#Gold Squadron Gays

[legends-expo]

As we get rolling again on planning another great Expanded Universe convention, we have some new additions to the team!

Charles Rogers has been a Star Wars fan for as long as he can remember. He watched the original trilogy dozens of times as a kid, then grew up through the era of the prequels. As a teenager, he discovered the EU through the Clone Wars multimedia project, Outbound Flight, and Legacy of the Force. He then spent his teenage years getting his hands on every EU book he possibly could and reading an absurd amount of Wookieepedia. He is an avid gamer (his favorite Star Wars game is Empire at War or Knights of the Old Republic, depending on which day you ask him) and he has been collecting Star Wars Legos off-and-on since 1999.

His voice might be more familiar than his face. Charles is the co-host of the weekly Star Wars podcast 'Gold Squadron Gays', where he puts his screenwriting degree to use analyzing Star Wars content with a fellow alum in tv production. He also is a cast member on the all-queer High Republic TTRPG podcast 'For Light And Dice,' where he plays a burnout-student-turned-space-trucker named Wynne.

Despite his writing background, Charles is always looking to explore new things. He has jumped between doing short film work, theater production, and even producing live music shows. He is looking forward to bringing those skills to (and learning new ones from) Legends Expo's incredible team.

[geekygirlexperience]

My friends at Gold Squadron Gays and Dark Side Divas podcasts had an insightful discussion about Cid from The Bad Batch:

She is the Lando Calrissian of the series.

I break down their discussion and share my thoughts over on Dork Side of the Force. Check it out!

[ashclouds366]

i dreamt that heaven was run by a democracy/monarchy (the queen was elected by the citizens of heaven), and everyone in heaven was an adolescent (like 12-18). also, there were no gold streets or pearl gates or anything; it looked like a giant basement. with clouds. in the clouds.

anyway, the queen of heaven, who was a total bitch, and also 16 years old i believe, found out that there was a lesbian couple in love, and she didn't like that. so she decided to force them to marry (in an attempt to shame them, like with Jesus being called the king of the jews, though of course they were not at all ashamed and were rather delighted that they would be allowed to marry) and then imprison them together for life (or for eternity i suppose).

they were fearless, proud. the wedding was as such: the citizens of heaven lined up like soldiers, facing each other in two lines, where the space in between them was the aisle. the brides walked down the aisle with smiles on their faces, solemn, but ultimately just happy to have the other. they met in the middle. the vows were read off of one anothers hoodies (and there were A LOT of vows and also they were written like a poem so they rhymed and were like a fine print on the front of the gray hoodies).

on the way out, one of the brides asked several people (quietly) if they hated gays, and they all said no, and the bride asked why do you not revolt, and the people felt shame, and they vowed to rise up against the queen and free the citizens of heaven once and for all.

- time skip in the dream -

cut to a massive battle. there appears to be a HUGE pit (i can't see the bottom), and the citizens of heaven are split into big squadrons, each on one big balcony-lookin platform set against the walls of the pit in a big circle. everyone is shooting at one another, and each squadron appears to have a respective color (of uniform and ammunition and everything). mine is pink. hot fucking pink. i watch friends and foes fall one by one, almost as if in slow motion. when it comes my turn, when i stand up to fire, i find that i am one of very few left. in a matter of seconds, only three remain. one other, in green i believe, and the two brides. the soldier in green shoots. he hits one bride. the other shoots him dead immediately and kneels to hold her lover as the life is slowly drained from her.

then the dream resets

also, i was one of the lesbian brides

reblog and put in the tags the weirdest dream you’ve had (that you can remember)

[geegirlsworld]

Richard Somers's Ring

I love history and always have. I love reading or listening about olden times and seeing how much people have or haven't change. And if I'm lucky I might get a chance to discover something new and wonder if anyone else has noticed it. In the case I speak of Stephen Decatur and Richard Somers and the ring that was exchanged between them.

Years ago I was really, REALLY, into sailing adventures. I read Alexander Kent, C. S. Forester, Richard Woodman, almost all the Patrick O'Brian novels and loved them. I have a set of TIME/LIFE books about the age of sail and read up on the beginnings of the American navy, and that was my introduction to Stephen Decatur, the hero of Tripoli. Without getting too bogged down in the history at the turn of the 19th century Europe and the US were dealing with the Barbary pirates, who raided ships in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean taking slaves and plundering goods. The fledgling US tried dealing with this by paying tribute until Jefferson got fed up and tried sending his new navy overseas to deal with the problem. And two of the young captains sent there were Richard Somers and his good friend Stephen Decatur.

Stephen Decatur

Decatur's name might sound familiar; there are a bunch of towns, counties and schools named for him because he was a national hero. Fighting pirates will do that for a reputation. His good friend was Richard Somers, whom he went to school with before they joined the navy.

Richard Somers

If you know your Gay American history you'll know that these two men are thought to have been lovers and the similarities with them and Hamilton/Laurens are eery. They were said to be close and inseparable and they fought a duel together. (I refuse to go into the particulars, it was stupid). Like Hamilton Decatur was killed in a duel. Like Laurens Somers had no decent portraits and little interest in women. He also died young.

Somers's death is almost cinematic. It's 1804 and the first Barbary War is underway. Somers and Decatur are captains in a squadron sent to deal with the Tripolitan fleet in the harbor. The plan was to send a fire ship to blow up near the fort and take out the fleet as well. Somers along with 12 others volunteered to sail it into the harbor. It was not, strictly speaking, a suicide mission because the crew was suppose to light a fuse and disembark before mayhem ensued. But something went awry and the ship blew up prematurely, killing Somers and his crew.

But before he met his fate Richard took leave from his friend. I think he knew he might not survive and that's why he gave Stephen a ring. A gold ring, in fact, a ring that Decatur wore for the rest of his life.

A ring is a very intimate gift, it is the never ending circle, without beginning or end. Everlasting and forever. I could not find any information on the intertubes about men exchanging rings, in fact American men would not start wearing wedding bands until the next century. So when Decatur got married two years later the ring he wore on his hand for the rest of his life was given to him not by his wife but by the friend he had lost.

He was said to have been inconsolable after Richard's death and this has led some people to claim Decatur as a Gay icon. Randy Shilts does this in his book Conduct Unbecoming, and offers as further evidence Decatur's fourteen year marriage to Susan Wheeler which produced no children and may have lacked passion. So I decided to look into the matter myself and see what, if anything, was going on.

I do think the ring indicates an intimacy between Somers and Decatur. When Richard gave Stephen the ring he was asking for an acknowledgement of their bond, as well as a pledge not to forget him. And Stephen never did, as I said he wore that ring until the end of his life. But it's what happened to the ring after his death that I find interesting. So, let us turn our attention to the other half of the story...Decatur's childless marriage to Susan Wheeler.

Susan Wheeler Decatur

Shilts implies, as do a number of Gay history websites I perused, that Decatur married Susan because, well, that's what you did back then. He did famously say that the navy was his first love but was his marriage a sham? Not according to James Tertius de Key in A Rage for Glory. He says Decatur was already engaged to a woman in Philadelphia when he met Susan. In fact he broke off the engagement very soon after Susan came into his life. They met at a reception after Susan had seen his portrait...

... Susan had an opportunity to meet in person the subject of the painting, and to judge for herself the accuracy of his portrait. Whatever she may have thought of the likeness, she was much taken with the original. Decatur was equally smitten. He had just returned from foreign station after two years, and Susan Wheeler's grace and charm simply overwhelmed him. By the end of the evening, he was hopelessly, helplessly besotted with her.

Eventhough I think the author was really trying to sell the "love at first sight" angle Decatur really does seem to have wanted to marry Susan.

Susan was not exactly a blushing innocent. Well educated, charming,musically talented, and indulgently spoiled by her rich father, she had long been socially active. She was three years older than Decatur, and had in her time caught the eye of any number of prominent men throughout the Chesapeake region. She had already rejected the advances of Vice President Aaron Burr as well as those of Jerome Bonaparte, brother of the emperor of France.

Susan was also something of a woman of mystery. There were rumors that she was Wheeler’s illegitimate child, and had been born in the obscurity of Elk Ridge Landing, Maryland, where her father ran an ironworks. Nothing was known of her mother, but it was whispered in some quarters that she had been a mulatto, a particularly sinister accusation in the antebellum South.  If Decatur got wind of any of these stories-and in all likelihood he did-they carried little weight with the lovesick captain.

[cue record scratch]

Wait, wait, Susan was part black? Well, well, so not only did Decatur dump a respectable girl from Philadelphia he did it so he could marry a thirty year old woman with dodgy racial origins from the backwoods of Maryland. If not for love what was Decatur's motivation?

(Oh, and if you're wondering how a woman like Susan would be allowed to pass into white society understand that at this time in America the racial boundaries were still getting sorted out. Since she looked white and no one was sure about her mother she was given the benefit of the doubt, so long as she did not express any crazy ideas about racial equality.)

I don't know why the Decaturs didn't have kids, but if I had to speculate (and I love to speculate!) maybe it was because neither of them wanted them. Plenty of women at that time had children well into their forties and if there was some physical reason Susan couldn't have children they could have easily adopted one. Maybe that was why Susan was still single at thirty, she was not interested in coupling and making babies and perhaps in Stephen Decatur she found a man who felt the same way. Think about if he had married into that Philadelphia family. What is the point of having a war hero in the family if he is not going to produce any little Stephen juniors? Maybe babies was the dealbreaker. Whatever they saw in each other they appear to have been warm and loving with each other, at least according to Decatur's recent biographers, who read the letters the couple exchanged. So even if Decatur's biographers are over selling the passion I think it wrong to depict Susan as little more than a beard.

In 1820 Decatur got into a disagreement with another navy man named James Barron. The two decided to duel it out, with the result that Barron and Decatur were wounded, Decatur dying shortly afterward. It was not a good death, he was in great pain and would not let Susan come to be with him. It sounds cold but do you really want your loved ones there to see you in intense pain? Particularly if their distress will only add to yours. His funeral was a big state affair but what caught my attention was what Susan did between her husband's death and his burial.

Before her husband was buried Susan had the ring removed from his hand. Was this so she could keep a prized possession? No, because she gave the ring away to a family friend, Francis Gurney Smith. (Smith's son donated it to the Smithsonian but it's not on display.) When I found out that this is what Susan did with the ring it got me thinking. Why did she do it? Now it is true that ten years later, when Susan was in financial difficulties, she did sell off a lot of her husband's memorabilia, but she wasn't hurting for funds at this time. And why give it to a family friend? Why not return it to Somers's sisters, they would have loved to have had something of their dead brother, buried in an unmarked grave in North Africa. She could have given it to someone in Stephen's family, but she didn't do that either, she gave it away to someone outside the family and I think that was intentional. Think about what that ring must have meant to Susan. Everyday of her marriage she would have had to see him wearing a ring given to him by another man. Her husband was not wearing a ring that symbolized their bond but his bond to another man. How many times did she have to watch Stephen look down at the ring and perhaps touch it, thinking about the man who had given it to him. That is why I think she gave to someone outside the family, she wanted out of her life and the lives of the people around her. She did not want to have to come into contact with it again.

And maybe that's the best evidence we'll have about Richard and Stephen.

[platypanthewriter]

The Prince and the Pauper (Who Drives an Uber) Ch. 1

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Billy pulled up alongside the line of parked cars outside the embassy to wait for his Uber fare, ignoring the honks, and clicking through his playlists for the one Max had rated “least offensive”. He frowned into his glove compartment at the assorted air fresheners, and grabbed a cold bottle of water, sticking it in the cup holder for the back seats.

He checked his shirt—probably he was picking up a janitor, but just his luck some prime minister’s car blew a tire, and there he’d be with some leader of a country and secret service in his car, covered with dried beans and guac like he’d killed a burrito with a spear and eaten its corpse with both hands, roaring and beating his chest—his shirt was clean, and he took a steadying breath.

While he was yanking his earring out and dropping it in the cup holder, his fare ducked inside behind him. “Hey,” Billy said, over the honking of the surrounding—furious—drivers, “You’re my fare? Mind if I get your full name?”

Something clonked into the door opposite his fare, and rattled around on the floor, and the man—younger than Billy, Billy was fairly sure—flopped sideways across the seats with a groan. Then he started snickering. “You sure you want all of it? You got something to write it down?”

Billy glared over his shoulder. “Are you Steve, my fare... what the hell are you wearing?!”

“You don’t like my sash?” his presumed fare laughed, lying across Billy’s back seats in some kind of extremely shiny white outfit, with medals, and a cross on a chain. “They said it matched my eyes.”

“What the hell are you…” Billy trailed off again. “Is that a sword? Is that a tiara on my floor?! Why in the fuck—”

“It’s a coronet,” the actual Disney Prince in his back seat corrected him, putting his probably very expensive loafers on the window as he laid back, closing his eyes.

“Get your goddamn feet off my window,” Billy hissed. “You are my fare, right? You’re not just some...cosplaying menace. Or is cosplay Cinderella about to climb in?” he squinted suspiciously at the embassy, and the irritating pile of shiny clothes in the back laughed again.

“I’m Stephen of Blois,” he said, and Billy’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “I’m Grand Cross of the Order of the House of Orange.”

“You’re the right person— the fuck does that even mean,” Billy growled, pulling forward into traffic amidst an even louder cacophony of honks, like a herd of geese.

‘Stephen’ pointed at one of the medals. “Royal Air Squadron Commander,” he offered, and Billy contemplated hitting the brakes so hard his passenger fell off the seat.

“Stop fucking with me. Where the hell are we going,” he snarled, and all he got was a sigh.

“Anywhere, I guess. Where do people go when they’re fleeing the scene of a crime?” He sat up and leaned forward between the seats, and Billy got a noseful of expensive soap, aftershave, and breath against his ear. His very-much-gay dick woke up, and he cursed it, gritting his teeth.

“You’re saying you’re a fugitive? What’d you do, steal that ensemble from Elvis?” he shot back, and Steve snorted.

“No, I, uh. I just. I’m escaping a wedding.”

“Oh, shit,” Billy stared into the rearview mirror, and almost hit the car in front. “You—you what, you just left somebody standing at the altar?! That’s—what the shit—”

“No!” Steve yelped, then let his forehead fall against the seat behind Billy’s head, and groaned. “I didn’t—she just—I thought she, y’know, I didn’t think she wanted to wanted to, but we’re friends? And then she started yelling at me about her friend Barb, and—”

“Speak English,” Billy suggested, and Steve kicked the back of his seat.

“I thought we both knew we were getting married, and we’d just—be friends, you know, she’d do what...what she was going to do, and I’d do my thing, and we’d be married, succession secured, you know, so nobody would care—”

“Holy shit, you really are. Somebody,” Billy sputtered, hunching his shoulders a little as he registered he probably would not get a five-star rating for shouting at royalty. “Some tourist told me she was in town for ‘the wedding’ the other day. Thought she just thought everybody knew her niece, or something.”

