The sun finally graced the ship with its warm presence the following
morning, though most of the ships inhabitants were still too buried
under their thin blankets to notice. Atticus was at the helm, and
William attending the few sailors capable of climbing the rigging to
inspect for any necessary repairs prior to sailing. Though both men
were seen rubbing their temples and groaning more than a few times.
Atticus squinted into the sun and attempted to spit on the deck; but
there was not a drop of moisture in his mouth to accomplish the task.
He glanced at the nearly always pulled together and dapper William and
found him sitting on a trunk with his head between his knees.
seemed the only soul with any energy aboard was the young boy who
performed a series of intricate sword fighting drills. The blade
flashed in the sun and hummed a swift tune each time it cut the air.
His small feet shuffling along the deck in a series of patterns; thrust,
parry, retreat. Robert looked over for William’s approval, but found
the man leaning back against the mast, eyes squeezed closed. He
shrugged his small shoulders and continued his practice, head shaking
over the foolish behavior of these grown-ups who now were missing the
better part of a beautiful day. Having snuck a taste of the Delaney rum
when Ms. Lorna’s back was turned, he could hardly understand the
reasons why anyone would require more than a sip. A disappointed
frown crossed his face and he turned his back on the man who he had
hoped could spare him a few minutes to continue training. Another few
swings and he spun back around… and the clang of the swords meeting
split the silence. The force of the blow sending tremors along his arm,
then his sword glanced off the edge of William’s raised larger sword.
“Ahh lad, who has been caught napping?”
William stepped back, lowered his sword and pointed towards the boys,
which now rested its tip upon the deck. “Why did the blade slip
Robert, the surprise still etched in his features,
thought carefully before answering. Checked his stance and then a smile
“I reached too far Sir.”
William nodded his approval. “That’s right, well done boy.”
He stepped closer to the boy and showed him the proper stance. “Always
keep your elbows bent and close to your body – don’t stretch towards
your opponent or you won’t get the full strength behind your thrust or
parry.” He positioned he sword in the boys’ hands. “Extend your
sword Robert, not your arms.”
Once again he raised his own
sword to meet Robert’s. “See? Feel the strength you now have?” The
boy nodded. “Good. The steps - practice them again… and this time
Robert?” He caught the wide eyed stare and touched a finger to the
space between his eyes. “No napping.”
Once upon an operating table,
There was a man quite mentally unstable.
Blood-soaked wolf for a midwife, creepy demons felt his girth.
Crushing them beneath his heel, he stood up and uttered: “Pats…worth.”
Stepping o'er the body of some half-eaten shmuck,
Patsworth ran for his life, and tested his luck.
With his whip cane now bloodied, he couldn’t help but remark,
“How creepy are these crows? And why the fuck do they bark?!”
Locked up in their houses for the night of dark work,
Everyone Patsworth tried to converse with were jerks.
On some real asshole shit, but he paid them no mind,
Because that plague masked hottie seemed way more kind.
As the doll came to life, Patsworth’s curiosity was piqued.
Gehrman was already weird, but holy shit what a freak.
“Bearer, Seek, Seek, Lest” Patsworth forced her to haste.
“I’ve got a Cleric Beast to kill, and these Molotovs to waste.”
You guys aren’t even wrong, these rhymes will soon become a chore.
So lets start the backdown now, with two lines instead of four.
Patsworth rode with high spirits, but grew visibly uncomfortable when,
Gascoinge tipped his hat and asked him bluntly, “Y'ever had yer shit pushed in?”
Of all the spires of Yharnam’s skyline Patsworth could overlook,
The sheer girth of Gascoigne’s junk easily left him the most shook.
45 bullets riddled his guts, and Patsworth fell to his knees like a scrub.
But the revelation that this world had automatic weapons left his corpse at half-chub.
With hubris Patsworth sallied forth to the gunner, intent to inflict great harm.
But instead he became a groupie to the man with a fucking pilebunker on his arm.
A useless plankwood shield is found, like a cosmic joke for fun.
“Drop your shield, you pansy shits” said FromSoft. “And raise your fucking gun.”
To euthanize the old is a horrible thing, such is agreed by every man.
