I watched the two groups interacting with each other. Why do I feel a sudden pang in my heart? I cursed, turning toward the exit portal that had opened up after the boss with destroyed. It took me back to town and I quickly logged out of the game, pulling myself off the wooden floor and turning the console off. I can still hear Bakugo screaming over the phone and I hesitated.

Should I say something? I decided I didn’t want to bother them and just ended the group call without a word, glancing at the clock. Nine-thirty.

The front door opened and closed, Toshi stepped into the living room looking tired and ragged. He smiled when he saw me. “Hello, young Jen. What would you like me to make for dinner?”

I grunted, pushing past him before he could step into the kitchen. “I wanna work on my cooking skull. You don’t mind, yeah?”

He sent me a confused look, but it soon melted to one of warmth. “That’s fine with me. I’m guessing tacos since I lifted the ban?”

“Nah. I’m in the mood for some curry.”

“Oh…” he shifted in the doorway, watching me closely. “Is anything bothering you?”

I sent him a small smile. “I spent all day playing an RPG with Bakugo, so I’ve just got a bit of headache.”

He sweatdropped. “That’ll do it. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

My smile dropped as soon as the bathroom door closed. To be honest, I don’t really know why I’m suddenly feeling so… isolated and down, I guess? I don’t wanna worry him, especially when I don’t even technically know what my problem is. Thinking about it, a lot of time has passed since I came to this world, since I started at U.A.

While everyone else has been forging friendships, I’ve been too damn busy keeping people at a distance. I haven’t made any efforts at all. Bakugo only asked me to play with him because he had no one else, but now he knows that the golden trio and Kirishima also play. They don’t need a low level to babysit that knows nothing about the game.

I groaned, rubbing my forehead in frustration. “Why is this bothering me? Get a grip.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

My phone buzzed for the millionth time and I sighed, opening my messages. From Bakugo:

‘Where the fuck did u go?’

‘Oi, fuckin answer me’

‘…somethings wrong aint it?’

‘Stop fucking ignoring me!’

And from a number I didn’t recognize:

‘Hey Winchester! Got ur number from Bakugo!’

‘This is Kirishima btw’

‘Whyd u log out so suddenly? Everything ok?’

‘That sword u got is really cool btw, it costs a million gold!’

My brow furrowed. Why did he give my number to Kirishima? Why’d he want it in the first place? Are they really worried about me? And that sword… why did Bakugo give me something that’s worth so damn much? I don’t understand anything.

I sighed, throwing my phone onto the couch before plopping down onto the floor so I could put my sneakers on. I heard shuffling behind me as Toshi walked quietly down the hall, pausing when he noticed me.

“Young Jen, you’re up early!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Toshi.”

“You’re never awake when I leave in the mornings.” He commented, sliding his feet into the over-sized loafers. He suddenly grinned, his body expanding as he took on his muscle form. “Shall I carry you to school today? Ahahaha!”

I rolled my eyes as I pushed the door open. “I’m not a kid, but I’m sure Izuku would take you up on that offer, though.”

He laughed again, closing and locking the door. “I’m sure he would! By the way, I wanted to thank you for befriending young Midoriya. I feel more at ease knowing that you’re there to watch his back.”

“I’d hardly call myself his friend,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I said you’re welcome.”

He smiled brightly, slapping my shoulder. “Be safe on your way to school, young Jen!” He kneeled down, kicking off the ground as he took to the sky. I waited until he was out of sight before starting to walk, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

It was still dark outside, the neighborhood peaceful as the residents slept. Crickets chirped tiredly in the distance, pausing when the wind blew through the trees. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always found solace in the darkness. I’ve always been a night owl, preferring to be awake through the night rather than during the day. Maybe it’s because I hate the sun, or maybe it’s because there are fewer people around at night… I don’t really know the reason. This little strip of time before the sun starts to rise makes me feel at peace.

I took my time walking to school and the sun was just starting to glare over the horizon as I walked through the archway, casting shades of orange and purple across the sky. It was beautiful, sure, but I ain’t fond of the sun.

I entered the school building, heading for class 1-A. The room was empty and, for a minute, I just stood in the doorway. It felt weird without the loud chatter of the other students. It was eerie, like I had just stepped into an alternate dimension or some shit.

“Fuckin’ creepy,” I muttered, flicking on the light before heading to my desk. What do I do now? I left my phone behind, so I can’t play any games. I guess I could work on my homework… I started it last night but couldn’t concentrate so I ended up giving up and going to bed. Scrunching my nose up, I grabbed my notebook and the worksheets we had been given and got to work.

The door slid open a few minutes later and I glanced up, meeting surprised heterochromatic eyes. I returned my gaze to my notebook, where I was working on a doodle of Deadpool wearing a taco hat. At least he ain’t glaring at me, but the day is still young.

The legs of the chair scraped against the floor as he sat at his desk. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up, almost hesitantly. “Good morning,”

I raised a brow at him, but he was staring down at his desk. “Uh… sure.”

“Are you all healed up?”

“Yeah,”

“That’s good,” he nodded his head, pulling his notebook from his bag. “Does my voice really keep you calm?”

I nearly snapped my pencil, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. Damn, talk about being blunt. I cleared my throat, “Why are you even talkin’ to me?”

His eyes met mine, growing wide. “Should I not be?”

I shrugged. “You’ve always seemed perfectly content just glaring at me.”

Peppermint quickly looked away, his hair covering his eyes. “I’m sorry. You just… remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

He was silent for a moment and I figured he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally did, his voice was like ice. “My father,”

I raised a brow, humming. So a pretty boy with daddy issues, huh? Interesting. “Right. Good to know I remind you of an old man.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled, his cheeks gaining some color. “Will you answer my question now?”

“Yes, you have a calming voice. Happy?” I sighed, turning back to my notebook. Man, I accidentally stabbed Deadpool in the face.

The door slid open again and Fumi stepped inside, tilting his head as his eyes met mine. He approached my desk with a smile. “Good morning, Jen-san.”

“Sup, Fumi.”

“You’re usually one of the last to arrive. It’s quite alarming to see you here so early.”

“Sheesh, a girl tries to be a diligent student and everyone thinks the world is comin’ to an end.” I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “I wanted to try somethin’ new, but don’t worry, I hate it and won’t be doing it again.”

He chuckled, his eyes scanning my notebook. “You did this problem wrong,”

“Heh?” I glanced at the math problem he was pointing at. “Fuck math,”

“If you’d like, I can give you a hand.”

“For sure, thanks Fumi. The last thing I need is a lecture from Ectoplasm about not paying attention in his class.”

He nodded toward the pencil. “May I?”

“Go for it,” I watched as he scribbled down a number on the corner of the page.

“You can message me anytime you find yourself stuck and I will do my best to assist you.”

“Yeah, I will.” I smiled at him. “Thanks, Fumi.”

He nodded, returning the smile before heading to his desk. I caught Peppermint’s gaze but he quickly looked away. What’s his deal today?

Students slowly started to filter into the room and the silence morphed into loud chatter. In a way, their loud natures is annoying as all hell, but… I think I prefer it over the alternative.

“Wait, who are you?”

I glanced up at the sound of Alien’s voice, seeing Rin standing in the doorway. What’s he doing here?

He bowed, offering a kind smile. “My name is Hiryuu Rin from class 1-B next door. I’m looking for Winchester,”

Her eyes fell on me, half-hidden behind Momo. I stood up and approached him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him from the room. I could already hear her excited whispers. I swear if she starts spreading some stupid shit… I brought Rin to the stairway, which only had a few students passing by. As soon as I turned toward him, his arms were thrown around my neck, my body tensing at the contact.

“Uhh…”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He spoke with a voice full of emotion, his grip tightening around me. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “I heard about the attack, about two students being seriously injured along with Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen-sensei. I came to see you yesterday, to see if you were okay, but your entire class was gone. I was so worried about you, Winchester!”

My body relaxed as I wrapped my arms around him, gently rubbing his back. “The faulty thought it would be a good idea if we took a day off after the attack. Me and Izuku were a bit reckless, but it ain’t a big deal.”

“‘A bit reckless’?” He pulled back, eyes narrowed in frustration and worry. “You could’ve been killed.”

“I didn’t think you cared that much,” I muttered, scratching my cheek as I glanced to the side.”

“You’re my friend, of course, I care!” He sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You’re okay, that’s what matters.”

My heart skipped a beat, my chest growing warm as my lips curled up. My hand rested on his head. “I’m sorry I worried you, Rin.”

“Call me Hiryuu.”

“Only if you call me Jen.”

“Deal,” he grinned.

“Hey, Rin! Class is gonna start soon!” An orange-haired girl smiled at us as she walked by with a girl that looked like she just stepped out of My Little Pony.

“Be right there, Kendo!” He called before turning back to me, pulling his phone out of his bag. “Can we exchange numbers?”

“Oh, uh, sure. I forgot my phone at home, though, so I’ll text you back after I get home.” I gave him my number and we parted ways, entering our own classrooms. Two numbers in one day? You’re turning into a player, girl. My good mood fizzled a bit when I entered class 1-A, eyes locking with angry vermillion.

“Morning, Winchester!” Kirishima grinned. “Last night was so much fun, let’s play again sometime!”

“Ooh~ What did you two do last night?” Alien asked, clapping her hands excitedly. “And who was that boy? Is he your boyfriend, Winchester?”

Satan, grant me the strength I need to not kill anyone today. “No, he’s just a friend.” I ignored her disappointed pout as I headed for my desk. I was almost there when a hand grabbed my shoulder roughly. Green met vermillion as we stared at each for a moment.

“You didn’t fucking answer my messages,” Bakugo’s voice was surprisingly calm as he gauged my reaction.

“I fell asleep after getting offline,” I lied, keeping my expression blank.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer when you woke up, then?”

“Forgot my phone,”

“Stop fucking lying to me!”

I grunted, pulling myself from his grip and plopping down at my desk. Why do I suddenly feel so guilty about lying? Why did I even lie in the first place? It had been an instant reaction, I didn’t even consider it. We’re not even friends. He just tolerates me because I do the same for him.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance before stomping back to his desk.

“Hey, you guys! Did you watch the news?” Invisigirl asked, excitedly. “It was so cool that we got a few seconds of screen time. Though I bet nobody noticed me hanging out in the background…”

“Probably not,” Octo agreed.

Tail sweatdropped. “It is difficult to stand out when you’re just gloves…”

“We’re totally big deals.” Sparky’s voice was full of arrogance. “Those news channels love us, we’re basically celebrities!”

“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy, right?”

“Get over yourselves. The hero course that pumps out pros was attacked and that’s what they care about.”

“Who knows what woulda happened to us if the teachers hadn’t shown up.”

“Death. That’s what woulda happened.” I commented, dryly.

“Why’d you say that?!” Grape freaked out, his eyes full of tears. “I’m gonna pee myself just thinking about it!”

My lip curled back in disgust. Why is this fucking brat even in the hero course? I’ve seen more heroism from a fucking cockroach.

“Ah, shut up! Grow a pair, loser!!”

“Did you guys see All Might fighting the bird guy? That guy was super strong and he still destroyed him!”

“Yes, his strength is truly a thing of wonder.”

“Attention! Homeroom class is about to begin! Everyone stop talking and take your seats!” Iida ordered as he stood at the front of the room.

“Uh, we’re all sitting.”

“You’re the only one standing.”

Iida fell into his chair, body shaking. “Dang it,”

“Don’t sweat it,” Ochaco smiled. She’s honestly too precious for this world.

The door slid open and a heavily bandaged Aizawa appeared. His face was still covered, and both arms were in slings across his chest. “Good morning, class.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

▸ Forward

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

5 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 4 years

Text

RWBY Recaps: The Greatest Kingdom

Hello, glorious RWBY fandom! It’s that time of the year again. No, not the holidays. Rather, it’s the roughly twelve weeks where my Saturdays are lost to the void of churning out 4,000+ words of typo-laden analysis for our favorite web-series. Does that sound like a good time? If so, stick around and keep reading.

Now, those of you who joined us last year will recall that I took issue with numerous aspects of Volume Six. Many of you are capable of summarizing these aspects in great detail considering that the conversation never stopped on my blog between January 26th and, well, today. But for those of you who don’t otherwise suffer my metas or who might be joining us for the first time, here’s a very short guide to the stuff we’ve been chatting about the last few months:

Holy shit they really went all in on dragging Ozpin, huh?

Is the group part of a collective consciousness now? What happened to diverse thinking?

Should un-licensed teenagers steal military property and start grimm-drawing battles with national allies? No or double no?

We hate adults? Is that really a thing?

When will Oscar’s on-screen development come back from the war?

There are numerous, numerous other connected topics, from Rooster Teeth’s handling of physical assault all the way to theories regarding the relic’s potential influence and Jinn’s motives, but that’s the basic gist. Oh, and we now have a subset of the fandom who got big mad over fans headcanoning trans!Nora based on her new color scheme. ... So that’s where we’re starting this volume off.

Just so we’re all on the same page:

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Anyhoo, with that bare-bones context out of the way, let’s dive in.

We begin, as usual, with a shot of the shattered moon. Except this is the first volume where we know precisely what happened to it and all it may mean for humanity. It lends a certain amount of gravitas to our start. Now, rather than the more generic, “Ah. Right. That motif. Still a mystery, huh?” shots of the moon function as a quick reminder of the group’s new stakes. 99% of the time the focus is on Salem and our heroes’ attempts to keep this genocidal dictator from destroying and/or enslaving the entire world, but “The Lost Fable” set up that the true, end-game antagonists have always been the gods. Even if Salem is destroyed, they still exist as a continued threat to humanity. If they wish to use the gods to help them in their quest against Salem, they likewise risk their judgment. Having introduced them, that’s a tricky problem the show is going to have to solve before its end.

For now though we pan down to the Atlas military, numerous ships and lots of chatter over the radio setting up precisely how massive, organized, and deadly this army is. I would like to remind everyone that this is what the group deliberately decided to piss off by not merely stealing an airship, but unnecessarily attacking the head special operative of the Argus base. The fact that the military has grown more “aggressive” in Weiss’ absence has no bearing on her original knowledge that stealing/attacking this group would be a horrendous idea. She knew it. Qrow knew it. Everyone ignored that in favor of Jaune’s idiotic plan. I bring this up not to rub more salt in a long open wound, but to re-establish how the group is, thus far, unable to think ahead and accurately weigh the consequences of their actions. More on that later.