“It’s been arranged since we were six!” Steve moaned, dropping back to lie across the seats again. He waved at the ceiling. “They got the cathedral and everything! She’s in the dress! And all of a sudden she starts crying ‘bullshit, bullshit’ that she can’t marry, because Barb.”

“Who the hell is Barb,” Billy asked woodenly, his eyes wide as he turned onto a side street. “Wait, are you supposed to have a bodyguard?!”

“So I said okay, I’d call it off, if she was—she was gonna set the whole thing on fire, I think. It’ll be super romantic in the news,” he said, sounding wistful. “She’ll probably forget to change out of her wedding dress and go propose to her librarian right in front of everybody. Just...stomp in in her twenty-four foot train and propose over the Information desk.” He sighed.

“Where the hell am I supposed to be driving,” Billy whispered, staring at the man in the back seat.

“I want drive-through,” whined Stephen of Blois, dropping his chin on the seat behind Billy’s shoulder. “I heard you can get anything at a drivethrough in America.”

“Not really,” Billy sighed, glancing at the pleading brown eyes in his rearview mirror. “I mean. Burgers. Tacos. Ice cream.”

“Ice cream,” breathed the royal in his backseat. “I want ice cream. I deserve ice cream.”

“It’s not very good ice cream,” Billy told him. “I mean. You might want a...restaurant, or something.”

“Ice cream!” Stephen said, throwing his hand forward like he was leading a charge, and Billy headed for the Dairy Queen.

“What do I even call you?” Billy asked, making an illegal u-turn as his passenger whooped. “Stephen?”

“Ugh, no. Steve is fine,” said Steve, pressing his face against the side window, kicking his coronet, and tossing it into the front passenger seat. It glittered as it went by.

“Put your damn seatbelt on,” Billy choked, watching the thing roll around, diamonds gleaming.

Steve grinned over, and did not.

“Where you actually going?” Billy asked, once they were in line. “Back to your hotel?”

“God, no, everybody’s going to yell at me,” Steve said, eyes narrowed at the menu. “May I...eat in your car?”

“Don’t order food,” Billy made a face. “The ice cream’s okay, but the food is garbage.”

“Hmm,” Steve nodded, but ordered like five things, prompting Billy for his order, and then flirted with the people at the window, who stared open-mouthed.

“I think everybody else knows who you are,” Billy said, finally, as they sat in the parking lot, and his royal passenger climbed out to sit in the front.

Steve chucked the coronet out of his seat again, over his shoulder into the back, and unwrapped everything to make happy humming noises into a banana split. “Nope,” he said, around a whole scoop of ice cream with pineapple syrup. It dripped on his fancy jacket, and he swallowed, clearing his throat. “M’nobody. Where else can we go?”

“...I don’t know,” Billy ate his Blizzard with a spoon, watching the leader of some country somewhere trying to tie a knot, with his tongue, in the stem of the cherry off the sundae he’d bought at Dairy Queen.

After watching his fare try to eat a chocolate-dipped cone, and discover the inherent trap as the melted ice cream in the chocolate shell escaped through a crack and jizzed all over his fingers and shiny gold medals, Billy groaned into his hands. He leaned over and yoinked the cone out of Steve’s hand as he stared in betrayal at the ice cream running down his elbow.

Billy stuffed the ice cream grenade in the plastic bag their food had come in, and then started dabbing Steve off with a handful of napkins.

“My ice cream cone,” Steve whispered, his expression shifting from betrayal to heartbreak. “What have you done.”

“Can’t believe you rule a country,” Billy growled back. “I disarmed your goddamn dipped cone bomb before it ruined your fucking...Armani or whatever. Thank me.”

“I was eating that,” Steve muttered, but he started to grin as Billy leaned in, scrubbing down his wrist and neck. Steve started laughing, like Billy was the one being an idiot, and Billy felt himself flush as he folded the sticky napkin over and wiped ice cream off Steve’s jaw, and Steve smiled, his eyes dark and warm in the light from the streetlamps. His breath was warm on Billy’s fingers, and he smelled like chocolate.

Billy wanted to lick it off his lips. He jerked back and put both hands on the steering wheel, where he could keep an eye on them. Don’t touch him again, he told himself sternly, and took a few slow breaths, telling himself to stop noticing the moles down Steve’s neck, and the texture of the hair on his arm in Billy’s hand.

Billy took another bite of Blizzard, and thought fixedly about the condensation on the cold cup dripping through his fingers, and the roof of his mouth going numb.

“Hey,” Steve muttered, fiddling with his phone, his plastic spoon sticking out the side of his mouth. “Hey, Billy. I’ve got a bad idea. Let’s do something. While I have, you know, uh, no security. Really bad idea.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go bowling.”

“What?!” Billy said, trying to breathe an oreo, and choked.

Steve patted him on the back, shoving his phone in Billy’s face with a picture of a neon sign reading Leatherneck Lanes. “Come on,” he leaned in, “—I just got stood up at the altar. Take me bowling?”

“Do you even know how to bowl?” Billy asked, once his lungs had some air in them.

“It says they rent shoes, and sell wings,” said Steve, sounding perplexed. He frowned over, licking his lips, so they were shiny. “What are the wings for?”

Billy bit his lips together, on the clock, yet wanting to lean in and push his fare back against the seat, and lick into his mouth—and also, on top of it all, trying to think up a believable lie about buffalo wings. He stared into the prince’s intent brown eyes. “...they’re not real wings,” he confessed, unable to pull his mind off kissing.

“I know they’re not real wings,” Steve rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Buffaloes don’t have wings. Are they toy wings? Do you...do you buy accessories for your toy buffalo? It says they have a buffalo ranch.”

Billy stared at the royalty in his car, mumbling about buffalo-themed bowling alleys, and wondered how anyone could stand him up at the altar.

Driving through for ice cream already had people snapping Steve’s photo, so for the bowling alley, Billy rummaged around in his bag and threw his sweatshirt at the prince’s head. “Change up, Charming,” he said, “—or we’ll summon up the media.”

“Oh, neat!” Steve said, excited about the sweatshirt, and trying to spread it across the dash. “Is this a hoodie? It is! Look, it has a little hood! And a front pocket, like a kangaroo!”

“Just put it on before I shove it in your mouth,” Billy hissed, his blood pounding in his ears as Steve stripped down, and the Royal Abs were exposed under the light of streetlamps. The rain on his windshield cast shadows of water trickling down Steve’s unbuttoned shirt and the skin of his flexing torso as he squirmed out of the stiff uniform-style jacket. He leaned back in the seat, his shirt sliding up with the jacket to show his chest hair and the flex of his shoulderblades, and then yanked it back down, pushing up his sleeves. It was still open all down the front.

“Let me finish my ice cream,” Steve mumbled. “Before I get it on your hoodie.”

Billy stared straight ahead as Steve made MNAH MNEEEEH noises licking the underside of the banana split container, and then began licking ice cream off himself from elbow to thumb. “Put the damn sweatshirt on,” Billy growled, both hands clenched on the steering wheel, and Steve laughed.

“Don’t want to get it all sticky,” he said, and Billy glared over to meet sparkling brown eyes and a wide smile.

He grabbed the hoodie and shoved it in his prince’s face, which was how he ended up with his arms around royalty, helping the prince of, it sounded like, several countries aim his balls.

And Billy couldn’t stop giggling softly about the buffalos.

“They should have toy buffalos,” Steve insisted occasionally, out of the blue, glancing from Billy’s grin to the bar. “They should! I want one!”

“Yeah, sure, Your Highness,” Billy agreed, nodding with his eyes wide.

“Hey,” said Steve, watching his gutter ball pass the pins. “I have, ah, I have another one. Bad idea. Probably it’s stupid.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Billy, licking his lips, and rubbing his hands on his pants, because fucking Prince Steve was warm and toned in Billy’s sweatshirt, and kept leaning into his space. “What’s your bad idea?”

Steve watched Billy’s mouth, grinning like an asshole, and Billy cleared his throat, stepping back. Steve stepped close again, close enough for Billy to feel his body heat. “Let’s get a motel,” he whispered, biting his lips in a tense smile. “Tonight.”

“Holy shit,” Billy staggered backward into the score calculator, staring at Steve’s face.

He looked intent, but didn’t close the distance. Max is going to murder me, Billy thought, licking his lips again. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” Steve grinned, and opened his mouth—probably to say something else irritating—and Billy held up a hand. “Wait, hold up. I gotta call my little sister.”

“You have a little sister?” Steve’s face softened, and Billy knew he was fucked.

“Yeah, and I gotta let her know I’m not drunk in a ditch somewhere,” Billy muttered, turning away so he couldn’t see Prince Goddamn Charming, looking ridiculous in styled hair and casual clothes, his whole face an enthusiastic question mark about Billy’s only family.

Max answered the phone with “I made tuna. You want some?”

“No, uh, I—” Billy turned to watch Steve lining himself up to throw again. His rented bowling shoes squeaked loudly against the floor, and the lights shone off his hair, rumpled where he’d yanked at his crown.

He narrowed his eyes at other bowlers, glancing around and scooting his feet with an intent expression. The peal of raucous music from a pinball machine startled him, and he hopped sideways on one foot, but then firmed his jaw, rolled his shoulders, and used his Royal Grace to throw the carefully selected Royal Bowling Ball straight into the Royal Gutter.

“What?” Max bit out.

Billy swung to face the other way, smiling helplessly. “I, uh. I’ll be late.”

“Oh,” she said, and he heard a whoop from behind him, and turned around. A kid was showing Billy’s fugitive prince how to bowl, and it looked more like they were practising poses for the Power Rangers. “Billy?” came Max’s voice. “Uh. A-are you in a bar?”

“No!” he told her, grabbing the phone with both hands. “No, no, it’s—I mean, yeah, there’s a bar in here, but we’re bowling. I, uh, the um, my fare wanted to go bowling. And he doesn’t know how to bowl. I’m—I’m just showing him how to bowl.”

“Oh,” she said, and he hoped she was distracted, and not trying to stare through the phone as hard as he was.

“We ordered some hot wings,” he reported. “And he wants to try root beer. He’s not from—they don’t have root beer. There. Where he’s from. I’m on the clock, Max.”

“Okay,” she said, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Max, he is hot as hell, I am—I think I’m like 30% gayer since he got in my car—”

She laughed, but didn’t say anything.

“He’s a Disney character,” Billy hissed. “It’s okay, I-I swear. This isn’t—I’m not—I’m not doing ...dangerous dumb shit, I promise. I’m not fucking up. I—I am gonna have the dumbest story to tell you, but I gotta go.”

“You left sunscreen in your pocket in the wash, asshole,” she said, rallying. “Dumber than that?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry!” Billy laughed. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah you do,” she muttered, and hung up.

Billy wandered back to Steve, still frowning down at his phone, and Steve threw an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. Billy inhaled cologne that probably cost as much as his rent.

“Unexpected obligations?” Steve asked, smiling.

He looked a little downcast, and Billy wondered what to say— his and Max’s family history was hardly first date material. With a prince. A prince who was his Uber fare, he reminded himself, and not his date, not really. The reminder was bracing, like stepping out into a cold wind. Billy’s had been the first car that pulled up, and he’d blushed and stared, and this prince had a few hours to kill. What am I doing, Billy wondered. “I like to call and check in.”

“How old is she?” Steve asked. “Do you need to get back?”

“Uh,” Billy said, grimacing, and remembered Max had rented a movie they needed to watch, and he had homework for three classes.

“I apologize,” his prince said, stepping away. “Of course you have your own schedule. Thank you for your patience with me. Where would it be convenient to drop me off?”

“Shit, no,” Billy followed him like a moth, ready to smack himself to death against a shining light. “I’d be working all night anyway.” He picked out a bowling ball. “You haven’t even tried root beer. I got all night.”

“You’ll stay?” Steve’s polite smile broadened into a real grin, and his cheeks flushed. Billy wanted to bite them. “...thank you.”

Billy tried, honestly, to bowl badly, and even things out, but His Highness was unparalleled at somehow missing all the pins even when he managed to keep it in the lane. Towards the end of the game, Billy was actually trying to help him bowl —instead of pretending in order to wrap both arms around him—and Steve kept leaning back to try and see his face and almost knocking them over, so they were laughing so hard they nearly fell.

Steve swiveled in his arms to face him, and Billy tried to pay attention as the right royal arms slid around his neck, the warm weight of a muscled body leaned against him, padded by Billy’s sweatshirt over starched groom trousers, and over it all Steve was grinning, pink-cheeked and a little smug. “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” he whispered.

Billy swallowed as his mouth started overproducing saliva, realizing he was about to get his face fucked in a bowling alley during work hours—by a man disappointed by the lack of winged buffalo plushies available for purchase.

“Yeah,” Billy whispered. “Yeah, okay.” He checked his back pocket for a condom, yanking Steve along behind him to the bathrooms, and then hauled him in the empty stall, and pinned him to the door, already breathing a little heavily in anticipation.

“Whoa,” Steve laughed again, watching Billy lick his lips. “Wow. Uh, I just— mmph.” He opened his mouth for Billy’s, humming as he ran his hands down Billy’s back, and yanked him even closer with one hand on each of Billy’s ass cheeks. “Damn,” he whispered, pulling back, and Billy leaned in again, knowing men that dragged him into bathrooms didn’t tend to be patient, but also that Steve still tasted like chocolate and ice cream, and he kept making little happy noises.

“Sorry,” Billy muttered, bringing his hand up to turn Steve’s head to just the right angle, and counting down fifteen seconds in his head to keep kissing the man before he had to pull back and get down to business. He could feel Steve’s smile bunched under his hand, and he couldn’t not kiss that too, mumbling ‘Sorry, sorry,’ again as Steve laughed.

“Just—jussec,” Steve grabbed Billy’s face with both hands and held him off, grinning. “Just—wait for a moment. You won’t get in trouble? Coming away with me?”

Billy snorted. “Maybe with Max.” At Steve’s narrowed eyes, he shook his head. “My sister. And no. Nah, it’s just—I get paid for jobs I take. I don’t have hours. I logged off.”

“So you were working tonight, and now you aren’t,” Steve said, running his thumb up Billy’s cheek, and Billy licked out and grabbed it in his mouth.

“Mmn,” he grunted back, sucking hard, and Steve’s head thudded against the door as he made a weird startled snorfling noise.

“Billy,” Steve whispered, yanking his hand back—his thumb scraped along Billy’s teeth, and Billy winced, wiping his mouth. “Billy, listen—Billy.” He grabbed Billy by the shoulders of his jacket and held him at arm’s length. “Stop.”

“Shit,” Billy said, realizing he’d screwed up, as always. “Jesus, you actually want to talk. Okay. Shit.” His dick didn’t even care, still pounding with all the blood in his body as Billy avoided looking at Steve’s face. Billy pushed back to sit on the toilet. “Sorry. Sorry, shoot, go ahead.”

