#TELL ME HOW ILL SELL WHAT I GOT DOWN THERE AND GET NEW ARMOR. I DID NEED NEW ARMOR GAHHH

[ragnar0c]

I'm resisting every urge to have my EO2 guild sleep at the in 14 days and kill Hellion over and over till we have enough for a bomb axe.

[maryhadalittlehobby]

No liveblog for the first episode so have this little recap/review.

E1 "What can the damned say to the damned"

E2"Do you know what it means to be loved by Death"-livebog

Off the bat these light hearted smooth Jazz had me like huh? oh this gonna be different huh?

What is the significance of them perching on this statue. It looks like its of Pegasus-the winged horse in greek mythology but it also looks like it has another part to it. Now in one myth he was born from the blood of a beheaded woman!! Forshadowing?

I could listen to Louis speak in his Nola accent ALL DAY. Jacob love you are killing it. HospiTAL

Another interesting thing-he is losing his French after only 5+ years?Something something about distancing himself from Lestat

Also I hope that Staten Island reference was a nod to our other favorite vamps who live in Staten Island

my girl is a thief lol

"You tell me what it is to be a woman and Ill tell you what it is to be a woman " Ok COOK Claudia

Gauche!! our first looks and words from our coven!

Loumand keep repeating that they have been together 77 years . We get it babes. Daniel feels that way too. And the slight to Lestat-thats FORTY SEVEN more than he spent with him. So proud of that lol

THEY ARE DAMN NEAR SITTING ON TOP OF EACH OTHER!

Claudia and Louis really were damn baby birds. How the hell did they not sense these vampires stalking them in the open a few feet away lol

Louis little neck tie I cant!

Is that how you sell yourself yourself 🤝🏾A lie I told myself about myself

"Yeah" I like how both Louis and Armand later mimic Eric's voice saying it

"I don't know what I need- Maybe a new brain in my head" omg can they stop!! I do not want this!

My Louis is happy. Or at least not sad. And it looks good on him!

Claudia and Madeline's first interaction Its funny how its so antagonistic

I love how Claudia has PURPOSELY chosen to butcher the French accent. We see she can master languages and accents easily from their time in easter Europe. Another FU to Lestat. He would hate it lol

Why is Louis sooooo loopy in Dubai lol Is it the Sun? Is he fighting off the dead sleep? Something is up. Our young friends

I was a rougher thing🤝🏾 I was and armored thing

WHERE are the BRAVE MEN I WAS PROMISED?!

This background blur perspective bro. Something is WRONG is this Armand fucking with us too

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT (for amand at least) Im sick Louis looks scared shitless lol

I LOVE that lavender dress especially without the caplet

SANTIBABY has arrived and I'm sat! That monologue! it rivals Jacobs confession booth!

I have a mighty need to cosplay him Im sorry

Louis looking lovingly at Claudia as she enjoys the theatre mirroring Louis lovingly looking at Lestat as he enjoyed the Opera. Kill me now

Louis thinking WHY DO YOU DO THIS SANTIAGO?

Eglee being a astrology girly is so funny

Daniel KILLED me with his telenovella spiel

Vermouth and annihilation. Vermouth is said to tastes light, florally and even medicinal. Annihilation means complete destruction so aka Lestat tastes nasty lol. I wonder if Louis would agree. We cut from them quickly so...

Louis being surprised by Armand's tirst with the father and son!

I want to lick these two. We got to stay away from Estelle if we can😂

She felt their lust!oh man what was she feeling when Louis and Lestat were NM

Roget said :or maybe Lestat is sleeping" Does he know he is a vampire?! Has that knowlege been passed down through generations?

My Louis. I'm already in pieces

Sam bodied that letter reading. I fucking teared up.

But why the Brad Pit Blowout . He got his hair did in pugatorty and we can tell

LesDot de Lioncoouuurrr Ok sir we get it.

"Lestat Lestat Lestat" Daniel too?! Lol

Danny can dish it but he can't take but alsoLouis please! Leave my grandpa alone

I love how the trailers really tricked us into thinking so much. I though the letter reading scene was a revisit of the Ms Lily threesome scene. I thought the after math scene was Danny somehow driving as wedge between Loumand but it was just Louis being pissed/upset at Daniel for making a joke of his pain. And i know so many others thought the same. We really don't know shit!

Amand is Alice truthers IDK but I think Armand was there. How was could he know what Alice was thinking

Louis falling asleep might as well be him calling Santiago a buffoon lol Persona non grata- a person not favored or welcomed.

And nooo I didn't get the bottom of the Beret look for Claudia correct for my cosplay. We didn't have a full shot so I took a guess. Oh well. She is wearing dark pants for her bottoms. I wonder why she is in pants? Have they become more fashionable/acceptable for women to wear in the 40's ? Or is she rebelling against the fashion of the time?

The way I was squirming and squeeling when we first saw this estate scene at nycc 2023. I was like" am I a loumand girlie now??" I can't deny they look good together and have amazing chemistry

Another goddam beheading reference. What is this 4 now?!

My Dear American friend you are a horrible liar lol That little switch in Amands demeaner with DONT. Chills!

Louis please don't start pretending to fit in and like what these fiends are doing babes. He was so happy at the start of the episide but we leave him with a conflicted fake smile😞

This episode was WILD!I'm obsessed with the visual choices, the music choices, the jokes with the juxposition of these deeply dramatic moments. How is this all in one episode?! How did it not feel rushed with so much happening. It was brillant and has moved up to my 2nd favorite episode between both parts. I could never have predicted this tonal change. This is the best show around. I am cladia at the theatre- wide eyed and clapping furiously. Brava! Bravo!

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

The King’s precious gem...

For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics​

Hope you will enjoy this story!

"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"

"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"

(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!

The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.

The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.

One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.

Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).

Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas. 

When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.

Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.

It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years. 

As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:

"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne. 

The monarch talked with a guard:

"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."

"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.

Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:

"Come here, my love."

"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.

Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.

"I am glad that you find some time for me."

"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."

The elf king sighed.

