#Long story short: he's lucky he's not dead at this point in his life

[tree-obsession]

Aventurine, the Waste Land, the black hole, and luck- analysis on aventurine's possible fate

possible spoilers for 2.1 trailblaze mission

possible tws for suicide/suicidal idealization, mentions of slavery, and a massacre

ok there is. a lot to unpack for this mission but I would like to focus on the references to The Waste Land (by T.S. Elliot, fucking amazing poem btw) that were in Aventurine's parts?

First of all the achievements- the "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and "She answers, I wish to die" or something like that. That is the very first thing in the poem we see- to put a long story short, it's a reference to how there was this oracle named Sibyl in Greek Mythology, blessed to live forever by Apollo. Apollo got angry after she refused to have sex with him and cursed her so that while she would live forever, her body would slowly waste away, eventually becoming dust kept in a jar. A couple of boys one day come up to this prison jar and ask her "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and then she answers that she wants to die. This could be a reference to Aventurine, who is always so lucky but at that moment truly didn't wish to be lucky, and really did want to die. Yet he was stuck, unable to live- considering he is something of a "chosen" of Gaiathra Triclops, she could be the one who cursed him, in disguise of a "blessing" of good luck.

second, the maze scene. there were two references here, both from the fifth(fourth? it's been a hot minute since I read this poem, the details aren't all clear) part of the poem. it talks about a deserted waste land, where rain never falls, there is only lightning and rocks/sand. this matches up with descriptions of sigonia, as a desert planet that's referred to as "the unclaimed desolation", and also some of those lines are directly said in the white text that floated around the maze(which i'll be referring to as floating text from now on). the second reference was also in the floating text, which talks about how "there is another presence/person beside us", or something very similar. I don't have the direct quotation, but this is also a direct reference- within the poem, there are two travelers in this "waste land", and the narrator mentions feeling a presence that wasn't truly there. According to Elliot himself, his inspiration for this part of the poem was from an account of an Antarctic journey, where the person who wrote the account said he and his men were so out of it due to exhaustion they had begun to hallucinate another presence who wasn't actually there. this is probably referencing how mini-aventurine and present-aventurine both exist, and have existed, but the future-aventurine technically does not exist yet and literally is just popping up, clearly not "real" in the physical sense but definitely there. within the poem, there are a lot of speculations between scholars about why Eliiot decided to add this hallucinated dude in but one popular theory is that it's Christ, in disguise, which is really interesting considering The Family's Christian imagery. something to watch out for when Aventurine returns to the story (he def isn't dead, but as to when he's returning... :( i can't get my hopes up) or if anyone else analyzes this more deeply.

now, why the waste land? it's universally considered a pretty depressing poem, about how the world after World War I was torn apart and collapsing in on itself, and portrays a lot of characters who aren't living life to their fullest at all. it references many famous texts and literary works, pointing at literature as an amalgamation of all other literature and also acting as a metaphor for how everything builds off each other, so one thing collapsing could result in everything collapsing. there are a lot of references to different religions as well. perhaps the best way to put it is that Elliot was portraying a world under threat of total collapse, and asks the reader if there is anything humanity can do to save it, or if we must simply salvage what we can. the ending also implies peace is a far-off, perhaps unreachable thing since everything is so discordant. but you get the idea at this point- the poem is about decay and rotting over time. I don't have the greatest grasp on either this poem or aventurine's psyche, but the 2.1 quest revealed a lot- he is an incredibly lucky person who is in a lot of bad situations but gets out every time, and has never lost a bet (despite his life otherwise being absolutely terrible). the waste land itself could simply be sigonia, and then perhaps aventurine himself is a representation of the characters within the poem. practically all scholars agree that in this poem, all the female characters coalesce into one character, and the male characters do so too, and then there is one uniting character between the "male" and "female"- tiresias, who according to Elliot has "foreseen and foresuffered all". he is described as the most important figure in the poem by Elliot himself. Tiresias is an androgynous figure, but is referred to with he/his. he also is the only one to say "I" in the poem, and despite the fact he is blind he can see all, even the future- in mythology, he was a prophet like the Sibyl. "what Tiresias sees is, in fact, the substance of the poem", as Elliot says- in other words, what he sees seems to be the closest thing to the truth you will get.

now obviously that's pretty valuable, considering literally everyone is lying in penacony (in the livestream they said the entire guest list is filled with question marks in place of names, implying everyone's identities there were fake- other than Sparkle's, but she's a Masked Fool and will trick people just for the hell of it, so not exactly the best ally). however (this is where speculation starts) I think this could be possibly very subtle foreshadowing for Aven's return! and I know this may sound delusional but. it's established he's not dead. his stone is out, but that's quite possibly because he's next to a fricking black hole and also Acheron possibly had "freed" him, in some sense? that conversation he had with her obviously changed a lot of things for him as a character, and she said she could break the harmony's bonds on him... also, clearly if he wasn't dead while waking up next to a black hole, that's certainly a surefire way to tell his luck hasn't run out yet. the entire mission was spent establishing his luck is perfect, given by the goddess of his planet, and will never fail him. this is like near emanator-level shit- obviously not quite in terms of any special power, but he was specifically chosen by this goddess, was born on a special day, and due to sheer luck is the last one standing of his clan (apparently). literally everything was set up against him and he's only still alive due to a literal goddess-given power, which is absolutely nuts and almost overpowered if it weren't for the fact that he also seems to be in many scenarios where luck and gambling is the only way to get out at all. the massacre, the enslavement, killing his old master, the weird warlord thing that got brought up, penacony... his luck is purely for getting out of bad situations, it seems.

that was kind of a tangent. anyway! the whole mission was establishing how good his luck was. he got into this situation where the only solution is to walk into a black hole and see the other side of penacony- that is a classic example of "there is an extremely, extremely narrow chance of getting out alive". acheron did it, or something similar, so clearly it's possible- but luck and chance would be the only way. this is the cycle of his life- he's in an absolutely shitty situation, but he will get out due to luck. imo it's a terrible idea writing-wise to keep him explicitly alive up to the very end and going into a situation- alive- which he can survive in due to his luck, right after giving him fulfilling conversation with both acheron and his past self and seeing the uplifting note from Ratio... just to offscreen him, or kill him for some reason related to this "other side of penacony". it wouldn't line up with all that we know about him now. granted, I can't imagine it'll be pleasant and his mental state will be even worse at the end of it... but he'll be alive, and he's made it through a lot of hellish situations. he might not like his luck all the time, and it can be either a blessing or a curse given the scenario, but he's kind of stuck with it- until he withers away, just like Sibyl. Death does seem to be inevitable, but as of right now it's not knocking on his door.

tldr: for now, our boy isn't dead and his luck might be a curse to him but it's clearly going to keep him alive for quite a bit longer :)

tysm for reading and have a nice day!

[sinisterexaggerator]

Dead or Alive

Cad Bane x Fem! Reader

NSFW / 18 + for Blowjobs, titty fucking, ejaculation, public sex acts (semi), and a bit of demeaning behavior / slight humor on Bane's part. Yes, he has two dicks.

Summary: Cad Bane is the most handsome man you have seen in your whole life. He knows that look, and decides to have some fun with you. For you, it's love at first sight. You would let him take you in any way that he saw fit; lucky for you, he's into that (you give Bane sloppy head in an alley behind a bar).

Word count: 3.1k. Short and sweet.

Notes: Haven't written for Bane for a minute. Just wanted to gush over him for a bit. He was so hot in TBB season 2 that I was inspired. This fic takes place from many points of view, but halfway through it settles into the reader's perspective. I may write a part 2 when she/you bump into him again. ;D

A raucous discordance of voices quieted to a dull roar, and then nothing – a nervous cough, the scrape of a chair – so many languages hailing from different star systems pinched off like oxygen from the lungs. Those sentient beings who absorbed the stuff found they held it inside like a scream; they harbored this bated breath, as if releasing it might bring certain doom in the guise of a figure.

A figure who wore a hat, canted downward, its wide brim shielding them from judgement, from the burn of this creature’s gaze, this otherworldly being who was half myth, half legend, half flesh and green blood, bound together by a kind of apathy that bordered cruel.

But the stories were true— time stood still once he walked into the room.

One might swear they could hear the drop of that toothpick, discarded with both absence of mind and disrespect. It bounced once across greel-wood floors strewn with sand, in need of a sweep.

All eyes, including ones that were bulbous and backlit, remained on the blue Duros, a person of sound intelligence left to ponder the notion—the implications—as to the appearance of a diminutive droid from behind his legs, only knee-high. For a hunter of such notoriety to keep a companion that for all intents and purposes seemed harmless was a mystery, almost as big a mystery as the man himself.

“Geric Zodri,” its haughty, high-nosed voice called out, little hands akimbo on his hips, both the new arrivals unaware of the woman who sat at a table just diagonal the door. Her caf cup was held stationary in a position that mimicked art, as if sculpted from marble; she dare not move, wanting nothing more than to observe the sight before her, to commit it to memory, for such a beautiful thing it was.

Skin the color of cerulean seas; eyes as red as human blood that shone like fire; fingers as long and delicate as the legs of spiders. His teeth were as sharp and deadly as his stare, two the length of dagger points, the Duros’ body as thin and gangly as the stem of a candlewick flower sold on market days. 

He was covered from head to foot in leather, tubes jutting from his cheeks like extra limbs, his pants so tight it appeared he had been poured into them. The girl imagined his wide-brimmed hat to be a crown, fixated atop his head and steeping him in shadow, its artificial shade casting its dark pall across honed planes and angles, only making those stark, elliptic eyes more prominent.

Love at first sight—she might believe it, now that she had come face to face with hell incarnate, a fallen angel, a man so handsome tears threatened to fall from her eyes, her previous occupation all but forgotten.

What had she been doing? Datapad sitting idle, screen blackening to the color of pitch.  She hadn’t a clue, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to blink, forgetting her own name as the soft jingle of some unidentified bits of metal clinked against one another with every graceful, slow, deliberate step of this man advancing, strolling beyond her, just to the left.

She felt she might faint; simply pass from this world into the next, to die on the spot as she caught the scent of the gunslinger who smelled like something smokey, something sweet, something not quite like anything else on this stinking planet; it was a wonder she did not spill her beverage straight onto her lap, finally having the sense to place it down upon the table.

Then, another man stood, a human, though nothing about his appearance suggested he was from any place in particular, his eyes wide like an animal ensnared, caught in the path of a hungry predator, though the droid approached him first, his gold-colored photoreceptors angling upward as he tilted his large head.

How did it even stay upright? How did this little bot balance when it was so top heavy, defying the laws of physics? Questions she asked herself as she watched the scene unfold; they were all members of a theatrical audience, her and the other patrons, seated on the edges of seats, cramped in corners to make themselves small, heads bent low with hoods drawn, others smiling wicked smiles of twisted delight.

“Ah, there you are! There is no escape, I am afraid,” the droid said with certainty, joined by an air of pretention that was almost comical. Maybe this woman would have laughed had not all the other people surrounding her been so adamant to keep their silence, a few others daring to inch toward the door in hopes of a subtle escape.