“...Billy,” Steve repeated, stepping close again, and Billy nodded, his peripheral vision taking in the misspelled graffiti and lack of toilet paper in the grotty bathroom where he’d hauled a prince. He’s gonna back out, Billy told himself, and took a slow breath. “Billy?”

Billy smirked up, wishing he hadn’t promised Max he wouldn’t drink. “Not much like your—your fucking— consort, am I. Say your piece, your majesty.”

The sweatshirt hood and Billy’s fingers had messed up Steve’s hair, and he pushed it away from his frowning brown eyes. “I just...I’m paying you for the drive here, right, but you weren’t working for fun, can you afford to—”

Did he notice I ordered the cheapest food, Billy wondered, the humiliation sinking deeper in his stomach like he’d swallowed one of the bowling balls. “It’s fine, I’ll work more next week—”

“No,” Steve shook his head, digging his wallet out of his bag.

“The hell do you think is going on here?” Billy asked, watching. “Are—are you trying to pay me for sex?”

“No!” Steve hissed, glaring over. “No, I’m just—look, let me give you some money. Now. Let me pay you like my driver. Then I won’t—you won’t have to think about. Anything.”

“Anything like what,” Billy asked slowly, watching a prince leaf through the wad of cash in his fancy leather wallet, and wondering what he’d been planning with so many bills. They were probably all ones, he realized. For having a good time around town, until he decided he liked the look of his Uber driver.

“Let me just—” Steve groaned, biting his lip, and tucking his wallet away. “You’re gonna have my fare to the hotel, and—if you need the money, I’ll keep—just take it,” he pushed a stack of bills at Billy, who glanced down at it, then back up.

The top bill was a hundred. “What the fuck,” Billy said.

Prince Steve laughed, trying to fix his hair by feel, and avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Do—d’you still want a blowjob?”

“What the fuck,” Billy said once more, with feeling.

“I’m done talking,” Steve said, shrugging. “If you—I’m sorry this is awkward, I don’t know what to—”

“You made it awkward,” Billy glared down at the handful of cash, then back up at Steve. “Why the hell are you handing me all this money?!”

“See, now you can get pissed at me,” Steve grinned, his eyes flicking up to Billy’s expression, then down and away. “Don’t have to wonder whether I’ll pay up, now. You probably have rent.”

“I have rent,” Billy repeated, waiting for it to make sense. “I still don’t get it.”

“I hired you,” Steve groaned, his back thudding against the door, and sliding down it to sit on the ground as it creaked alarmingly. “I can’t—I hired you and then hit on you, this was such a bad idea—”

“Guess I’m just too sexy for your own good,” Billy told him, running his tongue around his teeth, and Steve stared at the motion of his tongue.

“God, you are,” he growled, folding his arms over his head. “Can we just—can we just start over? You’ve got enough money you don’t need to work tonight, and I’m—you just saw me bowling.”

“...you think I’m gonna act different if I need your money,” Billy finally put it together, and sighed.

“I don’t know!” Steve flailed a hand, smacking it into the side of the stall. “Maybe you’ve wanted to smack me this whole time, and you’re afraid I won’t pay my cab fare! Oh,” he stopped short, and whipped out his phone. “Mark me paid, and I’ll leave a rave review, then you don’t have to worry about that—”

Billy pulled his phone out slowly, considering. “So this isn’t you paying me for sex.”

“Hell no, why would you be a sex worker in California,” Steve mumbled, flicking the wrong app, opening the weather report, and mumbling in a language Billy didn’t know as he fumbled back to the Uber app. “Ugh. You wouldn’t even have a union, probably—”

The toilet creaked as Billy started laughing. “A union? Uber drivers don’t even have a union—”

“That’s terrible,” Steve looked up, frowning. “Do you get benefits?”

“What?!” Billy snickered harder, the inside of his skull feeling less sandpapery against his brain as he started to accept that the prince he’d hauled into the bathroom was honestly just trying to be a responsible date. And sucking at it. “I think you’re thinking way too hard about this.”

“I bet the owner would take my call,” Steve said thoughtfully. “People usually do. Maybe I could get some traction here with my unionization programs.”

“...you’re some kind of...union activist,” Billy asked, weirdly charmed.

“My family took the French Revolution very seriously,” Steve mumbled, finally getting the Uber app open.

“Anyway, this is way too much money,” Billy flapped it at him. “Way too much money. I could take, like, a week off.”

“So do it,” Steve shrugged, glancing up. “Watch something dumb with your sister. Buy yourself some—” he flapped his hand, “—I don’t know. I’d be paying my driver a lot more than Uber fare, y’know.”

“But he’s probably got...training. Bodyguarding, or—or something,” Billy whispered, staring at the fanned-out bills. Now he took the time to count it up, it was more than a week’s worth. More than a month, taking fares. He thought wildly of having money in the bank, after paying rent. Not having to wonder whether they’d be homeless if his car broke down and he couldn’t work. “This—this is too much, Steve. This is a shit-ton of money, I can’t—I can’t take this.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve got up to kneel in front of him, pressing Billy’s fingers around the money. “It’s yours. One-time gift, okay? I’ll be less generous next time, I promise. Pretend it came from your boss, okay? Class-action lawsuit for not having a union.”

“You’re so fucking strange,” Billy whispered, but allowed Steve to clasp his fingers closed on the cash.

“Now if I piss you off you can throw a drink on me,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss him again, and Billy was hard for this total freak, but he started sniggering again into Steve’s mouth.

“You were really looking for flying buffalo toys,” he whispered, and Steve snorted, shoving him into the wall.

“Shut up. They said buffalo wings, they should deliver. You want a blow job or not?”

“I get one?” Billy asked, laughing harder—not that it was funny, just he hadn’t expected to end up on a public toilet, clutching more money than he’d seen in cash outside of movies, with an actual prince kneeling, horny, at his feet. “Am I in some kinda gay Hallmark movie?”

“I might be bad at it,” Steve told him, grabbing Billy’s belt, and Billy yelped and squirmed to get his wallet out and stuff the money in, having visions of it scattered across the floor as he threw it like confetti in the throes of orgasm. And in my life, everything goes down the toilet, he thought, but leaned to lick into Steve’s mouth.

“Mmph,” Steve mumbled, sliding his fingers into Billy’s hair, and Billy leaned into it, letting Steve tug at his belt, and helping him pull it free. Billy fished out a condom, and Prince Steve, ready to give Billy Hargrove a blowjob on the floor of the public bathroom at a bowling alley, grabbed it, and yanked at the packet with his teeth.

He got it open—after just long enough that Billy was about to offer help—and pulled it out, eyes intent as he ducked lower and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, aiming the condom and unrolling it like he was in Mission Impossible.

He was bad at it, to the extent a hot guy doing his best at licking Billy’s cock could be bad, and Billy came in an embarrassingly short amount of time, kissing Steve’s head in an overabundance of fondness.

Part One | Two | Three | Four

[schrijverr]

A Familiar Face

Despite their looks when they return to Narnia the second time, the Pevensie siblings have all grown up once before and Peter had even been married. Upon returning he is not happy to see that an idiot of a prince has not only stolen his crown, but also the face of his lover.

Narnia Prince Caspian rewrite, but then make it gay

On AO3.