"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."

"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."

Thranduil scoffed.

"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."

"Let see..."

Suddenly, a guard shouted:

"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"

"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.

"We'll see in time..."

Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.

But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.

"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"

The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:

"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."

As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.

"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.

"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.

"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.

The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.

"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.

"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.

As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.

Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).

"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."

"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."

Suddenly, (Y/N)  noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:

"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."

Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."

Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:

"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."

The King consort asked, amused:

"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:

"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."

"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."

Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:

"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"

"What is it, Mister Baggins?"

"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."

The King consort smiled:

"Did they ask for something in particular?"

"Not really."

"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks. 

Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.

"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."

The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift. 

He stammered:

"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"

"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."

(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.

Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil. 

He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:

"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."

The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.

Clearing his throat, he asked:

"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:

"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"

All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.

As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.

"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"

Smirking, Fili declaimed:

"Like a battering ram,

Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.

Like a sharpened sword,

Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.

Like an arrow,

Your voice pierced me to the core.

And like a defeated army,

I surrender to the love I feel for you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).

"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.

"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.

Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:

"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"

"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.

Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.

As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.

Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):

"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."

"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"

"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.

When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:

"Then, I know what I have to do..."

"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.

"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.

They were not out of the woods!

"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"

"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.

"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.

As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!

"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"

Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.

"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.

"What do you mean?"

"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"

"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.

"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.

"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.

"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.

"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.

"And why?"

"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"

"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"

"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.

"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.

All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.

"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.

All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.

Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:

"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"

"But..." protested Thorin.

"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"

As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.

He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:

"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"

The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.

"I am all ears, (Y/N)."

"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life. 

I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No. 

Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."

Fili sighed.

"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"

"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."

"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.

"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.

"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.

A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.

As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):

"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"

"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.

Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:

"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"

"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"

"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"

Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:

"But you know I would never leave you, right?"

The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.

"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."

He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room. 

On their way, the king asked:

"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."

"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."

Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.

"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"

Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment. 

And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem. 

Long live the kings...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!

See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍

[sithsecrets]

five intimate moments | din djarin x reader

A chronicle of five moments that shaped the Mandalorian’s relationship with his one and only crew member.

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3.5 k words

Mentions: illness, hallucinations induced by a high fever, minor injury to the reader character, NO SMUT!

(This is my first attempt at a Mando fic so please have mercy!!!)

---

1.

When the Mandalorian says he wants to hire you as his first and only crew member, you’re taken aback to say the least. Your first impulse is to laugh and tell him that his joke is very funny, because what else could an offer like that be from a man like him? He’s entirely self-sufficient from the look of things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the credits to buy services from others when he needs them. But one long look into the darkness of that visor tells you at once that what Mando’s said is no jest, tells you that he’s serious.

He tells you that he’ll cut you in ten percent if you help him out a little bit. It’s standard stuff, really, just ship repairs, navigation, and taking care of the baby. You’ve learned a lot under Peli over the last several years, you’ve definitely sat in the pilot’s chair a time or two, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Mando’s weird little baby— so why not? Working for him would get you off this planet, and it would be a change of pace for sure.

Doubt sets in the night before you’re set to go off with the Mandalorian, though Peli waves your feelings off pretty readily.

“You’re being stupid,” she tells you bluntly. “He’s a Mandalorian. Just do as you’re told, help him with the kid, and let him keep to himself if he wants to. Everything’ll be fine.”

Peli’s words are of some comfort, though anxiety is still fluttering in your gut the next morning. You say your goodbyes to your mentor and the droids, and then you’re flying off in the Razor Crest on the way to somewhere.

The first day is strange as you try to pick your way around your new home, and you spend much of your time feeling as though you’re snooping around in someone else’s space. The Mandalorian is just as quiet as you thought he’d be, clanging around in his armor doing this and that while you try to make yourself busy. You run out of tasks quickly, however, and it makes you skin itch to sit idle like this.

You watch for nearly an hour as Mando fiddles with the mechanics in one of his arm guards, cursing under his breath through the modulator as he picks at this and that. You think you know what the problem is, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to tell him that. Finally, though, you can’t let him struggle anymore.

“Let me see,” you declare, cringing as you realize your tone was more commanding than you’d meant for it to be. But Mando says nothing to this, letting you take hold of his arm without uttering so much as a sound. Just as you thought, there’s an issue farther up the guard, one he’d overlooked. A little soldering here, a change of wires there, and then the thing’s good as new again.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, and you can feel his eyes on you through the visor.

“It’s what you hired me for.” You laugh nervously then, suddenly shy under the attention. “Gotta show you I’m not completely useless somehow, right?”

The Mandalorian stands, headed for the ladder on the other side of the room.

“Don’t call yourself useless.”

This is said without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and you find yourself rushing to explain for no apparent reason.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” The Mandalorian pauses with one foot on the first rung, finally turning to look at you now. “You’re not useless.”

 2.

The Razor Crest’s interior, in the grand tradition of spaces owned and maintained by single men, is in desperate need of a tune-up. There’s a bit of clutter here and there, and the walls and surfaces and well, everything else could do with a good scrubbing. It’s a big project to say the least, but you think you can tackle it given enough time and supplies.

The perfect window for such an undertaking opens up just a few days after the idea strikes you. Mando’s got another assignment, and it’s brought you to a relatively safe planet nearer to the Outer Core. He’ll be gone a few days, or so he says, and you know already that the market in town will be the perfect place to get what you need.

You set about your task the same day the Mandalorian leaves to set about his, the baby secured to your chest in a makeshift sling. It’s a good thing you brought him, too, because his charm helps you score several bargains along the way.

Organizing everything takes almost a whole day by itself, but after that, the cleaning is easy. You scrub and dust and mop until everything sparkles, and then it’s time to do laundry and see if you can make some functioning garments out of the scraps you find in Mando’s small closet. The clothes he wears aren’t rags by any means, but a little patching here and mending there gives him two more shirts and another pair of pants to work with.