The Duros paused as his target’s eyes shifted, mapping out possible exits, his heartbeat so loud he was positive it could be heard over the eerie quiet that had descended upon this little cantina like an ominous cloud. The gears of his mind were practically visible, turning in the direction of the blaster on his hip, the perp’s arm lifting incrementally in such a fashion as to make everyone aware he planned to draw.

“Naht smart, what yer thinkin’,” the creature’s voice announced, low and husky, words drawled in absolute indifference. So calm and cool, like a tall drink of water served ice cold; he rushed for naught, the girl thinking she would pay all the credits in the galaxy just for him to read aloud to her.

“Whaddeye say ye come quietly, save me a heap a trouble.”

Something akin to fear bristled down her spine, though the threat had not been directed toward her. Worse yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, the tingling of her loins accompanying a heat that spread like wildfire from her groin up to her cheeks.

God, he was perfect in every sense of the word. The tilt of his hip, the drumming of his fingers against his gun belt, the scars that not marred, but complimented his rugged visage. She realized she wanted to kiss him, touch him, worship the very ground he walked on, and she did not even know his name.

“Cad Bane.”

His quarry had spoken, eyes narrowing to match the width of the Duros’, constricted into tapered slits at either end. The girl had only spared him a glance, returning her attention to the rough and tumble nerfpoke whose hand idled over blasters of a kind she had never seen before.

“Supposin’ ye know why Ah’m here, dhen,” the hired gun offered, though his droid perked up, easing himself back into the conversation as if he enjoyed the act of provocation, no better than a sentient who fed on drama.

“For the sizable bounty on your head, of course!”

Cad Bane, the bounty hunter, the girl recited soundlessly. Only known by name, she had never once laid her eyes on him—not that she had desired or ever expected to.

The hunter’s upper lip lifted in a partial sneer, revealing the point of one elongated tooth more clearly. How might it feel for it to press against her flesh? How might it feel to be bitten?

“Dhat’ll do.” The droid needed no other encouragement, backing up to a safer distance as its master stayed put, seeming to know better than to interfere with what was about to occur. The one called Bane never once looked away from his mark, and the girl never once looked away from him, the way in which the Duros carried himself exuding a reptilian-like patience that preceded his species, yet this was something else entirely.

It was a standoff, like those kinds she witnessed in holofilms, but she found herself rooting for the villain—was he the villain? What had this man done to warrant being hunted down like vermin? She would not contemplate the possibilities, too engrossed in the here and now, eyes trailing from boot to brim; she thought she caught a sideways glance in her direction, causing her to dip back in her seat—had he looked at her?

That was the moment a shot rang out, followed by the smell of Tibanna gas and gasps from all around. Another followed suit, within milliseconds, echoing the first. Bane had sidestepped, his reflexes like that of an agile nexu—the human male had tried to take him out and failed.

“Ah’d say better luck next time,” the hunter quipped. The butt of his joke need not be stated, the point of it obvious—he was deader than a starship rivet, hitting the floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes, no one seeming to want to acknowledge this fact as they returned to card games, to gambling, to drinking caf.

But the girl—she would continue to stare, lip nearly chewed to shreds as she bit her tongue to keep from spurting off nonsensical things such as “I love you,” or “please fuck me within an inch of my life.” It was as if he could read her mind, another glance cast with the accompaniment of a smirk.

“Todo.”

The droid was alert and ready to serve, somehow wishing she was he, or it, at his beck and call and then some, never once assuming she could be jealous of a thing that had no soul, made of ones and zeros.

“Get de repulsor,” he commanded. “And ye,” he faced the girl, “come with me.”

---

The coiling of a single digit easily persuaded you, your heartbeat a separate entity set out to betray you; it was felt as a persistent throb below the belt, your cunt clenching as you stood. You were unsure of what the hunter wanted from you, but it did not matter, all thoughts fleeing to be replaced by unconditional obedience.

It would have been unwise to turn him down regardless, apparent from all eyes now set upon you, none wishing to be caught in your shoes. Had he felt disrespected by your ogling? Had he set out to punish you? Would you wind up like the man inside the bar?

You would not see his face again in the span of time it took for him to travel the path laid out before him, unconcerned by your lagging behind, finding you to be no threat. Despite your predicament, you were eager to discover what he had in store, pausing when Cad Bane vanished beyond the mouth of a narrow alley.

Now would be the time to run, to flee for your life, but instead you were stupid, enamored by the way he walked, the way he talked, the clothes upon his back, the color of his pretty scales.

You took a breath, turning the corner. He was waiting for you, thumbs hooked along the waistband of his trousers. Once he was sure you had not abandoned him—and he did allow you your own freewill—he advanced, arriving at a more secluded portion to which he pointed with a downward turn of his index finger.

You bravely stepped forward, aligning yourself with the wall. Bane positioned himself in front of you with a curious tilt of his head, towering above. And while you felt intimidated, you did not outwardly express it, keeping a straight face notwithstanding the trepidation you harbored, meeting that piercing gaze head-on.

Then, he angled his hand, pointing again, this time toward the ground with that same finger, a smug look of callous amusement registered by only a small quirk of his thin lips.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you lowered, drifting to your knees before him as your gaze stayed trained on his gaunt face. He wanted you humbled in supplication; you held no qualms, holding his red eyes with an expectant look for as long as he allowed.

You could get drunk off them, like sanguine-colored wine, your own reflection mirrored back to you; your own desperation; your own indecency, assuming what might come next, yet your expression could only be observed as eager. The Duros’ lithe fingers branched out like twigs as they curled beneath your chin, a hint of a thing most heavenly stretching languidly in an upward curve.

It was a smile, or the beginnings of one, dastardly in effect, Bane all too entertained by your lack of self-respect, perhaps. Yet you obeyed when he pried your lips apart with the pad of a cool thumb, exposing your teeth—nothing like his and dull in comparison—your instinct to wet his scales as your tongue gave a tentative lick, mouth closing around its blue tip.

You sucked, not once breaking eye contact, drowsy with desire as you mimed fellatio, moaning sweet sounds that caused the man to hiss, as if somehow unprepared.

You watched as his free hand unzipped his fly below where his belt fastened, leaving his holsters intact about his tiny waist. It took more than that to partly undress himself, realizing there was a hidden panel made of some extruded, matte material that sealed him off from the outside world; it was like a second skin, only black.

Bane’s bulge pushed against it, as if the thing behind it demanded to be released. Like a snake, it—they—slithered out to your surprise, his thumb abstracted to be replaced by not one, but both his cocks.

Awestruck, your eyes widened; you never would have imagined that what his species packed would be anything quite like this. Coated in a sheer slime that tasted divine, these flexible appendages glided down your throat as if a liquid, bypassing your uvula to delve toward the deepest part of your oropharynx, barely giving you space to breathe.

But you found you could, inhaling through your nostrils as you sat up on your knees, finding his flavor to be enticing, lulling you into a more relaxed state of mind. You were receptive, more than perhaps you ought to be, puckering your lips for better suction, the Duros’ gloved hand finding the back of your head.

He pushed you forward; you did not resist, his slender hips thrusting into you as his reedy fingers coiled into your hair. You aided him, seesawing your neck back and forth, adopting a frictionless speed that caused his grip to tighten, the Duros shamelessly fucking your face like you were a common whore, yet he was not paying you.

His genitalia seemed to be hardening, which was unexpected, making it difficult for you to obtain the oxygen you sorely needed, yet you found to be starved of air was worth it, instead your nostrils filling with a most addicting aroma, none like you had ever smelled before.

Today seemed to be a day full of firsts; your hands found the hunter’s small, yet muscular ass. He did not stop you, though he could if he had the mind, your tongue roiling across and between his members as if imparting a passionate kiss.

What was that? you wondered, your human brain only comprehending it as pheromones, you heart beating faster as you drooled on yourself, spittle leaking down your chin to fall against your breasts. The hunter yanked you backward by your locks, stealing his cocks from you; you panted, gasping, yet you were indignant, tongue searching them out in a pathetic display worthy of embarrassment as you whined in dismay.

“Human girls would choke dhemelves te death,” he commented, tone mocking, allowing the reinsertion of one, while the other slid down the front of your top to fondle a pebbled nipple, slipping beneath the fabric of your brassiere.

He was right; you had not wished to stop, only now noticing how dire the situation had been. As if hypnotized, or seduced by his scent, in that moment you would not have cared if you asphyxiated, so avid was your zeal.

You moaned in earnest, enlivened further by his attention to your tits, however unconventional, moving your hand to grip his interred cock’s sleek base. You gorged on it, one of the Duros hands finding purchase against the wall behind you, propping himself up as you deigned to never be forgotten, feeling privileged to have even gotten this far.

You changed your mind; you went hands free, smashing your breasts together, creating a snug crevice between your cleavage for him to fuck. You continued to slather his first cock in your saliva, deepthroating him to the root of his tentacular shaft, putting your whole body into motion, your tongue ebbing and flowing, cheeks hollowing, coaxing him to bust.

He produced a gruff, throaty sound that nearly caused you to cum untouched. You would have played with yourself right then and there, but his pleasure was the thing you sought, keeping your tits level as he drove his secondary cock between them, droplets having formed at its head; the sticky beads of precum leaked out onto your chest.

“Give a Rodian a run fer dheir creditsss…” he praised, your underwear thoroughly soaked; you relaxed your throat as he face-fucked you harder, though his movements slowed, his strokes deeper, longer, more succinct.

“Get ready,” Bane warned; you felt born ready, squeezing your tits around him at the same time your mouth hugged his every inch. He came, a torrent of ejaculate pumping itself down your gullet and into your belly, the other spreading its seed all across your breasts and neck, spurting as high as your chin.

You were covered, inside and out, verbalizing your ecstasy by way of a happy purr, though you were quickly disappointed when his snake-like dick wriggled right out of you to join its twin, both dripping with remnants of his sperm.

You licked them clean, begging for more, a plaintive whine escaping you as you gazed up with sorrowful, pleading eyes, so sad that it was over.

Bane stuffed himself back inside his suit, his trousers, and awkwardly adjusted, waiting for the moment his dual dicks would retract inside himself, making his pants all the more comfortable to wear.

He pat your cheek; it was a demeaning gesture, yet you ate it up, nuzzling your face into the bowl of his palm for those few seconds, like an eager kitten who craved attention, finding yourself to be devastated when he broke physical contact, your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him, Bane knowing that look all too well.

“Thanks fer de head.”

The hunter tipped his hat, turned, and moseyed back the way he came, the way from which he had ushered you minutes prior, his droid drifting by with the body of the man Bane had shot laid out on a hover-stretcher, leaving you to pine away for him as he knew you would, walking out of your life just as quickly as he had arrived— oh to be his bounty, dead or alive.

—-

Cad Bane masterlist

[writingtoforgetreality]

Tin Can (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary: A battle didn't go as planned when someone ran you over with full force. Realizing his mistake, a certain Mandalorian made it his mission to bring you to safety.

Warnings: none, i think (it's been a while since i last tagged my fics), language and humor?