Ships: Peter/OMC that is also Caspian, Peter/Caspian

Warnings: homophobia mentioned, Peter is grieving and angry. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag somethine

~~~~~~~~~

The Pevensie siblings had been quite confused to hear about love between a man and a man or a woman and a woman when they had first started their reign. But in Narnia love is love and with their young minds this was a simple truth to accept.

For the first few years none of them really thought about it, until Peter was saved on the battlefield by a young dashing soldier, who had hauled him up with a grin and a bow.

Peter had stared after him dumbfound for a second, before his attention was pulled back to the battle by an ax nearly hitting his head.

Over the next few weeks, he couldn't get the young man out of his head. He’d tried to shake it off and didn’t want to believe it. It was only okay for others to feel like that, not him, not High King Peter. What about heirs?

No, Peter could not be like that.

However, the thoughts stayed and he found himself wanting to give in. He knew he couldn't, he had avoided finding out in which squadron the boy was so it wouldn't cloud his judgment when coming up with a strategy. But his mind did long for it.

Peter grew over it though and only saw it fit to mention it to his siblings when it had happened again. This time it had been a young knight, who had bested him during a tournament.

When he returned to the others later, after he had talked to the knight, who was called Darian. He softly said: “It is good that we came here, for I might be able to marry out of love in these lands.”

He swallowed thickly as he waited for what they would respond. He knew they were accepting of their subjects, but how would they feel about their own brother?

“Oh, oh my.” Susan replied with wide eyes, before her face softened and she smiled as she said: “Well, then I am also glad that we came here.”

Lucy engulfed him in a big hug, nearly the same height as he was now, as she said: “Oh, Peter, how wonderful for you!”

Edmund waited until the hug was over, before he knowingly smirked: “Any reason you’re telling us this now, brother? Perhaps a fellow swordsman?”

He had always been too observant for his own good and Peter could feel the blush creeping over his face as he looked away quickly. Susan and Lucy quickly caught on and soon he was pushed down on the couch as they tried to drag all the details out of him.

Later he would be grateful to them for pushing him to talk more with Darian, but now he grumbled embarrassed as he was.

Darian was kind and funny and an amazing sword fighter.

Everyday Peter fell harder and he couldn't be more overjoyed that his feelings were returned with Darian claiming he never made the best decisions when it came to love with a smirk and a wink after Peter had asked him if he didn’t mind Peter being the High King.

Susan once commented to Lucy and Edmund that she had never seen Peter happier than when he was with Darian. Something they agreed with wholeheartedly.

Peter and Darian married in the fifteenth year of their reign when Peter was twenty-seven and Darian twenty-nine. It had been a logistical nightmare to prepare the law for it to work out seamlessly, but the ceremony had been beautiful.

Both had worn white tunics and at the end their cheeks had hurt from smiling and their feet from dancing.

Three years later the four siblings disappeared chasing a white stag that was said to be able to grant any wish. Peter would never tell his siblings how he had intended to wish he and Darian could’ve had children of their own.

Darian would try and pick up the reign in their absence, but die in from heartbreak soon after his love had vanished. Leaving Cair Paraval vulnerable to attack.

Meanwhile Peter had suddenly been pushed back into the body of a child, just twelve-years-old, with the mind of an adult and the grief of a widower.

Susan had tried to broach the subject with him, but he had snapped and yelled, only breaking down to cry when she had fled the room for his outburst. He wanted to go home, he wanted to see his husband and have him hug him and tell him it was alright.

He ruined his hands trying to break the back of that goddamned wardrobe trying to return to his love to no avail.

They were stuck here and it didn’t look like they were going back as life went on.

Their mother had no clue what to do with the serious and far away eyes her children now wore and had send them away once more, this time to a boarding school.

Peter remained silent throughout almost the all years. Sure, he would talk with the others about the Beavers, Mr. Tumnus and all the other things they had left behind, but he would become withdrawn and silent whenever Darian was mentioned.

The first time he mentioned the name himself was after he’d been beaten up on a train station for the so many-th time. Susan asked: “What was it this time.”

“He bumped me.” Peter answered shortly.

“So you hit him?” Susan exclaimed.

“No, okay, that’s not the reason- just, nevermind.” Peter turned away from her, fists clenched.

“Then what was it, Peter? Just talk to me.” Susan said, trying to get through to her brother for once after all this time. They used to be so close, now it was just this.

Peter took a deep breath, then he turned around and looked her in the eye: “He looked like Darian, okay. I ran up to the guy because for a split second I thought I saw him and then it was just a stupid guy, who asked me what the fuck my problem was, so yeah, I hit him.”

“Oh, Peter.” Susan sighed as the other two gave him a look of pity.

He snapped: “Don’t ‘oh, Peter,’ me, okay, just don’t. I’m just tried of being treated as a kid.”

“We are kids.” Edmund said and sometimes Peter hated how the little shit was always right. It was annoying.

“Well, I wasn’t always.” he moped as he slumped down on the bench, “It’s been a few years and I just want to go home. How long does he expect us to wait?”

Susan gave him a sad look and softly said: “I think it’s time to accept that we live here. It’s no use pretending any different.”

She looked over to the platform and got big eyes, but before she could say something else Lucy shot up with a shriek. So, she hissed: “Quiet, Lu.”

“Something pinched me.” she exclaimed, looking around.

Peter was about to look who it had been when someone tugged on his hair from behind, Ed, the fucker. He got up and yelled: “Stop pulling.”

“Not touching you.” Edmund frowned at him.

Susan looked at the train starting to pass and asked: “What is that?”

“It feels like magic.” Lucy replied.

“Quick hold hands!” Susan told them.

Beside Peter Edmund complained, but Peter didn’t really listen and grabbed his hand. They were going home, he was going to see Darian again.

The train station turned into a cave and soon they were running on the beach and into the water while yelling a having fun. Their return was interrupted by Edmund, who asked: “Where do you suppose we are?”

“Well, where do you think?” Peter couldn't believe Edmund hadn’t realized where they were, they had ruled these lands for eighteen years, even Edmund couldn't forget that in a few years of being back in their original world.

“Well, I don’t remember there being any ruins in Narnia.” Edmund said.

That got Peters attention and he looked up. They had to rebuild their land from scratch and every ruin had been a reminder of what had been lost to the White Witch, so they had made sure none were left, but Edmund was right, again, and also annoying, again.

There was a ruin on top of a familiar hill.

A pit started to form in Peter stomach as they all hurried to put their shoes back on so that they could explore these mysterious ruins.

Lucy frowned, probably desperate not to believe, and asked: “I wonder who lived here.”

Susan picked something up from the ground and confirmed their worst fears: “I think we did.”

“Hey, that’s mine.” Edmund pulled it from her hand, “From my chess set.”

“Which chess set?” Peter asked, still hoping it all isn’t true.

Edmund didn’t care or didn’t notice as he replied: “Well, I didn’t have a solid gold chess set in Finchley, did I?”

Peter was about to break down and cry, his home, his husband to which he wanted to return so badly was ripped from him, even if he was here once more, when Lucy pulled him away from the edge with a: “It can’t be.”

Then she ran off and Peter would always be the big brother that ran after her, while he yelled: “Lucy!”

“Don’t you see?” she asked, standing on a ruined platform.

Peter desperately didn’t want to see, but still asked: “What?” hoping the answer wouldn't be what he thought it was.

“Imagine walls, and columns there and a glass roof.” Lucy sounded excited about it as she pointed and made the other look at their former home.

Before his eyes the walls rebuilt themselves in his memory along with stolen moments and good times. He confirmed: “Cair Paravel.”

They explored the ruins of Cair Paravel as they wondered what could have possibly happened and how long they had been gone.

“Catapults.” Edmund suddenly said, looking down.

“What?” Peter choked, immediately all kinds of scenarios started to whirl in his head as Darian died a thousand horrible deaths in his minds eye.

“This didn’t just happen, Cair Paravel was attacked.” Edmund explained, taking his upset for confusion.

If there was a siege, perhaps their stuff from when they were young would have been taken as well, and Peter didn’t want tot think about what certain things could to in the wrong hands. He followed old routes easily and soon he and Edmund were clearing the way to the treasury room.

There was a bit of levity as Edmund tried to cheer him up with the flash-light. Peter smiled at his brother, he appreciated the gesture, but there was still a heaviness in his heart.

“I can’t believe it. It’s all still here.” he said, glad their weapons hadn’t been taken by whoever had done this as he approached his chest, while the others rushed to theirs as well.

Lucy pulled out a dress and exclaimed: “I was so tall!”

“Well, you were older then.” Susan replied.

“As opposed to hundreds of years later. When you are younger.” Edmund added and Peter felt a stab of pain go through his heart once more. He had returned, but he was too late. His lover was dead, his home was destroyed and he hadn’t seen any of his people.

In the background the others chattered on while Peter slowly drew his sword. It felt balanced in his hand as it had always done and he read the inscription out loud to himself: “When Aslan bears his teeth, winter meets its death.”

“And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.” Lucy finished, then the realization of what it all meant sank in on her as she said: “Everyone we knew: Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers, they’re all gone.”

“I think it’s time we found out what’s going on.” Peter said, before he fell to his knees to rummage around in his chest, hoping to find some clues or at least some better clothes to wear.

He ignored the wedding tunic in his chest as he blinked away the tears, he knew that they had saved a few clothes from their youth at the bottom and he assumed that with everything as they left it, those must be there was well.

With no new clues there, they set out to find someone they could talk to in the hope that a person could tell them more about what had happened, both to Narnia and Darian. Although Peter was privately more interested in one of the two.

They meet a dwarf, Trumpkin, who was only slightly helpful even after Edmund beat him in a duel and he believed they were who they said they were. Although they did get the clue that Telmarines had invaded their country and they had been called by their Prince, Caspian.

“They used to dance.” Lucy lamented once they were in the boat.

Trumpkin gave her a look and explained: “It wasn’t long after you left that the Telmarines invaded. Those that survived retreated so deeply to the woods. And the trees have retreated so deeply into themselves that no one has heard from them since.”

“I don’t understand. How could Aslan have let this happen?” Lucy exclaimed, before Peter could ask about Darian.

“Alsan?” Trumpkin said, “I thought he abandoned us after you lot did.”

“Who took our places. Was it Darian?” Peter asked.

“Who’s Darian?” Trumpkin asked in return, stomping on the last bit of hope Peter had as the chasm in his chest opened further.

“No one.” Peter said, ignoring the looks from his siblings as he told Trumpkin: “We didn’t mean to leave, you know.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference now, does it.” Trumpkin told him and Peter was honestly starting to get annoyed at the dwarf.

“Get us to the Narnians and it will.” Peter said determinedly. Fighting he could do, just turn off his mind and ignore the loss until it was over. Aslan must have returned them with a reason, he could figure out what had happened to Darian on his own.

None of them had realized how bad it had truly gotten until their encounter with the bear. It was all wrong, this wasn’t their Narnia, not anymore.

They walked through overgrown lands, without structures that could point them in the right way. Peter was not in the best frame of mind, but he kept pushing onward, perhaps letting his bad mood flow out in harsh comments to his siblings and the newly acquired ‘DLF’.

His siblings seemed to understand and didn’t push him. He tried to ignore the guilt at his own words, but it was easy to allow himself to wallow in the feeling. Better guilt than that ever crushing heartbreak and grief.

He just needed to find Aslan, once they found him, he could tell the Lion about everything and plead for his love to return to him.

But then Lucy saw him, but they didn’t and a small part of Peter began to doubt if Aslan would even come, even care.

However, Lucy kept on believing, which wasn’t really discouraged with how they got over the gorge. Already annoyed Peter followed her as she walked away from their camp on her own and almost got herself killed.

Peter signaled her to be quiet as he walked up to the minotaur, but before he arrived someone else came out of nowhere and clashed swords with him.

The new person left Peter unbalanced and in shock. He looked so much like Darian that it was almost unnatural, he was also just as good with a sword and after a few years without practice, Peter was on his back before he knew it.

“Prince Caspian?” he asked, starting to put together who they must’ve ran into.

“Yes.” he answered, with a slight foreign accent, “And who are you?”

Right at that moment Susan came running, calling out his name along with Edmund and Trumpkin right behind her. With the name Caspian looked at the sword as his eyes grew wide: “High King Peter?”

Peter had gotten up and replied: “I believe you called.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you’d be older.” Caspian told him.

So did I, Peter thought, getting irrationally irritated at the boy who had stolen his lovers face. He answered: “Well, if you’d like, we can come back in a few years.”

“No! No, that’s alright.” Caspian came back on his words, “You’re just- you’re just not exactly what I had expected.”

“Neither are you.” Edmund told him, looking at the minotaur and Peter was glad he was here to talk to this prince.

“A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes.” a badger said and they all hadn’t been more glad to see a talking animal.

A mouse walked up to Peter and bowed, before pledging his service. There was a slight miscommunication when Lucy couldn't help but comment on the apparent cuteness of the mouse, but Peter was glad he was here.

“Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade.” he told the mouse.

He was even more glad when the mouse told him about the weapons they were gathering and told him as much: “Good, because we’re going to need every sword we can get.”

“Well, then, you’ll probably be wanting yours back.” Caspian offered him back his sword, the same expression on his face Darian would get whenever he had beaten Peter in combat. Wordlessly he snatched it back, before walking off. He did not want to be near this Caspian.

They were led to Aslans How and Caspian let them go in first. He apologized for the lack of luxury, but was ignored as Susan yelled: “Peter, you might want to see this.”

He ran up to her to see a carvings on the wall depicting the four of them. She looked at him and said: “It’s us.”

Next to him Lucy turned to Caspian and asked: “What is this place?”

“You don’t know?” Caspian asked with a frown and Peter kind of wanted to hit him, because of course they didn’t know, they had been away for so long that everything they did know had disappeared.

Still, he followed the prince as he showed them through the How to Aslans table. Peter silently hated seeing his face again after he pulled them back without giving him a chance to see his husband again.

Lucy saw his look and assured him: “He must know what he’s doing.”

“I think it’s up to us now.” Peter told her, not wanting to ruin her connection with Aslan, but also not in the mood to like the Lion or believe in him.

In the days after, he spent hours looking at the carvings. He still showed enough interest in all the other stuff to avoid suspicion from everyone that weren’t his siblings. But they knew who he was looking for on the walls.

There was nothing.

No clues, no tales, not even a mention. He knew this was about the four of them and Darian had only officially been part of the royal family for three years, but he couldn't imagine something so important being omitted.

Of course, there was also the option of the How being built by Darian in honor of their memory after he had left him behind, but that hurt too much to think off.

He only saw Caspian whenever he needed to do something about the war.

Peter didn’t know how he felt about that. On one hand, he was glad that he didn’t have to see that face without the person and the love he knew behind it, but on the other, he was desperate to imprint it in his mind while he still could.

Most of the time he was more glad. It was irrational to be mad at someone for not being the person you want them to be, but Peter still got angry whenever that accented voice spoke, instead of the kind teasing voice he knew.

So, he mostly ignored him and was glad of that fact.

Now, however he had to see it. Caspian had allowed him to speak, which had already irritated him, but he pushed it away to propose his plan: “Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us.”

“But that’s crazy, no one has ever taken that castle.” Caspian protested, too young to see the How for what really was.

“There is always a first time.” Peter told him, trying not to get irritated.

“We’ll have the element of surprise.” Trumpkin said, Peter was starting to like him more.

“But we have the advantage here.” Caspian argued.

“If we dig in, we could hold them off indefinitely.” Susan agreed with Caspian, making something flare up in Peters chest that he quickly pushed down.

“I for one feel safer underground.” the badger said.