It takes two more days for Mando to come home after you’re done, and he notes the changes immediately. He stops dead in the little hall between the main hull and the place where he keeps his carbonite-contained quarries, looking to the left and then to the right very slowly. You can’t tell if he likes what you’ve done at first, his expression obscured by that damn helmet like it always is.

“I didn’t touch your weapons,” you declare, holding up your hands as if to ward off whatever anger Mando’s about to level at you. But he doesn’t get upset, doesn’t cuss or ask you what the hell your were thinking, so you think it’s safe to go on.

“I scrubbed the whole interior, organized some of the stuff you had laying around, and made myself a better place to sleep.”

You gesture to the pallet you’ve made for yourself on the floor, proud of how you’ve managed to tuck it out of the way. That was the problem with your old spot— Mando had to step around you a lot, and it was becoming impractical. This new space comfortable, too, plush thanks to some cushions and blankets you managed to score in the market. You even have pillows now, but this is something you delight in privately.

The Mandalorian stands silently before you, and you prattle on, showing him this and that.

“I got the baby a couple of outfits to wear, one for colder weather and one for warmer weather. I mended some of your old clothes and washed everything that was here, so that’s done.” You shut the door to the little wardrobe and go to Mando’s bunk, pushing the button so he can see inside. “The woman that sells upholstered goods in the market really liked the Child, so she gave me a great deal. I managed to get you a decent mattress, or something close to it, and a couple of new pillows. She fixed up your old quilt for me too, so I hope it’s warmer now…”

You trail off, words escaping you under the intensity of Mando’s gaze. He’s staring you down properly now, the visor trained right on your face.

“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, gesturing to his bunk, the wardrobe. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should have asked before you messed with his things, his sleeping space, and a wave of something not unlike embarrassment sweeps over you.

“I— Mando, I’m sorry, I should have—”

But the Mandalorian still isn’t cross, cutting you off before you can finish apologizing. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is… This is…” He stares at his bed for a long moment, searching for his words. “Thank you.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, though you can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

 3.

The cough is innocuous enough when it starts, just a tickle in the back of your throat that comes on one afternoon. You brush it off as allergies, even telling Mando you’re fine when he asks about it that night.

Two days later, you’re bedridden.

Mando insists you’re absolutely burning up even as you shiver and shake beneath a virtual mountain of blankets, so cold that you think you’ll never be warm again. He forces you to sip on broth and water, though it all settles like sludge in your stomach. It must be bad, whatever you have— you must look bad— because the Mandalorian’s façade is slipping. He’s having full-blown conversations with the baby now, asking the little green infant if he thinks it’s a good idea to cut this hunt short, if he thinks you can be left alone for even just a few hours while he collects the last quarry. And though your body is aching, though you can practically feel the fever cooking your brain at this point, you tell him to finish the job. He made an agreement, and you know it’ll kill Mando not to honor it— you’ll be fine by yourself.

The two of you touch down on some planet in the Outer Rim, and then Mando’s practically running out of the ship. He promises to be back within the day, the sincerity in his voice managing to pierce the haze clouding your mind, and the ache in your bones makes you hope he means it.

Sometime later, you begin to hear a voice coming from the ‘fresher, one that taunts and teases you. It speaks nonsense on and off, but the clearer messages are frightening nonetheless. The voice says that Mando’s not coming back, that he’s left you here forever. Why else would he have taken the baby, hm? He doesn’t care for you, he’s not going to help you.

“Yes, he is,” you retort weakly, becoming more and more upset with each passing hour as this faceless thing continues to fill your head with words and threats. Somewhere in the very back of your fever-addled brain, you know that none of this is real, that all of this is a fever dream. But still, you weep and twist in your bed, scared that the Mandalorian really has abandoned you.

True to his word, though, Mando’s back in record time. You cry out for him the minute you hear footsteps inside the ship, and even the quarry grows quiet at the sound of your voice. Things are hazy after that, but you know that Mando comes to you after just a few minutes, promising over and over again that you’ll be better soon.

You and the Mandalorian and the baby fly somewhere together, this much you know, and Mando comes to sit on the floor with you once the Crest is in hyperspace.

“We’ll be there soon,” he tells you, voice tense and nervous through the modulator. He shushes you when you become upset all over again, emotions stirred by more taunting from the voice in the ‘fresher.

“Make it stop,” you cry, so very weak, “please make it stop. It’s so mean, Mando.”

“Hey, hey,” the Mandalorian cuts, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here, I won’t let it. I’ll stay right here until we get you to a doctor, I promise.”

And that’s enough to calm you for a few hours, it’s enough to help you fall asleep. You only wake again when you feel arms around your body, when the plushness of your mattress is no longer underneath you.

“Come on,” Mando says, talking to himself as much as he’s talking to you. “The medic will fix this. He’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”

The medic the Mandalorian takes you to does fix this, but things are touch and go for a few hours there. Your fever breaks in just a couple of hours, thank the Maker, but you’re still very weak from being so sick for so long. You spend two days confined to a medbay bed before you’re deemed well enough to be discharged, and even then, it takes about a week before you’re truly feeling like yourself again.

It’s not until much later that you realize Mando never left your bedside once, and not for the first time do you find yourself wondering what something like that means coming from a man like him.

4.

Mando’s been gone nearly two weeks, and the baby’s beginning to lose it just the slightest bit. He doesn’t talk, of course, not in a way you can understand, but you know he misses his father. If the Child isn’t in a sour mood, he cries, and you’ve caught him playing in Mando’s clothes more than once. It’s stressful, taking care of the baby when he’s like this, but you understand how he feels. You feel strange and almost embarrassed to admit it, but you miss the Mandalorian too. The rational part of you knows it would be best to chalk it up to proximity, but you know in your heart that it’s a little more than that. But just because you know this doesn’t mean you accept it, and you tamp down the feeling at every turn, focusing instead on getting the Child through this rough period.

At the sixteen-day mark, the baby refuses to sleep in his pram entirely, insisting instead that Mando’s bunk will do much better. And you would be fine with that, all things considered, if he wasn’t insistent that you climb in there with him as well.