Their ship, Manta 5-1, is welcomed home and instructed to land so that a security team can debrief them. Whoops. Jaune, again in his infinite wisdom, reminds everyone that they achieved their goal of getting to Atlas. So now they just need to find some answers, yeah? Not quite. Weiss immediately points out that landing with a stolen ship means that security won’t let them anywhere near Ironwood… which, again, is something that holds true regardless of whether the military got more aggressive and their leader more dictator-y. This is not new information. Oddly enough, a group of teenagers with only one licensed huntsmen among them (considering that Maria is presumably still keeping a low profile) flying a stolen airship doesn’t exactly breed the sort of confidence that lets anyone---paranoid or not---approach a leader. These were all issues from the start that the group didn’t bother to consider in their haste to finish this mission.

“They might even take me back to my father,” Weiss says. Another concern that they’re only realizing now, yet one that the fandom latched onto immediately. Though mostly in the wrong way. It’s because Jacques is a threat that they should have found a more covert way into Atlas, or waited to hear from Ironwood, or just send Weiss herself with Cordovin’s blessing… Yes, much of the fandom got quite defensive at that suggestion, claiming that sending Weiss “alone” (she never would have been alone. Bird uncle. Fits into a suitcase grandma) was tantamount to handing her to Jacques wrapped up in a bow. Except, as is made perfectly clear here, it’s their illegal activity that endangers them. Which is more likely to get you sent off to daddy? Acting like a child by stealing military property and then getting caught? Or entering Atlas as a huntress with a special operative’s blessing, carrying instructions that you are to meet with Ironwood as soon as possible? To say the team dropped the ball on this one is an understatement.

Those, however, are all past options now far out of reach. Weiss decides then that she’ll simply call Winter and I absolutely adore Kara’s voice acting here. She managed to imbue so much into a single name, conveying Weiss’ realization, hope, and love for her sister in just two quick syllables. I feel like I got more insight into Weiss through that moment alone then the entirety of Volume Six. Only problem? Blake notices another feed where a recording of Winter emphasizes that anyone found breaking Atlas law will face punishment---something our group will be quite familiar with by the end of the episode---and Qrow decides that they probably shouldn’t go charging into Winter and Ironwood’s hands until they know more about the situation.

Which is the smartest decision we’ve seen in a while, considering that Ironwood’s own feed leaves little to the imagination. He continues to sport that beard, giving him more of a disheveled appearance compared to Volumes 1-3. His voice is as authoritative as ever and he literally towers high above all the people he’s supposedly protecting, keeping his distance from both the city and the airships that ‘govern’ it. A few moments earlier we got to see the startling contrast between the military life and the civilians’. Warm reds and browns give (in this case a literal) down-to-Earth feel and the neon signs are easy markers of a low-class neighborhood. You know the stereotyped kind: cheap food and cheaper entertainment. Compared to the whites and blues of the Atlas clouds, paralleling their elite (and thereby expensive) technology, the city below feels like a slum in comparison, reinforced by the dirty, drunk, and at times violent background characters that populate it.

As Maria says later, “A home in the clouds is as bright as it gets,” to which Nora responds, “Unless you’re the one having to look up at it,” something she’d be very familiar with as a child stealing bread in the otherwise plentiful looking Kuroyuri. There are contrasts in coloring, dialogue, as well as framing here. Compare Ironwood’s sky-high observation to Pietro’s existence as a black man, in a wheelchair, doing volunteer work in what’s established as a dump. He’s as “low” as he can possibly be and acknowledges that he prefers to actually be among the people, not standing literally or figuratively above them. Just in case the audience misses these cues, we get some rather ominous music on top of all that and fearful looks between Ruby and Yang.

Ironwood’s recording says that some people may view these as “uncertain times,” likewise contrasting Glynda’s recording in the very first episode, announcing that they live in an “extraordinary time of peace.” Whether there’s uncertainty or not, Ironwood promises that Atlas will remain “safe and strong,” even if the other Kingdoms have begun to falter. The speech has a very ‘Us vs. Them’ quality about it.

“He looks tired,” Ruby comments and I just need to chuck another fandom into the mix real quick because:

Under these circumstances, “tired” doesn’t just require the John Mulaney advice of, “Get some rest, tall child!” It’s a clear dig at the leader’s capabilities and even their mental faculties. “James… what have you been doing?” Qrow asks, thereby re-framing “tired” as the nice euphemism for “gone off the deep end.” It remains to be seen though precisely how much of Ironwood’s paranoia is literal paranoia in the sense that it’s illogical and undeserved, and how much of these changes are highly undesirable, but potentially justifiable decisions. After all, we as the audience know precisely how dangerous Salem and her crew are. We know why Beacon fell. We’re privy to the stakes in a way that the average, angry Atlas citizen is not. All Ironwood can do in the face of such odds is try to prepare for every eventuality… it just looks like he’s reached a point where those preparations have started infringing on basic human rights. It’s a very sad setup. A classic case of the wrong things done for the right reasons.

There’s a check-in from the radio tower, whoever’s in charge wondering why Manta 1-5 hasn’t gone towards their landing pad yet. Maria comments that the lady should take a hint and starts finding a different place to land. Which in hindsight is kind of funny because they obviously did take a hint… and then sent out a special team to deal with the implications of that hint.

As the group starts exploring we get a lovely shot demonstrating how much they stand out in this new environment.

Though there’s some color in the neon signs, the otherwise overwhelming brown/beige/black/red makes elements like Nora’s pink skirt and Weiss’ white hair stick out like sore thumbs. As we’ll see in a minute, there are obviously in-world difficulties with them passing as average citizens, but it’s also a signal to the audience that, for now at least, they’re really out of their depth. This is the “greatest kingdom” referenced in our title.

Maria is leading them to a friend of hers when a bot takes an interest in these obvious outsiders. It approaches Yang at the back of the group, takes an unexpected picture, and she responds by kicking it into the street where it sparks with damage before getting hit by a truck.

(Flashback to Ruby and Penny, anyone?)

Now, I’m honestly on the fence about this moment. You could make the case that they’re all traumatized fighters and responding to that flash was a logical, instinctual response. You can even argue that, just hours after taking her first faunus life, Yang is more than a little on edge—even though the premier doesn’t reference this incredibly significant event at all, outside of Blake’s quick realization that her blade is still broken. Both are valid and easily supported readings. However, I’m still hyper aware that this is Yang. The character who, for two volumes now, has been characterized very strongly by her, “attack first, ask questions later” attitude. Out of all the characters we could have seen instinctively attacking something that hadn’t actually done her any harm, choosing Yang holds the most weight. The story also lightly acknowledges that this was an extreme response, what with the group staring at her and Yang’s sheepish expression.

Whether it’s specifically in the context of trauma over the fight with Adam, or more broadly acknowledging Yang’s tendency to both assume and act on the worst in people, I hope this volume helps her manage these instincts. One talk with Tai about not punching through problems isn’t going to cut it. Especially when her forceful attitude has caused much of the internal conflict recently.

It’s after this that the group is accosted by a drunk man, functioning largely as exposition to explain what’s been going on in Atlas and why the people are so scared and angry about it. Pissed enough to get literally pissed, of the inebriated variety. Here then, we return to the “this group of teenagers is really bad at thinking ahead” issue that I mentioned earlier. Ruby is all ready to start a fight---referencing her newfound willingness to escalate situations that don’t necessitate escalation---and it’s Blake who holds her back, reminding Ruby that they can’t afford to cause a scene. Which is fantastic. Except they end up causing a scene anyway when the drunk calls Blake a “stupid faunus” and Weiss uses a glyph to chuck him into the trash.

Is seeing a racist asshole get his just desserts extremely satisfying? Absolutely and from a representation perspective I’m thrilled to see Rooster Teeth taking a hard stance in their story. From an in-world perspective though, that was an incredibly bad decision. We’ve been establishing since minute one of this premier that the group needs to be cautious. Blake herself, the victim here, just told Ruby not to endanger the whole group by defending her honor… and then Weiss swoops in to do it anyway. There are two priorities here, to your friends and to your mission, and the issue is that Team RWBY has a tendency to consistently prioritize the former, something that wouldn’t be an issue if this was still a low-key story about a group of students and not would-be, formal huntresses trying to save the world. The choice to attack rather than walking away---paralleling last volume’s final battle---speaks to their inability to think ahead and weigh their priorities. “It was worth it,” Weiss says, but is it? Now that you’ve caused the scene that you couldn’t afford? Now that this guy recognized your glyphs and you’ve blown your cover? I realize I’ll probably get heat for this, but there’s a difference between calling out micro-aggressions in everyday life and calling them out when you’re fugitives trying to keep an invaluable relic safe. It would have said more about the group’s maturity if Blake had succeeded in avoiding a scene and they expressed anger/sympathy among themselves that she had to put up with that shit. Throwing guys into dumpsters is satisfying as hell, but it’s not the action of a level-headed adult conducting a job.

Provided that the story actually acknowledges how young they are and that it’s expected they make such mistakes, we’re golden. As it is though, these issues are usually brushed aside. Later Maria says that Pietro “likes to keep a low profile. Something I’m coming to realize you know nothing about,” but it’s said in a joking, fond manner. This isn’t treated as an actual flaw and is therefore not set up as something for the team to work on. And that, right there, is the heart of the conflict between RWBYJNR and Ozpin. He’s a fine scalpel. They’re a sledgehammer. RWBY continually introduces threats that require a delicate touch---whether it’s the possibility of spies in your midst that force you to carefully monitor who has what information, or needing to move through a city without drawing attention to yourself---these battles require a certain level of strategy and without fail our heroes are characterized as people who can only solve their problems through direct, immediate violence. You don’t walk away from a fight. Ever. Be it Cordovin or a racist drunk. The more I see of their behavior, no matter the good intentions behind it, the more it makes sense to me that Ozpin lied and kept his secrets. Our heroes simply don’t have the patient, level-headed, forward-thinking personalities required to fight this kind of delicate war. Their talent lies in the hack-’em slash-’em situations.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. The group runs from the guards that show up after the drunk guy incident and they manage to make it to Pietro’s place. After some fun dialogue about whether he remembers Maria and the state of his shop, we get a potential explanation for Maria’s strange behavior on the train. Everyone remember this?

Obviously the camera focusing on Maria helps us, the audience, realize that she’s a character who will eventually become important to the story, but it’s also a bit coincidental that she’s hanging out near Team RWBY’s room. Especially when she inexplicably ends up on the back half of the train when everyone else was evacuated. It was clear at the time that she’d deliberately stayed back, but to what purpose no one was sure. Here, Maria gives a general answer about how she thought this group might have needed her guidance while fighting all those manticores… which is still an odd explanation to my mind. Because up until her confession leaving the farmhouse, Maria wants to keep that low-profile. She’s done with being the Grimm Reaper, so why get involved now? Especially when, with hired huntsmen to protect the train and a large group of teens with their own weapons, she probably would have assumed they were all in good hands? Even if it was just a fighter’s natural instinct to help, what would that guidance have looked like? Pretending to be a normal, formal huntress lending a hand where she can? Admitting she’s the Grimm Reaper? Is she still able to fight? There’s still the highly coincidental nature that Maria, the greatest huntress of a generation, just happened to be traveling the same route as and randomly became interested in the group involved with Salem, gods, and the relics.

To be clear, I’m not really arguing that there’s some big conspiracy surrounding Maria. Coincidences are common in all fiction because if things happened based on real-life probability, it would all be pretty boring. Rather, I’m simply pointing out that between losing her eyes as a young adult and coincidentally getting involved with Team RWBY now, we pretty much have no idea what Maria has been up to for most of her life. If the story wanted to establish some sort of betrayal/trickery/what-have-you, there’s room for it.

That would make me super sad though. I quite like Maria.

We learn more about Ironwood’s increasing paranoia, a hint that not everyone on the council is happy with his changes---that mysterious woman we keep seeing on the posters, perhaps?---and the acknowledgement that whoever helped bring down Atlas’ tech at Beacon has to be “Either a genius, or one of our own.” Probably both. Enter Watts, seen typing at a computer in our opening.

With all this info bearing down on them, a few characters like Jaune and Oscar start asking whether they can just leave and yes, please tackle that, because it’s a very important question. Right now the show has stalled the, “Will the group continue the fight against Salem and what’s their reasoning for doing so when they all think it’s pointless?” question by throwing up another roadblock with the relic. They got it to Atlas, but they’re not sure they can hand it off to Ironwood yet, which just leaves them twiddling their thumbs. That portion of the quest isn’t technically complete yet, putting off an answer as to whether and why they’ll go onto the next portion. We need to tackle the group’s new motivations though. Soon. I sincerely hope that when Ironwood announces he has a way of defeating Salem, we finally get the group challenging their own assertions that such attempts are fundamentally useless. We had a whole volume of, “Oh no. Oh god. Salem is immortal and all our work is for naught.” We need at least a little attention paid to the development of a new perspective to counteract that.

Before things can get too bleak though, Pietro recognizes Weiss as a Schnee. Yang, in a lovely moment of support, desperately tries to re-direct the conversation back to the council. Pietro then recognizes her arm, puts it all together to get Team RWBY, and drops the loaded comment, “My daughter has told me so much about you.”

Many fans saw it coming. Even more hoped for it. Honestly? I think that’s great. Too many shows nowadays rely on “twists” that don’t actually make sense, or even undermine the original setup. Those are frustrating beyond belief and feel like the authors are selling out good story for cheap, undesired shock value. The fandom saw Penny’s resurrection coming a mile away? Great! That just means Rooster Teeth did a good job of setting up that possibility and then following through on it.

I’ll talk more about Penny’s introduction in a moment, but first I just want to throw out that I legitimately enjoyed the fight scene. Good action and creative teamwork at times. I particularly liked Weiss and Ren working together to take down four grimm in as many seconds. Oscar likewise takes a grimm out with a very impressive strike… more impressive than I was expecting from him, honestly. Right now I suppose I’m just inclined to shrug that off with, “He and Ozpin are slowly merging, so he picks up stuff way faster than everyone else,” most notably Jaune. Also, I’ll be blunt. I wouldn’t touch canon-based rosegarden with a ten-foot pole. You know, because of all the issues like a massive age difference, two minor characters involved, questions of consent, the fact that Ruby was Ozpin’s student---pesky ethical concerns like that. AUs though? I think the ship is adorable. Provided that Oscar is fully his own person and there’s consent on both sides appropriate for whatever ages they currently are in your fic or fanart? Very nice. So, it’s for those fans that I point out an entirely coincidental parallel: Ruby saves Oscar from a grimm with a bullet in nearly the exact same manner that Blake saves Yang from a grimm with a bullet. Make of that what you will.