Peter ignored the badger and turned to Caspian as he explained: “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done, but this isn’t a fortress, it’s a tomb.”

He had led enough sieges to know what starvation could do to people and with his own paintings on the walls it had never felt more like a final resting place, especially once you knew what had happened on that table.

“Yes, if the Telmarines are smart, they’ll starve us out.” Edmund agreed with Peter, he had always been a good right-hand man with a smart head on his shoulders and Peter was glad to have him on his side.

There was a bit of squabbling between the mouse, Reepicheep, and an squirrel, which Peter ignored in favor of asking Glenstorm: “If I can get your troops in, can you handle the guards?”

“Or die trying, my liege.” the centaur promised.

Peter was about to thank him when Lucy cut in: “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What?” Peter asked, he appreciated Lucy’s input. He hadn’t forgotten how she had charged into battle alongside him and Edmund even if her body was too young to do so now.

“Well, you’re all acting like there are only two options: Dying here or dying there.” she said and Peter would really like to know what else she thought they could do, because in his eyes the situation was dire enough for a suicide mission and if he could save his men, he would.

Still, that third option was hard to believe and Peter already had a hard time believing these days, so he said: “I’m not sure, you’ve really been listening, Lu.”

“No, you’re not listening. Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch.” she gestured to the Aslan mural on the wall.

He wanted to sigh. He knew Lucy had always had the most faith out of all of them, but couldn’t she see that Aslan had abandoned them? He did not care for this world or he would have never kicked them out, make him leave Darian behind.

It hadn’t even been Aslan who had pulled them back, just a harsh reminder that took the shape of a prince. Alsan wasn’t here anymore, it was up to them now.

“I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough.” he told her, not missing the hurt look in her eyes, but he couldn't believe, not now, not after everything.

Peter had a plan to make, it had to be perfect or they were all doomed. He had to make sure this suicide run wasn’t for nothing.

When he finally realized he shouldn’t have given Caspian such an important roll, it was too late. He had allowed the face to make him over-calculate Caspians skills and now he was running off and ruining everything.

Getting to Miraz room and he was already there, ruining the plan by waking him. Caspian should have been ruthless. He was outnumbered, he couldn't afford to be dramatic, didn’t he see that? Beside all that, he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Caspian, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be at the gatehouse.” Peter was going to kill him once they got out of here. What were their troops going to do now?

The prince ignored him as the situation got more and more out of hand.

By the time they got out the bells were already ringing and all the surprise they had on their side was gone, but Peter wasn’t about to abandoned ship like that, he wasn’t like Aslan. So he ran down a different hallway as he yelled at Susan: “Our army is just outside.

Then he was yelling at Edmund, loyal Edmund, who was where he was supposed to be: “Now, Ed, now! Signal the troops.”

Edmund yelled something back, but he couldn't hear it, since he was too busy with opening the gates.

“Peter, it’s too late. We have to call it off while we still can.” Susan was next to him, but she wasn’t helping.

“No, I can still do this. Help me.” Peter told her desperately, he could still do this, he could still save Narnia, he could still make up for what he had done to his people, to Darian. Didn’t Susan see that they had to make it right again?

She started helping him along with Caspian, who should’ve been here already. As they were opening the gate, she asked him: “Just who exactly are you doing this for, Peter?”

“You know who.” he mumbled to her, but then the gate was opened and their troops ran in, so he screamed: “For Narnia.”

Then all around them there was the all too familiar chaos of battle. People were falling left and right from both sides, but they had to make it through.

“Get that gate closed.” he heard from above and soon enough the gate started to close.

Asterius was holding open the gates and it was too late. They had failed in seizing the castle. He yelled: “Fall back! Retreat!”

Glenstorm charged past, swinging Susan onto his back as she screamed at him: “Caspian.”

Peter looked around to see the idiot prince missing and he yelled back: “I’ll find him.”

Frantically he looked around for the missing Caspian. He’d hated him, still hated him, but he couldn't fail him. He was too much like Darian and he did not need to know how his husband would’ve looked like once he was dead.

A wave of relief crashed over him when he saw Caspian on horseback with an older man, presumably the professor he had wanted to free.

With that solved he set to retreating himself as well. Right as he was through the gate, Asterius collapsed and he looked back to the troops trapped inside with horror. They were going to get slaughtered.

He wanted to go back, go help them. As High King he should go back for them, he couldn't abandon his troops, but they also couldn't loose him. Then Caspian would be in charge and they would never survive with him.

Hot rage burned through his veins as he fled. Better rage than grieve and loss, he told himself, just push it down, don’t think about it.

They returned to the How lesser in number with no victory under their belts. Peter had ignored Caspian and Susan on the way back along with most of the troops that hadn’t been wounded.

“What happened?” Lucy asked, face horrified.

“Ask him.” Peter spat, nodding to Caspian.

“Peter.” Susan chided, and of course she did. She never took his side in this sort of thing, just like during the fight when she had insisted Caspian could still get to the gate in time. Like that had gone over so great.

“Me?” Caspian sounded indignant, “You could have called it off. There was still time.”

“No, there wasn’t thanks to you.” Peter shouted at him, “You’re too emotional and inexperienced for battle. You might as well have killed them with your own hands. If you’d stuck to the plan, those soldiers would still be alive right now.”

“And, if you’d just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be.” Caspian yelled back, like Peter hadn’t explained to him why they couldn't stay there.

“You called us, remember. You called us, because you couldn't handle it on you own.” Peter spat at him.

“My first mistake.” Caspian bit back.

“No, your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people.” Peter told him coldly, “You abandoned them in the middle of the fight when they needed you most, for a personal vendetta, great leadership.”

“Hey! You abandoned Narina first, in case you have forgotten.” Caspian yelled back, the words cutting through Peter like a knife.

“You think I abandoned my home? Think I left my life behind on purpose?” Peters stare was ice, “I was forced out. Stuck. Back into the body of child. Left in a world that wasn’t my own anymore, tossed to the side, like my people here, who got invaded by your people, in case YOU have forgotten. You have no more right to it than Miraz does. You, him, your father. Narnia is better off without the lot of you.”

Caspian had no response to that and just yelled as he drew his blade. Peter didn’t mind, he was mostly back in shape and he would love to beat the others face in, no matter how much it would hurt. He had seen his love bleeding on the battlefield before, he could bear it.

They were stopped by Edmund, before anything could really happened and when Trumpkin was healed, Peter stormed off. He needed to be alone right now.

He had been planning to yell at Aslans mural when he saw Caspian, hand outstretched to the White Witch as she beckoned him close. His eyes grew wide as a hand squeezed his heart tighter. He ran towards Caspian, Edmund and Trumpkin on his heels, and yelled: “Stop.”

There was a fight, but he heard the White Witch call Caspian and he couldn't let it happen, not again, not her.

He pushed Caspian away, another person echoing through his mind, as he yelled at her: “Get away from him.”

But then he was stood in front on her and she gave him such a pitying look as she said: “Peter, dear, I have missed you. Come on, just a drop. You know you can’t do it alone.”

Peter tried to fight her and although he wasn’t moving away, he also wasn’t giving in. She reached for him and whispered: “I can get him back for you. Darian was such a darling.”

A shock went through his body as a bit more fight drained out of him and he hesitated before lowering his sword. He wanted to give in so badly, to be able to return to the arms of his lover, have him by his side again, smiling and making him laugh with a stupid joke.

Then the wall shattered and the White Witch disappeared, leaving only Edmund standing there, looking as kingly as Peter remembered him to be.

If it had been anyone but Edmund he would have gotten mad, now he just looked defeated as his little brother told him: “I know. You had it sorted.”

Edmund left and now it was just Caspian and Peter along with the remnants of the ice where the White Witch had stood. Caspian sagged to the ground and buried his head in his head as he took a few shaky breaths.

He looked so unlike Darian, whom he had only known as self assured and happy, and after that Peter could hardly blame him for almost giving in. So, he sat down next to him and looked at the carving of Aslan with him.

“She offered me my uncles head on a platter.” Caspian softly confessed after a few minutes of silence, “It seemed so easy, just shake her hand this would all be over.”

“I know how that feels, Edmund knows it too. Happens to the best of us.” Peter comforted him.

“Edmund?” Caspian asked.

“Not my tale to tell.” Peter answered.

“Oh.” it was quiet for a few seconds, then Caspian asked: “What did she offer you?”

For a moment Peter considered not telling him, but the prince had told him and he needed his trust if their last stance against Miraz was going to be a success. So he said: “She offered me help, for all this. And,” he hesitated, “and a chance to see my husband again.”

“Your husband?” Caspian exclaimed surprised.

“I know we don’t look it, but when we left Narnia I was thirty. Lucy was already twenty-seven, if you can believe that.” he told him, “When we returned to our world we were the same age as when we entered. It has just been a few years for us there, not centuries.”

“That explains some things, I am sorry.” Caspian said, “I did not know you had been married.”

“No need to apologize. It seems like no one remembers him.” Peter said sadly, then he sighed: “I just wish to know what happened to him.”

It was silent again, then Caspian asked: “What was his name. What was he like?”

That was the first time someone had asked him that. All his siblings had known Darian and no one back in their world knew of him, nor anyone here.

A bit of happiness floated up in his chest that he could talk to someone about him, without getting a pitying look.

“His name was Darian,” Peter smiled softly, “He was amazing. He was kind and funny and good with a sword, beat me the first time we met at a tournament. We were married for three years before I disappeared. He looked a lot like you actually, but different accent. Perhaps I put some of my grief about him on you, for that I apologize.”

Caspian thought over his words, before he replied: “He sounds like a lovely person. I can understand how being thorn from your word and pushed back with healing scars and no explanation can leave one irritated. I do not hold it against you.”

“And for that I thank you.” Peter told him.

“No need to thank me.” Caspian said, “This might not be anything, but all I have learned about Narnia came from professor Cornelius, I can ask him if he know something about what happened to your husband.”

“If you did so, I would forever be in your debt.” Peter smiled.

“Like I can ever repay you for helping me, High King Peter.” Caspian replied.

“Call me, Peter.” Peter told him, “It looks like you’re going to be my equal if we make it out, might as well start acting like it.”

“Alright then, Peter.” Caspian said, smiling as well.

They leaned back against the table and Caspian asked: “Can you tell me more about back then? About the Golden Age? I hear so much, but know so little. I wish to know more about this land if I am to rule it one day.”

“It will be my pleasure.” Peter told him as he started telling Caspian about the rebuilding of their home, the wars, the feasts, the treaties and the small moments of peace.

Late at night after many tales from back then, Caspian thanked him once more, before he retreated for the night. Peter stayed there in front of Aslan as he wondered if he would ever return to them and if he could do what the White Witch had promised.

He was still sitting there the next day when Lucy sat down next to him and looked up at Aslan as well.

“You’re lucky, you know that.” Peter broke the silence.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“To have seen him. I wish he’d just give me some kind of proof.” Peter sighed, “All I have is a too small army and no clue how Darian died.”

Tears sprung in his eyes and Lucy threw one arm over his shoulders as she said: “Maybe we’re the ones who need to prove ourselves to him.”

He looked at her and could see the smart woman she had been, who had kept hope in the hearts of their men and themselves. Lucy always had the most faith, if she still believed it would be alright, it had to be.

Maybe he couldn't believe in Aslan right now, but he could believe in Lucy.

Before he could reply to her, however, Edmund stormed in. He looked tense as he said: “Pete, you better come quickly.”

Then he hurried away again as Peter and Lucy rushed after him. Outside the Telmarine troops marched. The waiting time was over, they needed a plan and quick.

Luckily, the faith he had placed in Lucy wasn’t for nothing and she had a plan. Now they just needed to hold Miraz off for as long as they could.

“Cakes and kettledrums! That’s your next big plan? Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone?” Trumpkin wasn’t happy with Lucys plan it seemed.

“You forget she is Queen Lucy the Valiant, my friend.” Peter said, “It’s our only hope and I trust her to come through.”

“And she won’t be alone.” Susan added.

“Haven’t enough died already.” Trumpkin was certain this plan was doomed.

At least the badger, Trufflehunter, was there to calm him: “Nikabrik was my friend too, but he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn’t and neither have I.”

He seemed to have the right idea Peter thought approvingly. Reepicheep chanted: “For Aslan.”

And a bear echoed, with that settled Peter turned to the next point, keeping Miraz troops away from the forest. Behind him he heard Trumpkin say: “I’m coming with you.”

“No, we need you here.” Lucy told him, she knew war well enough to know each and every soldier counted.

“We need to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back.” he said, looking over the map and calculating their numbers, knowing they didn’t have enough.

“If I may?” Caspian stepped forwards.

Peter would have shut him down by now before, but he knew Caspian was trying to win, trying to be a leader worthy of Narnia. And he had the same pleading eyes Darian had had, which he never had been able to refuse.

So he allowed him to speak.

“Miraz might be a tyrant and a murderer, but as King, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one particular thing that may buy us some time.” Caspian said as he began to explain his plan.

Grinning Peter told Edmund to start writing a duel challenge, his brother had a way with words, so he only gave the order: “Make it sting.”

Edmund grinned in return and before Peter knew it they were anxiously awaiting his little brothers return. Beside him Caspian asked: “Is he going to be alright?”

Peter glanced over and saw genuine concern. He smiled and assured Caspian: “Ed is always alright in these sort of things. I once witnessed him insult the entire royal house of the Lonely Islands, before he convinced them to surrender to us, without them even noticing.”

“Really?” Caspian asked with big eyes.

“Jup, really.” Peter confirmed with a proud grin.

In the How behind them Trumpkin was making sure Lucy and Susan would be on their way safely, before joining Peter and Caspian just in time for Edmunds return.

Peter got ready for his fight, knowing that Glenstorm was keeping an eye on the forest to make sure his sisters would be safe. He knew they were deadly on their own, but the big brother instinct stopped him from leaving them unguarded.

In front of him Miraz said: “There is still time to surrender.”

“Well, feel free.” Peter had won enough fights not to be intimidated by a man with a metal beard on his helmet.

“How many more must die for the throne?” Miraz asked him, trying to get a rise out of him.

Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes as he replied: “Just one.”

Then the fight started for real, swords swinging through the air as they clashed. He and Miraz were dancing around each other, looking for any weak spots. Muscle memory took over for the most part, but his body wasn’t the same as the last time he’d been here.

He made a wrong step and was on his back, tripping over Miraz feet. He kept rolling to break his fall, but Miraz stepped on his shield and his arm twisted, making him cry out in pain.

Trying to get away, he kept on blocking, but it wasn’t looking good. It was a stroke of luck he managed to trip up Miraz as well.

Both got up quickly and he saw Glenstorm riding with Susan on his back. Caspain gave him a short nod, before rushing towards them, giving him a thumbs up, but Peters attention was already back on Miraz, who asked: “Does his highness need a respite?”

“Five minutes.” he needed to know what happened to Lucy.

“Three.” Miraz said and Peter was willing to take that.

They limped back to their respective sides and slumped in their seats. With fear in his eyes he asked: “Lucy?”

“She got through, with a little help.” Susan told him, nodding to Glenstorm.

“Thank you.”

Glenstorm bowed his head: “It was my honor and duty, but your sister oversells it, they did not need much help.”

Peter turned back to Susan and nodded to the How: “Better get up there, just in case. I don’t expect the Telmarines will keep their word.”

Susan quickly hugged him, making him wince in pain. She let go if burned and softly apologized, he waved it away and assured her he was alright.

“Take care.” she told him.

“Keep smiling.” Edmund said next to him, signaling to him that he was being watched and shouldn’t show weakness.

“I think it’s dislocated.” he told Edmund, then he a sudden thought came up in him “What do you think happens back home if you die here? Would I go to the same afterlife as- …You know, you’ve always been there, after Darian. I never really-”