“Bug, I know you want Mando to come home, and I know you like sleeping with me when he’s not here, but I’m not getting in there with you.”

The baby makes a most discontent noise, pulling on your fingers so hard that he tumbles back onto Mando’s mattress when he lets go. You tell him once again that you won’t be invading his father’s space like that, and then the Child is crying, sobbing so hard his little shoulders shake beneath his baggy outfit. I’m too tired for this, you think to yourself, and you finally give the baby what he wants.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, climbing up into the bunk with a sigh. “But we’re not telling him about this.”

The Child is soothed at once, snuggling down beside you in Mando’s blankets as if he was never upset in the first place. You lie beside him in the dark, eyes already growing heavy as you breathe in the scent of the covers around you, the scent of the pillow beneath your head. All at once, you realize that this is what Mando probably smells like under all the armor and the weapons. Something about that only serves to make this whole thing feel even more like a violation, but you force that thought out of your mind.

At some point, you do drift off, only the be woken hours later by the feeling of a hand on your ankle. And there the Mandalorian is, standing before you in the flesh (and beskar) after all those days away.

“You’re in my bed,” he says to you, though there’s no edge to the words. It’s a simple statement of fact, a plain observation.

“We missed you,” is all you have to say in explanation, though it takes you about three seconds too long to realize which pronoun you chose to throw out in the front there. Now properly awake, you go to cover the mistake, but Mando cuts you off as he is so wont to do.

“I missed you too,” he says slowly, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Both of you.”

5.

You realize that Nevarro may not be as safe as you thought about three seconds after a man with a vibroblade demands you hand over all the credits you have. You try to flee on impulse, your mind focused on protecting the baby—

Right up until the man catches your shirt, using the natural momentum of the action to propel you right into his clenched fist. Searing hot pain blooms behind your eye, spreading across the entire side of your face and into your nose. You’re completely stunned, unable to so much as form a coherent thought as your attacker moves to hit you again.

It’s like everything happens in slow-motion after that. One minute, your assailant is bearing down on you with murder in his eyes— the next, he’s grimacing, falling to the ground with thud. Two voices urge you to follow them now, and there are hands on your shoulders, your back. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a moment to realize that there are two fucking Mandalorians in your face, but when you do, the urge to fight back leaves you immediately.

Neither Mando is your Mandalorian, but you follow them anyway. They usher you into a tunnel system beneath the city, telling you to turn this way and that, and you do as they say without question. For some reason, they know you— they know your name, and they certainly know the baby because they ask about him the moment the lot of you are concealed. About a thousand questions swim around in your mind as you follow the Mandalorians deeper and deeper into the tunnels, but you aren’t given a chance to ask a single one.

Finally, you’re allowed to stop in a smith of some sort, coming to stand before a Mandalorian woman sheathed in maroon and gold. She regards you for a long moment, pausing over her work to take in the sight of your face, the way you clutch the baby protectively against your chest.

“Fetch him,” is all that she says, speaking to one of your saviors, and they turn and leave without a word.

A period of time elapses before you hear movement in the hall, though you can’t be sure how long. What you are sure of, though, is that you hear Mando’s voice drawing near, and the wave of relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’re safe here, of course— anyone would be, surrounded by this many Mandalorians— but… but they’re not him.

“What happened?”

It’s the first thing Mando says to you, picking up the pace once he lays eyes on your injuries. You’re taken aback by how he crowds you, how he lets his gloved hands linger on your cheek.

“She was attacked by a chakaar,” says the Armorer, speaking from workspace. “He will not be bothering anyone again, though.”

Mando is satisfied by this, thanking his brothers and sisters for protecting you and his child. You thank them as well, though it’s hard to tell if the sentiment lands with the Mandalorians. The Armorer is the only one who responds at all, saying, “You are our brother’s cyar’ika,” she explains, confusing you with a word you don’t recognize, “we as his brothers and sisters must protect you. This is the Way.”

“The is the Way,” intones the group, and then you’re being ushered from the room, tucked under Mando— your Mando’s— arm.

The walk back to the ship is a quiet one, though the Child coos happily. He seems largely unaffected by all of this, even dozing off in his pram as though he’s had an uneventful afternoon. You’re glad he’s asleep, knowing it’ll give you and Mando some time to talk. You want to ask him about what the Armorer said, what that word meant. Mando’s cyar… cyar’ika? Is that what she’d called you?

But you don’t get the chance to speak a word, because Mando crushes you against him the moment you get the baby settled. His arms are strong around your back, the sensation of being held by him effectively knocking the air from your lungs. When he finally lets you go, every question you had stuffed in your mind is gone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” the Mandalorian says to you, sounding more distraught than you ever thought possible. You shake your head at that— how could he possibly have known?

“I’m fine, Mando,” you press. “Don’t worry about my face, it’s—”

“I should have been there.”

The both of you just look at one another after that, and the Mandalorian doesn’t flinch away when you lay your hand on the side of his helmet. You know at once that everything is different now, but you need to hear it just to be sure.

“That woman—”

“The Armorer,” Mando corrects.

“The Armorer,” you begin again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “What did she mean when she said what she said about me? What is a cyar… cyar’ika?”

Mando’s hand comes up, and his glove is cool on your uninjured cheek.

“’Beloved,’” he says softly, “’cyar’ika’ means ‘beloved.’”

You think your heart’s going to beat right out of your chest, but you force yourself not to be calm.

“If you’re going to call me your cyar’ika,” you whisper, afraid you’ll shout if you don’t, “then what should I call you?”

“Din. You can call me Din.”

[logan-please-smile-speaks]

[Long, Tw food (in depth descriptions), brief references to unnamed heavenly beings of no specified religion, brief reference to hell. Not really any angst. Just good Dadza.]

[Hurt/comfort my beloved]

Me: i can't write

Also me: writes an entire fic by accident while telling my friend about an idea I had

(I'm gonna need this ask back at some point so don't keep it too long, okay? But make sure to take care of yourself (unlike Techno sksksks))

(How many words is this) (Cenn I've been writing this for like 3-4 hours. I've been hyperfixating on this)

-@2ble

I had this really cute idea where Techno gets sick after doomsday and Dadza takes care of him (for an animatic, or? How should i draw techno?)