The deafening battle around you restricted your hearing. While you felt your heartbeat thumping in your ears, you couldn't discern anything else. A huge disadvantage during a fight. Your periphery allowed you to notice bodies flying all over the place. It was only a matter of time until they reached you. They? Who were they anyway? At this point, you were completely clueless. Who could you trust and, most importantly, who should you attack?

Natural instinct yelled at you to turn around and so you did. Unfortunately, your reflexes weren't qualified enough to dodge the next blow. And shit, that hurt. Whoever had the brilliant idea to choose you as their next victim sure packed one hell of a punch. For a second, breathing was nearly impossible. Lungs felt as if someone was squeezing them. Your head shook briefly to rid yourself of the sudden dizziness.

One hand lifted itself to your face to shield your eyes from the blasting suns painting the sky. Once the dark spots blurring your vision faded, you could focus again. The figure in front of you received sharp edges and clear lines. You made out who exactly was in front of you. It might not have been your smartest move, yet you couldn't help but scoff.

"Is that all you got, tin can?" you groaned through gritted teeth, brushing off the sand as you got back on your feet.

"I'm a Mandalorian." echoed his deep voice. While his helmet limited your sight of his face, the position of his visor, the slight tilt, betrayed him. Status, you answered in your head, connecting the dots. He wanted you to view him as some higher-up.

You eyed him from head to toe, eyebrows raising in the process. "Well...obviously."

"You aren't scared." though it was a statement rather than a question, you could sense the confusion in between the lines.

"Are you about to kill me?"

"...No?"

"Why should I be scared then?" you left him speechless. A smirk spread over your lips, satisfied to have this effect on him. "Besides..." you paused shortly, redirecting your line of sight. "Somebody traveling with a green little guy doesn't look all too intimidating to me."

"He could easily kill you."

"Hm." you pretended to think really hard. "Guess I'm lucky then, huh?"

"Are you aware of the battle around you or-?" a smile was detectable in his words.

"Oh, very much so. Thanks by the way." you motioned to your side, signaling that he did, in fact, hurt you while running you over.

"You can't just stand in a battlefield."

"Bold of you to assume I was just standing there without doing shit." you mumbled.

A loud explosion to your right gained your attention. Exchanging a quick glance, a silent, unspoken promise was established. Nodding your head, more for yourself than for anyone else, you positioned yourself with your blasters at the ready. It was only then when you scarily concluded that, next to a Mandalorian, you were as good as dead. Hell, you didn't even have a single piece of armor while he was decked with beskar. Whole body protected with the confidence of staying unharmed. Long story short: you were screwed.

Nobody was running towards you so you took the chance to speak up.

"Um? Tin can?"

"What?" he appeared more than pissed at your silly nickname but you had no time to elaborate on that right now. If you survived, he wouldn’t hear the end of it, though. That much you’d make sure of.

"You don't happen to have any more of that armor, do you?"

His shoulders visibly tensed and, as if he hadn't spared a second thought to it before, he faced you with shock. There weren't many options. You could fight and risk your life. Though, risking in that context meant a full-blown suicide mission. You could use the Mandalorian as a shield. Or...you could run. As much as you despised the latter, it seemed like the most logical choice. A modulated voice from your left halted your inner turmoil.

"Follow me." it wasn't a question. Not a suggestion, either. It was a demand. And though you did find humor in this situation, you were the first one to admit that you were scared. Terrified, even.

He sprinted off, making sure to cast one last glance over his shoulder, silently signaling to you to follow his footsteps. You didn't need to be told twice. Trailing close behind the dents his heavy boots left in the sand, you eventually reached a spaceship. His, you figured. The model wasn't the newest or most progressive one you had seen but it was better than nothing. Thick metal doors unsealed in front of you and allowed you a first glimpse inside. Quickly, you walked up the ramp into what you hoped to be a safe place. At least for the time being. Only when the doors shifted and locked themselves could you relax and breathe freely again.

You were about to start a mundane conversation to dissolve the tension but before you had the chance to utter the first word, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor ungracefully. A sharp hiss left your tight lips. It was enough for the Mandalorian to focus solely on your hunched figure. He didn't quite know what to do or how to handle the situation. Awkwardly he got to a kneeling position and extended his hands, without having the intention to actually touch you.

"I'm fine." you breathed out, shutting your eyes.

"Mhm." his acknowledgment sounded funny through the barricade of his helmet. Maybe you were turning insane. Or maybe, and that was more plausible, you were simply close to falling unconscious. Apparently, the pain was worse than you had originally thought.

"Hey." it was his voice again, cutting through the white noise buzzing around you. Your eyes snapped open, shaken out of your reverie. "There you are." he mumbled and were it not for your surroundings to be eerily quiet, you'd have missed it.

Swimming the fine line between passing out and staying awake, you barely perceived his skilled glove-covered hands working on your injury. No internal bleedings and no fractioned ribs. Though they were badly bruised and sprained. Time was what you needed now. There was no way you were able to waltz out of his ship without any problems. Not for a few weeks. The Mandalorian, after carefully carrying you to his usual sleeping place, released a long, exhausted sigh. Making sure that you were out cold, he stripped his helmet over his head. He placed it on the small table next to him. His hands ruffled through his hair, going through every possibility. Sure, he could bring you somewhere safe, somewhere you could rest before heading out into the vast galaxy again. At the same time, there was guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach. Were it not for him attacking you, which was uncalled for he now realized, you wouldn’t have been injured in the first place. To make things even, he planned on keeping you around for a while longer. Just until you were fully healed again.

Whining sounds ripped you from your dreamless sleep. The first sensation you were aware of was the throbbing in your side. Slowly, bits and pieces of the day before returned to you. Blinking away the tiredness, you took in the room you were occupying. Still the ship the Mandalorian offered for your safety. Rolling your head to your side, too afraid to worsen the pain if you moved too much, you released a surprised gasp. The little green guy from yesterday, you noted. He couldn’t actually kill you, right? That statement was merely a joke…right?

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” the now familiar modulated voice redirected your attention. Wearing that much armor all day long must be tiring.

“Thank you.” you choked out, realizing that your throat was uncomfortably dry. The man hovering above you silently dismissed you. “No. I mean it. Thank you.”

“For what?” a pained chuckle could be heard. “Hurting you?"

“Well.” slow movements brought you to a sitting position. But not without a few moans of displeasure. “There was a battle going on. It was hard to figure out who was on which side. I’d have attacked you too if I were to see you first.”

“Yeah?” you could practically see his raised eyebrows and the features of disbelief under the helmet.

“No.” you admitted right away. “I’d have turned around to run away. You really think I’d fight against all of…this?” arms flailed around you, motioning to the man who stopped whatever he was doing to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out how smart you actually are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you didn’t even try to hide how offended you were.

“You were in the middle of a battlefield.” he pointed out, leaning his body against a nearby wall, arms crossing over his chest. “Without any form of protection.”

“I had m-“ your weak attempt got cut off by his much stronger voice.

“Don’t say you had your blasters with you. These things?” long strides made their way over to where he positioned all your stuff the previous night. He picked one of your weapons up, turning it around in his hands before putting it back to its previous place. “The fact that they’re even called blasters-“

“Excuse me, I’m not a Mandalorian. I don’t have the credits to buy fancy weapons or armor.”

“That has nothing to do with being a Mandalorian.” he cleared up, thinking you cared for whatever reason he was about to present to you.

“Who cares?” strangely, you felt the need to defend yourself in front of him. Like you had to come up with excuses why you didn’t own everything that was part of his day to day life. “Whatever…Thanks again for letting me stay. I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh no. You can’t.” his words stopped you in your tracks. Raised eyebrows showed that you were awaiting an explanation. “Your ribs are sprained. You haven’t seen the bruises yet. They’ll get worse in the next few days. You should stay until you’re healed.”

“No.” there was no way you would stay here with a stranger. It wasn’t like the circumstances of your meeting were overly pleasant. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Not sure how to reply, the Mandalorian simply watched as you tried to stand up with your own strength. He expected you to be in more pain than yesterday. That was the way of those injuries. They didn’t just vanish after some hours. No matter how you tended to them. Feeling his eyes, well…his visor, on you, your head snapped up. If looks could kill, he’d have turned to ashes right here.

“Come on. Say it.” you urged while rolling your eyes.

“Just stay here until you’re no longer in pain.”

“How am I supposed to trust you, huh?” your head tilted to one side in contemplation. “You were the one who hurt me, after all.”

“Five minutes ago, you said I couldn’t have known who the enemy was.”

“Five minutes ago, I didn’t know that I didn’t like you.” it was childish bickering, you were aware. But the frustration cursing through your body got the best of you and you couldn’t swallow down your emotions.

“You don’t have to like me.” the Mandalorian started. “The second you feel better, I’ll bring you back there. Or wherever you want to go.”

“Hm.” considering his offer, you ultimately agreed on it. Still, you would stay cautious. “Deal. Just one more question.”

“Go for it.”

“Tame your green child. I don’t wanna have it wake me up.”

“I can do that.” an unfamiliar noise reached your ears. He was laughing. “Anything else?”

“I’m (Y/N).” it dawned on you that you hadn’t introduced yourself properly.

“Alright, (Y/N).” he tested how your name rolled off his tongue. He’d have lied if he said he didn’t enjoy the sound of it. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Wait!” you yelled after him before his figure could vanish behind a corner. Turning around yet again, he came to a halt, his body language giving nothing away. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Um.” there was an inner argument going on, you could tell. “Just Mando is fine.”

“Mando?” now it was your turn to try his name. “You know what? I prefer tin can.”

“Whatever.” his eyes rolled in the back of his skull and you couldn’t see it but you could picture it.

A small smile made its way onto your face. Maybe it won’t be too bad to stay here for a while.

~cathy <3

[chemzee]

lil doodle of Morgan's Y4 appearance (or at least, his first appearance, which was during November-December)

ALSO!!! using this as an opportunity to post his updated lore. I didn't like his original lore at all, so I rewrote it practically from scratch.

It's going to be really long tho so here we go

✨🌙✨

Ok so I'll start off by saying Morgan's family is no longer cursed, nor are most of them dead, only Morgan being affected and not just randomly at some point of his life, but rather he was already born sickly (whenever it's somehow related with magic or some curse is still up for me to decide,but now, he's just a sick child whose illness (which is kinda fictional but resemblances anemia) while not terminal,does affect him quite a lot). I decided to get rid of that concept entirely and rewrite the dynamic Morgan has with his family, esp his uncle.

Other than scary, that experience was very isolating: he was sheltered all his life before going to Hogwarts, having absolutely no friends at all, which resulted in him developing no social skills at all. He wasn't particularly close to his family either, with perhaps an exception of his uncle, whowas more of his tutor/teacher.

Now, as I mentioned before, Morgan was born a very sickly child, having lots of heart and blood issues. He spent a good chunk of his childhood in bed and hospitals, constantly falling very ill, to the point of falling in coma/almost dying at least several times during that period of time. Fortunately, by the time he got into Hogwarts, his condition got manageable and he could live a relatively normal life, although he would often feel unwell, some days better, some days worse.