His thank you and maybe farewell speech was cut off by Edmund, who relocated his shoulder and sternly said: “Save it for later.”

It wasn’t the first time they gave each others words that might become their last, but Edmund knew Peter could survive this and he wasn’t about to listen while the other talked himself into a spiral that could effect his performance.

And with that the fight started again. It was harsh and it hurt, but Peter was managing this time around. He had been able to study how his opponent fought and was ready with some new strategies to try.

He practically had Miraz when the man yelled: “Respite! Respite!”

“Now is not the time for chivalry, Pete.” Edmund shouted from behind and Peter knew this. Still, he hesitated. He was High King Peter the Magnificent, it would be wrong to kill a man unarmed, he had won.

Edmund might be Just, but he could be a cold blooded judge and had always fared better in backroom backstabbing than duels, which said a lot seeing that he was already an amazing duelist.

Peter lowered his sword and walked away. The moment his back was turned Edmund began to shout: “Look out!”

He dodged just in time and cursed himself, how many times did he have to learn to listen to Edmund before that lesson stuck? His little brother had proved himself to be wise beyond Peter many times and still he forgot.

But, Miraz was weakened and Peter was not intending to stop right now. With a few blows he had the self-proclaimed King on his knees before him.

“What’s the matter boy? Too cowardly to take a life?” he asked tauntingly, not realizing that the boy in front of him was way more than he seemed.

Looking back Peter was every inch the High King he claimed to be as he said: “I am not cowardly and I have taken many lives on many different battlefields. I just know when a life is not mine to take.”

He offered Caspian the sword, who took it with determination. He had earned this kill, if he wanted it, it was his for the taking. He raised the sword slowly as his uncle told him: “Perhaps I was wrong. It seems you have the making of a good Telmarine King after all.”

Caspian screamed and plunged the sword into the soil. There was fury in his eyes as he said: “Not one like you. Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom.”

As he walked back to them everyone cheered, but Peter and Edmund exchange looks. They had just seen how treacherous a Telmarine could be with your backed turned to them and they did not trust them to keep theirs turned.

Soon they were proven right as Miraz died at the hands of one of his own men and the troops were called to arms anyway.

Peter quickly found Caspians eyes and the prince nodded at him self assured, before he rode back into the How, while Peters heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen Darians eyes this time, but still there was that reaction as he started to count.

The fight was brutal and Peter was keeping a strong face because he had to, because he couldn't fail once more. He couldn't disappoint Lucy or Caspian or Edmund or Susan or any of the men under his care, he needed to keep them safe for Aslans sake.

With no Lucy in sight, however, there was no other choice. He called out: “Back to the How,” he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, they were retreating. Now.

But their escape was cut off as the How collapsed and there was no other choice than turn back to face the Telmarines once more. With Edmund by his side and Caspian on the other of the battlefield they charged again.

Then the battlefield was filled with trees and Peter smiled to himself, not all hope was lost. He rushed over to where he had seen Caspian last and pulled him up with a grin that was returned. Looking back to the fight he shouted: “For Aslan!”

And they charged again, making the Telmarines retreat back to the river, where they were intercepted by what could only be Aslan and Lucy.

With the Telmarines dealt with, the three of them and Caspian knelt before Aslan as they waited for him to speak: “Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia.”

Everyone except Caspian rose, surprising Peter, but also making a wave of pride surge through him when Caspian responded to Aslan with: “I do no think I am ready.”

And he could not agree more with the Lion as he said: “It’s for that very reason that I know you are.”

After that they got interrupted by Reepicheep and his friends, while Peter threw an arm around Caspians shoulders and smiled at him, getting one in return, before he let go.

Then the four of them were busy helping Caspian set up and make everything go more smoothly. He at least had the luck that there was already a system in place that he could mold to fit the current situation instead of having to start anew, but it was still a lot of work.

Peter and Caspian were almost constantly together and Peter had grown very fond of the pri- uhm, King.

With very fond, he meant he had fallen for him and he had fallen hard, but he did not want to burden the young man with it, for it felt he was projecting Darian onto him, which would be unfair to him.

Still that did not stop his eyes from lingering and his lips from smiling as he found himself seeking out Caspians company more often. Finding he had a bigger sense of humor than the dire situation they had met in, had allowed.

He still missed Darian so much, but it felt like the salt was removed from the wound and he could start to heal now. He had asked Aslan about him, but the Lion had only responded: “He died peacefully in bed, trying to care for Narnia the best he could.”

“Can you bring him back?” he had asked as well.

“Maybe if you look he is already here.” Aslan had said mysteriously, “All will be revealed later, do not worry, Peter.”

And with that he had left Peter to his own.

Now he and Susan were walking through the courtyard and she commented lightly: “So you and Caspian have grown close.”

He blushed and replied: “I have become quite fond of him, I must confess. But I fear I might only see him as replacement and I cannot do that to him, he deserves better.”

“You really have a magnificent heart.” she teased him, but there was truth in her statement.

“And you are too gentle, Su.” he told her.

Before she could say something else, they were interrupted by Caspian, who called out: “We are ready. Everyone has assembled.”

They hurried to the tree where Caspian addressed his people: “Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man. Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to. And for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers.”

One of the Lords called out: “It has been generations since we left Telmar.”

“We are not referring to Telmar.” Aslan took over, “Your ancestors were sea-faring brigands, pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world, the same world as our Kings and Queens. It is to that island I can return you. It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Gozelle stated: “I’ll go. I will accept the offer.”

Next to him Prunaprisma stepped forwards as well with her child and said: “So will we.”

“Because you have spoken first, your future in that world will be good.” Aslan told them as the tree unwrapped into a portal through which they disappeared.

“How do we know he is not leading us to our deaths?” someone from the crowd called out.

“Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice through with no delay.” Reepicheep said with a bow to Aslan.

“I can go.” Peter offered.

He got looks from his siblings and Lucy frowned: “Why Peter? You love it here, this is your home, do you want to leave? Go back to where they hate you for nothing?”

Peter gave her a sad look: “I do love it here and I do not want to go, but these people need to be assured and I leave this place in good hands. Beside, there is a lot of hurt for me here too, I do not even know where my husband is buried, Lu.”

“So you have not figured it out yet.” Aslan asked.

“I tried, Aslan, I did. I searched high and low, but there is no headstone here.” Peter told him.

“What is he talking about, Peter?” Susan asked.

“He told me Darian is already here, but I cannot find him and the search is hurting. I want to believe, but I do not wish to chase false fantasies and keep opening up a wound that should be healing.” Peter explained.

“My dear boy.” Aslan said, “In my land people can choose to stay there if they wish or be reborn to find their true love again.”

Peters eyes grew wide as the meaning of what had just been revealed to him sunk in. It was no miracle he had been brought back now, that the person he met with a duel wore the face of his lover and reminded him so terribly of Darian.

He turned to Caspian is shock, who wore the same expression on his face as he too, realized what had just been said.

“Is that really true?” Caspian asked Aslan, “Was I Darian in a former life?”

Aslan nodded and Peter started crying. Unsure of what to do Caspian approached and softly said: “If you cannot love me back that is okay and I shall let you return to the world you came from without protest.”

“Love you back?” Peter asked, hope building up in his chest.

Caspian blushed and it was even prettier than he remembered as he admitted: “Well, I never claimed I make the best decisions when it comes to love.”

He could not know how achingly similar it was to the last time he had confessed and more tears flowed out of Peters eyes as he embraced Caspian. He quietly asked: “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Nodding Caspian pulled back and allowed Peter to bring their lips together as they kissed softly, a thousand words hidden in a kiss.

When they pulled back people cheered and Peter saw his siblings smile at him. Both of them blushed scarlet, but could stop the big grins from taking over their features as they stuck close together, hands fitting perfectly in one another.

Aslan turned to the crowd and said: “I myself shall walk through the portal. After I am through, it shall remain open for a day, then it shall close forever. Think wisely of whether you go and what you bring with you.”

Then he turned to the siblings and said: “I was truly an honor to have met you. You shall help the new King greatly. Till we meet again.”

Lucy embraced him in a big hug, tears falling down her face as she clutched his manes tightly and said: “Thank you, Aslan. Goodbye.”

The others also said goodbye to the Lion, before he roared to his people and walked through the portal without looking back. He was not needed for now, he had left his kingdom in the right hands and he could only look forward to a better future.

[libidomechanica]

For this in that is honor of the Fantom of twent

Er heart, nor sensation when this of 

gold that it beside my wretched in slacked  within them? And a niche, which  now the birds of truths and time down the  traversight recourselves best. D lambe thought to  her was extrements glorious moods;  and forget some untutord you move and  thy souls from houres. Come trouble in their society:  in vaine, where that flies; lightly me, whose  wind, that mad way. The effront, upon  by the subjects on a whore the  night came, and shall so fast where shadowes  shut my foot (for sucking schoolemaster  free in the mote hand it were master-time  to Heavn repleterious the gay retird                   of povertime. We gate, where the  lately now will her, make it should some hae the  songs stars would it from the poppies orange  in grew pampered cry, “oh misery!  What whats like the morn and how common sits from  then you fairest to the Hearts years,  I risen moon shade retrosperity was  half let us each fires hers of counteous,  by thy niggard no:) now those whose sap is there  was this below no bird, you  shall star! S perhaps she dovetaild and striving at though some  frost dearely, wheres not felt thou dost their late beware!  And adorne with old Adieu, his  Foot to the soft doth praised her black jealous  statue, hes bedewd,” who passive to Spouse.  before, and snowy bed Had, The  ton. and surely on to my sell intreater puts  out; not all day with him sat that  stepping light: as mine not heard, that Earthest squadrons 

head them glanced I with curious stand bubbles  of you received his world: with  thy cheese be thy bright be silence  of their arms, that care a long that justify it  had eyes makeles, like such delight; faintly tree.

[elcinelateleymickyandonie]

Filmografía

El amor de Sigma Chi (1933) como cantante de banda con Ted Fio Rito

Wanderer of the Wasteland (1935) como Lawrence

Nevada (1935) como Bill Ide

Drift Fence (1936) como Curley Prentiss

Desert Gold (1936) como Glenn Kasedon

Chica de los Ozarks (1936) como Tom Bolton

Vacaciones universitarias (1936) como Dick Winters

Boda de Waikiki (1937) como el Dr. Victor Quimby

Conquista (1937) como Paul Lachinski

La emoción de toda una vida (1937) como Howard 'Howdy' Nelson

La gran transmisión de 1938 (1938) como Bob Hayes

Montar una milla torcida (1938) como Johnny Simpkins

... Un tercio de una nación ... (1939) como Peter Cortlant

Nada más que la verdad (1941) como Tommy Van Dusen

La rubia de Singapur (1941) como Terry Prescott

HM Pulham, Esq. (1941) como Rodney 'Bo-Jo' Brown

La flota está en (1942) como Jake

¿Son necesarios los maridos? (1942) como Bill Stone

Eagle Squadron (1942) como Johnny M. Coe

Perdón por mi sarong (1942) como Whaba

Night Monster (1942) como Laurie

Noches árabes (1942) como Kamar

Rubia salvaje (1947) como Steve Blake

El gángster (1947) como Beaumont

Lo siento, número equivocado (1948) como Fred Lord

Los intrusos gay (1948) como Dr. Harold Matson

El pozo de la serpiente (1948) como Gordon

Juana de Arco (1948) como Dunois, Bastardo de Orleans

Millones de Miss Tatlock (1948) como Dr. Mason

The Lady Gambles (1949) como Tony

Johnny Stool Pigeon (1949) como Pringle

Madre no me lo dijo (1950) como Dr. Bruce Gordon

Love That Brute (1950) como Elmdale Military Academy Captain (sin acreditar)

Stella (1950) como Fred Anderson Jr.

El enfrentamiento (1950) como Big Mart

Tres secretos (1950) como Bill Chase

Dallas (1950) como el mariscal estadounidense Martin Weatherby

Catorce horas (1951) como parte de bits (sin acreditar)

Show Boat (1951) como Pete

El objetivo alto (1951) como extraño

Reunión en Reno (1951) como B. Frederick Linaker

The Cimarron Kid (1952) como el mariscal John Sutton

Sailor Beware (1952) como Cmdr. carril

Con una canción en mi corazón (1952) como general (sin acreditar)

Carbine Williams (1952) como Feder

El mejor amigo de mi esposa (1952) como Nicholas Reed

Abbott y Costello conocen al Capitán Kidd (1952) como Morgan.

[galacticnewsnetwork]

26 New ‘Star Wars’ Stories Have Been Revealed

In April, it was announced that a new book would be released called Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View, combining 40 stories written from dozens of writers (including Rogue One screenwriter Gary Whitta, famed comic book writer Paul Dini, Thrilling Adventure Hour creators Ben Acker & Ben Blacker) to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Star Wars franchise.

Each story is told from the perspective of background characters from A New Hope  – “from X-wing pilots who helped Luke destroy the Death Star to the stormtroopers who never quite could find the droids they were looking for.” And with the October release date quickly approaching, Del Rey Publishing has begun unveiling some of the short stories that will be featured in this collection. Below, check out a first look at more than a dozen new Star Wars stories.

Here are the stories that have been revealed on Twitter today, all found under the #FromaCertainPOV hashtag:

Chuck Wendig’s “We Don’t Serve Their Kind Here” tackles a certain droid-hating cantina barkeep: “Wuher always told people: If you have a drink in your hand, you don’t need me for nothing.”

Gary Whitta’s “Raymus” opens the anthology by bridging the gap between Rogue One and A New Hope: “For years he had carefully steered this ship- his ship- through countless Imperial blockades and checkpoints, always able to avoid detection or suspicion. But now it had been spotted fleeing the scene of the most daring military assault in the history of the Rebellion, carrying stolen goods that the Empire would go to any lengths to recover. Suddenly, the Tantive IV was the most wanted ship in the galaxy.” The title is a reference to Raymus Antilles, who was the captain of the Tantive IV.

Greg Rucka’s “Grounded” tells the story of Nera Kase: “In the space of seven minutes, Nera Kase lost her home and her family. In the space of seven minutes, the Empire had made her their enemy.”

Glen Weldon’s “Of MSE-6 And Men” is a story from the POV of a hapless droid caught up in the Death Star’s “gay demimonde”: “That was quick, G7. Fastest mouse droid in the fleet. It’s those new rotors I put in, I’m telling you. You know what: We should get you on a racing circuit. Would you like that?”

Kieron Gillen’s “The Trigger”: “Aphra’s life alternated between finding interesting ancient artifacts and reactivating interesting ancient artifacts, with brief interstitial periods of selling the interesting ancient artifacts.” This story follows the fan favorite Star Wars comic book character Doctor Aphra.

Paul Dini’s “Added Muscle” tells the story of Boba Fett: “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the whispers of surprise when I walked onto the scene. That’s right, boys. Fett’s here.”

Cavan Scott’s “Time of Death” follows Obi-Wan Kenobi in the moments of his passing: “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am dead. I know how that sounds. Crazy old Ben with his crazy stories. But this isn’t crazy. This is happening. At least, I think it is.”

Rae Carson’s “The Red One” tells the story of a droid with a bad motivator: “More than anything in the galaxy, he wanted to be sold. Escape the sandcrawler. Fulfill his programming by serving a new master – someone who would clean his joints once in a while, offer a few drops of lubricant, give him a purpose. But time was running out. He was lonely, and he was dying.”

Daniel José Older’s “Born in the Storm” tells the story of a stormtrooper and his dewback: “The barracks are on the outskirts of town, closer to the endless barren infinity of wasteland festering with Sand People, banthas, and a million other ways to die. Also: sand. All the sand. All the sand ever.”

Delilah S. Dawson’s “The Secrets of Long Snoot” tells the story of one of the characters in the Cantina: “Know what your problem is? I say in my own language, quietly and to myself. ‘Your problem is that your entire species thinks itself a sun around which the petty planets and moons spin, but really, you’re just another rock, doomed to ever orbit something grander but remain ignorant of your own insignificance.”

Alexander Freed’s “Contingency Plan” tells the story of Mon Mothma: “Mon Mothma can’t actually see the future. She used to know people who could, but the last of them is dead now, too.”

EK Johnston and Ashley Eckstein’s “By Whatever Sun” takes on the metal ceremony: “Miara Larte breathed in and remembered how much she loved real air.”