Phil's Dadza side kicks in. He gently pushes Techno, who is in full garb back into bed. "Techno, you're sick. You can't go."

"But I haven't streamed in 2 weeks!"

"Rest."

Techno turns on his side in bed. Dadza gently pulls the blankets up and tucks them around Techno. Techno begins to cough, and the coughs rack his body. Dadza's expression is soft and concerned. He rubs his hand on Techno's back until he stops coughing. Techno closes his eyes. He's exhausted.

Dadza takes Techno's crown and places it on the bedside table.

He observes his ill friend. Techno is nothing like what he was up until Doomsday. He seemed--weak. Vulnerable. Sick.

"Have you had anything to eat, Techno?"

Techno doesn't open his eyes. He shakes his head. "I ran out of food a few days ago. I meant to get more but..." Techno doesn't want to admit that he couldn't get downstairs. He doesn't want to admit to weakness, to vulnerability. But everytime he thought of searching through chests, of trading with the villagers, they just seemed so far away.

Phil noticed a tear leaking out from Techno's eyelid. If he brushed it away, Techno would feel worse about his state because it would mean he was in fact vulnerable.

"I'll make you some stew."

Phil goes downstairs and tends to the fireplace. The fire seemed to have gone out sometime between now and the last time Phil checked on Techno.

How long has the house been this cold?

Phil builds up the fire and puts a cauldron over it. He makes mushroom stew because he doesn't know if techno can stomach rabbit stew.

When it's ready, he ladels it into a bowl and climbs the ladder.

Hanging off the ladder by one hand, he calls out. "Techno, stew's ready."

Techno's eyes flutter open. He sees his friend holding out a bowl of food and his eyes widen.

Phil notices that Techno is sweating and the blanket strewn to the side, only covering his feet.

"Are you too hot mate?" he asks.

Techno is broiling but he can't summon the strength to take off his outer clothes. His body refuses.

He's more focused on food. He's starving, and his body uses up what little resources it has left to sweat.

Phil walks over and puts the stew on the table. The heavenly aroma fills the room.

"Let's get this coat off of you." Phil reaches around Techno and unclasps the chain on his neck. He gently pulls the coat off of Techno's arm but he's still laying on it.

"Techno," Phil says.

"Whaaat," Techno drawls.

"You got to let me get this coat off ya mate."

Techno lets out a deep groan, then turns over on his stomach so his other arm is towards Phil.

Phil reaches under techno and grasps the coat. He pulls it out from under Techno and off his arm. The sleeve turns inside out. Phil fixes the sleeve and hangs up the coat.

Techno's shirt is drenched in sweat. He rolls over and starts fidddling with the button closest to his throat, looking up at Phil.

"Here, I'll get that for you." Phil undoes the button. He can't imagine how tired techno must've been after Doomsday, that he just collapsed in bed fully clothed, not even bothering to loosen them.

At least he took off his armor. Sh-t's heavy, he thinks. Phil ignores the fact that after the adrenaline and excitement wore off, the sore and tired Technoblade probably couldn't move with it on.

Phil pulls the blanket off the bed entirely, folds it, and places it on the table next to the stew. He pulls off Techno's shoes and socks and puts them near his coat.

They were also drenched with sweat, not to mention the smell--but it doesn't bother Phil all that much. He's smelled worse. He's frowns at the imprints on Techno's legs from the socks.

Phil loosens the rest of Techno's clothes. Techno seemed to were his tightest, least comfortable, most regal outfit to Doomsday.

Lucky for them both most of that was just accesories and pins, and Phil could easily remove those.

While Phil was doing this, Techno had been lying on his back, eyes closed. Though Techno tended to be stone-faced, Phil noticed the relief on Techno's face.

"How you feelin', Techno?"

"Philzaaa,"

"Yeah?"

Techno opens his eyes halfway, just enough to see Philza and the bottom of the bed.

"Do you have water?"

Phil procures a water bucket from his bag. "Thirsty mate?"

Techno looks at the water bucket and a small smile creeps over his face.

Phil smiles at his friend. He moves to the head of the bed and looped his arm and tattered wing around Techno and sits him up.

He holds the bucket up to Techno's mouth and tips it to his lips. Techno sips gratefully as the cool liquid pours over his hot, dry mouth and down his throat, cooling him from the inside.

"You've lost quite a bit of fluid, mate."

Techno lets some of the cold water slip out the sides of his mouth and drip down his face. His skin is boiling. The water dropelts running down his skin feel like heavenly beings allowing drops of mercy to fall upon him in the pit of hell.

Techno pulls back briefly to swallow and catch his breath and Phil rights the bucket. Techno leans in again for more water.

After drinking his fill, Techno leans back and wipes his mouth with his arm.

"All done, Techno?"

Techno swings his arms up knocks the bucket out of Phil's hand, dumping it on his head. The gush of water cools Techno, drenches the bed, and spills all over the room. Phil can't help but laugh. He picks up the bucket and scoops up the water source. He puts the bucket back in his bag.

"Had enough of the water?"

"Philza--I gotta be honest with you, Philza I haven't felt this good in weeks."

Phil laughs again even louder. The two friends are now in a good mood.

"Well now your stew is probably cold too." Phil tastes it. "Actually it's a bit warm still. Not too hot, either."

Techno scoots towards the wall and leans on it. He reaches for the bowl.

"Oh, no you don't."

"Phil, I'm a grown man-pig. I can hold a bowl."

"Maybe on a good day, Techno, but three minutes ago you couldn't sit up by yourself. No offense mate, but I don't think your arms have enough stamina right now. Now come on and eat."

Phil lifts the bowl to Techno's lips and lets him sip at his own pace. He pulls it back.

"How does it taste?"

"Pretty good but could maybe use a little salt."

"Eh, you probably need electrolytes as well after sweating through your clothes and drinking all that water."