Back to Penny though. Overall, am I thrilled that she’s back? Absolutely. I actually spoke about this recently while answering an ask, expressing how much I’d enjoy this very scenario: having her consciousness saved and thus allowing for her resurrection. Do I think her new look is adorable? Yes, yes I do. “And yet,” you say, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, Clyde.” Yeah. Sadly there is. Because although I’m happy to have Penny, I wasn’t particularly taken with how they re-introduced her.

Simply put, there was far too much humor for what should have been a touching, emotional scene. With the exception of one moment where Ruby tries to voice the word “killed,” everyone treats Penny’s resurrection as a surprising, but not terribly notable event. Yang, Weiss, and Blake express a sort of long-suffering fondness as they comment on how wholesome this is. Pietro laughs at any shock over her “death” and shrugs about how yeah, it technically was. Whatever. Qrow takes the time to nonchalantly say that things are going better than he expected. Ruby is holding it all together with barely a blink. Penny herself is nothing but exuberance and funny dialogue. Maria cracks a joke about how she has no idea who this child is. Jaune goes, “Well, that was unexpected” as if Penny had showed up in Atlas when they all thought she was in Vacuo. That sort of surprise. The whole thing is treated flippantly with, “Never a dull moment.” Summarized, all this really isn’t the appropriate reaction to realizing a friend is no longer dead.

Yes, Ruby was the closest to Penny by far---we can’t expect everyone to get misty-eyed---but does everyone remember what her death was like? It was the turning point of the entire series, not just for the audience, but the characters as well. Penny was the first casualty of the Fall of Beacon and her death was appropriately gut wrenching. It was then shown across every TV turned to the Vytal Festival, the moment where the whole world watched their golden girl, Pyrrha, unintentionally murder a newcomer who turned out to be a robot. Moments later grimm start attacking and the safest place on Remnant is destroyed. Penny’s death heralded all that. The one time we see Ruby tackling the trauma of it all is when she speaks with Oscar and, notably, crumbles a bit when she instinctively uses Penny’s catch phrase.

What I had hoped for was the group grappling with the sudden, completely unexpected shock of getting one of two losses back; working through the knowledge that their lives have been defined by two friends’ death and now one of those has been retroactively erased. Perhaps we’ll see that in future episodes, but right now it feels like a disservice to the impact Penny’s death had on the characters and the story to treat this as such a comic, light-hearted moment. Let Penny tackle-hug Ruby and then let Ruby give her a much more sincere embrace. Let her cry. Have Yang put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, giving her a look that expresses how she understands what this means to her. Have Jaune looking away, devastated that Ruby miraculously got her friend back, but such an event is impossible for Pyrrha. Let him or Oscar or Ren or anyone seriously acknowledge that, holy shit, this is a joyous occasion we never expected to experience. We’ve spent months dealing with trauma and pessimism, now here’s Penny, reminding us that there’s still so much good in the world. Have someone acknowledge that sometimes the impossible happens (cough-defeatingSalem-cough). You can allow the moment to function as the momentous occasion it is and then lighten the mood by having Maria announce that she has no idea what’s going on.

This isn’t the first time Rooster Teeth has implemented comedy when they were better off sticking with drama. See: the choice to animate punching Ozpin last volume in an absurd, cartoon style. So yeah. Happy to have Penny back, but that first moment felt underwhelming, to say the least.

We then have an admittedly very cool shot—

— (semblance? Just awesome drama?) right before the group is taken out in seconds by Atlas’ elite. They’re… I don’t know how to spell their name yet. Is it something like Ace-Ops for elite special operations? Or Aesop like Aesop’s fables? Potentially both? Idk. The fandom will figure that out in the next day or so, if they haven’t already. What’s important though is that this group charges our team with stealing an airship, illegally entering the city with it, and starting an unauthorized fight in the streets. If I could just take one second to…

Ahem. I’m good. Seriously though, if I’m at all optimistic for Volume Seven it’s because the story is finally acknowledging that the group made some pretty massive mistakes last volume. Not that it looks like there will be much punishment attached to that. Between them meeting with Ironwood in the trailer and the Blah-Blah-Ops’ clear status as heroes this volume (they’re in the opening a bunch and seem to be working with RWBYJNR), I’m not yet convinced that this arrest will lead to anything other than getting precisely what they want: seeing Ironwood. To be clear, it’s not like I want the group languishing in jail for twelve episodes. That would be one hell of a boring volume. But rather, I’m interested in whether the story will continue to imply that Atlas is in the right for arresting them, or whether Episode Two will quickly turn that on its head and forcefully announce, as they did in Volume Six, that these actions are an egregious insult because we’re the protagonists. How dare you not let us do whatever we want?

Because the group was in the wrong here. It can be easy to miss considering that the rules they’re refusing to obey are tied up in a dictator-like society---aren’t we the heroes for ignoring and circumventing evil Ironwood’s laws?---but what they actually choose to do has far more of an impact on innocent civilians than it does on The Man. Like endangering all of Argus with your needless battle. Or, to a much smaller extent here, jumping into a fight when you’re not authorized to do that. Now, I actually don’t blame RWBYJNR for that one. They are huntsmen and it’s their job to protect the people. Going out to defeat grimm is 100% their thing. Rather, I’m talking about stuff like their commentary on Atlas’ defenses. When the fight starts we get, “I guess the city’s defenses aren’t doing much” and “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” It’s more of that, “Us huntsmen are the only true defenders of the world. Your attempts with robots would be funny if it weren’t so dangerous” attitude. It’s a certain level of arrogance. As we see just a minute later though, Ironwood’s setup works. Because the civilians all know to get indoors. Because he has Penny. The robots hold off the grimm until she arrives, defeating the rest with a speed and an ease that frankly doesn’t compare to what we saw the group accomplishing. She does from above what it took nine of them to manage, often (as we saw with Oscar and Yang) with great danger to them in the process. When they’re bound and accused of unauthorized fighting, it’s clear that they were, in fact, shouldering their way into a situation where they weren’t needed---and potentially causing trouble in the process. Rules exist for a reason. Are they always perfect? Far from it, but in the characterization folding over from Volume Six, the group has forgotten that most of the time rules are there for others’ safety. They have been thought out. This particular situation is easily defendable (of course they’re going to go fight grimm) and there were no consequences to the group jumping in when they weren’t allowed (like property damage or injured civilians), but this moment does function as a good representation of the overall problem. Just because there weren’t consequences for saying, “Screw your laws” this time doesn’t mean there won’t be in the future. Or that there hasn’t been in the past.

It likewise stands out to me that Qrow consistently tires to use his “I’m a licensed huntsmen” as a justification. He flashes it at the two goons on the train to get them to back off. He tires to use it to get past Cordovin. He now tells his captors that he has every right to fight and protect the people because of this card he carries. Qrow is well aware of how important the status of a huntsmen is in this world… yet he’s running around with eight fighters who don’t have that legal backing. I don’t think the show would ever go for my suggestion of another school arc so they could finish their training, but at the very least we should provide some sort of loop-hole for these characters. Have Ironwood provide special licenses based on their heroics at the Fall of Beacon and their work since. Because right now we have a world that’s continually emphasizing being a huntsmen as a job, something you earn the right to call yourself, yet 95% of our group doesn’t have that right in the eyes of their society. We know they’ve done great, secret work to protect the people. But the people only know that these are a bunch of teens with one year of formal training. So you really can’t blame any officials for going, “Sorry. We’re not in the habit of letting random people with weapons cross our borders. Or fight in our streets.” It’s like if a bunch of 14-18yos arrived at a crime scene with guns and demanded that they be let in on a case. No, we never graduated from an academy, but you should adhere to our demands anyway. The good intentions are there, but you need to iron out the formalities first.

Really, RWBY should just fix the whole license thing with a throw-away plot point if they’re not going to tackle it seriously, just so this isn’t an ethical issue anymore. I’d rather smooth it over soon since the story doesn’t seem interested in tackling whether a group with one year of formal training should be allowed that status. So just give it to them and let’s move on. They might still run into issues with Atlas, but at least the rest of the world won’t be expected to trust them purely on faith. Not everyone belongs to a small town terrorized by a geist, with four random teens as your only option for safety.

Which finally, as the doors close on our group with heavy heads, brings us to the opening. Some things to pay attention to:

1. We get a glimpse of that mysterious woman shown in numerous posters across the city.

(I’m likewise interested in the very long shot we got on this “show your teeth” graffiti.)

2. Watts and Tyrian are presented as primary antagonists. Interesting that Neo and Cinder aren’t there (not that I caught anyway), especially since we know they were heading to Atlas last volume as well. It makes me think that they’ll be the true threat at the end of the volume. Keeping things quiet, even in the intro, so we have no chance of guessing their plan.

3. The main conflict seems to be between Weiss and Winter, as opposed to Weiss and Jacques as many originally assumed. Those expressions don’t bode well.

4. We still see an image of Ironwood briefly flickering to Jacques though as an angry citizen throws a rock at it. Implying Jacques is secretly pulling the strings? James has simply become too much like him? We’ll have to see.

5. We get a shot of Oscar and Ironwood… training? Fighting? I’m inclined to say fighting based on his and Ozpin’s past difficulties, but that’s also up in the air.

6. The image of our staff…

…and 7. an absolutely massive cast this volume. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m concerned with RWBY’s insistence on continually introducing so many new characters, particularly characters who are important enough to warrant decent development. There simply isn’t time for them all.

(Although, is Maria in that shot? Wonder if she’ll leave the group now that she’s done her duty of helping Ruby out with her eyes.)

Which brings us to the end of the premier! Finally, I’d like to end with a personal note. As is quite obvious, I’m still watching and recapping RWBY, but I feel like I should be upfront about my overall lack of investment in the series right now. Chock it up to getting burned last volume, fading interest in a long-running show, just growing up and changing… I don’t claim to know precisely why I’m no longer jazzed about a new volume like I once was. But, if I perhaps appear overly critical of what I generally thought was a good—and honestly better than expected—premier? That’s probably why. The details just don’t cut it for me anymore. All caps, screaming excitement over Penny’s return or Qrow’s new outfit just doesn’t resonate much, which leaves me with a more critical perspective on the show overall. So if that’s something you’re interested in, stick around because, baring unforeseen circumstances, there will be more metas over the next three or so months. More invested in a flailing celebration of RWBY as a whole? You’re better off hitting up another blog.

Basically, you know that shot in Pietro’s?

Note the “Days since our last nonsense” sign combined with the defeated expressions. That’s what RWBY feels like to me these days. A lot of nonsense and limited enjoyment. Ah well. Maybe Volume Seven will prove me wrong and I’ll be re-invigorated by the end of the season!

Until then, ❤️️

Minor Things of Note

Maria refers to the group as “kids” in the airship and Penny as a “child.” Acknowledging last year’s debate, I stand by the argument that just because many (but not all) of the group have reached the age of maturity in our world doesn’t mean they’re on par with the adults they were so recently rejecting. There’s a reason why the very old Maria naturally uses “kid” and “child” and it doesn’t come off as weird.

I really like the design of Pietro’s chair. Giving him something that walks on four legs is both different and a nice nod to nature among all the tech. Also, kudos to the Pinocchio reference on his bookshelf in the form of a whale.

Nora remains as adorable as ever. I particularly liked her energy in Pietro’s and her high-key annoyance at Ren getting a jump on the fight. I’m interested in what we’ll be learning about her this volume.

Not sure I’m a fan of Rooster Teeth using these squeaky toy noises whenever the group is comically surprised by something. Comedy is great, we need it in this story, but sound effects like that are remnants (ha) of a tone we haven’t really seen since Volume 1. I think the show can still get away with exaggerated facial expressions---Nora in her excitement, Ruby laughing at Jaune’s Pumpkin Pete’s sweatshirt---but this feels a bit out of place now.

“Maybe Atlas isn’t as safe as we thought” and yet, astoundingly, no one is inclined to ask Ozpin to weigh in on this. Even now that they know he’s listening. I think I’ll start a tally. See how many episodes it takes to actually acknowledge, let alone act on, the primary conflict of Volume 6.

Image Credit

Personal screenshots from RWBY

Transflag: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Transgender_Pride_flag.svg

Doctor Who GIF: https://tenor.com/view/doctor-who-tired-harriet-jones-gif-5627138

How I Met Your Mother GIF: https://giphy.com/gifs/celebrate-2o5Ypf4fP6ahq

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #rwby recaps

68 notes · View notes

7deadlycinderellas · 5 years

Text

The Starks at War, ch3

Ao3 Link

1940 begins. At the end of January, Arya turns fifteen, and along with her birthday comes the start of food rationing.

Hot Pie is outraged. He says nothing of quality can be baked with the butter and sugar they are allotted. Bran misses bacon terribly. But the day before her birthday, the greengrocer in the village has apples in stock, and Hot Pie whips up a fairly decent apple pudding.

Even the things that aren’t on ration seem to be getting harder to get. Shopping involves waiting endlessly in long lines.

And with the end of winter, comes the first casualty of the war.

It doesn’t really seem right to call it a casualty, but that’s how it feels. After Old Nan doesn’t show up for a few days, Arya rides down to the church to check on her.

Her sister says it looked like an apoplexy, in the night.

It’s a blow to the whole family.

“Nan was our nurse when I was a child too,” Ned says when they leave the church after her memorial. “I knew she was old, but I didn’t ever really think this would happen.”

“What are we going to do about Rickon?” Cat wants to know.

Rickon, the youngest, who less than ten minutes after the memorial has already taken off to play football with the evacuee boys.

Cat gazes after him.

“Gilly seems to be good enough with him, but I don’t know if there’s really anything we could do about Rickon that would change him,” is Ned’s take on it.

“I know I used to worry about Arya,” Cat muses, “too much probably. But I never worried she might slip away, just one day sneak away through a spot in this world and slip free.”

Slip free, Ned thinks, does sound like something that might explain Rickon.

As soon as the ground starts to thaw in early spring, Catelyn throws shovels at all of them with packets of seed and pamphlets on digging for Victory.

Arya groans. Some of the Guides in her patrol had helped type and print those.

Bran rolls himself outside to watch them dig up the roses and rhododendrons to replace them with potatoes, and carrots and turnips.

He reads the back of the packet of carrot seeds and tosses it to Gilly to take a look.