Yet putting down THIS crotchety burden-on-society doesn’t seem like half a bad plan.
We Yharnamites bicker about Avantgarde, and what fancy sets should be worn,
But Blood Starved Beast has already shown us that your own hanging flesh cape is TRUE Fashionborne.
Djura’s styles were beyond compare, leagues ahead of their time.
But the inability to use his turret, is humanity’s greatest crime.
Fuck this stupid poisonous fuck, it isn’t worth a toss.
Patsworth knows the courtyard hunter is Old Yharnam’s true big dick boss.
Patsworth strutted around Cathedral Ward, fresh to death like his name was The Mack.
But his pimp juice spilled when he made a wrong turn, and found a man pointing into a burlap sack.
Kidnappers, witches, monstrous pigs, and unholy eldritch regalia.
The more he saw, the more Patsworth was certain he’d died and gone to Australia.
Patsworth could handle the Healing Church Workshop, though the fullmetal geezers did annoy.
But he felt some unease, when he heard some sinister thing from the pits calling him a ‘fuccboi’.
Have no fear, Zoidberg is here!
“How’s it going butterface?” Patsworth said to Amelia, interrupting her prayers out of the blue.
“That had better be a compliment,” she sneered through her snout. He smiled. “Best I can do.”
Darkbeast Paarl was a notorious shit, with enough kills to scare hunters stiff.
But when attacked from down under, Patsworth rendered him asunder,
And exclaimed “You ain’t Great Grey Wolf Sif.”
Iosefka, I get that you want to save people and help the sick be restored.
But I don’t think we’re sending the right message by me wearing this “Iosefka’s” cap and sandwich board.
Patsworth tripped and found true fear: liquored-up zombie grandmas acting all tarty.
Like it or not, he’d soon understand the saying “There’s no party like Hemwick party.”
Bloody flesh-capes have already been established as the fashionborne discussion ender.
But let’s be real, covering your hunch with eyeballs is a preeeetty strong contender.
Come on Eileen, oh I swear (what he means)
At this moment, you mean - everythinnnnggggg
Patsworth was walking quite big for his britches, feeling on top of his game,
So a plank of wood took it upon itself to make him flaccid with shame.
The “One Man Pincer Show” is an ancient warfare lesson tacticians used to give,
In which one grossed out the enemy from both sides until they lost the will to live.
Patsworth soon discovered that all of life’s problems were answered with a two-handed axe swirl.
Then he turned a corner, opened a door and met The Most Suspicious Man In The World™.
“Losing your sanity to reveal the truth” is a really interesting bit,
That immediately stops being a debate once you learn “Truth” means “Gods will now wreck your shit.”
Okay, we get it, enough with the snakes, snakeballs, and snake-headed snakemen.
Wait hold on, they just added flameswords to the mix. God damnit, they just made it cool again.
“Send my regards to the goddess of Snakes, but 3 on 1 isn’t fair game.
To even the odds, you’ll need at least a dozen. For I serve the god of LAME.”
“Dearest Iosefka, you ratchet ass freak, if only you weren’t so odd.
Come at me if you must, and learn to fear the wrath of the Coward god.”
Patsworth prayed to the three, for this buss down huntress, to stop owning his ass like a clown.
To the Lame God he knelt, to Coward God he confessed, then praised the God of Backing Down.
“Rom, who you kidding? You’re barely a spider. With your lil fuzzy tummy and head.”
In another time and place, Patsworth thought to himself, you’d be Rom the Vacuous Buddy instead.
Sometimes hunters just need to feel charming.
Let no man judge them. It’s not that alarming.
Reviewing his bucket list with a squint and a nod,
Patsworth underlined one item: 'KILL A GOD’.
As Patsworth cut a path through the nightmare, he felt somewhat relieved,
That his own personal terrors did not have to be seen and rated by the ESRB.
Ladies and gentlemen, gather round, take your seats, and listen for the noise
Of the ghost chariot hooves, carrying you, to part one of
C A I N H U R S T B O Y Z.
Now, what you hear is not a test - Patworth runnin’ to the beat,
And these ghost, gargoyles, and blood tick girls are gonna try to move your feet.