Phil put the bowl on the downstairs counter.

Phil found salt in the downstairs chest and stirred it into the cauldron.

He heard the bowl fall to the floor behind him. It fell facedown and spilt on the floor.

Phil swore quietly.

He got a new bowl and more stew from the cauldron.

"How is it?" Techno inquired.

"Try for yourself," Phil said. He smiled as he held the bowl to Techno.

Techno looked at the bowl, then up at Phil. He took a sip.

Techno pulled back and looked at the bowl.

Phil thought he may have tainted the stew somehow. "Is it bad?" he started to say.

But he didn't quite get out anything after "Is" because Techno cut him off.

"It's delicious." Techno looked up at his friend. "Philza Minecraft, you should be a chef. This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted."

Phil chuckled. "All I did was add salt, what ya mean?"

"Phil, you have to sell this stew to the rest of the SMP. We could get rich!"

"Techno, I think the sickness may have gotten to your head a bit."

"Phil, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life. We could be the the most powerful people on the server!"

"We already are. We just blew up a country. Down to bedrock."

"But we could get even more rich and powerful!"

"Well I'll be happy to listen after you eat. And rest. And bathe."

"I don't need to bathe."

"You're not getting out of it. You reek, mate."

"You can't judge me by the smell!"

"I'm not worried about the smell so much as what the smell tells me about your body. I don't know when the last time you washed was but it was definitely before Doomsday and I can't have you laying in your own sweat and filth for much longer. It's sh-t for your health, Techno."

"Philza--"

"Please just eat, Techno."

Techno leaned his head forward slightly and Phil pressed the bowl to Techno's lips.

Techno closed his eyes and savored the flavors. They were so pleasant, so soothing, so comforting. They reminded him of a time when he was safe and there was no betrayal. No war. No need for violence and bloodshed and destruction.

Phil, being a good Dadza friend, made sure that Techno ate an entire bowl. He brought Techno another bowl upon his request, of which he ate half, then left the other half bowl on the table in case Techno got hungry later.

After changing Techno's bed to clean, dry sheets and tucking his friend back into bed, he went downstairs to clean up the spill. He told Techno he would be back at sunrise to check on him. Though he might come earlier just in case. Sunrise was just the latest. Phil had decided that since Techno had gotten through the brunt of his hibernation and was now waking up sick, he should check on him at least twice a day.

Phil scrubbed the dried stew off the floor. He wondered what could've made Techno love it so much. Mere salt couldn't have made it so delicious, could it?

Phil finished cleaning the floor and the bowl and put everything away. As he was about to leave, he stopped. Eyes locked on the cauldron. There was something about it.

I can't leave that there, he reasoned. It will go to waste. If Techno like it, I can't let it waste or burn. I should freeze it outside.

Phil took out a bowl and knelt in front of the fire place. He scoop up big, full ladels into his bowl. Could it be that the soup was really that much better with something as basic as salt?

Phil dipped his finger in the bowl and sucked the stew off of it. He was instantly transported to his childhood. His mind played out feelings of safety, of healing, of comfort, of rest.

He heard his family laughing, remembered learning how to fly, the first time he soared high, feeling the wind beneath his wings. He remembered when Wilbur was born, holding the tiny baby in his arms, filled with love. "I'll always protect you. I'll always be there for you." When he met Techno, when he built the bee farm, and so on.

Phil was moved to tears. He felt loved. He felt like someone loved him no matter his flaws, his mistakes. Phil cried.

It was not out of pain but rather emotion. He wiped away his tears and drank the rest of the stew in his bowl, but it only caused more tears to stream down his face.

Techno was right.

Outside, watching through the window was the one who made the soup what it was. It wasn't Phil's salt.

He stood on his hind legs, paws pressed against the wall of the house.

He had been listening to the two friends talk, had been watching protectively as the wind ruffled his thick white fur.

He was Technoblade's guardian.

Soon he would be called Steve.

2ble this is literally amazing hello????

[emerywrites]

Child of Moonlight and Alchemy

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Summary: The Moonstone was holding Quirin hostage even after leaving the Dark Kingdom and the Brotherhood behind. It destroyed his life in every sense of the word and refused to let him go. He never expected it to give him something in return.

Rating: PG

Content Warning: canon character death, child neglect

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Haunted Quirin felt haunted. As more black rocks cropped up, their spikes taking homes and lives, it left him and the brotherhood at a loss as to how to stop it. Then there was their king, falling prey to the opal’s madness. Quirin was haunted by the shadow of sanity their king had lost, haunted by ghosts of those who were impaled in their sleep, those who were sealed in by the rock surrounding them, those that were done in by the grief of losing everything they’d known to these rocks that could not be reasoned with.

Adira took it upon herself to start looking into more mythic ways to combat them while Hector seemed to be falling into a madness all his own. Quirin preferred the more practical solution of moving their people toward the outskirts of their kingdom, away from the rocks. But what Quirin had not foreseen was being haunted by the ghost of his sister. She had tried to take the opal herself in an attempt at her own solution. It was an effort to save her husband and her son from its fate. He had tried to warn Edmund of the Queen’s plan but they were too late. Sometimes Quirin heard her voice in his dreams, calling to him. “Brother,” she said in a faraway voice as he tossed and turned one night. “Brother, go to the opal. Brother, it needs you.” Quirin awoke in a cold sweat. “Lorelei.” Quirin didn’t bother with his armor. The voice instilled in him a sense of urgency. It drove him to do nothing more than pull on a pair of trousers and grab his sword. He stumbled from his room and made his way to the Moonstone’s chamber. The guards at the doors were easily disarmed and knocked unconscious. “Brother,” he heard call from inside the chamber. Quirin burst through the doors. The opal had shed its protective shell of black rock and floated upwards. Then Lorelei was there. She stood behind the opal, looking down on it with adoration. “Isn’t it beautiful, brother?” “Yes.” He didn’t know why he’d agreed. It wasn’t beautiful to him. To him it was dangerous and horrid. He wished that the moon had never produced that opal. It brought nothing but destruction and decay. But then Lorelei looked at him with tears in her eyes. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. On instinct, Quirin rushed forward. He crossed the bridge but stopped at the middle because Lorelei was suddenly there to meet him. He wiped away her tears with the side of his finger. They collected there and solidified into a smaller version of the moon opal. “What is this?” There was something sinister about its gleam. “You must keep it,” she told him. “There will come such a time that you will need it. Until then, hold it close to your heart.” Quirin blinked and she was gone. With trembling hands, he put the smaller opal in his pocket. The next day, Edmund ordered that the kingdom evacuate.