“It doesn’t say that there are other colored carrots too. We mostly eat the orange kind in tribute to William of Orange.” he comments.

Gilly laughs at him,

“I don’t know how you remember all of this.”

“Well it’s more interesting than remembering who William of Orange was,” Bran insists. Bran has been spending more time with Gilly in the new year. The realization that the girl was borderline illiterate had been a shock to him he had desperately wanted to correct.

“I don’t understand, don’t they make you go to school in London?” he asks her.

“No one really pays attention,” Gilly says, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, “And it’s not like I can’t read anything, I can write my name and do all my letters. But I don’t understand how you can look at all those words on that pamphlet and make sense of it.”

And so Bran embarks on a quest.

Ned asks Arya every week what her and the guides are doing. She’s already finished her first aid badge, and her electrician badge, and next week their starting on the signalling badge. She’s been looking forward to that one, she’s still terribly jealous of Meera’s proximity to boats. She doesn’t tell her father that their even talking about doing riflery badges too.

In the springtime, Bran helps her get her telegraphist badge. The requirements are that she build her own receiver and be able to transmit in Morse code at at least 30 letters per minute. Jojen and Bran both manage it easily, and eventually, she can too.

They all listen to the wireless more.

The news of the invasion of Norway is hard to listen to, it’s far too close to Scotland.

“You don’t think Robb and Jon…” Cat starts off.

“I don’t think so, “ Bran comments, “Their more recent letters say their squadrons have only been over France.

Jon in particular, has waxed poetic about how France looks from above. His letters he’s sent to Sansa in Kent are mostly recounts of what he has seen of the country.

Sansa tries not to be jealous when she reads them at school.

“You’ve never been to France?” Margaery asks her one day when she’s recounting what he’s written. They’re stretched out side by side on her bedspread in the dormitory, most of the other girls outside in the warm spring day.

Sansa shakes her head.

“I’ve been to Scotland a few times, but never overseas. Have you?”

Margaery nods.

“My grandmother is French, she lived in Paris as a girl, she spoke French to all of us as children. We’ve gone back multiple times. We can’t anymore, obviously, especially with the way things are going, but..”

Sansa doesn’t really notice her pause. She’s done all the things they say she should to support the war effort, but sometimes it feels like she doesn’t grasp it.

“I’ve been to where my mother’s from, but Suffolk isn’t really anything like a different country.” And no one in the family was terribly close to Uncle Brynden, who was a career soldier, or Uncle Edmure, who didn’t really seem to know what he was.

“Maybe I’ll take you someday,” Margaery tells her quietly. When Sansa turns seventeen in early May, she gives her a pair of gramophone records of a singer her grandmother had spoken to her about being one of France’s greatest.

When France falls, school has already let out for summer, so Sansa doesn’t have to see her cry.

Olenna scolds her for it.

“Don’t get upset, get angry. You should be angry that your homeland has been taken over by those lousy krauts.”

She doesn’t correct her that she was born in Britain and that it is actually what she would call her homeland, but correcting her grandmother has never gotten Margaery anywhere in life so she just wipes her cheeks clean and goes on.

After France falls, Gendry’s letters to Arya transform from belligerent to sorrowful.

There were so many fleeing, the Navy didn’t have enough ships to take them all. We had people piled up on top of each other across the channel. There were fishing boats and cruise ships trying to rescue people who were fleeing, and there still weren’t enough. I saw people trying to swim...I don’t even want to try and imagine if any of them made it. And then we had to go back, again, for eight days straight.

I haven’t felt like this since hearing about Norway. Stories of pilots whose planes couldn’t even take off because everything was frozen. It was only weeks ago,

Our ship was moored early because of a special assignment. We were escorting a small group of civilians, patients from Institut Pasteur. One of them was the ten year old daughter of some high up politician. The girl was there for experimental treatment of leprosy. Leprosy! As if her life wasn’t going poorly enough, there has to be a war on.

Even though we brought the patients on board first, we packed the ship to the gills before leaving. Soldiers packed in like sardines, sweaty, bloodied, scared out of their minds. Don’t tell Robb and Jon, but I heard a lot of men cursing the RAF because the sky was too thick with gunfire to see if the planes were doing anything to help.

The leper girl- her name’s Shireen something- somehow seemed perfectly happy through it all. She has big patches all over the side of her face, and some of the others onboard seem wary of being near her, but she didn’t pay them any mind. She was singing songs and reading from a book she had carried with her the whole trip. Oh to have her heart in the face of horror.

France falls and summer comes, and thank God Sansa’s returned home. Because over the summer comes the bombardment.

Robb not only doesn’t get leave for his birthday, he doesn’t even get to write letters home during it. The RAF is trying to fight off the attacks on the Channel Islands shipping lanes. They aren’t succeeding.

Meera had been stationed in Devonport, near Plymouth, which starting in July, begins to take a beating. She writes as frequently as she can. Her letters from earlier in the year had been mild by comparison. She had spoken of her training, and the other women on her ship. She’s always had a mild temperament, and took orders easily enough. The other women it seems, mostly think of her as distant and aloof, or the more charitable ones, like she has her head in the clouds. The ones who are intrigued by her title are put off when they realize she really isn’t that grand.

I guess I should accept that I never have really felt like I fit in. I don’t pick fights though, so most of others just ignore me. I’ve never thought myself unfriendly, but apparently I keep to myself more than most. It was strange, before the war I didn’t really know who I was. I’m hardly some fine lady, born for a life of theater and socials, and many of the upper class would think me no better than a street urchin. But the working class girls spot my accent immediately, and I have far more schooling than them. Even here. But at least here we’re all Wrens, we know who we are here. My bunk mate, Dacey is nice though. She’s from up north, her father owns a mine. Sometimes when we have time off we ride bikes around the town. I miss swimming, I miss fishing too. It’s hard to remember families use to holiday in Devon. The beaches are blocked off now, with thick rings of barbed wire. We helped place mines there too. I hope we can clear them easily enough when their not needed.

Plymouth begins being struck from the air first. She can’t write as often then. When she does, Jojen begins bringing by pieces of paper marked with just Bran’s name. He doesn’t understand why, and Jojen doesn’t seem to either, fixing Bran with looks that are somehow both curious and suspicious.

Reading them it’s understandable.

I marked these for you Bran because I didn’t really think I should tell some of this to Arya. The letters she writes me are hot blooded as it is. You can share with her if you want.

Seeing the after effects of the bombs is harrowing, both the buildings and the people. I was upset that I didn’t get stationed in Portsmouth at first, but I don’t think I could watch this happen to something so close to home.

I was partially right. We may not be at sea, but as soon as the bombs started to fall, those first ones in Cardiff, they asked for volunteers to learn to crew the anti-aircraft guns.

The guns we have fire so fast you can barely keep track. It takes four of us to fire the damn thing, and if you’re not careful it can knock you on your arse. If we bring any of the Luftwaffe down, I like to imagine it was me.

After Plymouth, Portsmouth is next.

Winterfell’s not that close to Portsmouth, the Stark children had always though, not really anyway. Arya could have made the journey by bike, but her legs would ache and her chest burn with exertion by the time she reached the outskirts.

But now it is somehow both far away and right outside the window.

Every day it seems, the roads are packed with the injured, clutching bundles of possessions, fleeing their destroyed homes. If anyone’s outside when the sirens blare, they can see the sky filling with smoke and fire. Any time of day RAF pilots might pass over head. One morning, when the all-clear blows, Arya sees the red-orange glow of the city on fire over the far horizon, and thinks that it looks frighteningly beautiful.

It’s too far away for most of the volunteers from the village, yet Arya’s guide patrol still makes the journey by bus a few times. They try to clear some of the injured from the first aid stations. She’s growing surprisingly numb to the sight of blood and burns, the sounds of children and grown men screaming. The smell is another story.

Twice, the guides have to take shelter themselves in town, when the sirens announce daytime strikes.

Bran spends his own birthday in the cellar. It’s not like they’re going to be able to have a cake anyway.

They’ve dragged bedding and pillows down, they’re all in the cellar so much. Having been dragged down the steps by both of his parents, and one memorable occasion by Arya and Gilly, Bran’s beginning to think he ought to just find a way to set up a cot or something and sleep down here. Maybe do his schoolwork. Never leave the cellar.

That particular day, Ned is in the village, sheltering at the station where he had gone to refill the petrol with their remaining ration. Cat, Sansa and Gilly are knitting socks, and Arya is pacing.

There’s a loud whistle and a crash that feels far too close. There’s no explosion.

“That was an incendiary,” Arya mutters while pacing, “It won’t explode, it will burst into flames and shoot out bits of metal-”

Bran cuts her off. Sansa is crying and their mother’s face is tight.

“How do you tell the difference?”

“It’s the sound.”

Arya stops herself from telling them about the incendiary charges went off the last time her patrol had been in town. It had set the house next to their shelter on fire, and provided light for the next charge to be aimed at. It had flattened the block. Had they been in one of those pop up shelters instead of a proper underground one, they would have all died.

In the middle of August, Arya is shocked to discover Sansa’s planning to return to school the beginning of September.

“How can you leave? Bombs are falling from the sky!”

“Bombs are falling all over the country, Arya,” This isn’t entirely true, but it remains that the entire southern coast is taking a beating and dogfights are happening over Kent every day as well.

“But if you stay, you’ll be able to be with all of us.” Arya’s eyes are welling up. Her and Sansa were never close, but this whole war has made her heart feel tender in ways it never had. After losing Robb and Jon, and Gendry and Meera, Arya had no desire to let anyone else in her family get away from her.

“It’s my last year of school, I have to finish. If I don’t, it’s like we’re letting the Nazis beat us. It’s not like I can just stay home forever.”

Arya clenches her fists. Is that what this is about? Sansa’s always talked about leaving Winterfell, going to London or Paris or New York, and meeting glamorous people and having some grand romance. Did she still want that, even when she might lose everyone?

“You just want to get away from all of us. We’re not good enough for you anymore are we? You just want to fuck off and leave us all behind.”

Her language is harsh, and her sentiment more so. Sansa has tears running down face, and turns to run away.

Her mother scolds her that night, and when everyone has gone to bed (thankfully, free of air raids for the night), Arya sits up in the parlor by herself.

Ned joins her, offering her a cup of newly rationed tea.

“You were cruel to your sister.”

Arya hangs her head.

“You should apologize before she leaves, or you might regret it.”

“She wouldn’t even care.”

Ned sighs, and wraps an arm around his daughter.

“Sansa loves you, she loves all of us. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have cared what you said to her.”

“Then why does she want to leave again?”

Ned looks at her carefully,

“Arya, what do you want from life?”

Arya tilts her head,

“I don’t really know. I’d like to learn to drive a car. I’d like to swim in the ocean. I’d like to try riding my bike further north, maybe over several days.”

She pauses, for a long time.

“I’d like to get a job, see what it’s like to support myself. I want to go swimming with Meera and Jojen. I want to take rides with Robb, I want Jon to explain everything to me that’s happening in the newspaper. I want to fight with Gendry over Weird Tales, then bring it home and read it with Bran anyway.”

“You want to stay at Winterfell.”

You want things to stay the way they used to be, is what he means, but doesn’t say.

It all sounds strange on Arya’s tongue. She’s always wanted adventure, read stories of jungle expeditions and space flights. Listening to her father’s stories from his days in the Navy as a young child, she’d once asked if she would ever do something so great. Ned had laughed, and the next day brought home a copy of 20,000 League Under the Sea.

The Nazis had stolen that from Arya. Now she longed for the war to end, and for her family to return home. She longed to help bring them home.

Arya nods, eventually. That really is the rub.

“Your mother’s always wanted the same for both you and Sansa what she had. She wants you two to marry well. To marry men of means who love you. For you to be good ladies, who live lives of ease. That would always involve you leaving, and I think that’s one of the reasons you’ve always fought so hard against it.”

Ned suddenly looks very sad.

“I don’t think any of that will happen any time soon. Sansa’s always been more open to the life your mother’s wanted. She’s seen life outside and wants more of it. There’s a lot of wonderful things in the world, outside of Wintefell. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, or her home.”

Ned leans over the squeeze Arya’s shoulders.

“I’m going on the train with Sansa tomorrow, to spend a few days in London.”

“What? Why.”

“Got a call from the foreman. Emergency he needs me to deal with.”

“Why doesn’t he ever call Robert with these?”

Ned laughs. Robert Baratheon, longtime friend, was part owner in the factory. Part owner, but Ned would be pressed to find if Robert gave it any thought whatsoever.

“Because Robert is all the way out in Cheshire, God’s knows how he spends his days.”

Arya still looks terribly downcast.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I understand what you were trying to tell Sansa, but you should still apologize for making her cry. I want to be together with all of you just as much as you do.”

And with that, Ned sends his daughter off to bed.

Sansa and Ned leave the next day on the same train, an hour later disembarking and parting ways.

Arya had watched the two of them leave, and try as she might, couldn’t take her father’s advice. Sansa hadn’t even looked her in the eye over breakfast.

Bombs fall again that night, and in the cellar, Arya feels empty.

The next day, Bran is listening to the wireless and tells her,

“They’re bombing London now.”

Arya feels her insides seize.

A few days he’d said. For once, Catelyn looks as upset as Arya. Ned had telephoned the first day, and the second, but they hadn’t heard from him since.

“They’re aiming for the docks, and the East End,” Bran tells everyone on the third day. “

Gilly chokes a bit, but doesn’t cry.

“My sisters- I hope some of them at least fled.”

“What about your father?” Bran asks.

“He can burn for all I care”.

On the end of the fourth day, Catelyn finally dials the telephone of the factory office.

They haven’t seen Ned since the day before. She tries again the next day. And the next.

Finally, someone gives them the answer.

Arya has never seen her mother collapse before. She’s making noises, like she’s gasping for air. She drops the phone.

Arya picks it up, and demands to know what her mother has just been told.

Parts of her feared, perhaps parts already knew.

Eddark Stark, believed deceased on the 9th of September in structural collapse of the Hotel Guilford….

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #gendrya #breera #sansaery #fic

17 notes · View notes

jack-andthestalk · 6 years

Text

Bad Decisions

Chapter 1

This is is my first attempt at I hope will be a multi part fanfic, obviously please say if you would like more ..

“Sassenach, did ye no hear me?

Clarie looked at him with a blank expression and prehaps a little annoyance in the look.

“Sorry Jamie, did you want me?

“Aye I was asking did you want to come with the rest of us to mill later for a dip”?