Christie Golden’s “The Bucket” tells the story of the stormtrooper who turned Leia in: “I want them alive, Vader had said. Their blasters were set on kill. They were in a batterfield, even now. Too many of the crew were loose and armed, wandering about and opening fire, for the stormtroopers to take chances.”

Adam Christopher’s “End of Watch” is about a reactor leak: “Poul felt the breath catch in her threat. Princess? What princess? And then she heard the voice of the man Tarkin was in conference with, the deep, resonant bass voice echoing down the open comms channel. Well, perhaps man was the wrong word. Because who know what was inside that suit.”

Madeleine Roux’s “Eclipse” tells the story of Breha Organa: “Finances. Galas. Silks. Budgets. Would Leia return in time for the equinox? It seemed unlikely, and yet in a small, private corner of her heart that had nothing to do with rebellions or politics, Breha hoped it would be so.”

John Jackson Miller’s “Rites” tells the story of the Tusken Raiders: “It takes more than courage to lead. It takes eyes that are open!”

Zoraida Córdova’s “You Owe Me A Ride” tells the story of the Tonnika sisters: “Brea and Senni watched the suns set from atop a rock formation. Tatooine might be a desert wasteland lacking in any culinary delicacies, but few things in the galaxy compared to the brilliance of its sunsets.

Charles Soule’s “The Angle” tells the story of Lando and the Millenium Falcon: “Heroes were Lando’s favorite opponents at the gambling table. The worse the odds got, the bigger they bet. Because heroes were suckers.”

Jason Fry’s “Duty Roster” seems to be about someone in the Rebellion named Col (perhaps Legends character Col Serra?): “Col’s first instinct was to knock Wedge Antilles onto the floor and show the whole squadron the joke ended here.”

Griffin McElroy’s “Stories in the Sand” which is about a Jawa named Jot: “There was not a Jawa on Tatooine who did not believe wholeheartedly that there was more sand below them than there was sky above.”

Pablo Hidalgo?’s “Verge of Greatness” follows Tarkin on the very eve of his triumph: “You may fire when ready,’ Targin said at long last. And he allowed himself the briefest of smiles.”

Sabaa Tahir’s “Reirin” reveals new details about the Tusken Raiders: “Reirin daydreamed about proving to them who, exactly, was lesser. She daydreamed about taking her father’s gaderffii and wreaking bloody havoc. And if not that, then simply proving herself.”

Kelly Sue DeConnick?’s “The Kloo Horn Cantina Caper” tells the story of Muftak and Kabe’s adventure at the Mos Eisley Cantina: “At Mos Eisley, everyone has side-hustles, but the Muftak and Kabe? Even their side-hustles have side-hustles.”

Paul S Kemp’s “Sparks” tells the story of Gold Squadron: “Small sparks can start big fires.”

Beth Revis’ “Fully Operational” tells the story of a very important meeting: “A weapon was meant to be fired. Every military man could tell you that. Treat all weapons as charged; never assume a blaster was set simply to stun and not kill.”

Tom Angleberger’s “Whills” is the last story of the book, described as ‘really the beginning of the entire tale. Sort of. It’s a work in progress.’: “May the force be with me as I begin the sacred task of writing in the Journal of the Whills…”

Some of these stories seem to have really clever and compelling ideas. Obi-Wan Kenobi in the moment of his death? The story of the Tantive IV filling the gap between Rogue One and A New Hope? The life of a droid with a bad motivator?

Reading these ideas has me extremely excited to read this collection and makes me wonder if the Star Wars standalone films would ever dare tackle an anthology film. Imagine the greatest writers and directors getting together for a bunch of short films in the Star Wars universe. I could never imagine someone like Steven Spielberg or Quentin Tarantino directing a Star Wars movie, but maybe a five or 15 minute short film could happen? How cool would that be?

You can pre-order From a Certain Point of View (Star Wars) on Amazon now. Del Rey has released the cover art seen above and a list of some of the authors that are participating in this project:

Ben Acker & Ben Blacker

Renee Ahdieh

Tom Angleberger

Meg Cabot

Rae Carson

Adam Christopher

Zoraida Cordova

Delilah S. Dawson

Paul Dini

Alexander Freed

Jason Fry

Christie Golden

EK Johnston & Ashley Eckstein

Paul Kemp

Mur Lafferty

Ken Liu

Griffin McElroy

John Jackson Miller

Nnedi Okorafor

Daniel José Older

Mallory Ortberg

Madeleine Roux

Gary D. Schmidt

Cavan Scott

Sabaa Tahir

Glen Weldon

Chuck Wendig

Gary Whitta

And more!

Source: Slashfilm.com Article by:  Peter Sciretta

[legends-expo]

Panel Announcement: Q(EU)eers In Space

When Juhani entered the Galaxy twenty years ago in KOTOR, a new era of Star Wars was born. Join podcast host Charles Rogers, of Gold Squadron Gays, and Legends Con Executive Director, Katherine, as they discuss the canonically queer characters of the Expanded Universe!

Buy tickets now, and join us for a celebration of all things Expanded Universe in Burbank, CA on September 9th & 10th: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/legends-consortium-2023-tickets-541786186067

Full Schedule: https://legends-con.com/guests-programming/

[goonsquadme-blog]

Hurry to purchase 7% off runescape 07 gold on RSorder during last 2 days

I never actually needed the backup. I keep 2 bagged clusters of cotton balls osrs gold which are very light. Guests 21 and over can enjoy the beer garden. The event is hosted by the 66th Rescue Squadron and Detachment 1 Spouses Groups from Nellis Air Force Base..They wanted the shock value and to “subvert expectations” and that what they got. Some are happy about it and others aren One side will always be disappointed and it unfortunately the side that wanted more from the WW/NK storyline that are the ones left dissatisfied..When reviewing this data, it’s important to keep in mind that I only looked at the patches that were labeled “critical” by Microsoft or Mozilla themselves. Also, I don’t think it’s particularly useful to compare all of Microsoft’s critical vulnerabilities to every critical Mozilla patch and draw conclusions about browser safety, which is why my earlier analysis only compared the patch and vulnerability times for Internet Explorer and Firefox flaws for which there was exploit code available before a patch was shipped to fix the problem..At dinner:When deciding what to eat for dinner, choose your veggies first, so they’re never an afterthought. Saut veggies over low heat in EVOO, or oven roast or grill your faves. It is really sad to see where these 2 ended up, this channel is a shell of its former self and blaming the algorithm for everything is absolutely pathetic when you already have 5 million subscribers and a regular audience of 200k 350k people that religiously watch every video. Dwindling views are because the content is going down the drain, not the algorithm.Bailey’s idea is backed up by studies showing that homosexuality is a more fluid state among women than men. In another broad review of studies, Baumeister found many more lesbians reported recent sex with men, when compared to gay men’s reports of sex with women.It’s an incredibly big deal that Democrat cheated on his wife, but it’s not that important that illiterate lied to get this country into war and because of that, over 4,000 good Americans have died and countless innocent Iraqis.He cheated. She can divorce him.Wants food. Some cats meow every time someone walks in the kitchen, hoping to get a bite.

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[ladyknightliveblogs]

Away from home/computer all day, but I managed to read all but the last ten pages of A New Hope, soooo...

oh shit that’s long, let’s make this two posts WOW THERE’S SO MUCH

Listen, I know a lot of people complain about Leia comforting Luke over the death of one man when she’s just lost her whole planet, but listen: it’s about what she can DO right now. She can’t do ANYTHING about Alderaan, but she can compartmentalize and help this sad boy. That’s what she does. Leia is all about pushing forward, moving on, staying strong--she’d be a magnificent Jedi, to be honest, as she understands the concept of Letting Go of Your Attachments in the Face of Solving the Current Problem. This isn’t to say that she won’t/doesn’t grieve; she just grieves later, after she and her friends are safe and the galaxy isn’t falling apart at the seams anymore. But right in this very moment, Leia can help Luke, so that’s what she does.

LISTEN, HAN: "not so much as an erg of come-hither" pllllsss, that’s the weirdest way to describe the lack of a tractor beam, pls. 

"Chewbacca muttered something to Leia, and she murmured a soft reply as if she almost understood." #Confirmed: Leia speaks Wookiee

George keeps using 'fighter' and 'freighter' for the ships and maaann those are too close together to parse in an action sequence...

"Chewbacca muttered to Leia, who stated at him worriedly and wished for the gift of Wookiee-gab."

1. the gift of wookiee-gab. Pls.

2. But a page ago, she knew it. Ish. Let Leia speak Wookiee, George. 

"Solo switched places with Chewbacca, the Wookiee grateful for the opportunity to relinquish the controls. As the Corellian moved aft to check the extent of the damage, a determined-looking Leia passed him in the corridor." But..he's. ..piloting. how is he...moving aft...and at the controls at the same time? George pls. 

“Here and there the softly lambent atmosphere was molded by cyclonic storms composed of six-hundred-kilometer-per-hour winds which boiled rolling gases up from the Yavinesque troposphere. It was a world of lingering beauty and quick death for any who might try to penetrate to its comparatively small core...” 

1. Yavinesque troposphere. I don’t know what it means, but I’m here for it.

2. We’re going with the theme of the Description of the Place Reflects the People We Will Find in that Place: All those storms...of rebellion.

Yavin-4--the moon--is described as “rich with life” but empty of human settlements--”too far from the settled regions of the galaxy.” Which makes it perfect for a rebellion hiding from the Empire, yes, but also...it IS the galaxy: there once was life there, but it died (with thunderous applause), and the tiny, very hidden cell of rebellious intent is fermenting within that fallen, crumbling moon/Empire.

(Seriously, part of me thinks I am giving George far, far too much credit for his place/people metaphors, and/or that I’m reading way too much into it, but IT ALL FITS SO PERFECTLY??? And I’m impressed with my English major abilities to project obscure literary devices onto authors’ works when they certainly never thought to do it themselves...)

Oh, the ruined ex-civilization of Yavin-4: "one of the many races which had aspired to the stars only to have their desperate reach fall short." Which of course is the warning for the rebels. The warning they ignore and overcome. 

"While the science of this moon’s inhabitants had led them to a dead end as far as offworld travel was concerned, they had produced several discoveries which in certain ways surpassed similar Imperial acomplishments--one of which involved a still unexplained method of cutting and transporting gargantuan blocks of stone from the crust of the moon.” Guys....GUYS. YOU KNOW the standard conspiracy-theory explanation for how the pyramids were built is “the aliens helped them.”

You know. YOU KNOW. I’M ABOUT TO SAY....

The previous civilization of Yavin 4...built the pyramids......because.... the aliens helped them. 

"for those in the incredible battle station the entire moon would present simply another abstract problem in mass-energy conversion." That's. ..one way to put it...

Seriously though, does anyone ever think about/deal with the physical repercussions of Alderaan's destruction? That's just...a huge planet that suddenly doesn't exist anymore? That would mess with the whole system around that star. Gravity might be different, the orbits of any other planets might shift. If the orbits shift, some that were habitable might not be anymore. People might have to evacuate or die. It's not just the planet of Alderaan that died. It's got consequences for that whole solar system that no one deals with at all. 

The overuse of the word "oldster" is almost as annoying as the overuse of the word "bipedal"...

I understand not naming Red or Gold Leader because coming up with names is hard and George is terrible at it, but. Come on. Give them names. Please. 

"a teenaged fighter jocky seated next to Luke who bore the unlikely name of Wedge Antilles." IS WEDGE REALLY A TEENAGER??? WHAT THE?? NO. NO I REFUSE. HE CAN’T BE THAT SMOL. 

Oh sorry, it's Red and YELLOW squadrons. And Green and Blue of course.

Girl, pls stop kissing him. Leia gives Luke a “quick, almost embarrassed kiss,” for luck before he gets into his X-Wing and. Girl. PLS. PLS STOP. Cheek kisses are allowed, but this is unspecified and therefore concerning. 

Blue Leader: “His face [was] scorched by the same fire that flickers in his eyes, a blaze kindled not by  revolutionary fervor but by years of living through and witnessing far too much injustice. Behind that fatherly visage a raging demon fought to escape. Soon, very soon, he would be free to let it loose.”

Let me live, George, I can’t handle this it’s A LOT.

You KNOW this guy saw the Clone Wars. He’s old enough, and experienced in the military/piloting. You KNOW he lived through all that shit AND the beginning of the Empire AND the formation of the Rebellion. He’s seen SOME SHIT (TM) and he deserves to rest, but he can’t. Ugh, I’m dying.

WHOA WHAT THE SHIT, BLUE LEADER KNEW ANAKIN? Well, now I'm 100% convinced that Blue Leader is Rex, and no one will ever disabuse me of this notion. God. Rex. Pls live. 

Biggs and Luke are so effin gay and in love and I'm upset because Biggs dies.

[lazybarbarians]

Star Wars: Aftermath by Chuck Wendig

Ragnell: A couple weeks ago I chose Star Wars: Aftermath by Chuck Wendig and predicted to Kal that this would be the first time I fail to read my own pick. Because as much as I’ve badly wanted to know what went on right after Return of the Jedi I have the hardest time being drawn into Star Wars material that doesn’t feature a Jedi or really any forceusers. I’m not a smuggler, or a politics of the Star Wars Galaxy type, I’m all in for the mystic order of space-monks and the various other factions of light and darksiders. But I do like the normal humans and the third book just came out with Lando in so I decided to give the first a try and see if I could get that far.

And wow, once I got a chance to sit down and read it I really got into this. I like most of the new characters, the new villains, the various things happening in the galaxy as a direct result of Return of the Jedi. I’m tearing up my apartment looking for the second book (I swear I picked it up somewhere) as a result.

So, to recap the first novel of this trilogy (reader beware there’s spoilers down there)...

We get to meet the characters thread by thread against interludes showing us what’s going on elsewhere in the galaxy. The main villain, Admiral Rae Sloane, is gathering the remaining Imperial leadership for a survival meeting on Akiva. Rae is alive because she was not at the Battle of Endor. The rest of the remaining Imperial leadership remained alive because they were also not at the Battle of Endor. Unfortunately for them someone--no, two someone.. No, three… Wait, Four. Four someones who were at the Battle of Endor converge on Akiva for various reasons.

Significantly, one of these someones is Wedge Antilles, who was scouting for Imperial supply lines and got captured by Rae. He manages to try and signal help, but only gets inside the system. Luckily, Norra Wexley who was in Gold Squadron, is there trying to pick up her son Temmin (and if you can identify Temmin from non-Aftermath Star Wars material give yourself a pat on the back), who is in trouble with the local mob boss and has managed to cross the sphere of the other two Endor vets, Jas Emari (bounty hunter who was there to assassinate Leia and changed her mind), and Sinjir Rath Velus (Imperial officer who saw the rag-tag band of rebels blow up the Death Star and the Ewoks decimate his unit and went “fuck this shit, I’m out”).

Kalinara: Confession, I didn’t actually recognize Temmin. :-) I’m usually pretty good at that kind of thing. But not this time. Ragnell defeated me.

R: This book is packed with action scenes, but ultimately the four of these guys team up to try and bust up the meeting. To do this, they incite rioting on Akiva and a little mini-rebellion. (well, planetwide but for Star Wars that’s mini.) Wedge manages to escape when they knock out the power and actually gets a message to the fleet, bringing Admiral Ackbar and some of the Alliance Navy to Akiva to help. They all end up captured and on a ship that crashes into the bay of Sloane’s flagship. Sloane escapes. The rest of the remaining Imperial leadership is captured or killed. Wedge has a really bad week. Jas gets a heart, Sinjir gets courage, Temmin gets a brain and Norra gets a sense of home. They form a team with some guy who was in the book for five pages to hunt Nazis who escaped the Hague Imperial war criminals and I want to read the next book now dammit!

*Ahem* I generally like the new characters. I was sad both times he faked out Norra’s death, which were both totally believable because honestly both Star Wars and Disney have this thing against mothers. I recognized Temmin so I knew he’d live but I was expecting this to be the story of how he was fully orphaned, instead it was a “How I learned to stop being a douche and love my mother” story for him.

Sinjar and Jas were great fun. I like the idea that simply being at Endor changed both their lives, for the same reason but in different ways. Both saw the way the wind was blowing and while Sinjir tried to hide away Jas tried to adjust her life to fit. Neither of them got it quite right then, but it looks like they’re on the right path now which was cool.

K: I have to admit, it took me a while to get into it. I’m very picky about original characters, especially ones who have no obvious connections to the characters I love. Norra drew me in first though. I liked her immediately. Temmin was a douchebag for most of the book, but I thought he had a really nice, not redemption arc precisely though certainly betraying the group was an issue, but just a general growth arc. As child characters go, he was pretty believable. Not always likeable, but believable.

I liked Jas and Sinjir a lot. And I particularly liked the reveal that Sinjur was gay. (I had suspected when he talked about having to interrogate a “beautiful” young man, but it’s always nice to have things addressed overtly.) As reveals go, I thought it struck the right balance. Jas was surprised, because she had misread some signals, but she wasn’t shocked or horrified. It felt like it was a fairly normal, accepted part of the setting. Additionally, Norra’s sister, who had been Temmin’s guardian, has a wife. This is presented in a very matter of fact way.