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Nature When Quirin came to Corona, he had decided he was done with the Brotherhood. He wanted no more part in something that had consumed his whole life and left with nothing but heartache. He wanted a new start. Helaine swept into his life like a whirlwind. It was effortless for her. All it took was a smile and he melted. She was a brilliant alchemist who helped her village in any way she could. Everyone came to her for help. Watching her work was like watching someone create art. She delved into her own world when she pulled on her goggles. She deftly measured, poured, examined, adjusted temperatures, all in fluid movements that were second nature to her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. One day it was a salve for the Widow Cooper’s joint pain. Another day it was adjusting the components of the soil to make it more fertile. And the next day it was building a system to warn them if a pack of wolves was coming too close to the village. Helaine’s work was never done and she liked it that way. Then Queen Arianna became ill and the king sent out a search for the Sundrop to save her. Quirin pulled on his old Brotherhood armor and went to warn him not to use it. The black rocks would seek out the magic of the Sundrop and endanger Corona. But the stubborn king wouldn’t listen. Quirin went home and told Helaine everything about his past. Up until that point he had been as vague as he could be to keep the burden of what he knew from her. It finally boiled over and he told her whatever he knew of the Moonstone and Sundrop. Then he showed her the shard of Moonstone that the vision of his sister had given him. He had put it on a chain and wore it around his neck to keep it close to him at all times. Keep it close to your heart. “I fear what will come now that King Frederic is toying with forces he doesn’t understand,” he said as he undid the clasp and handed her the necklace to examine. Helaine held up the chain and took in the smaller Moonstone that was encased in its own miniature shell the same as the one in the Dark Kingdom. “This is fascinating,” she said, voice full of awe. “If I could just study the-” Quirin snatched it back, feeling that he had just made a terrible mistake. Of course, his wife, ever the curious scientist, would be enthralled by something so otherworldly. The hurt that flashed through her eyes, made him want to soften his reaction. “I’m sorry, Helaine. But its dangerous. It killed my sister and drove her husband to madness. It destroyed my home.” “If it’s caused so much harm, then why do you keep it?” She took his hand and held it securely in her own. The comfort Quirin got from the simple gesture was immeasurable. “I know that the vision I saw wasn’t really my sister, but whether it was good, evil, or something else, it gave this to me. She said that this would be important and I believe her. This stone is my responsibility now.” Quirin regretted ever telling Helaine about his piece of the stone. It was too late by the time he found out she too had visions from the Moonstone. It showed her how to use magic and alchemy to get something they’d both so desired. Helaine replaced his piece of the opal with a fake one she’d created and got to work. Using a sample of her hair, his hair, the Moonstone and a few other ingredients that took her a month and a couple of trips out of town to collect, she was able to do it. Quirin came home one day to find her holding a sleeping baby who looked so much like her but with a streak of blue hair standing out against the dark brown of the rest of it. “What have you done?” Quirin demanded. “We have the child we always wanted,” she insisted with a smile. He ripped off the fake Moonstone and held it up. “You lied to me.” He threw it to the ground and stepped on it. “How could you do this? How could you make that thing?” “This thing is our child!” she argued. “The opal showed me that I could use it to make something so wonderful. It was a gift.” “No! Helaine, don’t you see that it tricked you? Now we have an attachment to it. If there was ever a need to destroy it-” “Don’t, Quirin.” Her voice trembled with desperation that sent him internally reeling. “This is what it wanted.” Something broke between them that day. But as the baby grew, that broken piece was patched over. It was left weak but they managed to work around it. The child slowly worked his way into Quirin’s heart. He regretted the child’s origin but couldn’t help the fondness he began to feel. They lied to the village and told them that they found the child left nearby, on the outskirts of the forest. There were rumors and questions that slowly died out over the years. The boy fell just as deeply in love with science and alchemy as Helaine. Though Quirin was happy to see that he did have an appreciation for farming too. But as much joy as the boy brought them, Quirin felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the payment that would come for such a crime against nature. He refused to even let his guard down enough to call the child his son. The Moonstone wasn’t a kind and benevolent creature. It wasn’t going to give them something so beautiful as a child without a sacrifice.

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Nurture Then Helaine fell ill. It was something no doctor could explain. She slowly deteriorated before their eyes, over the course of three months. Quirin and the boy sat by her side, comforting her as best as they could. After she was gone, Quirin couldn’t bear to look at the child. That was the cost. Helaine made them a child by using something as volatile as the Moonstone and it killed her. Watching her die only reminded Quirin that the moonstone had tricked Helaine into it to gain a form as sympathetic as a child. He wouldn’t fall for it. A week past that he ignored it. But the continuous, “Daddy, what’s wrong?” and “Daddy, did I do something bad?” and “Daddy, please talk to me!”, were close to breaking him. He couldn’t kill it, that much was clear to him. But if the Moonstone wanted him to keep it close, then maybe he needed to get it as far away from him as possible. He packed up a cart and the boy, then drove to the capital. Quirin walked him all over town, trying to figure out what to do. Everyone was kind enough, someone would care for him, wouldn’t they? Or maybe he needed to go further. The boy may be able to tell them how to get him back home. As Quirin pondered this, he didn’t even notice the boy wander off. Once he looked around for him, the boy was nowhere in sight. He should have felt relief but all that washed over him was dread and fear. Quirin got the attention of a man selling flowers from a cart. “Sir, my son wandered off. Have you seen him? He’s only five-years-old. He has brown hair with a blue streak in it.” He ran around asking everyone he saw if they’d seen his son. It wasn’t until he was asking the fifth person that he realized he’d been calling the boy his son. When someone was finally able to show him into a shop where an old lady had been keeping an eye on the boy, he was overwhelmed with relief. The boy was licking a lollipop seemingly unaffected by the ordeal. Tears stung Quirin’s eyes as he kneeled down to hug him. “I am so sorry, Varian.” Quirin pulled away when he realized Varian wasn’t hugging him back. Varian looked up at him with a confused expression that slowly shifted into a distraught one. “Why were you mad at me?” “I wasn’t mad.” Was that a lie? He didn’t know how to explain something like this to a child. “There is no excuse for how I treated you. I made a mistake.” Too many mistakes. “I hope that you can forgive me.” Varian nodded fervently and hugged him, dropping his lollipop in the process.