“Eh no, sorry Jamie I can't, if you’ll excuse me Im running late”

And with that she waved her beautiful head of curly hair and disappeared down the corridor. Jamie's stomach tightened He knew there was something seriously amiss with Claire this past few weeks but this was probably the first time she had blanked him so, she couldn't even bear to look at him.

The rest of the day he spent going over how wrongly he had assessed his plan in order to win Claire’s affections, he had long sought her attention, and had recently been inspired by a story Rupert had told him on winning his girlfirends Lizzie heart, and put his plan into action.

Claire lived on the border of his familys land, her uncle had bought several acres from his father about 6 years ago and with that Claire Beauchamp had swanned, flew or glided into his life...she was even at a young 12 years old the most beautiful thing he ever clapped his striking blue eyes on and although he didn't recognise it straight away, he later learned that he was falling in love with her while they struggled through their teenage years. But it was a big bridge to gap trying to turn them from childhood friends to something more as the years went on and Claire grew into a young woman it was hard to ignore her beauty, she was a fire cracker too in temperament too and extremely intelligent. But they had the awkard almost brother sister relationship due to their neighbour status and given that she was his sisters best friend, it only made it harder to get her to see him in any other light than the boy next door.

When Rupert began one night telling him over the stolen whiskey from his father Brian's stash, how he had eventually got lizzys attention , Jamie thought it was genius! he felt like alarm bells went off in his head. Lizzie Rupert’s girlfriend and long time crush simply had never noticed him so after Rupert began dating a string of lassies in senior year, it quickly got lizzies interest and the rest is history, they were now inseperable.

Jamie thought this was gold! He himself knew he could turn lassies heads, his height and build had come into their own the past couple of years and he worked hard in the gym and the football pitch to keep his fitness in top form. His red hair just made him stand out further, so he began his quest to date a few lassies from their year in the hope that it would have the same effect on Claire as it had on Lizzie.

He began with gusto after Hogmanay , he was nearly thinking he might not have to after His father Brian asked Claire and her uncle to spend Hogmanay with his family, he had spent a lovely holiday with Claire . Eating and drinking and lying on the couch in the family room watching movies with Jen and Ian, she had leaned up against him and he had slid his arm around her shoulder, he was in heaven . Later that evening he had grumbled over the sentimental movie Jenny had picked and she had laughed and looked up from his shoulder saying ‘poor baby’ in her cute little English accent, she was staring straight into his eyes so without conscious thought more a magnetic pull he had bent down and put his lips to hers beautiful full warm lips, and was just about to start exploring each other’s mouths when Jenny jumped up and turned on the lights making them jump apart. Damn Janet! God for the few seconds it lasted was like bliss He was sure he had turned her heart a tad after this but once they went back to school she had been quiet with him again and returned to their previous friendship status, so as he fought against the idea of dating others he eventually decided to start the dating game ...

The first few lassies were nice enough girls and he had no problem bringing them to the movies or for a bite to eat but they weren’t Claire and he missed her. He continued on though , a few times just in order to get right under her nose he had brought a date along with their mutual gang of friends , and although she was quiet with him and hoped he had seen a little bit of longing in her eyes she was nothing but courteous and even friendly to the lassies he had tag along.

Well that was until he had brought along the latest and last of his dates. Laoighaire Mc Kimmie, he had known Claire disliked her through school not sure exactly the reason but Laoighaire was the type of girl pleasant enough to the lads but didn’t exactly encourage female companionship, so he just put Claire’s dislike down to that. Laoighaire was pleasant enough to have on your arm and while she was a long way off Claire’s striking beauty she was a Bonnie enough wee thing. He had gone to a few of the lassies beds but that was more his cock in action than him and although the ending was the same he didn’t exactly feel any of them had set him alight . Not the way he felt when he only looked at Claire never mind having her in his bed .

Well it all went wrong after he brought Laoghaire out a few times, Claire left early the first time and didn’t rejoin the gang after that. He soon blew Laoghaire off , and Claire after much persuasion from Jenny rejoined the group outings but she all but ignored Jamie despite his constant invitations or try at flirtation .

That evening after thinking on Claire’s last reaction to him he could take no more and as much as he loathed to get her advise he knocked softly on his sisters door to seek her advise on the matter, as far as he was aware Jenny wasn’t aware of his true feelings for Claire but he could simply broach the subject as a concerned friend ... or that was the plan .

“Come in, oh Jamie what’s up?”

“Eh Jenny, I was just wondering ... Em .. the thing is..”

“Spit it out brother !!”

“I was just em wondering if you knew if there was .. eh .. something up with Claire?”

If Jenny was expecting this question she hid it well under her slanted blue eyes identical to his own .

“Wrong with her? In what way brother?”

Christ she wasn’t going to make this easy!

“Well it’s just she seems to be nearly off with me or something , I can’t quite put my finger on it but she seems to be running away from me every time I see her”

“Oh”

Jenny clearly knew exactly what was wrong .

She lowered her head and pressed her lips together.

“Well I’d imagine it’s to do with Laoghaire”

For a minute his heart soared so maybe his plan had worked if Claire was jealous over Laoghaire . Maybe she still thought he was seeing her, maybe she had engaged in the game to show him what he was missing .. well she needn’t bother with that, he knew fine well already..

“Oh right Jenny I see”

“Do ye though brother?”

“I think so aye, she isn’t keen on me dating the lassie”

“Well maybe that is partially it’ she replied hesitantly ‘but it’s more that you’ve hurt her truly’

Hurt her! Christ he hadn’t thought of that. Claire was too strong willed to have a bit of childish jealousy hurt her. God that was never his intention...

‘Jenny why ... eh what I mean to say is ..

Before he could continue Jenny cut him off.

‘It’s not the dating it’s the person you picked’ she continued. She looked at Jamie as if he could either be mad or stupid.

‘Oh right.. well I Dinna intend on seeing Laoghaire again so il explain that to her..’

‘Jamie I can tell you don’t know the full truth of it so I’m going to explain it to you like you’re 3’

He raised his eyes here but eager for her to continue ..

Laoghaire has treated Claire terrible since she joined our school 6 years ago has done all types of terrible unmentionable acts , wrote on the bathroom walls how Claire is a slut and to be honest that’s the mildest example’ tripped her up in public, called her names in front of the class, she has bad mouthed her to almost all of the football team , although I Dinna think that put any of them off wanting to date Claire’ she continued but that was Laoighaire’s intention.

The last part made Jamie’s heart twist, it never occurred to him that while he played his dating game he had stiff competition from nearly all of his team mates for Claire’s heart! Christ what if she ...

Jenny was on a role though, so she continued to explain as if he was three..

‘In general though she made Claire’s life a living hell’

Jamie wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Christ Jenny you cannae think I knew any of this.. I would never .. ever have involved myself with the lassie had I known ..’

‘Aye Jamie I ken that but it nae the point is it?’

‘Janet .. please explain to her I Dinna ken ..’

‘Jamie’ she stopped him.

‘Claire is the loyalist sole I know to her it shouldna mattered what Laoghhaire exactly did to her or if you knew the details of it ..you kenned well Claire didn’t like her, of all the girls you could have picked Jamie what possessed you to pick her!!’

Jenny was exasperated she looked like she wanted to kill him. He didn’t blame her oh god what a fool he was. He couldn’t answer her last question.

The answer stuck in Jamie’s throat, he couldn’t bring himself to confess to Jenny why he had chosen Laoghaire to get Claire’s attention , he already felt enough of a fool.

His heart was literally hurting in his chest. Oh god how would he ever make Claire see.

Jenny maybe having seen his crest fallen expression continued a little more softly.

‘Jamie if the shoe was reversed and Claire kenned someone you mistrusted she would never give them the time of day.. you know she turned down Tom Christie because she knows you dinna like him, Claire told him as much that was on account of her friendship with you, so when you had Laoghaire on your arm he took great delight in chastising her that you dinna return her loyalty, Claire just kept her head held high even though through those weeks you were seeing Laoghaire , she still picked on Claire and pulled her stupid silly tricks. Tell ya the truth Jamie I wanted to knock her out cold but Claire wouldna let me. Claire is too dignified . God even Ian, Angus and Rupert are annoyed at you for bringing that girl around our gang Claire hasn’t been the same since!

Jenny spat the last sentence at him,Jamie actually had a lump in his throat and he wanted to cry.

The look on his sisters face told him there was something else , at this stage he knew he had tears in his eyes so Jenny hesitantly continued but he knew she had to say it that this conversation had been on Jenny’s mind for longer than he realised . She loved Claire and was absolutely 100% raging with him for hurting her so.

‘Jamie’ she said at last ..

‘Of all the girls you dated for God’s sake Laoighaire is the one girl that is the least discreet .. do ye no think that even I have heard about you taking her to bed ? you honestly think Claire escaped Laoighaire taunting her of what it felt like to have you ?

‘Jesus Jamie!’ You do even ken the damage you’ve done to yer friendship.

Jamie thought he heard his heart break

#outlander fanfic #outlander #jamiefraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #jenny fraser

131 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

6K notes · View notes

trb-reacts · 6 years

Text

The Raven Boys, Chapter 12

Adam wasn’t waiting by the bank of mailboxes in the morning.

Oh no. Please tell me Adam was fine and wasn’t caught. Tell me no one hurt our sweet, elegant boy.

Actually, more properly, he’d used it as a place to turn around and head back the way he’d come. […] At the sight of Gansey’s Aglionby sweater, Adam’s father had charged out, firing on all cylinders.

Lol, oh, Gansey, turn around and head back the way he’d come. I’m also just very afraid for Adam though. If Adam’s father reacts this way to Gansey in his Aglionby sweater, just how exactly does Adam’s father react to Adam attending Aglionby?

For weeks after that, Ronan had called Gansey “the S.R.F.,” where the S stood for Soft, the R stood for Rich, and the F for something else.

Lol, something else, huh?

His watch said he had eighteen minutes to make the fifteen-minute drive to school.

It’s okay, Gansey, I’ve done 10 minute walks within 5 minutes, because I always leave the house too late and have no sense of time. I managed, though, and made it on time, with 2 minutes of lateness. Yay me.

Noah had let him leave his journal behind at Nino’s after all, and its absence was surprisingly unsettling.

I’m sorry, Gansey, but how old are you? Noah let you leave your journal behind? Have a sense of responsibility, would you, tho I would admit that I would be exceedingly upset if I lost my journal full of my writings.

And Dick Gansey II had let his son know that if he couldn’t hack it in a private school, Gansey was cut out of the will.

He’d said it nicely, though, over a plate of fettuccine.

Oh, the rich people’s version of B+?? You only got a B+?? Only Asians get the threat of a beating (semi-kidding), while rich people get the threat of a fortune taken away with they get below a B. I wonder which one is worse.

He felt the old fear creeping slowly out of his lungs.

Don’t panic. You were wrong about Ronan last night. You have to stop this. Death isn’t as close as you think.

… I would like to be reassuring and tell Gansey he’s right, except Whelk’s friend did die when they went on their quest to search for the king. And I mean, a beating and death is not that far apart for Adam, is it? I’m concerned, especially with this unexpected radio silence.

Adam must’ve taken his bike, he must’ve had work, he must’ve had errands to run and forgotten to tell him. The rutted drive down to the neighborhood was still empty. Come on, Adam. Wiping his palms on his slacks, he put his hands back on the steering wheel and headed for the school.

Gansey, I’m admittedly a little disappointed in you. School > friend? I mean, I get it, I’m a student crazy about my grade too and most of the time, the worse case scenario isn’t usually actually what happens, though, Gansey? You called him out last night, knowing that consequences would be bad if Adam was caught. You called him, asked him for a favor from one friend to another, and Adam granted it, gave it to you without much more than a second thought for his own wellbeing, because you asked. And now you leave your wait for Adam, without knowing what happened to him at all? You coulda at least went by Adam’s home to see if he is there and then walk in late to class, though I admittedly don’t know how well rich boarding schools take walking in late to class.

Ronan was head of class in Latin. He studied joylessly but relentlessly, as if his life depended on it. Directly behind him was Adam, Aglionby’s star pupil, otherwise at the top of every class that he took. Like Ronan, Adam studied relentlessly, because his future life did depend on it.

He studied joylessly but relentlessly, as if his life depended on it. Oh, me in every single one of my classes. Joyless and relentless, because my future life depends on it. Not the star pupil like Adam, though I try.

I’m also getting the Ronan/Adam vibe again. Adam, top in every single one of his class except for Latin, the only class that Ronan tries and therefore excels at. I wonder if Adam gets infuriated by Ronan, the way Ronan doesn’t care about anything including his own talent and intelligence, but shines so brightly when he does try like a light flickering to life at night.

…. Would it be a stretch if I add ‘and Adam is helpless drawn by it, like moth to flame.’? Probably, but I don’t care. Ronan probably won’t burn Adam much tho. Probably. Hopefully.

He’d originally resigned himself to taking Latin in order to translate historical texts for Glendower research, but Ronan’s proficiency at the language robbed Gansey’s study of any urgency.

I’m so both amazed by Gansey’s dedication to his reasearch to even consider learning an entire other language (i understand how tough learning another language could be, since I suck at it, even without considering reading and writing formal text in another foreign language) and amused by Gansey’s typical student laziness. I don’t need to take it? Great, not gonna bother then, thank you very much.

Ronan hissed, “Where’s Parrish?”

Oh, no. Adam!! Also, Ronan cares~

Behind Gansey, someone punched his shoulder blade and said, Gansey boy! as they trotted by. Gansey halfheartedly lifted three fingers, the signal of the rowing team.

Gansey boy! Lol. Also, Gansey’s in the rowing team? He is popular.

A few months earlier, Gansey had offered to buy Adam a cell phone, and by so doing had launched the longest fight they’d ever had, a week of silence that had resolved itself only when Ronan did something more offensive than either of them could accomplish.

I’m so… I don’t know. I understand why Adam would be like, fuck you, I’m not a charity case, but at the same time… sometimes when you see your friend struggling, it physically hurts to have the means to help and just not be allowed to help. Gansey should say stuff like, “Oh, it’ll be easier to help me contact you, which would aid us in our quest. Also, think of this as me investing in you. You can pay me back for the phone later.’ Or just… sell Adam one of his old phone for cheap, idk.

This reminds me of *spoiler if you haven’t read The Foxhole Court* Andrew buying Neil a phone and Neil looking at it like it’s the devil the first time around. Though, to be fair, Neil and Adam are in different circumstance here.