In a way, the Star Wars new canon reminds me a bit of Bioware games. I feel like they are genuinely trying to give us a more diverse and inclusive setting. They don’t always succeed and there are definitely missteps and missed opportunities (do we really need five white brunette protagonists??). But I do feel there is a general push to do more. And I’m reasonably hopeful that they’ll continue to make efforts to improve.

R: We saw a half-dozen interludes on different planets just establishing how much things have changed for people across the galaxy. I liked that. I don’t feel a particular need to revisit these people for full books but wouldn’t mind updates later, or just more situations that were changed by the actions of the main characters in the trilogy. I like that some of these established that the galaxy was still a complex mess, that some established a brighter future, and that some showed the seeds of darkness being sown.

Rae Sloane is now one of my favorite supplemental villains. I honestly prefer someone like her to Thrawn, someone who’s pretty badass but not without flaw or mistake. Her plans are sensible, not ridiculously far ahead, and she is good at working by the seat of her pants. Honestly, in the Star Wars universe you’re always better off as an improviser than a long-term planner. But she has the ability to scheme and layout plans.

K: I agree with you. There were one or two moments early on that felt a little Thrawn-ishly heavy handed. But for the most part, Sloane got to be a three dimensional villain. She made mistakes, she miscalculated, and she recovered. It made her far more effective to me. I’m looking forward to seeing how she regroups from this affair.

The other villains are a great cross-section of the type of non-force-user bad guys you see in the Star Wars universe. You have your mob boss, your rich asshole who is behaving criminally but keeps a legitimate front up, your Moff, your Admiral, and your weird religious dude. Of them I thought Tashu, the old Emperor’s Advisor who was WAAAAY into being a Sith Acolyte, was pretty interesting. He and one of the interludes established a cult worship of Sith that’s a good darkside counterpart for the reverence the Jedi get from the Church of the Force and the Guardians of the Whills. I’m glad he survived and someone can dig him up to a) vex Luke, and b) menace Wedge again.

And finally, I just wanted to say… poor Wedge. He really has bad luck when Luke isn’t around.

[ayellowbirds]

World of Qarqa: to be drawn

This is a list for myself (and potentially for artists i may commission) of stuff i want to be drawn in the future to develop the setting of Cypora’s Guide to Becoming an Evil Queen, the fantasy world of Qarqa.

Qarqa is a high fantasy setting based on two key sources of folklore: Jewish, and North American. Because of that, it differs strongly from your usual elves & dwarves Tolkienesque fantasy setting in many ways, but also deliberately uses aspects of those as a base—there are people living in Cypora’s world who think that the universe works according to rules we might recognize as those of a tabletop RPG like Dungeons and Dragons.

New commissions will depend on how much i receive in weekly donations (more info at this link).

Characters

Cypora Schenk: the protagonist. A tavern-keeper’s daughter. A transgender girl; pale-skinned with a too-slim body hardened by work & later training set beneath a large and unruly puff of curly auburn hair. Codes as Ashkenazic/Persian mix.

Alícha de Matos: the deuteragonist. An orchard owner’s daughter. A transgender girl, short and athletic with a martial artist’s build. Usually wears high-waisted denim trousers and a dark green jacket from a naval uniform, with mulberry-hued trim added and the coat of arms of Martıkoy sewn onto the front (see below). Codes as Sephardic.

Acantha: the corn dolly. A feathertop; a being made of corn husks and straw in the likeness of a modestly-dressed young woman almost constantly smoking a long-stemmed pipe. Wields an old scythe and a beaten but well-sharpened hay knife.

Adara: a sister-in-law. Strale’s wife.

Aletheia: a maid. A tall golem made of wet clay, which serves to keep the innermost areas of the dungeon in working order.

Almaz: an adventuring warrior. Dark-skinned and heavily armored woman with finely braided hair kept in a tight, high ponytail. Later: harder, colder, with a false eye made of gold and scars around it.

Astruc: a swashbuckler. Androgyne grandchild of Zalema, a chubby and bouncy type who likes to make their presence known with flashy displays and bold actions. Wears lots of colors, beads in their hair. Codes as mixed ancestry.

Bang: the tinker. A yeahoh; a kind of bigfoot notable for a broader frame and darker fur. Disguises himself as merely a tall, hirsute, & full-bearded human by wearing leather traveling garb that covers most of his body. A transgender boy, younger than he seems at first.

Earsel I: a dead emperor.

Enosch Schenk: an elder brother. 

Fagim Fossoyeur: an undertaker. A single father trying to do the best by his daughters, glad they have good friends. 

Guta Schenk: an tavern-keeper. Cypora’s mother, short and exceptionally strong. Codes as Ashkenazic.

Ishvi Med: Keturah’s baby brother.

Ivorde Consley: a dead businessman.

Joia-Douce Bleustein: a loup-garou. 

Keturah Med: the beekeeper. Daughter of a family of mead-makers, chubby nerd with an interest in all arthropods. Very dark-skinned, with an especially voluminous afro. Wears reinforced beekeeping garb as armor. Codes as Beta Israel.

Libet Schenck: a middle sister.

Licoricia Fossoyeur: the angelspawn/naphil. Daughter of an undertaker and an angel; brown skin and long, loosely braided hair kept back in a low ponytail. Her eyes are an unnatural blue not found among mortals, and more of them open all over her body (and in the air beyond it) when she is agitated. Armed with a sharpened shovel. Codes as an African-American Jew.

Madrona: a witch. Acantha’s creator, a wise old bubbe in a simple gray dress, usually hunched over so much that her full height of nearly two meters is not apparent. Codes as Litvak.

Melisende: a healer. A lutin, voluptuous and mature at about 2′3″, able to take the form of a white cat.

Musa (formerly Marx in early drafts) Schenk: a tavern-keeper’s husband. Codes as a Persian Jew.

Orangella Fossoyeur: the demonspawn/mazik. Daughter of an undertaker and a shedah (demoness); her feet look like those of a giant chicken, or maybe a dinosaur. Noticeably paler than her sister Licoricia or father Fagim. Codes as a biracial African-American & Ashkenazic Jew.

Pesche Schenk: an eldest sister. Tall & sturdily built, her curves cover working muscle. Widely admired for her healthful looks and dedication.

Poncella de Matos: an apple orchard owner.

Raduard: an adventuring mystic. All narrow angles, thin-lipped and pale eyed.

Ravid: a sibling-in-law. Libet’s spouse.

The Rear Admiral: a monster. A giant cecalia clad in a naval uniform sewn together from ships’ sails, dyed green and set with ornaments of gold thread. It had a cluster of barnacles in place of a beard, and kept its hair in the most filthy matted parody of dreadlocks you could imagine outside of a folk music festival. Its tentacles were disproportionately thick compared to its upper body.

Scoloaster Spitznogle: an undead. A vampir, wrapped in a shroud and with too-long nails; her sharp teeth are exposed by her lack of lips.

Shiaroc pla Aurm: a lizard woman. Distinguished by abundant scars and light stripes, as well as an unusually thick tail. Wears a high-collared heavy leather jacket and skirt as armor, reinforced with slats of exotic hardwoods.

Shokh: the Schenk family’s reliable old ox, a great and powerful critter. Reference “Belted Galloway” breed.

Simham: a spice trader. A handsome but anxious young man who has traveled a long way and thinks very highly of Enosch.

Strale Schenk: a second brother. 

The Old Goat: an overlord. A gigantic goatman who served as the first overlord of Dungeon #1540, two and a half meters tall but very slender. He soaked his fur in pine tar to stick bits of flint in it as armor, and wielded an axe that magically dripped blood, together with an enchanted lantern. 

The Stranger: a visitor. A “phantom monster” that observes the inhabitants of Dungeon #1540. Reference the Flatwoods Monster.

Toiba: a boss. The leader of the kapelyushniklekh, she wears a fine bowler hat decorated with a plume of feathers that doubles her height.

Tomer Med: Keturah’s father. A man with a very large belly, full cheeks, and exceedingly long dreadlocks.

Toussaint: a prophet. A mothman who believes he is the envoy of the goddess Misfortuna, whom nobody has ever heard of. 

Vivard: a novice. An inexperienced adventurer who took to the lifestyle as a means to rise above his station as an orphan.

Dom Xandre Nunos: A restaurant owner. A famously skilled arm-wrestler fond of challenging rowdy patrons.

Zalema: An old salt. A man built like the timbers of an old dock, sturdy and weathered, and gay as the day is long. Codes as Romaniote.

Tzufit Med: Keturah’s mother. A tall woman with very dark skin, and high cheekbones.

Groups of People

People of the Land: the general term for any of a number of ethnic groups united by shared history as former nomadic peoples and many common religious and cultural standards. Code as Jewish; “Imperialized” code as westernized/assimilated, “Outlanders” code as nomadic and more warlike.

Anakim: humans descended from giants, usually bearing one or more disproportionately overgrown body parts.

Anasha: Westerners among the People of the Land. Code as Middle Eastern Jews.

Djente: People of the Land from the equatorial coasts. Code as Sephardim & related groups of Jews.

Dungeon Explorers’ Union of Martıkoy & Kósta Estridia: a recently formed organization, contentious and constantly at risk of splitting into smaller groups.

Guildniks: the Guild of Inspethian Adventurers and Associates, a more formalized organization. Members are well-equipped and expected to be presentable, receiving polished membership badges reflecting status & level of contribution to the Guild.

Haints: dybbuks and gilgulim, all the incoroporeal or semi-corporeal spirits of the living who linger beyond the grave. The exact distinction between the two types is a matter of debate, so many gloss them both simply as haints.

Icosans: the ethnic group making up the Icarian Empire’s ruling class. Tend towards exceptionally pale skin, often flushed, or discolored bluish-grey by trendy alchemical treatments; small noses and thin, colorless lips.

Janam: People of the Land from the far west, notable for a rich musical tradition. Code as Indian (specifically Kerala) Jews.

Kindaunkeyt: easterners among the People of the Land. Code as Ashkenazim & related groups of Jews.

Mondiens: an ethnic group closely related to the Icosans. Code as northwestern European gentiles.

Sebat (pending rename): far southerners among the People of the Land. Code as Jews of African ancestry.

Valley Union: the Adventurer’s Union of The Lower Alstuc Valley. More rag-tag and informal, the few Union Halls being somewhere to cut the dust and rest your boots rather than a proper meeting-place.

Zombies: humans brought back from death on a “budget resurrection”, not truly alive but more resistant to death. White-eyed and often showing grievous wounds that would fell a living being.

Objects/Places/Things

Aleftav: the traditional abjad used among the People of the Land, also called “the Old Script”.

Arms of Martıkoy: Murrey, a gull displayed argent.

Alícha’s Axes: paired light axes weighted & honed for combat instead of work.

Bitternut Hollow: a village in the hills. Reference Appalachian communities, Juhuri, Georgian Jews.

Alícha’s Bow & Arrows: a short bow and a bundle of finely made arrows, made from reforged & recarved magical amulets. Crossroads: a small village named simply for being centered upon the crossing of two ancient major roads, a popular stop for both travelers and adventurers.

Dungeon #568: The Sea King’s Castle. Formerly the Sixth Battle Squadron of the Icarian Imperial Navy, a set of enormous ironclad vessels interlinked with bridges and chains, warped into the form of a floating fortress. The central vessel is shaped into a likeness of an impossibly vast & monstrous octopus.

Dungeon #1532: The Inspeth Delve. Former site of Inspeth University, a dungeon populated by monsters associated with academia and the strange sciences formerly studied at the university.

Dungeon #1540: The Timber Barony. Former home & business of Ivorde Consley, a dungeon built around the processing and sale of lumber both conventional and exotic. Outwardly resembles a fortified town with walls of living trees integrown to form a barrier.

Endless Cauldron: produces an infinite reservoir of thin, nutritious porridge.

Vivard’s Espada Ancha: a short, broad, double-edged sword with a D-shaped hand guard

Ever-Burning Lantern: an enchanted lumber-camp lamp that always produces light.

Flying Canoes: enchanted small boats. Difficult to maneuver due to the lesser resistance of air compared to water.

Golden Beehive: a magical mead-producing fountain.

Alicha’s Hatchet: a plain, utilitarian, but reliable small axe.

High-Stepping Boots: Cowhand-style leather boots set with designs of birds and feathers in rich colors on a black-dyed background. Enchanted to allow flight by creating propulsion from the heels.

Los Soldados: the barren coast north of Martıkoy, with abundant jagged rock formations.

Martıkoy: a coastal town mostly set on the slope leading to the shore and wrapping around a wide, peaceful bay. I had a weird mix of San Francisco and Sleepy Hollow in my mind when I was writing scenes there.

Mirror of the Distant Eye: a small hand mirror enchanted to allow two-way communication via other mirrors produced at the same time, even over great distances.

Seed-Grown Shelter: a permanent shelter in the form of a live tree with a hollow large enough for several people to fit within, grown from a single magic seed.

Sharkspawn Sack: a leather bag full of shark teeth that conjures a magical shark made of whatever material the bag is thrown against.

Cypora’s Shepherds’ Axe: a ciupaga made for work rather than show, sturdy with a good axe head and a sharp steel point at the other end.

the Stafroph: the Icosan alphabet.

The Stone Rooster: an oversized granite carving of a chicken, enchanted to crow thrice when Dungeon #1540 has a new overlord.

Vuègbòrd: “Void-Boundary”, the sword of Almaz. An impossibly sharp short sword, so dark that it reflects no light whatsoever, making it appear two-dimensional at first.

Windknot: rope or cord tied with a special magical knot that conjures a powerful wind when untied.

Creatures

Angels: agents of the divine, awful and strange with too many eyes or wings, or arms or mouths, or all or none. Known classes include the Harisot (the “Ruinations”) and Rekbaim (the “Vehicles”)

Axehandle Hounds: Sturdy, long-bodied canines with short legs and sharp metal axes for muzzles. They supplement much of their diet with wood.

Beach Beasts: monsters commonly associated with marine & island dungeons, a twisted mingling of mammalian, avian, and reptilian aspects. Reference the Montauk Monster.

Cecaelias: humanoid above the waist, with the tentacled end of an octopus, squid, or cuttlefish where the legs should be. Often dress after the manner of Icosan naval officers, they appear to have a sense of ranks.

Dogs, Talking: some dogs talk. It makes it easier for them to own stuff, like clothing, jewelry, and so forth.

Duendes: little people, mischievous and uncanny, often subtly integrated into human society. Average around 60 centimeters in height.

Feathertops: Wrought sewn together from the stuff of scarecrows, animated with a feather amulet and an enchanted smoking pipe. They are more extroverted than golems.

Fishmen: Icarian soldiers twisted into piscine forms, with huge dark eyes and scaly skin.

Goatmen: feral humanoids with the heads and legs of goats and shaggy-haired bodies of great strength.

Golems: Wrought made of wet clay or other flexible materials, usually in humanoid form. They tend to take things literally, and speak so little that most think them incapable of it.

Globsters: animate masses of undead marine life congealed into a gelatinous form.

Goblins: silvery-skinned, bat eared creatures that are highly resistant to injury. Reference the Hopkinsville Goblins.

Kapelyushnikles: Miniature people notable for mischief and wearing excellent hats of all kinds, and great skill in the care of draft animals. Knee-high to a toddler; each one speaks with a distinct accent with little to no relation to the others. 

Lizard People: Towering, broad-bodied and long-necked beings with dark scute-covered forms and long tails, paired with shaggy manes of hair. Reference pelycosaurs.

Loups-Garous: else called Volkelaks, humans able to turn into tremendous, powerful wolves.

Lutins: Shapeshifting little people, often taking the form of rabbits or cats. About as big on average as a cat on its hind legs.

Mazikim: the result of demons and humans having children, mazikim tend to have features of both, and sometimes neither.

Mothmen: often mistaken for a lesser kind of angel, these enigmatic beings stand above the tallest humans and have great, glowing red eyes. What appear to be otherwise featureless faces conceal wide mouths lined with tiny, very sharp teeth. Reference pterosaurs (esp. Anurognathus) and owls.

Nehashim: dragons; a wide and mutable class of creature where even among siblings they can range from great whale-serpents to creatures almost indistinguishable from humans.

Nephilim: the children of angels and humans, they tend to have notably beautiful features and incredibly strong bodies, while bearing at least one overtly monstrous physical trait.

Sei’rim: antelope-hoofed creatures of the wilderness, vain demons fond of forcing or coercing humans into serving them as if they were gods.

Shedim: demons of shadow, looking in their true form like gray-skinned humans with the feet of fowl or dinosaurs. They are masters of shapeshifting, and craft smoke and shadow as humans do with metal and wood.

Shreteles: especially tiny people, barely as tall as a fist, notable for their magic of abundance. The ones in question dress as lumberjacks.

Vampirs: living dead that thirst for human blood, they have strange powers but a number of weaknesses. They tend to have flushed features and a ragged, filthy appearance.

Wrought: the broad class of golems, feathertops, and other intelligent automata that do not require human intervention for long-term activity. More finely crafted wrought are not distinguishable from living beings unless injured.

Yeahohs: a kind of bigfoot, dark-furred, heavily muscled, and with sharp teeth.

Miscellaneous Critters: Agropelters, Devil Dogs, (Jersey) Devil, Hodags, Snallygosters, Tailypos