But being on verge of death so many times, especially as such a young child was a very scary and traumatizing experience for him, but a part of him grew accepting of death, coming to terms with the fact he probably won't live much shorter life compared to his peers (not talking about dying at 20-30, but rather ~50 now, a lil more if he gets lucky).

Whenever he wasn't in the hospital, he'd spent most of his time reading books, his favorite ones were horror novels and astronomy books, the later becoming a big interest of his. At around 8 years old, he started to write his own short stories, taking inspiration in the horror novels he read and they often were rather disturbing in nature. Or so his parents thought. He stopped sharing his writings with his family at some point bc he could tell they didn't like them much.

However, he does still live through the death of some of his relatives, witnessing one of them, which was of his uncle. After that, he started taking interest in necromancy (soon disappointed he can't really make someone truly alive again) and then it escalated to interest in dark arts in general. He'd read upon biographies of dark wizards and their crimes, but purely from theoretical standpoint. He found it interesting what pushes people to commit such terrible crimes.

When Morgan got to Hogwarts, his poor social skills didn't do him much good: he had a lot of troubles socializing, he was seen as weird and creepy, especially because of his interests. He had no friends there, being a "weird loner kid" throughout hus first few years there and even though he doesn't mind being alone due to being an intovert, he craved to find someone who'd understand him, somewhere to belong, a friend.

By the time of Y2/3, he came up wirh an idea of his own book: about a prisoner in Azkaban who reminisces his life, how from a kind-hearted teacher he became a dark arts user and necromancer. He started to do his research, especially about Azkaban and it's when he developed his strong distaste for the imprisonment system MoM imposed.

The more he researched, the more he was convinced on how nonsensical the system was: why lock up ALL criminals in the same place? Why lock up petty thieves, who perhaps only did that to support themselves due to economical issues with dangerous dark wizards, the worst kind of people on Earth? Why punish people who had no other choice so cruelly rather than help them? Why is there only one prison? Why not build rehabilitation centers? Why make people suffer for their crimes hoping they won't commit them again, rather than understand what pushed them to commit them in the first place and help prevent that from happening?

At some point, he approached one of Slytherin prefects, the one he knew was a son of a minister and aspired to become one day too, Joaquin Reedus, to ask him what he thought of idea of reforming the system to create rehabilitation centres for petty criminals, so they would have to stay in Azkaban of all places. Reedus was intrigued by this young boy and his idea and told him that he'll think about his proposal. And then, after a few days, decided to ask if he was interested in joining a group that opposes sone of ministry's ways (without mentioning the group's name).

Morgan, very young and naive, saw it as hid opportunity to find people who thought alike, people who would accept him, to find people he'd be able to call his friends. And so, he agreed.

The group was NOTME.

And unfortunately, that group was not as considerate as Morgan hoped they'd be.

[blighted-lights]

i wanna ask abt beastformers deadlock. i wanna ask aby beastformers deadlock so bad

YOU!!

(thank you sm for asking, deadlock has been rotting in my brain for weeks you have no idea. as a treat, have some sketches of him as i try to figure out his design!)

putting this under a read more because it's kind of a lot but; lore time!

(sudden change to proper grammar!)

Drift was forged as a feline beastformer with an entierly different name. He was forged at a time when the Functionalist Council's political power was at its highest, and as such, was subjected to the same extreme prejudices as others with animalistic forms were. He spent the early years of his life struggling; resorting to all manner of dangerous jobs in order to make ends meet. With no education or stable place to live, Drift was desperate for a way to escape the situation that was unfairly put upon him due to his altmode.

Drift was eventually approached by someone (an OC made out of convince who has since become the boogie man of several different stories by this point) who was willing to give Drift a new chance at life... so long as he was willing to give up his beastformer altmode, be put into a new frame, and change his name. Drift agreed out of pure desperation. He renamed himself Drift and underwent the frame change; going in as a beastformer and coming out as a speedster. The mech who "compassionately" took Drift in became his patron and funded his life as a racer, and for a while, Drift lived comfortably. (If you can call being exploited for labor, being turned into a product, barely seeing any of the profits he makes, and feeling disconnected from himself and everyone else around him as "comfortable".)

However, this arrangement only lasted a few short decades. The life of a racer was a difficult one, and Drift coped poorly with the change. While he initally had a very successful run, his performance slowly began to worsen over time. He was costing his patron more money than he was producing, and after a devastating "accident" on the raceway resulted in Drift completely wiping out with extensive damage, his patron decided to cut his loses and try again with someone else. Drift was casted back out onto the streets with zero support and lingering damage from his accident, and the next bit is pretty much as we know it in canon.

Drift ends up in the Dead End, meets Gasket and the rest of his group, and struggles on the streets for many years until he is eventually picked up by Megatron and renamed Deadlock. He fought alongside the rest of the Decepticons against the corrupt, oppressive society that the Senate and functionalists promoted, and finally thought he found a place to belong.

After the deaths of the Senate, followed closely after by the hunting down of the Functionalist Council, Deadlock received the chance to return to his original altmode. He was initially hesitant to do so; he felt so disconnected from his original identity that the idea of returning to having a beastformer altmode was intimidating. He'd grown comfortable with being a speedster, as he associated it with the saftey and comforts with his brief life as a racer. Eventually- with some subtle coaxing from others, namely Ravage- Deadlock agreed to undergo another frame change to regain his original altmode. He got lucky; he was able to keep both his speedster alt and the addition of his feline one. Deadlock woke up as a triple-changer, and from that point on, his beastmode was deeply tied into his identity as a Decepticon. He believed it was the Decepticons who gave him the ability to be who he truly was (as well as the ones who enabled him to get sober), which was something Deadlock felt so, so rarely in his life. Deadlock was a speedster, yes, but he was a beastformer first. It became impossible for him to seperate being a beastformer, a Decepticon, and Deadlock.

So when he left the Decepticons and eventually joined the Autobots as Drift, he pushed his identity as a beastformer away once again. Not only because revealing that he is a triple-changer risked others being able to link him back to being Deadlock, which only Autobot High Command knows about, but because his identity as a beastformer is so deeply tied in with being a Decepticon that he didn't know how to fit it into being an Autobot, if that makes sense. Drift still has the ability to transform into his beastmode and there are other Autobots who know about it, but he only does so if a situation absolutely requires it of him. He associates his identity of being a beastformer with being a Decepticon, and some of the guilt and shame he feels for his actions as Deadlock bleed over into how he feels about his altmode as well. Its a mess of complicated emotions and identity issues. As if Drift didn't have enough of those already 💀.

(and hey, if you made it this far, this is for you 🌸)

But yeah! Those are the super basics of my Drift/Deadlock being a beastformer lore. I love talking ab the Drift that lives in my brain sm tho, so if anyone had any more questions, feel free to ask!! I've considering writing fanfic for this version of Drift/Deadlock but 🤔 I'm not sure if I will, yet. He's mostly living life as a roleplay muse for now lmao

[alaffy]

Only Murders in the Building, Ep. 4x05 – Adaptation (Spoilers)

Huh.  I wonder if the show’s switching up the formula a bit. 

Again, I’m not going to focus too much on the personal aspects of the show.  I mean, both Oliver’s insecurity about his relationship and Mabel’s insecurity of where she’s headed in life are storylines that make sense for both characters, but I’m just more invested in figuring out who killed Sazz and why.

I’m just going to do a recap of some of the moments that are relevant to the case and then I have some thoughts about what the show might be doing this season.  First off, coming back to the cliffhanger of the last episode…well, The Producer pulled a gun on them because she thought she was in danger; she didn’t realize it was the Trio (supposedly).  So, the reason why The Producer is at the trailer is because she’s afraid someone on the movie killed Sazz.  Apparently, Sazz called The Producer moments before Sazz was killed, saying that there was something wrong with the movie and that The Producer needed to stop the film.  The Producer wants to find out who killed Sazz as this could sink the movie if it gets out and no suspect has been caught.  The only thing The Producer found in the shack where some blueprints (which will probably be important later) and the gun that she aimed at the trio.  She also is able to provide an alibi as she was at a high profile event that night in Hollywood (doesn’t mean you can’t be involved, just not at the scene of the crime).  The gun is turned over to Detective Williams.

And now we have three murder boards.

The next big clue comes from the writer of the move who, in looking at the timeline of the murder, realizes that the time between Sazz being shot and her body being disposed of is twelve minutes.  Unless the killer was in excellent shape and very lucky not to run into anyone, there’s really no way that one person could do this.

At the same time, Mabel takes a look at some of the pictures that Charles took at the movie’s production office (which is in the building).  On the floor, there are these sticky mats that are supposed to clean the soles of shoes or whatever, it’s a dues ex machina.  It’s there in order to discover that someone has the same type of shoe as the killer. 

Long story short, they realize that the shoe print belongs to one of the Sisters Brothers.  At that point, Charles realizes that there are probably two murders.  One who fired the shot and one to clean up after.  It does seems like the sisters are a possibility as one seems to be able to find a shot and one is really strong.  At which point the sister who is good at taking a shot disappears and a gun (or something that sounds like a gun) goes off.

So, there are two possibilities at this point.  Number one, the show does it’s normal act and the sisters Brothers are not the killers. 

Or two, the show could be mixing it up a bit.  The way the show has done the first three season, we’re able to slow piece the clues together until we come up to the inevitable conclusion of who the killer is.  But in this season, the clues aren’t meshing (hence the three murder boards).  We don’t have any clue that really points to a motive.  We don’t even really know who the intended target was.  All we know is that Sazz was investigating something in the Arconia and that she had concerns about something to do with the movie.  And I think it is important to note that the trio had no idea that there was a movie even being considered until after Sazz was dead.  So, now we have to wonder if Sazz was warning Charles about someone in the building or because she knew he should stay clear of the movie. 

So, I wonder if we’re going to be working the case backwards this season.  Like we’ll know the who, but not the why or how until the end.  After all, if it was the sisters (or anyone else from the movie), we would still have to have that explanation of how they knew there was an empty apartment across from Charles’ and how they got into said apartment as it was a key pad (although I guess they could have just guessed the numbers, but then why did Sazz know or why was Sazz at the other tower?).  We would also still have to figure out who the victim was supposed to be.  And why the sisters (or someone from the movie) wanted either Sazz or Charles (or both?) dead.      

It just feels like this season is being set up in such a way that we have to know the who to work backwards a figure out the how and why.

[beeceit]

Leonardo, come down here, and put that back

You ever get too into the short character study you meant to leave in the tags of someone else's post and accidentally write a 1033 word one shot told in the second person about someone else's character meeting yours?

Haha me neither, anyways... here's my take on what I think it would be like for LDC Leo and POB Uncle Nardo to meet <3 Bonus points if you catch all the other peepaws referenced

@nani-nonny teehee

Out of all of the bizarre situations you’ve found yourself in over the course of your life, this ‘peepaw multiverse convention’ was certainly far up there. 

Dozens of alternates of yourself and your former brothers, even some Aprils (though not many) stand around chatting, recounting stories, showing off their little selves.

Most of them seem to get on fairly well, splitting into little groups like a highschool cafeteria.

Well, what you imagine a highschool cafeteria looks like, you’ve never been.