Check it out, we at C-A-I-N, to the H-U-R-ST, And the rest is F-L-Y,
You see we run from the spit of the hobo of the mix, And this BRAND will teach you why.
“I’m, P-Worth the Dimp, the ladies’ pimp, vileblood queens fight for my delight.
But I’m the great hunter with the madman’s nod that shock the house for the Eldritch Gods
Going on'n'n'on'n’ on on'n'on
P-Worth don’t stop until the break of dawn
A sayin’ on'n'n'on'n’ on on'n'on
Like a hot buttered de pop pop de popc-OH FUCK SHIT GOD DAMN IT ALFRED WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”
Patsworth continued to sprint for his life, to escape the vicious mob,
And was so successful at being a coward, that the moon decided to finish the job.
Picture a monster, vicious bloodsucker,
Fat motherfucker now Patsworth’s in trouble,
As he runs through this nightmare all he hears is frenzy,
99 insight? Mensis laughs immensely
OK, first things first I’ll pluck your eyes
Then I’m gonna rock this head cage and die.
'Cause that’s what the motherfucking Mensis do.
Die like a pimp in my chair with my Mensis crew.
Micolash was a prideful coward, a man after Patsworth own heart.
But was he ready to deal with the ultimate test? A two-way back down from the start?
God damn it lady, we’ll find your stupid baby and it’s stupid baby face.
Where’d you last put it? Did you happen to leave it in a huge badass place?
Invisible Murderous Babysitter Satan is the safest place your child can go.
Mensis breastmilk is the finest breastmilk the world did ever know.
The year’s 1884 and the genre is horror,
In my rear-view mirror there’s a pregnant whore,
I got two choices y'all, ignore the birth or,
Axe-kill the baby out of mercy, eat the cord.
Now I ain’t tryin’ to see no Upper Cathedral chase,
+8 cannon on my arm could fight the Chikage,
So I, see Eileen on the side of the road, she said
“Son, do you know what lies beyond those doors?”
Cause I’m fresh covered in blood, and my hat’s real low,
Do I look like a Celestial being? I don’t know.
Am I being abducted, or should I guess some more?
“Well your insight’s forty-six in a forty-four,
License and hunter’s badge, please step out of the dream,
Are you carrying a trick weapon? We know they’re not what they seem.”
“I ain’t surrendering shit, all my blood is legit.”
“Well do you mind if I look around your mind a little bit?”
“Well I ate 3 cords already, got the eyes inside,
And I’ve killed Gods before, so you best run and hide.”
“Aren’t you sharp as a tack.
You made contact with something?
Somebody important or something?”
“Well I ain’t passed Gehrman yet, but I know a little bit,
Enough to stop your old ass from forcing me to do shit.”
“Well we’ll see how smart you are when the Moon Presence come”
Maddie’s friends prepare the Wonderland Haberdashery and Tea
Shop for Blondie Lockes
Blondie is disappointed and Maddie states, “no madness or
[See top pic]
When Blondie likes a floating tea kettle, Maddie restores
everything and all love it :D
“And this is the real Wonderland Haberdashery and Tea Shop
and I don’t care if we get a bad review because to me this place is hat-tastic!”
Though I like the “be yourself” and “be unique” message, what I really like is
the fact Maddie not only understands but also accepts that others might dislike
what she likes. She’s being herself - even if others don’t share her tastes.
A mini-clip that I loved was Maddie’s smile when the
butterfly’s head became monstrously large at around 1:15. You can tell she like the wonderland’ish stuff even if she’s trying to hide it.
My main question for the episode is this: why would be Rebels
prevent Maddie from following her own path for her teashop? I might have
understood more if Maddie asked the Royals what would impress Blondie and they peer pressured her.
For the clips of preparing the shop, I would have had clips
of Maddie struggling against her friends to not be herself. As
Maddie shows the clocks and the doors after Blondie likes the wackiness, I’d have Maddie complain about cleaning
up the wackiness style due to personal preference and sentimental reasons. And maybe
throughout the cleaning clips, Maddie is getting progressively sadder and low
I think adding more clips of dialogue to quicken the pace and emphasize Maddie’s emotional conflict.