Also, I’m so amused by this: a week of silence that had resolved itself only when Ronan did something more offensive than either of them could accomplish. Glad to see Ronan’s antagonistic nature has its perks. No one can seem offensive when in comparison to me!

Thank you, Ronan, thank you.

“Lynch!” the call came again. “I’m going to fuck you up.”

Wow, that’s… a very strong sentiment. Also, wow, I just noticed but Ronan’s last name is Lynch. Lynch, as in, *give me a second to google the formal definition*

lynch /verb/:

(of a mob) kill (someone), especially by hanging, for an alleged offense with or without a legal trial.

synonyms: execute illegally, hang, kill; informal string up

“he was lynched by the mob”

Lynch, with all those good feels here. The word lynch reminds of of martyrs and I wonder why I feel like Ronan would be the martyr, despite his strong personality implying/faking that he would be the one doing the lynching.

Gansey contemplated if he could give Ronan a curfew. Or if he should quit rowing to spend more time with him on Fridays — he knew that was when Ronan got into trouble with the BMW. Maybe he could convince Ronan to …

Gansey boy!: the Mom Friend of the group.

Gansey asked, “Why are you carrying that bag? Oh my God, you have that bird in there, don’t you.”

Whoops, I forgot about the raven. How could I forget about Chain Saw!!

“If you get caught with that thing —” But Gansey couldn’t think of a suitable threat. What was the punishment for smuggling a live bird into classes? He wasn’t certain there was precedent.

Ronan, breaking boundaries and making history left and right. I feel like Ronan is the type that prompts people to make new, weirdly specific rules like, “Guys, please, place your hand over the bleaker and gently wave a bit towards you. By heavens, don’t stick it under your nose and sniff like you would with drugs and most of all, I can’t believe I have to say this, but Do Not Drink It! It’s not edible, do you hear me, and definitely do not miss your mouth and accidentally splash it all over your eyes and then knock everyone’s bleaker over and spill the contents all over someone else’s eyes! This is a Safe Zone, you hear me, and we’re gonna Keep It That Way.”

“If it dies in your bag, I forbid you to throw it out in a classroom.” “She,” Ronan corrected. “It’s a she.”

I love how Ronan corrected the impersonal ‘it’ to a ‘she’. Oh, Ronan is such a softie underneath everything.

Though there was no reason to think Whelk cared about their conversation, Gansey had the strange idea that the lifted piece of chalk in Whelk’s hand was because of them, that the Latin teacher had stopped writing merely to listen in. Adam’s suspicion really was beginning to rub off on him.

Um, Gansey dear, actuallly, Adam’s suspicion is very well founded and also, just listen to your gut instincts. Your guts Knows, alright, it Knows, Gansey.

Ronan caught Whelk’s eye and held it in an unfriendly sort of way.

Oh, I love Ronan. Stare ‘em down, Ronan, stare ‘em down.

Because he despised everyone, Ronan wasn’t a good judge of character, but Gansey had to agree that there was something discomfiting about Whelk. A few times, Gansey had tried to hold a conversation with him about Roman history, knowing full well the effect an enthusiastic academic conversation could have on an otherwise listless grade. But Whelk was too young to be a mentor and too old to be a peer, and Gansey couldn’t find an angle.

If Gansey finds it discomfiting every time he can’t find an angle to talk to someone, he would not like my awkward little life or attempts at small talks. I’ll need to know you for a full three months before I can comfortably greet you without thinking ‘Am I overstepping my boundary? Can I greet them and acknowledge them outside of where we met? Do they even remember me or find my greetings too bothersome?’ Yeah, I have lots of anxiety about lots of stuff.

Also, Gansey’s such a nerd that he finds it weird when he can’t nerd out with someone who is supposedly a fellow nerd.

Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.

Me, covering my mouth with a hand, tear brimming my eyes as I reenact the ‘you’re doing amazing, sweetie’ meme. Probably shouldn’t be encouraging him, heavens knows Ronan doesn’t need more encouragement, but I love it when Ronan acts so... him.

And: there was something about his stare that took something from the other person. I love it!

Gansey would’ve basked once more in the odds of Ronan of finding a raven, but at the moment, with Adam missing, his quest didn’t feel like magic; it felt like years spent piecing together coincidences, and all he had made from it was a strange cloth — too heavy to carry, too light to do any good at all.

Oh, love it. Some doubts from Gansey on his quest, the what-if my faith isn’t really faith, but rather delusions? What if there really isn’t magic and these coincidence (fate, magic) really are just coincidental events that a mad man strung together thinking that they had any correlation or significance at all?

Also, I love the metaphor with a cloth!! Too heavy to carry, too light to do any good at all; I spent too much time and energy and faith on it to abandon it now, and yet what had all the time and energy and faith invested really given me in return? Only strings of nothings connected by the thin, nebulous thread of ‘coincidences’.

"You seem to have an extremely large bag today, Mr. Lynch," Whelk said. "You know what they say about men with large bags," Ronan replied. "Ostendes tuum et ostendam meus?" Gansey had no idea what Ronan had just said, but he was certain from Ronan’s smirk that it wasn’t entirely polite.

So, when faced with untranslated babbles of unknown because I’m not cultured enough to be fluent in more than one language, I can never resist finding out what they mean by turning to the trusty google translate.

Before that, let me guess what he says without translating the Latin phrase and then maybe we can compare my guess to what he actually said.

Guess 1: “You know what they say about men with large bags. They have large baggages,” because symbolism is so my thing. Except Ronan’s Latin phrase ends in a question mark and I think symbolism about bags and baggages is more of my thing than Ronan’s.

Guess 2: “You know what they say about men with large bags. They have huge dicks,” because I can imagine Ronan making a dick joke here, except that’s also not a question. Ronan, what did you say????

Okay, I’m gonna cheat.

Final Guess: “You know what they say about men with large bags. They have huge dicks, amiright?” There, I got the question mark in there now. Totally showed that stupid question mark.

Answer: Ostendes tuum et ostendam meus? = You show me yours and I will show

... I’m not entirely sure what that means, so here’s another two guesses, this time on what this translated Lain phrase mean. Gee, Ronan, I like you, but you’re driving me nuts.

Guess 1: I’m totally right and it’s a dick joke. “You show me your, erm, jewels, and I’ll show you mine.” I like this one because I inappropriately like random oblique dick jokes in Latin, but also because it means Ronan is maybe not entirely straight so my ship with him and Adam might actually be able to leave the port.

Guess 2: I’m sadly wrong and Ronan is a bright diamond, meaning he’s not only shiny and awesome, but also damn sharp. (Actually diamonds aren’t the sharpest, I’m thinking about... hardness. Diamond’s the hardest of all rocks, I think, and I just compared Ronan to a diamond, so I’ll just leave that here.) Ronan is onto Whelk and he knows that Whelk’s been keeping an eye on them, so Ronan is saying, “You show me your cards, your secrets, and I might impart mine as well, including telling you about what’s in my ‘extremely large bag’.” (I really needa stop making dick jokes.)

Anyway, the second guess unfortunately sounds more plausible, though Ronan’s smirk seem to imply a bit more of the first guess. Yeah, I don’t know. Tell me if there’s an official interpretation of this or if I misunderstood?

"Being a shit in Latin isn’t the way to an A," Gansey said.

Ronan’s smile was golden. "It was last year."

Ronan’s smile was golden!! *cries* Oh, my son!! I love him so much.

Adam never showed.

And the somber reminder came back. I really, really hope Adam is okay. I miss him, and I’m sure the boys do too.

#the raven boys #the raven cycle #trc #trb #chapter 12 #this one is ridiculously long

2 notes · View notes

phoenixagent003 · 3 years

Text

The Castle Campaign Diary 01

I have long, long thought that buried in the new X-COM games is the recipe for a great D&D campaign. Something about that core loop of base-building and going on missions feeding into each other, coupled with the ability to customize soldiers, is just so captivating, and the turn based, class based combat gave me the same kind of warm fuzzies D&D usually does. Except, you know, it was guns instead of swords, and aliens instead of monsters. And I actually really missed the swords and monsters after a few dozen playthroughs of X-COM.

So, a while ago, I started crafting some fairly simple systems centered around researching and crafting magic items, and some base building mechanics largely cribbed from the Artisan Followers section of Strongholds and Followers, and eventually I had enough of it built that I was ready to put it in front of the my longtime and long suffering friends and players. The result is a campaign I’m calling the Castle, which, with any luck, will be the campaign I run for my friends for a long time to come.

I started off the way I always do, floating the basic pitch of the campaign to my friends, and when they seemed receptive enough to the concept (Though, I think they just really wanted to play D&D and were willing to accept my weirdness as the price of admission) for me to float them a few documents to get them started with character creation, laying down the basic state of the world, starting level, and what races were most common to the world. And also clarifying that this was a standard fantasy setting, something we have to do in my group because we have played D&D with just about every kind of coat of paint you can image.

When I was first coming up with the campaign, I was more focused on the structure than story or setting, so I didn’t actually put too much thought into the broader world, but I did eventually decide that the campaign takes place in the distant past of the same world I created for my Glintchasers novels and shorts. I think that decision was mostly motivated by laziness, but the side effect is a nice bit of synchronicity in any future worldbuilding tidbits I come up with for the campaign. I’ve already used the game as an excuse to figure out the original names and origins of the gods. And it already came up in game! That shit was literally never going to come up in the books.

So, speaking of the game, how did it go?

Well, to be honest, it got off to a slightly rocky start. I began the campaign with the players traveling through the wilderness in search of the ruined castle that was going to become their home base, and that I think was a good decision. It was a very evocative starting point. But then I ruined it by trying to force the characters to roleplay too early. As part of the journey through the woods, I had each player roll on a Travel Events chart I crafted for the game, which is basically just a roleplay prompt chart, but the players were not yet super comfortable with their characters, and the prompts of the chart were a little too vague, so they kind of floundered a bit and it was a little awkward. Towards the end though, they did start getting into it. One of the players got the result of seeing a shooting star in the night, and he really hammed up how his character interpreted it as a sign from the gods that they were on the right path.

So maybe it wasn’t the players, maybe some of the prompts were just crap. I think I’ll get a better handle on that as we start using it more.

Eventually, the players arrived at the castle. The secondary characters, who would be like the extra soldiers or B-Team if this were an X-COM game, scouted out the grounds of the castle while the A-Team, everybody’s main characters, went inside the castle itself. And of course, after a bit of searching around where they found some rooms and tools that would become their downtime facilities, they found some bandits it in the process of ransacking this ruin for whatever its worth.

Given the premise of the world being that its basically post-apocalyptic, I wanted to be careful to not make these guys too sympathetic. This was supposed to be the first combat where the players try out their characters. And I was worried since the world has been set up to be a very scrappy, survival of the fittest place, that the players might feel bad cutting down people trying to look for resources. So I played the bandits up as assholes, who immediately mark the players as walking loot drops, and they refuse the players offers of peace and immediately charge in. Later on in the campaign, I’d be more than happy to introduce a greater degree of moral complexity to some of the encounters, but for now, it’s the tutorial fight, and the games about fighting monsters, I didn’t see the need to overcomplicate things.

And that was really all the excuse everybody needed to go ham. The poor bandits actually really didn’t stand a chance. The “main” party’s roster is

Tina Cox, Aasimar Paladin

Selena Caslana, Dragonborn-descended Sorcerer

Camden Wayne, Artificer

Bartholomew Knightengale, Human Paladin

Dominik Leoguard, Human Fighter

So yeah, with three high armor class, heavy hitting characters, the bandits didn’t really do much more than scratch a couple of the PCs. But they had a blast, and everyone actually did a really great job of roleplaying their character during combat, which is not something you always see in combats but on reflection, I actually think my group is pretty great at doing consistently. Dominik and Bartholomew’s players especially really enjoyed the fight, since they were playing comically proud, crusading knights and effortlessly deflecting the blows of these bandits really played into the fantasy of their characters.

Dominik really shined towards the end when the last few enemies were on elevated balconies, and he, a high strength polearm user, actually had just enough reach to stab at them with a running high jump. And because he took the Charger feat, he did a lot of damage (I know Charger is actually bad, and honestly the only reason Dominik’s player took it was because he’s new and doesn’t know its bad, but hey, he managed to get some good use out of it this combat).

The last bandit actually managed to survive like three attacks on him from everybody rolling consecutive super low rolls, which just added to the hilarity that was that fight. After a few rounds of just obliterating these bandits, it took like three people to finish off one guy.

After the fight was over, I announced that the characters officially had the run of the castle, and gave them the rest of the handouts they would need to keep track of the campaign’s metagame, and gave them handouts for “Mission Leads” which are the short, episodic little quests they’ll be embarking on from the castle. And actually the first couple of them take place on the castle grounds. They needed to clear out the surrounding land, and they needed to clear out the lower levels.

But this was the point where I had to remind the players that this campaign was using the Gritty Realism resting rules, which if you don’t know, are variant rules in the 5th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide that say a short rest is eight hours, and a long rest is week. And immediately the two paladins and sorcerer, who had burned literally all their spells were like “Oh God! We’re useless for a week?!”

And, you know, the thing about 5th Edition D&D is it’s supposedly balanced and designed around the party having like 6-8 medium-difficulty encounters between each long rest, but the way I run things (and this is a problem a lot of people seem to run into), it’s often atypical for the party to get into more than one or two fights a day, so when I decided to structure a campaign after X-COM, a game where if you soldier gets hit they can be out of commission for a good chunk of time, I figured this was the perfect opportunity to bust those rules out and see what the game looks like when the party has to pace themselves a little bit more.

I haven’t really seen much of that yet—so far the group’s standard operating procedure is still to long rest after a single encounter’s worth of fights, but that’s partly because they’re still at a stage where they can get away with that. There isn’t currently a ticking clock forcing them to consider their time wisely, but there will be soon. And for now, just the realization of the players that they needed to be more conservative with their resources or cop a week on the bench was enough sign to me that I think these rules are a move in the right direction.

And one thing the rules did immediately facilitate was the B-Team! The players realized “Hey, there’s all this stuff we have left to do to clear out the castle grounds, but we’re tapped for the day—let’s send our secondary characters to take care of this.” And just—yes! I could not have scripted it better. The players immediately latched on to the secondary characters as a strategic option to use when they were out of commission with zero prompting from me.