There’s the smart ones, the cool ones, the tired ones. And, inevitably, the class clowns.

Some booty shorts wearing jackass covered in stickers keeps chucking empty waterbottles and paper airplanes at your head. You can't tell if he genuinely doesn’t realize that you could kill him easily if you wanted or if he just doesn't care. 

He's wrapped around his own Mikey now, the weight that constantly dragged on his shoulders, on every Leonardo’s shoulders, almost vanished from that single touch. Lucky bastard.

You had your own Mikey once. You fucked that up, too. Pushed him away. Twisted yourself until you could scarcely be called brothers anymore. And still, after it all, in his desperate final act of life he tried to save you. Not only you, the stupid selfish blueprint that became you.

That useless arrogant child you once had been.

Everything you've been through, everything you've lost, it was all your own fault. It was his fault. You can see the cracks in the armor. The foundational flaws that will lead him down the path to becoming you. Distantly, you think maybe you could still save this world's version of your family if you just get rid of the common denominator.

You can't mistake this as justice, though. As a good deed. You don't want him dead as a precaution, you want him dead for revenge. You're selfish, self-righteous, focused. In him you can see the son you used to be. The part of you that was a brother, a friend, the part that has long since faded in your chest glows so brightly in him. But you must extinguish it. He deserves this. You both deserve this.

The new guy gives you a look that you don't understand. 

Oh, right.

You shake yourself out of the memory. Out of the corner you find your own counterpart engaged in a very one sided conversation with another young Leo, a feral looking one legged creature with the conversational skills of a busted up talking tom. Some part of you is glad he seems to be making friends. 

God, you felt old. And this place didn’t have nearly enough alcohol to even begin to process… that whole situation. You turn back to the new guy. It’s been a while since any of them got this close to you. Most of the other Leonardos herded their littler ones away from what had been deemed ‘naughty gay peepaw jail’, which is the stupidest name they could give your self-imposed little angsting corner, but maybe not inaccurate.

You finally identify the look the new one’s giving you. It’s pity.

Disgusting.

He's young. Too young to be here, you think, as if you could really be the judge of that. He's not even 30 yet, hasn't even reached 6 foot. Still has 2 arms. Ah well, for now, at least.

He's too happy.

Something in his scarf makes a chirping sound. 

The new guy, Nardo you’ve heard him called (And god, you used to be Nardo once upon a time), reaches in and pulls out a small creature, hardly bigger than an oreo. You’d almost have thought it was a strange rock if you hadn’t seen the little tail emerging from under his shell thumping against Nardo’s hand. Nardo chuckles and kisses his head with such tenderness.

“Bitty, buddy, you weren’t supposed to wake up from your nap just yet.” The tiny thing babbles indignantly but is quickly quieted when Nardo rubs a finger against his cheek and under his chin.

It’s disgustingly cute.

And disgustingly familiar.

You’ve seen the family photo album, seen the pictures of your own father (former father) snuggling up against an incomprehensibly small version of yourself the exact same way. You’ve seen a handful of Leonardos with children of their own, amalgamations of turtles and rabbits (why so many rabbits?) and humans and different sorts of turtles. 

That’s not just a Leonardo’s baby, that’s a baby Leonardo.

He was so helpless and small. Precious, fragile, innocent.

But he was still a Leonardo.

You had been like him once, before, you knew you had. How had such a sweet little creature become the murderer that ended the world? Nardo held Bitty out to you, cupping his hand to keep him securely held. You made eye contact with the child for less than an entire second before he chirped, frightened, and nuzzled back into Nardo’s palm, shaking.

Nardo frowned and pulled him back to his chest, stroking his shell with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, he’s never reacted to anyone like that before. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually, he’s just still tired.” He was afraid of you. Terrified. You hadn’t so much as said a word to him and the child saw right through you. Even an infant was able to see the blood on your hands. 

His wet afraid eyes matched your own counterpart’s scarily well. The chirps of fear and your own Leo’s screams overlapped. Would you have done the same thing if your counterpart were so small? You don’t think you would, but then again, at Nardo’s age you wouldn’t have thought you’d do a lot of the things you’ve done.

“Hey, uh, you okay? I gotta get the little guy somewhere a little quieter for a minute, but I can come back. I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding someone to watch Bitty for me, I’ve already had to fend off at least eight kidnapping attempts this morning.” Nardo looked at you with concern, genuine concern, even after you scared his baby. He really was too young to be here. “Don’t worry about me, just go.”

“Oh, uh, alright. I’ll see you later?”

“Pray that you don’t.”

[osatokun]

⚫️🎱🪩 for Charlie!

oh, there was plenty!

8 Ball- What situation was your OC lucky to escape from or get out of? What or who helped them unexpectedly? oh, there was plenty! For example the time when Veronica helped Charlie to survive rage of the very angry changeling boy!~

The Dragon, Glinda's then-husband and jailer, talked young changeling Troy into attacking Charlie. He knew that one of the changelings died/fell asleep, and he pointed on Charlie. He didn't know for sure, he just wanted to get rid of pesky vampire who keeps on texting his prisoner. But Charlie really blamed himself for the death of this changeling. Long story short-little changeling ( Jean-Luc ) was kidnapped by a fomori, and aged form 8 to 60 years old. He escaped but started to go crazy. Charlie and Veronica tried to figure out how to help and return time to the poor changeling.We ended up killing fomori and making a deal with technocrats, who agreed to return the time to the boy in exchange for the fomori's heart. Charlie could stop everyone from dealing with technocrats, but he didn't. They gave him pills that should've returned boy's time. And Charlie gave them to Jean-Luc. They worked, yes, but the changeling in boy fell asleep. Charlie should've know better that technocrats sees changelings as an illness that should be cured. They did help the boy. They freed the human from his changeling self. And Charlie helped them. He will always blame himself. Well, let's get back to Troy. He came to the hospital Charlie and Veronica worked in. Charlie tried to dominate the boy away, but failed. Then he wanted to talk to him, but in the moment Veronica Charlie and Troy entered an empty room, Troy attacked Charlie and pierced Charlie's chest and almost killed him in one (!) hit. 7 damage of 8 hit points! And he said... You will die, dead man! I was very very scared as a player but Charlie...Laughed. It was hilarious for him, you will die, dead man! Charlie would die in this moment, but Verconica stopped the boy and Troy agreed to let Charlie live, for now. But he had to come to the changeling court in 7 days, and be judged for killing Jean-Luc. The rest of the story.. I think I described the court several times by now haha. Later in the game Charlie helped to return Troy's chimera, mr. Soft Paw (the plush bear) to life, spending the last changeling healing he had on him. And Troy became good friend for Monica and Joshua (her werewolf bf) so we keeps on seeing him from time to time. He is a very strong little changeling, Charlie respects him and happy thatMonica has such a loyal friends.

bonus picture by Veronica's player, @maria-ruta !

[kouslut]

@shoujo-brain-masahiro

Kousuke had always thought himself a decently lucky person, one fortunate enough to have been born to a good enough family, into decent wealth, with a fairly good draw from the genetic lottery and a set of handy gifts at his disposal that he'd have called enviable if not for the fact that, as he'd been kindly informed around the time he had moved up to middle school, that would've counted as bragging and would have come off as "douchey". The thing was that, though he had for a short period of time considered himself something of an outlier, something of an exceptional genius of sorts who could succeed in just about any field so long as he put his mind to it, he'd come to see, with the little maturity he'd acquired over the years, that he was no different from everyone else or the norm, after all, and that he really had just had a little more luck than most people he'd encountered in his youth.

As time had passed, however, and his ego had inflated in tandem with his self-confidence crashing with the realization that he'd have had to accept his own mediocrity, what had come to light was that his luck was something of an extraordinary talent in and of itself, one with a will of its own that was dead set on ignoring its owner's desires. A force to be reckoned with, more than fate itself.

That was, at least, the only real, though dramatic, explanation he could have given as to how he had gone from being just another Math bachelor student at UTokyo to some kind of overnight celebrity.

It had started with a modelling job he'd taken for the fun of it along with a friend who'd pushed him into it, and it had ended with... being cast as the lead in some new drama that was, as the producer claimed, going to be a very big deal, after a bunch of acting roles he'd gone through as his popularity in magazine polls had incredibly surprisingly risen. Not that Kousuke didn't have a good idea of what he looked like or the fact that many people seemed to be into it, between the girls and guys he'd happened to frequent, but, in all frankness, he hadn't thought that would have been enough to make up for the shit personality he also knew he had, along with his pretty face. Not that he minded all that- being put on a pedestal to the point that it was hardly him people were looking at anymore, but rather a projection of what they believed he most likely was like based on what twitter had taken to calling his "angel face" and "very breedable" body or whatever.

He didn't mind any of that, in the same way that he hadn't minded dropping out of uni when he'd been asked to. Anything to make his life just a little less dull, even if it meant giving up the one thing he really had been passionate about since the start.

When he'd been offered the role in this upcoming drama his agent was oh so excited about, he'd known from the start that he'd have accepted the gig- for a number of reasons. The first of all being that it had honestly flattered him to know he'd been the first to be asked. The second that he was getting bored of the routine of mindless interviews, mind numbing work out programs and doomscrolling in his off time. The third that it would have possibly damaged his reputation to refuse.

When he'd been handed the actual pitch, he'd had a half panic attack over what the actual job would have implied, and had, for a moment, wondered if he had somehow accidentally come out to someone involved in production or some such, but, of course, that wasn't the case. It just happened to be a story about two men. More importantly than that, his character had just the life he'd have probably found himself living if not for his sudden and unexpected scouting- that of a high school math teacher. That had most definitely ended up catching and holding his attention. Whatever the rest of the plot implied, he didn't quite care. He'd have done as he usually did- which was apparently good enough to be cast without even trying- and it would have all turned out well.

That was, of course, not what he had said to the many reporters and magazines who had begged for an interview upon the release of the news- that he'd be the star in the new awaited and anticipated drama that was to come out.

---

Casting had been proceeding decently, according to the people who seemed to care more than he did- meaning pretty much everyone, if he had to be honest- right up until the moment in which the director had decided that he'd have needed him in the studio to ensure there would be good chemistry between him and the one who was to be his co-star. He'd found the whole thing to be incredibly performative, to the point that he'd assumed the staff was hoping they'd lure some more popular actors in by swinging his name around. He frankly didn't believe in "chemistry", not when it came to something like a job. A decent actor would have been able to act, full stop. And he'd have done the same, because that was how he'd gotten to that point, not because he'd happened to be elevated by some chemistry magic when he'd encountered the actual stars of his field.

Whatever. His agent had thought it a great idea, for networking also- not that Kousuke thought he'd have needed any more vapid connections- and he had ended up accepting right away since, once again, it was his job to go along with whatever artistic velleity the staff would have wanted to pull. He was there to pretend hard enough to believe in it so that everyone else could be fooled into thinking there was something great going on, when, really, he always had just been some dude, with a decent enough face, and a disproportionate and almost unfortunate amount of luck to his name.