Clarke falling ill and being taken care of to her irritation and.... delight by none other than Commander Lexa- as requested by anon
Clarke couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong but she knew something was off about herself the past few days. She had been working and sleeping in the grounders camp for almost two weeks now, learning their customs under the watchful eye of every grounder in camp, of course.
She had the feeling that Lexa’s threat of death to any one who gave Clarke trouble loomed over her like a shadow, casting a thin veil of protection from too much out-lash and provocation. While Clarke was generally irritated at this, at the moment it was a welcome comfort to be able to cross camp without running into trouble.
She knew life as a grounder was not easy, but the long days and even longer nights were starting to take their toll on her. After a week of restless nights and days that started before the sun had risen, and only ended after it passed through the sky and disappeared again, she was feeling every bit a sky person as they made her out to be.
She reached the flaps of the Commanders quarters and, without hesitation, entered the privaacy of the tent. Although it was Lexas private quarters, Clarke didn’t see much of the Commander outside of leader meetings these days. She was after all the Leader of 12 tribes.Clarke didn’t want to admit it but she found herself missing Lexa, mostly because she was the only one who didn’t scowl at her when Clarke approached.
Shrugging out of her jacket and pants Clarke all but fell into the comfort of her make shift bed. She didnt even have time to worry about the fact that she missed dinner, some unknown red meat AGAIN, before she was asleep.
Unfortunately for Clarke it wasn’t a restful sleep, Not long after falling asleep she had developed a fever making the usually drafty tent hotter than she could stand. Kicking off the blankets, Clarkes skin was exposed to the cold air of the night causing her body to erupt in bumps and her teeth to chatter.
In the morning she had woken to find her body covered in rashes that burned and itched with every move she made. She felt weak and more tired than she had ever felt in her life. She attempted to get out of bed, knowing she that if the grounders knew she had missed the morning training over a few red spots she would never be accepted or treated as an equal.
The attempt however was unsuccessful, sweat clung to her body and nausea and dizziness over-powered her, causing her body to collapse back into the bed without her consent. She heard a grunt and looking toward the entrance to the flaps she saw the back of one of Lexas warriors leaving the tent.
“Great” she grumbled as her eyes closed and she was asleep again.
Clarkes eyes fluttered open, the light seeping through the tent canvass informing her that it was well into midday and she had missed the pathetic excuse for a breakfast and half of the days training already. She struggled to sit up, every muscle in her body aching in protest.
“You should lay down, Clarke"
Clarke nearly fell out of bed in surprise as Lexa’s low voice rolled over her, calm and powerful as ever. Looking in the direction she knew Lexa to be, Clarke spotted the Commander sitting in her high chair playing absentmindedly with her knife and staring at Clarke on the bed.
How long had she been there? Clarke wondered. She opened her mouth to ask but instead asked
"Don’t you have a war counsel to be proceeding over, Commander?” Clarke added at the end to show Lexa she wasn’t ready to forgive her for startling her just yet. Even if she had come to Clarkes bedside to see her.
Lexa did not stop rotating the knife in her hand, her expression of remote disinterest unchanging.
“I was informed that my sky girl was ill and had missed her morning duties” Lexa responded, not moving her eyes from the knife in her hands.
Of course they would run to tell the Commander Clarke thought to herself bitterly.
“I’m fine” Clarke gritted through her teeth.
Lexa raised an eyebrow and smirked
Clarke glared at her in anger.
“Ok, fine. I’m not fine” she conceded.
“But you didn’t need to come down here to see me. I’ll live”
“Oh, and you’re so sure about that Clarke? Do you know the signs of shrumeroot poisoning? Do you know the kinds of plants that can cause rashes to over take your body and poison your blood? Have you learned all of the types of insects that crawl into your skin and infect you?”
Clarke didn’t have a response. This seemed to amuse the Commander, further irritating Clarke.
“Ok, so is that why you’re here? Some bug bit me and now I’m dying?” she asked savagely, barely keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.
“You really need to check that temper Sky Girl. It’s the trait of a strong leader to not act out in anger, no matter the provocation”
Clarke was fuming, here she lay in bed dying of some unknown bug and the Commander was playing with her knife and giving her lessons on leader etiquette.
“However, the answer is no, you’re not dying” Lexa went on, this time lifting her gaze to take in Clarkes pitiful position.