So, the players sent a B-Team out to clear the castle grounds while the A-Team recharged their batteries, and this encounter led to my favorite part of the whole session. For reference, the B-Team sent out was:

Emily Thomas, Tabaxi-descended rogue (Tina’s player)

Kyle Reiner, Human Fighter (Selena’s player)

Issac Scout, Human Ranger (Camden’s player)

Kale Vulpix (Bartholomew’s player)

While the B-Team was clearing the castle grounds, they ran into some bandits and some undead. And the undead killed the bandits, the B-Team killed some of the undead, grabbed the treasure the bandits had on them, and then retreated. Which was technically mission success, but then—again, with no prompting from me—Tina’s player did a write-up of Emily giving a mission report to Tina about what happened. And since the B-Team didn’t clear all the undead, Tina told Emily “If those undead aren’t cleared out by the end of my long rest, you are going to scrub the floors of this castle until you can eat off them.”

I loved that. That was basically everything I was hoping to get out of this campaign’s structure in one hit. There was a player reflecting on how the mission went, thinking about the consequences, roleplaying her downtime, and taking the initiative to essentially create her own quest. I immediately awarded inspiration for that, and then I gave inspiration to all the character who went with Emily to go clear out the undead, which ended up being Kyle and Issac again.

And them clearing out the undead was the end of the session. And overall, I thought things went really well, excepting of course the slightly awkward start. Immediately after things were over, all the players pretty much immediately told me that they liked the campaign’s whole shtick and were looking forward to more, which was music to my ears and I think a pretty good sign things are working as intended. Event the first bandit fight, which was kind of a cakewalk, was still fun, and it served as a proof of concept for a little extra ability I’d given them.

Thanks for checking out the campaign diary! I’ve been running D&D since 2015, and I’ve wanted to share my experiences with it for a while, but this campaign was sort of the first time I ever actually knuckled down and started writing about it while the experience was still fresh in my mind.

Huge thanks to my players for being as amazing as they are, and I’ll see you all in the next write up.

0 notes

girlwsoftsound · 7 years

Text

Unspoken Promise || Matty Healy Oneshot

Word Count: 2,520 Summary: “Matty and the reader have known each other since high school and have been friends with benefits. They’ve never been in a real relationship with each other and they aren't good for each other (so like drugs and alcohol). Then later the reader becomes pregnant (not Matty’s tho) and all the boys are basically fathers to this kid and one day her child goes missing?? Author’s Note: Have you ever written something that you love so much that afterwards you just sit there and think about it for a while because you love it so much? That’s me with this fic. I hope you feel the same. Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

You met him when you were fifteen.

A scrawny lad with too much hair and too much time, he should not have been as attractive as he was to you. He was loud, his friends were loud, he had a carefree attitude at times when it was the opposite of what was needed, he favored music more than his grades - he should’ve been appalling. However, something about the boy with blackish-brown hair drew you to him. Something made you want to ditch class, find him in the nearest hall and push him up against the lockers just to taste the sweet and harsh taste of his lips. When he took up smoking the year after, you wanted nothing more than to catch him on ‘smoke breaks’ of his and do the same. Two months into his habit, he obliged.

It never grew more than simple fooling around. Sure, Matty loved the feel of your skin against his and, over time, grew to love the way you gave head and made him laugh. Sure, you thought Matty was the closest thing to God that you would experience on Earth and wanted to never forget the way his hands traced up and down your body. But you never pushed it past that. Matty never asked you to go steady, and you never hinted to him for him to do so. Perhaps it was the drugs he fell into, or the fact that his alcohol consumption seemed to rub off on you to the point where it became trouble. You both agreed that you would be bad for each other as anything more than friends with benefits. And that’s where things stood, all the way until the end of school.

There was something sad about saying goodbye to Matty on the last day of school. You, smart as ever, were off to an amazing university with the world practically waiting for the moment it could whisk you away to a wonderful job and a beneficial life. Matty, on the other hand, was ready to get out of school and go with his friends, his band, on a quest to get signed and become famous. Your paths were going in two very opposite, very uncertain directions. You doubted you would ever see each other again. After one last secret moment together, Matty told you he would always love and be there for you. It was not meant to be romantic love, but rather a friendly love you could trust, one that you had a feeling in the pit of your stomach would last forever and never waver through the years. Teary eyed, you told him the same back. He smiled.

Contact fizzled out in the years to come. You went through Uni, getting high marks and eventually finding yourself in the middle of your dream job, living life to the fullest and making a name for yourself in your field. You found a great guy by the name of Keith, and ended up moving into a shared apartment with him in the middle of the city. Meanwhile, Matty struggled with his band, pushing through small gigs and begging to find someone who would pick them up. They took silly gigs, gigs that barely made sense for them, just to keep the dream alive. You remembered passing by a really grimey pub on your way to a work assignment and seeing their name, The 1975, plastered on the bottom of a list of performers for the night. All the while, his bad habits continued. For whatever reason, he couldn’t catch a break. His band couldn’t catch a break. His dream was beginning to seem hopeless.

The universe has a funny way of tricking people, though.

The changes came suddenly. Walking in, tired from a busy day, wishing to fall on your bed and not waking until fully rested. Finding instead the shape of another next to Keith. A meltdown. Panicked calls to anyone, someone, who you knew could give you refuge. A pay cut in your job, because the sting of losing one consistency wasn’t enough. Tears, turning your eyes red. Overnight, the little piece of heaven you had created fell apart into shambles.

Overnight, Matty became a star.

A connection to a man name Jamie, getting signed to his label, getting played over radio stations. Suddenly, the small venues grew too small. Matty Healy, the crazed boy with bad habits and a lack of responsibility, no longer unknown to the world. Money came in faster than he could count it. Sure, drugs were easier to get and alcohol no longer took a dip in his paycheck, but he was becoming happier. They were less of a necessity. His dream was finally becoming a reality. His time to shine, realized.

He did not expect to hear your voice again.

Desperate, pleading through tears for a place to stay, crying over some boyfriend who had cheated and left you to dry, homeless, hurting. He never heard you that way, not even after failed exams and family quarrels hit you. He accepted you back into his life without question. You took up a guest bedroom, and he made sure to send any extra money he could to make sure that you were well taken care of. That’s what friends were for, after all. That’s what he had promised to do, implied he would always be there to do, all those years ago before Uni.

It’s what he continued to do when you found out on a cold winter night two months later that you were pregnant.

No questions were asked. He did not have to ask the baby’s father, nor did he want to given your shattered state on the bathroom floor, the test proving your circumstance thrown across it and hiding behind the pepto-bismol-pink bathroom sink. He held you close, kissing your forehead, rubbing your shoulders, promising you would be alright. It would be alright. He would ensure you would be alright.

You lost your job two weeks later.

Matty held you then again, promising the same.

He held those promises.

On tours, people would approach Matty with questions about you, the girl that seemed to follow them on the bus yet never could be found doing much other than watching the shows from the sidelines and grow bigger by the day. Most probably thought you a groupie Matty had impregnated and felt too bad to discard to the side. You let them think that. Matty would correct them when he could, but you did not bother with it much. You were just happy to have somewhere to go, some place to exist. Did you feel bad about living off the boys and not having a way to give back? Surely so. But Matty refused to let you do anything else. Love, after all, made people do crazy things.

When your water broke, the band thankfully was in the middle of a break, a day gap between performances. You did not expect your child to be born in America, yet there you were, whisked away to some American hospital with the boys at your side, encouraging you through the pain and the agony. Jamie, considering you part of the family after all these months of knowing you, pushed the tour date the next day back a day. It would make them have to rush to the next city, but it would give you a day to adjust, and the boys a day to watch over you. The fans would understand. They would have to. Matty wouldn’t have performed even if the concert didn’t move, because even though he had no blood relation to this baby and no reason to stick along with it, he was the closest thing to a father figure it would ever have. He’d be damned if he missed its birth.

Your daughter, Elise Grace, was born in the wee early hours of the day.

Matty was the second person to hold her.

You both were smitten.

When the concert finally was performed, Matty walked out and, on the first chance he had, gushed to the crowd about the newborn that had caused the delay in their festivities.

“She’s not mine,” he assured the crowd, “but she’s gorgeous.”

The cool thing about your circumstances, living life on the road with the boys, was the fact that they got to be there with you for all of Elise’s firsts. Her first laugh came courtesy of George, who had been playing with a toy dog a fan had thrown up on stage for Matty and, in the process of shaking it around, amused her enough to emit a small giggle. You were the first he ran to, Matty the second. The look of pride on the man’s face was a sight you never would forget.

Her first steps came at the arms of Matty. As soon as she could stand, he had her holding his hands to try to walk every second off he had. She took her first steps backstage in Prague. Matty nearly cried, he was so happy. He paraded her around for everyone soon after. You felt your heart soar at the sight. It was the happiest you were until Adam and Ross collectively got her to say her first word. You were chuffed to know they had taught her ‘Mama’.

The first concert she fully went to without having to be brought back to the tour bus to sleep, Matty brought her out on stage and gushed about her to the crowd. She had curls now, big ol’ brown ones that framed her face and made her green eyes stand out that much more. Fans were smitten with her by then as much as Matty had been the first day he spoke about her to them. The Tour Baby, she was called. Everyone loved her. They loved her even more when, feeling like doing something special, Matty sang Old MacDonald for her on stage. The amount of cameras recording the moment ensured that her first concert experience was a day that never would be forgotten.

It was as if life had finally decided to relax.

Of course, that wouldn’t do.

A hot summer day. Some town in the U.K. on some random tour date. You were walking the town with Matty, simply looking for something to do before the concert later that day, little two and a half year old Elise walking alongside you. There was a clothing shop, and you just had to explore it. The three of you dove inside. Matty went to the men’s section, and you brought Elise to the women’s. He dabbled a bit in the women’s clothing before the both of you met to pay at the register. The door was open to let out the heat. You thought Matty had hold of her. Matty thought you had hold of her. When all was paid, you realized neither of you had her. Upon searching with the store owner, everyone realized your fears had been brought to life.

Elise was lost.

Someone had her.

That was what your mind immediately thought of as you scanned the streets outside the place. A two year old could not be hard to miss walking alone in the streets, could it? Matty’s voice was frantic on the phone, calling for police and then afterwards for the band to come help look. Alerts were issued calling all in the area to look for your little girl, brown curls, her father’s nose, your kind heart, your smile. The show was cancelled, to possibly be rescheduled at a later date. No one knew for sure. Jamie said he would care about that once the little girl was back home safe. George stayed out all night looking for her, having to be brought back home by Jamie so that he didn’t harm himself from not eating, drinking, or sleeping. Ross and Adam went on separate road trips to find her in adjacent cities. You stayed at home with Matty, returning to his flat in Manchester and sitting, waiting, even praying for a phone call, a sighting, anything. His arms wrapped around you and let you sob for hours. He couldn’t stop replaying the last moment he saw her in his mind, the guilt eating him alive. Holding you was all he could do to make him not feel so shitty about the situation. His arms around you was all that was keeping you from doing the same.

You went twenty-four hours without a single call.

Twenty-four heartbreaking, paralyzing hours, full of pleads through social media and rewards being issued for her safe return. Anything to get her home.

Then, the phone rang.

You answered in seconds.

She’s okay.

Found somewhere just outside of the greater Manchester area, her hair wet from rain, but safe. You did not know if she had been dropped off there by an abductor, too scared to face the crime but also not wishing to keep her hostage from her family, or if she had somehow managed to walk there herself. You did not care. Neither did Matty. Neither did the band. All any of you cared about was that she was going to come home, she was safe, and the nightmare was going to have a happy ending.

The five of you, plus Jamie, showed up to the station to pick her up. Other than her hair being damp and her clothes a bit tattered, she looked fine. Holding her again brought some kind of elation you never imagined existed. George pet her head, Adam and Ross kissed her softly on top of her curls, and Jamie reached to squeeze her little hand. Matty stole her from your arms to hug her close to his chest the moment you were able to stop crying so hard. He let his own array of tears fall.

You had never seen him cry like that, but you supposed it was fitting. Even though he had no connection to this little girl, nothing binding him to her other than the fact he shagged you a few times back before Uni and fell for your smile and the feel of you against him, he had been there for her every step of the way. He had loved her like his own, cared for her like his own, adored her like his own. He was more of a father to her than you were certain her true father could have been had things not fallen sour between the two of you. He had every right to cry his eyes out over finding her, because though he had made his spoken promise to love you all those years ago, that promise had unspokenly carried over to apply to her as well.

It always would apply to her.

That night, Matty fell asleep with her at his side on the bus.

Upon drifting off to sleep, you briefly heard him promise to never let her fear again.

Upon drifting off to sleep, you knew he would do his best to keep that promise.

You slept well.