It had been boring, for the most part. Boring as in normal for the job- recite the few lines the casting script has in it and smile kindly at anyone and everyone who meets your gaze. The ground rules, to him. Most of the morning had gone by already, and Kousuke was really, really craving a smoke. Not that he could have- all the talking was straining his throat on its own, he'd have had to wait until the evening to finally- finally take a drag.

That was when a boy he'd have not thought older than 17 or so walked into the booth, led by the casting assistant. The man readily whipped out his smile to greet the yet unnamed boy as he would any applicant coming to him for their "make or break" session.

"Hey," he called with a practiced, easygoing wave. "It'll be my pleasure to work with-"

That was when his observation skills actually caught up with him and the autopilot deactivated, leaving him to remember where he was, what he was doing and wonder just what that young looking kid was doing there. Bleached hair and piercings. That sure was a look. And, now, he'd seen all kinds of styles from fellow actors, but all of them had been a product of a pr stunt mixed with their personal taste, with a LOT of care put into making whatever it was they were trying to pull off look professional despite its nature- whatever it was. That was not what he was looking at at that very moment. Most definitely not. That hair had been bleached at home and it hadn't seen a hairdresser in- not ever, if he had to guess. Was the kid even an actor? Was he actually there to try for the role? He'd been let in, so he could only assume that that was the case- he'd have rather mistaken a handyman for an actor than the opposite.

He recomposed himself, if only a little, deeply aware of the questioning look on his face. He didn't think he could really be blamed- the guy looked like a kid, and a delinquent at that. He had the look. But not the attitude. Admittedly, Kousuke was a little intrigued.

"Pleased to meet you...?" he tried again, extending his right arm for a casual handshake.

[fishyapple]

mcu buck x bucky

the similarities between Buck and Bucky and bucky and steve from captain america are just too good not for me to think of an mcu au.

for me it could go bothways who's captain america and who's the winter soldier, but I think for maximal brainwashing angst and forced to do horrible things i like bucky = captain america and buck = winter soldier

in my mind, Buck never made it to the POW camp after his plane goes down, and after getting the phone call Bucky flies his revenge mission and makes it back alive to Thorpe Abbots because of the super soldier serum. but he can't fly again without buck there and so leads forces on the ground (think captain america the first avenger war montage) and finds the tesseract and then flies himself into the arctic, and its a picture of gale in his compass or the lucky deuce he kept when he finally crashes

so Buck is obviously not actually dead but was targeted by Hydra because he has a lot of similarities with Bucky but since Bucky was chosen by the goods guys, Hydra needs their version of the super soldier. so they kidnap Buck after he parachutes from his plane, torture him, make him the winter soldier, and make him do all those horrible things until John "captain america" egan encounters him in like 2014 (or whenever the timeline is)

Buck is tasked with killing captain america by hydra, so cue a bunch of angst since Bucky obviously remembers and still loves buck and recognizes him despite the mask and we have the famous:

"buck?"

"who the hell is buck"

Buck is actively trying to kill Bucky and his companions. Bucky's trio consists of one Curt "Falcon" Biddick (he's not dead i don't let him) and another Harry Crosby who just so happens to be a part of some secret agency (yes all the pilots just become characters in the modern era bc i want them in the story). so the trio is trying, on one hand not to get killed by the winter soldier, and another not get killed by crosby's super secret agency that turns out to be evil and related to why Buck is the winter soldier

curt and crosby both think Bucky is crazy for wanting to talk to the winter solider since obviously they think he's psychotic and has done all these horrible things in the past and there's no way that talking with the guy will do anything but Bucky is determined to try. he thought he lost his best friend/lover once and now it's like the universe is giving them another chance in another era

Buck on the other hand is having a mental breakdown because who the hell is this all american boi in tights and a shield, calling him a name he hasn't heard in so long he can't tell if the memory of it is real or not because obviously hydra washed his entire mind. but in the depths of his mind he associates the name "buck" with open skies, leather jackets, and a 2 dollar bill for some reason. but every time he tries to remember or think too hard he gets this excruciating pain in his head and hydra keeps brainwashing and torturing him the more he tries to think so just a lot of pain and anguish for poor buck.

then the climax is the fight on the falling shield hover craft, and buck and bucky are really going at it, like even if bucky wanted to pull his punches he can't in the effort to stay alive against the winter soldier. at one point bucky corners gale and calls him gale, and there's debris flying all around them, they're in the sky and it feels like they're almost flying again, so bucky says something like "we're the last 2 in the air. it's me, and it's you buck" and that just like short circuits buck's brain completely, but also makes it so painful that he just wants it to stop and comes at john even harder and eventually has captain america finally down. but bucky's done fighting, he can't hurt his best friend/the love of his life, but buck is not and:

buck says something like: "i'll take you down with me if I have to"

and then bucky says, while all bloody and messed up: "don't count on it"

and then BOOM the hover craft explodes and they both fall in the river, and Bucky is completely out of it. he feels the water rushing all around him but he's too tired and beat up to even do anything, and then he feels something tugging at him. he feels himself break the surface and he's trying to take gulps of air but he can't open his eyes for the life of him. somehow he feels solid ground below him and just as he's peering through his lids he sees a metallic glint and piercing blue eyes and then nothing.

______________________________________________________________

LIKE "don't count on it" is definitely buckxbucky's "im with you till the end of the line" AH the parallels i can't

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 31: The Woman of Tanchico

Well I guess my laptop was only pretending to be dead or something who knows why it's stupid, let's read! Beware of spoilers for the whole series!

This chapter has the harp icon because Thom's back, y'all!

Mat knew him. He had saved Mat’s life, once.

Sure is lucky Mat hasn't forgotten a single thing that actually matters!

The old gleeman had nearly stopped the story dead when Mat came in. That was new, too. Few things startled Thom enough for him to let it show, and nothing short of Trollocs had ever made him stop a story in the middle that Mat knew.

Really at this point it's got to be ta'veren that doesn't have Thom up and running whenever he sees these lads. He does not want to be involved and yet every time they show up everything turns into an epic saga.

‘I’ve given them all the chances they deserve and more,’ she murmured to herself. Slipping Kadar’s crown into her bag with the first two, she climbed back onto her cart, clucked to her mare, and drove straight back to her village. And when Mara had told them all that happened, the people of Heape would have no king at all.”

Mara and the Three Foolish Kings is one of those background details that sadly fades out entirely before too much longer. Thom will definitely perform it again, but I think this is all the story we get of it. If Mara's a real person, she's definitely got Nynaeve vibes but who knows?

“Common,” he muttered. His voice was still deep, but it no longer seemed to reverberate. “The tale is a hundred times better in Plain Chant, and a thousand in High, but they want Common.” Without another word, he buried his face in his wine.

Another little way that culture is always moving on. It probably won't be that long into the Fourth Age when almost no one can perform High or Plain anymore, not even to kings and queens.

“Two,” Thom murmured. “Morgase had a temper, but I thought I could ignore that, so it ended with her wanting to kill me. Dena, I killed. As good as. Not much difference. Two chances I’ve had, more than most, and I threw them both away.”

Poor Dena, a great character concept thrown away so that a man could be sad about it.

“Rand is still well, then?” Thom’s eyes sharpened to almost the keenness Mat remembered. “I am not sure I expected that. Moiraine is still with him, is she? A fine-looking woman. A fine woman, if she were not Aes Sedai. Meddle with that sort, and you get more than your fingers burned.”

1. Thom can't even help but be dragged back in the game for the sake of these boys.

2. Half a chapter in and we're already adding more foreshadowing for the Thom/Moiraine outcome. Seriously folks, I could see this as a 13 year old boy who at the time assumed Harry Potter was going to end up with Hermione, how was I outsmarting so many adults?

“Cairhien,” the old gleeman muttered, the sharpness fading from his eyes again. “Such trouble it causes killing a man, even when he deserves killing.”

Oh good, at least part of Thom's breakdown is because of the guilt of having caused a civil war in a fit of rage, that's something. Sort of. And just remember folks, Thom's one of Rand's GOOD advisors.

Some of the Red Ajah still remember me. I saw Elaida in the street the other day. If she knew I was here, she would peel my hide off in strips, and then she would stop being pleasant.

Does Rand have any male role models who aren't masochists? At this point I'm assuming Tam al'Thor only left the Two Rivers because he felt that the women of Emond's Field were not sufficiently skilled at being dominatrixes and he really wanted to suffer.

“Caemlyn, Thom. Elaida will likely be going back there sooner or later, so you’d have her to worry about. And from what I remember, if Morgase puts her hands on you, you will wish Elaida had you.”

See what I mean about lucky memories? This came up like ONCE, back in Master Gill's inn! But Mat remembers because it helps him even though he probably doesn't even remember that Perrin has sisters and he probably saw them loads of times, or will have once they get retconned into existence.

The younger of the two women, Saal, stopped Mat as he reached the door. “Whatever you said to him, I forgive you for the wine, even if it is taking him away. I’ve not seen him this alive in weeks.”

For all of Mat's outrage at how mean the ladies were to him, the random stranger who shows up to get the drunk even drunker, this shows they're not nearly so capricious as he assumes.

His laughter shut off like the last drip from a wine barrel: Thom was there, but not the corpse. The windows of the taverns down the street put enough light across the cobblestones for him to be sure of it. The city guard would not have carried a dead man away without asking questions, at those taverns and at The Woman of Tanchico, too.

One wonders why Mat's enemies only did clean-up and didn't pursue him. Did they think that he must have run even further away, or perhaps back to the Tower? Do they think he's locked in the city so he has no way to run? Was Lanfear about to balefire the whole fucking inn when she suddenly realized Rand had fallen asleep again and had to rush off to visit him?

“The first bloody ship, Thom! If it’s sinking, we’ll be on it!”

That's not a very smart escape plan, Mat...

Next time: They find a ship that's not sinking right this second.

[aanylah-101]

The Other Side

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Warnings; ❌

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Word Count; 1K (Short story)

I had been here for a while, I was In the nursing department but when shown to have better ability to record stats I was moved to the Bio-Lab and Grace Augitens RDA department. I never focused on the labels or only when my ADHD forced me to. 

But one person would change my life forever...

Quite cheesy huh?

"...into the bio-lab, we're gonna spend a lot of time up here"

I heard Norm say as he entered, 

"Hey! How you doing? Norm, avatar driver"

"Hey Norm!" 

"Oh! Aanylah! Jake this is aanylah she Is Grace's assistant and Is a goddess at stats"

"Why thank you norm," I say smiling 

"Hello Jake! It's lovely to meet you, I've heard so much about you"

"Like my brother?" he said unbothered 

"Oh..yeah..I'm so sorry about that. I don't find you an inconvenience at all y'know"

"Come on..! I'll show you to your avatars!"

"They're coming out" someone yelled

"Oh god," Grace said sighing as she sat up out of her link,

She was about to yell for her things until she saw me holding her cigarette & her lab coat with the same go-lucky happy smile I always had whenever I first saw her, 

"Welcome back Grace!"

"How long have you been standing here?" she said grabbing her things from my grasp 

"Only until the announcement, I promise," I said playfully smiling 

I saw Jake and Norm again so I decided to Introduce everyone, just like how we did as kids 

"Oh! Grace, this Is Norm Spellman & Jake Sully!"