“Then what is all of this?” Clarke asked annoyed, gesturing to her body and reaching to pick at a particularly annoying spot on her arm.
“It is The Pawks, and is a rather common ailment in our tribes” Lexa stopped twirling the knife in her hand to lay it on the table and instead take up a bowl of some unknown paste. She crossed the distance between them in a few strides and sat at Clarkes side. Clarke followed her movements with her eyes waiting for Lexa to continue her explanation. Lexa sat there basking in the moment of Clarke full attention..
“The Pox?” Clarke prompted Lexa to go on. It was common so that must mean that it was treatable, she hoped.
Lexa never got tired of staring into Clarkes eyes, though she never allowed hers to linger longer than a second. Finally when she couldn’t hold it in anymore she lost all grasp of her Commanders pretense and collapsed into giggles, having to turn her face from Clarkes so as not to be laughing outright in it.
“Yes, its common….” Lexa gasped
“In infants and the elderly!” She finished, barely managing to stifle a louder laugh and move her shoulder before Clarke reached out to punch it.
Something in Clarkes medical training clicked and a memory came rushing back to her
“You mean i have the chicken pox??” Clarke blurted out in anguish. She glared again at Lexa as he felt a rush of relief and anger wash over her. Clarkes face, had it not already been red and burning from the illness, would be flushed in embarrassment at being bedridden by an affliction that only affected grounder infants and the elderly.
She groaned and fell back onto the covers. crossing her arms over her eyes in a pathetic attempt to escape this situation.
Lexa smirked as she watched Clarke, imagining the sky girls embarrassment. She was sure Clarke would recover in no time and didn’t think of her as weak because her sky blood was never bred for overcoming a lot of illnesses that plagued her people. Remembering the paste in her hands, she hesitated to address Clarke again. Her eyes quickly scanned Clarke, taking advantage of Clarkes inattentiveness to Lexa. Even with the spots covering her body Clarke was beautiful. Soft as ever, but fierce in her own ways.
“Stop pouting and take off your clothes sky girl, you need my expert medical attention” Lexa smirked.
Clarke could have died of embarrassment right then and there. She threw her arms out, her eyes wide in shock.
“No! I"m perfectly capable of applying my own-what is that anyways?” Clarke asked eyeing the bowl in Lexas hands wearily.
“if i told you, you wouldn’t put it on your body” Lexa replied dryly, already taking a generous amount in her hand and nodding in Clarkes direction patiently waiting for the sky girl to acquiesce her request.
Clarke groaned and grudgingly turned around on the bed, removing her shirt and presenting her bare back to Lexa. With more softness than Clarke would ever think possible Lexa began to gently apply the past to her burning skin. It was all Clarke could do to keep from sighing in relief. The cool past soothed her skin and quelled the itchiness.
They sat in silence as Clarke allowed the Commander to apply paste to parts of her body she never imagined Lexa touching, let alone had she dreamt of how… sensitive those parts of her body would be. Every inch of her skin burning with a different heat after Lexas fingers caressed it.
It seemed like forever before Lexa was satisfied with the amount of skin covered in paste. Clarke was drained from sitting so stiff trying to not betray a flicker or pain, or pleasure at Lexas care.
Getting off the bed and placing the bowl once again upon the table she turned to Clarke, a proud smile on her face.
“You’re on a diet of stew and water from the mountain springs. You’re to stay in bed until i deem you ready to start training again” Lexa wiped her hands on her pants and continued, cutting off Clarke before she could protest
“Commanders, orders” She said, placing emphasis on the word Commander.
And so it went, every day for 6 blissfully excruciating days. Clarke would wake to find Lexa sitting in her chair, sometimes looking over important papers, sometimes playing absentmindedly with her knife. Every day Clarke would have to endure her own personal hell sitting still and making sure every muscle in her body stayed stiff as Lexa tenderly applied the paste to her skin. And every day Lexa would fetch Clarke stew and fresh water. Lexa sat nearby making sure Clarke had company better company than anyone else in the camp.
Clarke argued, albeit weakly, that Lexa had more important Commander duties to perform than to tend to Clarke all day. Clarkes stomach fluttered when Lexa assured her,