#matty healy #The 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy preference #the 1975 fanfiction #The 1975 fic #The 1975 imagine #matthew healy imagine #matthew healy fanfic #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy oneshot #The 1975 Oneshot #oneshot #matty healy writing #The 1975 writing #Unspoken Promise

71 notes · View notes

sylvernerdgirl-blog · 7 years

Text

Funny Things People Say

Funny quotes people say: If you are what you eat, then cannibals are the only humans. Boys are like lava lamps: fun to watch but not too bright. 10 years. Trillions of dollars. Thousands of soldiers dead. State of the art technology. The US finally found Bin Laden... In his house. Dear America, Since you released upon us the horror that is Miley Cyrus (I actually like her a bit but I thought this was funny) , we have decided to retaliate. Its name is Justin Bieber (His songs are ok but I hate him.) and no-one will be spared. Yours faithfully, Canada. When I die, friends will go to my funeral, good friends will cry at my funeral, but my best friend will change my facebook status to "Chilin' with Jesus" Sanity? I never had such a useless thing to begin with! I believe you should live each day as if it were your last, which is why I don't do my laundry. I mean, come on, who would wanna wash clothes on the last day of their life? Parents spend the first part of our lives teaching us to walk and talk, and the rest of it telling us to sit down and shut up. Its always in the last place you look...of course it is, why the heck would you keep looking after I found it? When you get caught looking at him just remember he was looking back. When your down I may not be able to pick you back up, but I promise I'll be willing to lay down right next to you. Sticks and stones may scar my skin but words slice through my soul within. Its not until you're broken that you know what you're made of. There cannot be a crisis this week; my schedule is filled. Whoever said nothing is impossible never tried slamming a revolving door. When your are in jail a friend will bail you out, but a best friend will be sitting right next to you saying "dang, that was fun!" People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don't realize how hard it is to put up with all the idiots in the world Silence is golden, duct tape is silver. Life isn't passing me by, its trying to run me over. Boys are like trees, they take 50 years to grow up. Take my advice, I don't use it anyway. I'm going on a quest, to the deepest, darkest corners of my room, in search of what some would call a "floor" - a long and difficult task awaits me my friends, wish me luck, for I may not return alive 1 out of every 4 people are insane. Look at your three best friends, if it's not them, it's you. You laugh now because you're older than me by mere months, but when you're 30 and I'm still 29, who will be laughing then? If something goes without saying, why do people say it? Please note : Christmas is cancelled - apparently you told Santa you were good this year ... and he died laughing People say "Guns don't kill people, People kill people!" Well, I think guns help. If you stood there and yelled Bang, I don't think you'd kill too many people. Boys are like slinkeys, useless, but fun to watch fall down the stairs. I was about to take over the world, but I got distracted when I saw something shiny. Most people learn by observation, and there are the few who learn by experimentation. And then there are those who actually TOUCH the fire to see if it's really hot. Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most. God created man-THEN had a better idea! Be insane... because well behaved girls never made history The newscaster is the person who says "Good evening" and then tells you why it's not. You don't like me, well it's mind over matter. I don't mind and you don't matter. 364 days of the year, parents tell their kids not to take candy from strangers, yet on Halloween, its encouraged! Why is that? Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak. One day your prince will come. Mine? Oh,he just took a wrong turn,got lost,and is to stubborn to ask directions. When life gives you lemons, make grape juice, then sit back and let the world wonder how you did it. I like work. It fasinates me. I can sit and stare at it for hours. Why do we teach kids that violence is not the answer and then have them read about wars in school that solved America's problems? You say I'm not cool. But cool is another word for cold. If I'm not cold, I'm hot. I know I'm hot. Thanks for embracing it. A word to the wise ain't necessary - it's the stupid ones that need the advice. I have CDO. It's like OCD but all of the letters are in alphabetical order...like they should be. It takes skill to trip over flat surfaces. The early bird gets the worm, but it's the second mouse that gets the cheese. I dream of a better world where chickens can cross the road without having their motives questioned. I'm not random, I'm just HEY LOOK A SQUIRREL! You laugh, I laugh. You cry, I cry. You jump off a cliff, I laugh. A good friend will bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Dang, that was fun!" Anyone else having trouble getting to Narnia? I've used up all of my sick days so I'm calling in dead. Stereotyping? How do you type with a stereo? People who don't know me think I'm quiet. People who do wish I was. I didn't slap you, I high-fived your face. You're a great friend, but if the zombies are chasing us, I'm tripping you. DEATH: the number 1 killer in the U.S (Or in my case UK)...tell your friends. Hey stupid! Your sock is untied... If my calculations are correct...slinkies escalator = EVERLASTING FUN!! Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes. "To be is to do" Socrates "To do is to be" Sartre "Do be do be do." Sinatra Ever notice that studying is "student" and "dying" put together? Chocolate is the answer no matter what the question is. Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle? We're so cool ice cubes are jealous. Im not as random as you think I salad. On a scale of 1 to crazy I'm a penguin. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you. I don't get it...boys think girls are so complicatd. Haven't they met themselves? I see no good reason to act my age. Don't follow my footsteps, I run into walls. Be a dork!! Because being cool is overrated. At this moment, you're the oldest you've ever been. Pretty deep huh? Forgive your enemies. It messes with their heads. Hey you! Yeah you! No, not you, the other guy. You right there! Do you like tacos? Worst time to have a heart attack; during a game of charades. If you're reading this then you're not dead. Good for you. I ROCK! Guitar hero told me. I tried being normal, but I didn't like it. I was going to kill the ugliest person alive but then i thought I'd let your mom live one more day Smile. It makes the world wonder what you're up to. There are two things that are infinite. The universe and human stupidity. And I'm not so sure about the universe. Out of my mind. Be back in five minutes. Normality will be restored as soon as we figure out what it is. Be yourself. That's crazy enough. You always get whats coming to you; unless it gets lost in the mail. Flying is not inherently dangerous- crashing is. The trouble with real life is that there is no background music I have not lost my mind; its backed up on a disk somewhere Beware the letter 'G'. It is the end of everything. Forecast for tonight: darkness If you try to fail and succeed, which one did you do? I am reading a most interesting book about anti-gravity. I just can't put it down. Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died. How come when you mix water with flour, you get glue and then when you add eggs and sugar you get cake? Where does the glue go? If everything seems to be going well, you obviously overlooked something Hell is full of musical amateurs There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line I'm not random I just have many thoughts I'm the kind of person who walks into a chair and apologizes I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it If you had a life you would stop talking about mine We're not retreating! We're advancing in a different direction! Just when I think you've said the stupidest thing ever, you keep on talking The below statement is true The above statement is false Wanna know how to keep an idiot busy? Take him into a round room and tell him to sit in a corner. In a world of cheerios, be a frootloop! When I'm not in my right mind, my left mind gets pretty crowded. You, you, and you panic. The rest of you follow me. Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them as much If you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with nonsense One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor. Five tequila, six tequila, lock the jail door! I'm mature and you're not. Nah nah nah nah nah nah! If aliens are looking for intelligent life, why the hell are you scared?! Looking for a perfect girl? Go buy yourself a barbie doll. If idiots could fly this place would be an airport. I know KUNG-FU and 42 other dangerous words Me and the gummy bears have a plot to rule the world but shhh its a secret! Quick, whats the number for 9-1-1? By the time you finished reading this you'll realize you just wasted 5 seconds of your life I burst laughing out in class today...I got that joke you told yesterday Hi! I'm human. What're you? Have you considered suing your brain for non-support? Everyone has a right to be ugly, but you're abusing that privilege. I'd like to leave you with one thought...but I'm not sure you have anywhere to put it! Life is like a circle. No wonder I'm so dizzy. Yeah I'm a loser, but I'm the coolest loser you'll ever meet One night, I looked up into the sky. I began counting the reasons why I love you. I was doing great until I ran out of stars. Last night I lay in my bed looking up at the stars and thought to myself, WHERE THE HELL IS MY CEILING!? Its not that I'm not a “people person”... its just that I'm not a “stupid people person”. Better to stay silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt Never argue with an idiot. They'll just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience I wondered why the Frisbee was getting bigger, then it hit me Stupidity killed the cat. Curiosity was framed. Why be difficult, when with just a little bit of effort, you can be impossible?

1 note · View note

annakie · 7 years

Text

Thoughts from the first few hours of Andromeda, Part Two

Picking up where I left off in Part One.

BTW, this is by far the best article I’ve read on all the ME:A hype, or anti-hype. Even if you don’t read this, you should read that.

So, I was about at the point of basically, leaving the first room you get put in when I ran out of time this morning. So let’s continue on The Game Opening.

You’re introduced pretty well into what’s happening and how to use one of the most vital (I think) and a brand new thing to ME:A, using your Omni-tool for scanning. I’ve used that feature some so far, but not as extensively as I think I’m going to. I like that they do give you a little visual and audio cue when you really should be scanning something, but I’m still constantly afraid I’m going to miss something. It’s going to be like scanning for rescources in DA:I. Even weeks after I finished my 2nd playthrough, I was still obsessively hitting the G key (I’d remapped scanning to G) to look for resources in other games. It’s a cool tool that adds depth to the environment, and also a bit of obsessiveness for people like me who hate to miss anything.

One thing that hit me not far into the game is the amount of women on the Pathfinder mission. Even if you don’t count the Asari you’ve met, and Ryder, since they can be either gender, you still run into a lot of ladies in the early part of Andromeda. Two of the most important people you interact with are male, but there are at least as many women to talk to.

The cinematic experience not too far into the game gets great. It’s hard to describe a bit of what I want to talk about without getting spoilery, but windows are used to great effect, making a part of the game in ME3 which sometimes got a little... wordy and long into a beautiful, breathtaking and ultimately OH HOLY CRAP moment that left me gasping and a little worried about one character’s fate.

One legit criticism I think is that you’re just kind of thrown into your character pretty quickly in the beginning and don’t have a lot of time to really start figuring out who they are. I’m playing a character who I often play iterations of in games, so I already have a decent idea of her personality. The problem is, you’re supposed to instantly care about members of your family, and you’ve literally gotten no connection to them, aside from making your sibling in the character generator. It would have been nice to have at least a little interaction with them, and your character’s father, in some way before Things Start Happening.

Dialogue

The dialog options are, I think, an improvement over ME1/2/3, and about on parr so far with DA:I. Rather than “Nice” “Neutral” and “Ruthless or Mean” most dialog options come with at least 2 of 4 choices to make that are more about personality than alignment. My biggest complaint is that you are briefly shown a little box that tells you which option means what, and I don’t recall seeing that box again. It’d be nice to have it show up a few times along the tutorial or to be able to call it up easily (maybe it’s in the codex?) to refresh your memory on which option leans which way. Someone on Reddit was kind enough to throw this together, which is helpful.

Dialogue from NPCs is... I mean it’s Mass Effect. Sometimes it’s moving, sometimes it’s natural or at least a non-issue, and sometimes it’s a little cringe-y and try-hard-y. I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard anything so far that’s any worse than literally every word Kai-Leng ever spoke, so, as long as it stays above that metric, I’m ok with it. But, I’ve only had meaningful interactions with about as many NPCs as I could count on one hand.

Planetside

The first planet you land on is spectacular, visually. I spent a lot of time just looking around, scanning things, poking into every nook and cranny. There isn’t one linear path to go to, so I found myself backtracking sometimes because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything. (Even so, I feel like.... maybe I did?) I’m not even off this planet yet, that’s as far as I’ve gotten, and I feel like I still have at least an hour to go on it.

I love the jetpack jumping, though sometimes you just wanna maybe skip over a rock and instead even with a quick bump you’re about 5 feet up in the air. But I haven’t found moving around difficult yet, and though I did miss my first long jump, I haven’t missed another one. So far, the movement system seems pretty forgiving, especially with the ability to climb ledges if you just barely short your jump.

There’s also a nice amount of audio cues, sometimes from your omni-tool and sometimes from your companion or your Ryder talking to your companion when there’s something worth checking out. Still, I found myself scanning nothing, a lot.

What I didn’t notice an audio cue for was when you step on an ammo box, hearing your ammo refill. That’d be nice.

There are several sidequests already, and all of them seem logical for their location and at least somewhat important. The map is more of a general location than a specific path taking you right where you need to get to. As far as I can tell, there’s no golden trail to follow if you set a quest objective, so you’d better be ready to explore.

There are goodies hidden in nooks and crannies if you keep your eyes open. There is a slight immersion problem with picking stuff out of alien’s boxes and being able to just pop it right on your gun or whatever, but... you gotta get that equipment somehow.

Combat

I’ve only done a handful of combats, maybe 3 or 4. So far, my first impression is I wished I’d picked another class. I went with Infiltrator because it fit the character, but I think the only thing I can do right now is stealth. I think I accidentally hit escape or went through the tutorial tips too fast in combat because it’s not feeling very organic to me yet. Again, with needed to really dig deeper into those menus. If I restart when the full game comes out, and I probably will, I think I’m going to go with the Leader “main class” instead of Infiltrator.

So so far I’ve mostly done the “pop out of cover, shoot a few rounds, pop back into cover” type combat, since I don’t have any particularly good weapons, armor or abilities yet.

I need to dig through the codex to re-read up on combat. Hopefully there will be a training simulator back on the ship like in ME2 and 3 so I can get better. So I don’t have a great review for the combat yet, because I’m just not doing it right yet. :)

Voice Acting

I’ve heard mixed reviews on the VA. I’ve enjoyed hearing a few familiar Bioware voices (Koth from SWTOR’s VA is an early, minor NPC for instance, and I’m preeeetty sure I’ve heard Brandon Keener at least once). Natalie Dormer is great. I’m happy with F!Ryder’s voice so far, Liam’s VA is great, love that voice, looking forward to hearing it regularly for awhile. There have been a few places here and there that the minor character’s VA wasn’t as great as normal Bioware standards, but those have been few. I hope it continues to be so.

Speaking of Liam, I’m planning on romancing him first, though I’m also hoping to try a few other romances in future runs. From the first moment I saw Liam it was like “OH, I’ve made a good choice.” I haven’t even gotten near to a flirt option yet, but I’m ok. He’s a good dude to just hang out with for now.

Back to the Music

I’ve been listening to the soundtrack while writing this and am on the 12th track. It’s been very enjoyable so far. There hasn’t been anything that has reached out and just grabbed ahold of me like “Leaving Earth” or “Suicide Mission” or “Vigil”, but it’s all been very listenable. “A Better Beginning” (the home screen track) is the closest to being a standout so far which... makes sense, I suppose. I kind of miss squadmates having their own themes, but ah well. Some tracks harken back to the 80′s nostalgia of ME1, some are far more orchestral arrangements like ME2 or 3.

Overall.....

I mean, look, I love this game. Already. There are some very��valid criticisms, but I mean, come on, there are some very valid criticisms of literally every Mass Effect game, none of them are perfect. They all have kind of awkward first and second missions, they all take awhile to settle into themselves, they all take awhile for combat to start to come naturally (especially getting into ME1... I tell newcomers to just put it on easymode and don’t feel bad about it.)

The character generation is by far the worst part of the game so far, and it’s workable, and Bioware has said that they’re “working on it” so... let’s cross our fingers they help us out soon, or that the modders (all hail the modders, we love you now and forever) will, at least.

If you’ve read some of the shitty reviews online, God forbid you read the RPS one or the slightly better IGN roundtable, please go read this great article from Forbes. (The one Iinked at the top of this post). It’s a fantastic breakdown of the hype, the anti-hype and what Bioware/EA’s done wrong with this launch.

The game feels like Mass Effect. I’d like maybe a little more solid callback but again, it’s super early in the game for me and I also don’t want people hainging posters of Shepard and talking about how great they were every minute.

I am so excited to keep playing this game. I can’t want to get into it more. I am weeping at the thought of my 10 hour trial being over in like... 7 more hours of gameplay. And remember that you can love something for what it is, and criticize the hell out of it for what it isn’t. You can celebrate what it gets right and still point out what it gets wrong. Just because something has flaws and isn’t perfect, that doesn’t mean it’s bad, terrible, useless, unplayable, ruined, etc.

Screw the hype. Play the game, judge for yourself.

#mass effect #andromeda #mass effect andromeda #bioware #video games #annakie's mass effect stuff

12 notes · View notes