"Norm, I hear good things about you. How's your Na'vi?"

"May the All Mother...smile upon our first meeting"

"Not bad. You sound a little formal"

"I studied for five years...but there Is much to learn"

"And Jake Sully!" I said presenting him playfully 

"Ma'am," he said reaching his hand out to shake hers

Yeah, yeah. I know who you are. and I don't need you. I need your brother"

"You know, the PHD who trained for 3 years for this mission"

"Grace.."

"He's dead, I know It's a big inconvenience for everyone," he said looking at me, I only softened my eyes looking away

"How much lab training have you had?"

"I dissected a frog once"

"You see? You see?. I mean, they're just pissing on us without the courtesy of calling It rain"

"I'm going to Selfridge"

"-No, Grace"

"I don't think that's a good Idea-"

"No man this is such bullshit!" she said storming off

She realized she had left me behind so she grabbed my wrist dragging me along with her.

"Oh, come on grace.."

"No, there's no reason why he should be sticking his nose in my department"

I sighed and kept up my pace with her,

When we approached him he was playing golf with a random putter, a golf ball, and a mug.

"Parker, you know, I used to think It was benign neglect, but now I see that you are intentionally screwing me," she said letting go of my wrist so that way she could talk with hers.

Parker wasn't taking too much care Into the situation, he just kept playing his game In the middle of a heavily busy workroom.

"Grace you know, I enjoy our little talks," he said hitting the ball once again only for Grace to kick the cup away last minute

"Oops," she said bored looking back up at him

I instinctively went to go fix the positions of everything but grace only held out her arm pushing me back and blocking me.

"I need a researcher. Not some jarhead dropout"

"Well actually, I thought we got lucky with him," he said walking over to fix his game I would have fixed If I could've"

"Lucky?"

"-Yeah" 

"How Is this In any way lucky?"

"Uh, lucky your guy had a twin brother, and lucky that brother wasn't some oral hygienist or something"

He walked over to a table with a hologram of an area hovering on It and me & grace followed,

"A Marine we can use," he said handing his stuff off to someone else

"I'm assigning him to your team as secuirty escort."

"The last thing I need Is another trigger-happy moron out there" 

"Look, look, you're supposed to be winning the hearts and the minds of the natives. Isn't that the whole point of your little puppet show?"

"If you look like them and you talk like them, then they'll start trusting us"

"We build them a school, we teach them English, but what? after how many years? Relationships with the indigenous are only getting worse"  

"Yeah well that tends to happen when you used machine guns on them" she snapped

I knew Parker hit a weak spot for Grace so I gently went to hold her hand and she accepted It,

"Right, come here," he said leading us Into a connected room of the workplace

He picked up a piece of a rock floating by one of our devices, I honestly never saw the vaule on an everyday item.

"This Is why we're here, Unobtanium. Because this little grey rock sells for 20 Million a kilo"

"Woah..20 Million?" I say In an awed whisper, grace chuckled softly squeezing my hand for a second,

"That's the only reason. It's what pays for the whole party. It's what pays for your science"

"Comprehndo?"

"Now those savages are threatening our whole operation, we're on the brink of war and you're supposed to be finding a diplomatic solution," he said lightly tapping the table

"So use what you've got, and get me some results."

With that, the rest of the day was filled with Grace cussing out Parker, and I sat through every word of It.

Today Norm & Jake would get to test their avatars, I got mine a little over 2 weeks ago but there were some malfunctions so today I would happily be testing mine too! Grace didn't know about my Avatar delivery so I was excited I would get to surprise her.

I logged In and woke up In the cabin where we rested our Avatar bodies, I got up and went outside to find Grace. I found her outside with what looked like Jake & Norm.

"Grace!" I said waving to her

She turned and saw me walking towards her not knowing who I was at first but she could always recognize my go-happy tone of voice when greeting her. (or someone else)

"Aa?" she said In disbelief 

"Hi Grace!"

"Damn, not bad," she said smirking 

I was hit and caught with awe and smiled at her, 

Did she like me?

"Come on, everybody, quiet down!" Grace was escorting everyone to bed and hurrying the scientist out of the cabin

"All right, gang, lights out."

"Come on, Louise chop-chop."

I was heading to bed myself when grace was directing everyone, we had tags on the top behind our beds for who slept where. I had stepped down to lie down and glanced down at the bed next to me.

Grace's name was there

I smiled, I thought It was cute how me and her would be sleeping right next to each other, even If we wouldn't be In our own bodies It was still a nice thought. 

I wasn't sleeping right next to her.. one way or another. With that, when she switched off the lights I layed down and let myself drift off back to my own body.

____________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading <3 Bye Angels! 🕊🤍

Friends; @yourfavsuccubus22 @milequaritchsslut

[oc-aita]

AITA for killing a man? (He was going to be killed anyway)

So I (call me I, 157nb) joined a pirate crew. Bad start. I know, but my little sister ran away and joined a pirate crew, and I really need to find her. The crew I joined had already been together for some time, and had just lost a member of their group to a dungeon. Presumably, this is why they were looking for someone else. They seemed pretty ok with the previous person’s death, which should have been the first red flag. I mean, I don’t even know her name! The only thing I know is that her name and her brother’s name unintentionally combine to make a condom joke? She’s DEAD, assholes.

Anyways, the five men that make up the rest of the crew (there are other people too, needed to run the ship and stuff, but those five and I are the main ones in charge) are ASSHOLES. And also I’m pretty sure they’re pure evil. They have zero regard for anyone’s life (I mean, I’ve heard them discussing plans to kill my cats!). Yes, I will admit I’m not the best person either, but they seem to have truly fallen off the deep end. Also, they’re just super dumb. And they have the stupidest ideas that they all seem to agree are the best, and they don’t even listen to me when I try to tell them that stuffing 60,000 limes into a single room is a bad idea. I mean, come on.

So, long story short, we accidentally ended up on the elemental plane of water. And we’re fighting these water demons, it’s not going well. We eventually beat them off. By we, I mostly mean me. They’re so lucky I had Ray Of Frost. I’ll remind them of this next time they make fun of me for multiclassing. Anyway, there’s this one crewmember. He missed the cannon shot three times in the fight, which in the other dudes’ eyes, is unforgivable. So they decide to kill him, and would not listen to me when I begged them to stop. They had settled on keel-hauling him (if you don’t know what that is, it’s absolutely terrifying and a horrible way to go) until I said I would kill him.

I tried to make it as dignified and painless as possible. I gave him the opportunity to say some last words. “This place is a madhouse, and your gods are waiting for you in hell” which, at this point, fair. I then shot him in the backroad the head with a crossbow. Quick. Painless. I think it’s a far better death than any death he would have faced at the hands of the monsters I call my crew, but I have been wracked with guilt in the hours since. I can’t shake the sense that since I pulled the trigger, his death is my fault. I mean, his blood is LITERALLY on my hands! His death was already sealed before I stepped in, but I still blame myself.

So, AITA?

[breezypunk]

10 and 20 for the couples asks!!

Thank you! <3

-

10. What was their last big fight? What did they learn from it?

Hitting me with the angst I see. ;p

Their last big fight was when they were at the camp to help the Aldecaldos rid of some wraith that were watching them for a while, and they were sending threats, specifically about Panam & Goro, and Vaughn wasn't having any of it. He was ready to go to their hideout (cos he found it quickly), and end them all right there. Goro pleaded with him not to go alone, because he was scared Vaughn wouldn't come back, even Panam and Saul begged him to wait until they had a strategic plan. Vaughn reluctantly agreed to this.. or so they thought.

That night him and Goro shared some deep conversations about their lives and how they trusted one another to a level they never trusted anyone before, and Goro was so lucky that Vaughn made it through all the scary things he went through, Vaughn shouldn't even be alive, yet he was and Goro held onto that and cherished Vaughn's presence.

He promised Goro he wouldn't go alone..

But he did.

He snuck away from the camp in the middle of the night, even when their were clan members still up, Vaughn is very skilled in stealth, perks of being a netrunner, and he managed to get out of the camp and make it to the wraiths hideout where there were more of them than he anticipated.

To make a long story short, Vaughn was able to deal with it, but not without a lot of bloodshed, and not without being injured himself. He got a pretty nasty infection from a slice to the upper thigh, but he didn't care, threaten his best friend and boyfriend and you're dead meat. But this came with a price.. An angry best friend and an even angrier boyfriend.

The way Goro yelled at Vaughn and got in his face was more than Vaughn could handle. He never saw him this mad before, almost to the point where Goro punched him, he had to hold himself back. After everything they discussed before this, about trust, about how Vaughn promised he wouldn't go, only to sneak away from their bed hurt Goro more than anything.

He didn't even wanna look at Vaughn, even cried, and Vaughn felt horrible, cos all he wanted to do was stick up for those he cared about, and protect his family and love of his life. He didn't think Goro would get so mad. They didn't speak for two days and Vaughn was sure Goro was gonna leave him, this caused Vaughn to have constant panic attacks and just balling his eyes out to where finally the clan couldn't take it and got them together to talk to it out, cos they are kids.. It was awkward at first, but than once they started talking, Goro just let it all out, and so did Vaughn, apologies were made, and hugs and kisses were also given, and it wasn't that Goro stopped trusting Vaughn, but Vaughn had to gain some of it back (he did). Since than they never fought again, and Vaughn never left on a dangerous mission if Goro wasn't comfortable with it.

-

20. If they disagree, who's usually the one to compromise?

Vaughn because he hates getting into any kind of disagreement with Goro. Ever since the fight I mentioned above, Vaughn does anything he can to not make Goro upset, and it takes a lot to get him upset, even a disagreement isn't bad, but even if Vaughn see's a hint of disappointment or annoyance in Goro's eyes, he backtracks immediately and comes up with a better alternative, a compromise.

Btw Goro hates that Vaughn feels he needs to recoil whenever Goro feels frustrated, he doesn't want Vaughn to feel that way around him, cos Goro would never wanna do anything to upset him either, sometimes all it takes is space, take a walk and come back and talk it out, they do this now.

[yuexuan]

[Review]人间试炼游戏

Title: 人间试炼游戏 The Trial Game of Life

Author: 弄清风

Length: 303 chapters + 4 extras

Tag: Unlimited flow, supernatural, fantasy

Summary [taken from novel updates]:

“Player K27216, Tang Cuo, at 23:05 on April 1, 2019 of the Solar Calendar, confirmed dead.”

“Failed to clear the Trial Game of Life.”

“Survival duration: 24 years, 4 hours, 8 minutes and 6 seconds, Rating: A, Initial character score: -5.”

If death is just the beginning…

If survival is a game…

Are you ready for it?

Novel | Novel[translated]

Comments **Contains spoilers**:

Hoo boy, this is one long novel - not just by the sheer number of chapters, but how long each chapter is. The basic premise is that life is a game and once someone dies, they will enter into the Yong Ye (tln: Forever Night) City. In order to enter into the reincarnation cycle, they would need to survive different quests. Tang Cuo happened to be a private detective who died and entered Yong Ye City. There, he met his previous military instructor Jin Cheng. 

This is one of those novels where I liked the first part more than the second part. So let’s focus on what I like about the initial half of the story first:

The main characters have more personality: Jin Cheng (yes, I admit I read his name wrong for a long time, thinking it was Zhan Cheng 斩丞 instead of Jin Cheng 靳承...) has a lot of side quirks. For example: wearing a clown make-up and applying cosmetic masks at night to ensure that his face looked good. Despite this goofiness, he is one of the top-tier players residing in the A Zone. The other main character, Tang Cuo, is the opposite: he is very cool and collected, and even dares to threaten Jin Cheng, in spite of his low stat. He is also resourceful, going so far as to use his life report book as a weapon. 

As such, there are a lot of comedic factors and room for silliness by the two main characters. At one point Jin Cheng even lured out the murderer Meng Yufei by provoking the latter and reciting his embarrassing life stories from his report book.

There is also a lot more at stake initially. Tang Cuo starts out with very low stats and every action could easily threaten his life. This poses interesting challenges where he has to fight carefully while keeping tabs of his life points.  

A sense of mystery pervades the first half of the book regarding what caused Tang Cuo's death and the relationship between the two characters back when they were alive. Clues are given throughout the start of the novel (e.g. the mysterious person who sends simple gifts to Tang Cuo) and keeps me engaged and constantly guessing.

A lot of the side characters are also pretty fun, such as the lucky Ouhuang Yu Yiyi and Chi Yan, Leng Mou - the magician who keeps on getting the short end of the stick when it came to the roles he played in various quests - and a good number of other side characters.  

Also kudos to the author for being able to work with so many characters and parallel storylines, while still keeping the plot pretty coherent!

Now, to the latter half of the book…It is never a good thing when I start asking myself when the story will end because I struggled to plough through the story:

For one, the world mechanics are...so-so. Don't get me wrong, there are some novelties: I do like the idea that players have to go through multiple scenarios which share an overarching storyline. I also like the idea of having rare musical sheets items that enable the owner to make rules within the City. However, the way that the worldbuilding is presented or paced are not very intriguing. For example, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng have to complete this fantasy storyline with 12 sub-quests. The first few sub-quests drag on for quite awhile without substantial addition to the main storyline, whereas a few of the later sub-quests are glossed over (which begs the question of why write these sub-quests if they are unimportant). Likewise, the mechanics regarding the restrictions and extent of power that musical sheet owners are granted remain pretty vague - e.g. we don’t know how many rules the owner can make.

Also, despite there being a larger goal of reincarnating, there seems to be a lack of mention regarding what happens after the players reincarnated. Seemingly halfway through, players simply forgot about reincarnation in lieu of focusing on survival.

For all the mysteries and build-up regarding the main characters’ and side characters’ histories, a lot of the reveals are anti-climatic. Tang Cuo’s death was ruled off as him trying to complete the mission that Jin Cheng failed at, but no details regarding the mission were given. Likewise, teasers were given about how one of the minor antagonists (Black Hat) was setting up a grand scheme, when in fact, he only wanted to avenge his family. Basically, the payoff isn't satisfactory relative to the build-up. 

On the note of having so many side characters, the result is that many of the characters (even the main ones!) lacked strong personalities. There are even several characters with repeated personalities or character traits. 

Overall I’ll say this is a mediocre unlimited flow story and would suggest reading only if you really lack other unlimited flow novels to read.

[taiblogcomics]

Time to Start the Countdown!

Hey there, crafting in a fugue state. Well, while it's not quite blogaversary time, I think it's closer today than it will be next week. So it's the blogaversary! We're on… lucky thirteen, isn't it? Oh boy, that's a sign if ever I saw one. And moreover, we've had it good for a while, no? And we've had it too good too long. Three miniseries (well, two miniseries and a cancelled series) in a row that I actually liked. And when did we last do something truly awful? Avengers Arena last summer? Well, if that's the case, I propose we cover a truly heinous series. And one that won't leave us wondering what to do for a while~

Here's the cover:

Oh yes, my dear readers. We're going to review fucking Countdown.

"But Tai!" you might say, "this series is from 2007! Hasn't it been done to death?" Well, first of all, age has not improved this story. It is still terrible 17 years later. Second, perhaps some other reviewers may have covered it. Maybe some more popular than me (but not more popular than the BeeGees). But I wanna do it in a different way! And by which I mean, I want to review it like I review everything I do: one issue at a time. This comic was released weekly, after all. So I wanna replicate the experience of what it must've been like to read it week by week! Now that's how you get in all the suckiness!

As for the cover itself… Well, it's a fucking image of a bunch of popular heroes (and Jason Todd) running at the camera on a white background. Whoop-de-doo. I will give the series credit for one thing right off the bat, though: the numbering. We're starting on issue 51 and counting down to 0. Because it's called Countdown. That's at least some thematic gimmickery that I can appreciate. It won't help the overall score in the end, but it's at least something~

So, where do we start with this pile? Well, you're familiar with Infinite Crisis, 52, Identity Crisis, and Batman: Under the Red Hood, right? That's basically where you need to be in DC history to have a basic understanding for this series. That's the mark of a great series, eh? In short: Ray Palmer has disappeared following the insanity of his wife, Jason Todd is back from the dead, the Multiverse and the Monitors who watch over them have returned, and Superboy-Prime will be our villain. You got all that?

We open on the hellish and goofily-spelled planet Apokalips, where sadist torturer Desaad is waxing poetic about the lack of value of a single life. Ah, setting the mood and tone for the readers right away. Even Darkseid tells Desaad he's a depressing nihilist. Darkseid is busy organising his pretty sweet collection of DC Comics character statues. He must've been a big fan of Kenner's Super Powers line back in the day. He does concede one point to Desaad: he's right in that all lives, no matter how meager, touch another. That's downright positive for Darkseid!

As he moves a figure of Duela Dent, we transition over to that character on Earth. Thankfully, this is not the Duela we know from the New 52, but her much better and more interesting and likeable counterpart in the Post-Crisis universe, where she was an on-again-off-again member of the Teen Titans. At this point, it's "off again". She's dancing at a club, and then decides to kidnap and ransom the pop star hosting the event. As she tries to escape on a parachute, she's shot down by Jason Todd, who catches the pop star in midair.

Duela and Jason exchange some banter, mostly where it's reiterated that Duela isn't literally the Joker's daughter, and she retorts that he's not Batman's son either. Jason prioritises getting the girl to safety, which is probably the most heroic thing he'll do this entire maxi-series. Duela makes an escape, but is shot down again--by someone we can't see right now. She's pursued, and as she runs over the rooftops, she crosses a hospital, which transitions us over to our next character. I'll be fair, this transition is pretty good. If they continue to be non-jarring, I will award another point at the end of this review~

So Mary Batson (AKA Mary Marvel, so we can just call her Mary either way) has just recovered from her coma. During Day of Vengeance, the wizard Shazam was killed, severing Mary's connection to her powers. She also went into a coma, as you may have heard. She's fine now, and even has no hospital bills to look forward to, as they've all been paid off by Freddy Freeman (AKA Captain Marvel Jr). But Freddy's not here, and all he's left her is a note that says "Don't look for me". So she opts to walk home in the rain.

Also out in the rain is James Jesse, AKA the Trickster, one of Flash's Rogues. The Rogues are having a party, and Trickster's gotten here early, to Heat Wave's annoyance. Heat Wave's annoyed in general, since Trickster went straight for a few years, willing to help the Flash out on occasion. He hates the idea of how blurred the line has become for the Rogues, and is planning something big to get them back on track. Trickster assures him he's got his head on straight now. Also listening in is the Pied Piper, another Rogue who sat on the blurry line like Trickster, wondering if he's horning in on his turf. No rat metaphor he can use her?

As the rain comes down, Duela Dent continues her rooftop run, unloading whatever tricks she's got up her sleeve at her pursuer. You know, silly string taser, that sort of thing. (Where does she get those wonderful toys?) But her pursuer just shrugs it off, and she screams as he begins to shoot at her. Jason hears the scream, heading back to see what's going on. He tells the hulking figure that he doesn't tolerate gun-wielding crazies in his town. Well, of course not, that's your gimmick, isn't it, Jason~?

Jason attacks the guy, and we get a good look at him at last. Jason has no idea who it is, but the reader does (or should, at least is the hope). It's… the Monitor! The big good of Crisis on Infinite Earths, back again! And he's hunting Duelas! He claims to be the multiverse's only hope and that anomalies must be purged. To that end, he shoots Duela dead with his laser gun. Jason is enraged and punches the Monitor, who aims his weapon at him next. The only thing that keeps him from shooting Jason Todd as well is the sudden arrival of… a second Monitor??

So yeah! This was a reveal at the end of a one-shot called DC: Brave New World, which showed some upcoming premises for a few heroes' solo series, and then finished with a shot of the Monitors promising to, well, monitor these events. The end of much-better weekly comic 52 (this comic's direct predecessor) saw the restoration of the DC Multiverse into the cosmology it would use from here on out (even into the New 52 and beyond). Not an infinite multiverse, just 52 parallel Earths (including the main one), and a Monitor stationed to watch each one.

That's where we are. This second Monitor (who is subtly different to the Duela-shooter) stops the first from shooting Jason as well, saying he's acting outside his jurisdiction. The first claims his job is to eradicate anomalies and dimension-jumpers. The second says he'll report him to the rest of their brethren, and the first is sure the others will support him. Both teleport out, but not before the second one does offer an apology to Jason for Duela's death. However, since he doesn't offer the same to the reader, I am not inclined to forgive him.

And so our comic closes out with another Monitor flying out into space. I can't tell for sure, but I'm assuming it's the second one, since he has the same blue bodysuit. (The first one wore red.) He's out at the Source Wall, which is a literal wall at the edge of DC's universe. It's a Jack Kirby thing, don't question it. He asks the Source Wall why there is tension among his fellow Monitors. Great flaming letters reply "GREAT DISASTER". He asks what can possibly stop this Great Disaster? And the flaming letters reply: "RAY PALMER". Which I'm sure means a lot to this multi-dimensional space being.

Well, there we are. Off to a smashing start, huh? Usually you have to wait 'til the middle or end of the sucky event for the unnecessary deaths, but this one shows you what you're in for right away by fridging Duela Dent in its opening issue. And while this series will eventually reveal her backstory (a long-confusing thing for her character), she'll still be dead by the end of it, so it's not like the reveal will benefit her. And once again, we're murdering a former Teen Titans member to do it! Hey, DC: stop treating the Titans as your C-list fodder! Didn't you already get enough of this during Infinite Crisis two years ago (at the time of this issue's publication)??

The rest of the issue is... not much better. The reveal of multiple Monitors is pretty shocking, but not to a character who has no idea what that implies. The brief scenes with Mary Marvel and Trickster are at least setting up something, but their scenes are so short that it can barely do more than hint. Get used to that being a recurring theme throughout this series! And worst of all? This isn't even half our focus characters. By the end of this, there will be no less than eight storylines jockeying for control of the narrative, and they won't overlap until late in the game.

I can't wait to show you how bad this is going to get~