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Truth The black rocks encroached on Corona, leaving Quirin at a loss. Varian had been his child for a little over fourteen years and there was no way he was going to risk losing his son. The Moonstone perfectly entwined itself into his life and there was no going back. He had accepted the fact that he would do anything to protect Varian. So, he pretended that the rocks were not a problem. He avoided them and downplayed them until he couldn’t any longer. Then he went to lengths to move their whole village just to protect his son. But Varian didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know the horrible truth about what he was. He didn’t know that he was the same as the thing causing all of the destruction they were seeing. He could never know. Maybe it was in Varian’s nature to be drawn to the rocks. Maybe he couldn’t help but go against Quirin’s orders to stay away from them. Either way he experimented on them in defiance of Quirin’s words. As Varian ran to go get help Quirin knew he couldn’t let his son go on not knowing. With there being no solution in sight, Varian needed to know what he truly was. He silently begged Varian to return so he could tell him before being entombed in the amber growing up from the rock. When the table was pushed near him along with the paper and quill, he got to work. He quickly wrote down the explanation of only the necessary information. It was blunt and lacked any comfort or emotion. Quirin didn’t have the time to include reassurances and gentle words. Could he really leave Varian with nothing but the cold, harsh truth? At the very bottom, Quirin quickly jotted in. I’m proud of you, son. I always have been.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 11

Horse On First

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, our heroes made contact with the Deathseekers, and opted to accompany them back to Barley to take care of some unfinished business. While the high-level adventurers take care of the dragon, the party goes to deliver a book and pick up some clothes from the tailor. No drama here, probably!

In the morning, the party is woken by a visitor to the inn. Looseleaf... acquires a new bit of background thanks to an excellent History roll.

The maid is here to retrieve the party, as the Deathseekers are about to set out. One thing that's somewhat surprising is that the deathseekers aren't riding giraffes, like normal people- they're riding these weird, hulked-out short-necked hornless giraffes that- and there must be some mistake here- are apparently called "whoreses"? It's weird. The best their Nature rolls can get is that they sort of resemble an exotic striped creature called a "zebra", maybe.

Lady Greatholder is there, with two of her maids- one of whom is an elf, who's staring at Oyobi in undisguised horror. To non-elven eyes, Oyobi might look normal, dressed sort of sporty, even- but to an elf's keen sense of propriety, she might as well be wearing an ahegao t-shirt and hammer pants.

Traveling conversation is light.

Looseleaf: "What are these things, anyways? They look like recolored zebras." Benedict I. (GM): You must've misheard something, because Doon says "What, you've never seen a whores before?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...pardon me?" Looseleaf: "Is this- this is a pun, right? Like, I'm supposed to ask why you call them whores, and you'll answer, 'because we're riding them'? Is that the joke?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh, god, this is an elaborate gaslighting prank. They are going to try to convince Saelhen to call this thing a whore, and then they will laugh, and she cannot even blame them, because that would be hilarious if she did it, probably. Benedict I. (GM): "Is there something wrong with the whoreses, ma'am?" the human girl asks. Looseleaf: "No, like, you're calling these animals whores, and despite the fact that I wasn't allowed to look at those magazines when I was younger, I'm relatively sure that the Common word 'whore' refers to a lady of ill repute of a brothel- I'm making this worse, aren't I." "I didn't learn the wrong word did I. Oh gods I totally learned the wrong word didn't I. The books that taught me Common were messing with me weren't they." Benedict I. (GM): Lady Greatholder and Doon absolutely lose their shit, as does Oyobi, who's been grinning ear to ear this whole time. Kevin speaks up. "Ah, no, it's- H-O-R-S-E. Hor-suh." "They're from up north." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen covers her faint smile (read: shit-eating grin). "How novel." Looseleaf: Looseleaf emits a quiet buzzing sound not unlike the sound previously emitted by John Human. This is moth for 'quiet screaming'.

The party doesn't really withhold any details about Arnie and the tower- they just make an appeal for Arnie to be treated with as much mercy as they can muster. Doon implies that he was in a similar place when Lady Greatholder found him, so she reluctantly agrees to stay the hand of JUSTICE.

On arriving in Barley, the Deathseekers go over their plan, in the broad strokes: they're going to post up in the tower, and lay a trap for the dragon using Arnie as bait. By Arnie's reckoning, it'll take a little over a week before the dragon's next visit, so the party has some time to kill in town.

Their first order of business is to visit Chitch, a local lizardfolk farmer who was kidnapped by Lumiere:

Chitch seems surprised that they didn't get kidnapped or tortured- and even more surprised when they claim to have information on his missing daughter's whereabouts.

They hand him CHOSS BOOK, the diary of the girl who was raised in Lumiere's tower as his apprentice. He starts reading it, and his tears of joyful disbelief turn to anger as he reads through the contents- which describe an evil torture wizard raising his daughter as his own, and using her as a test subject.

When he's about halfway through, he puts it down, grabs his pitchfork, and starts strapping on his armor- intent on heading for the tower to kill Lumiere. The party has to hastily explain the situation and exhort him to finish reading the diary, please- Lumiere is already dead, and Choss is safe in Wheat.

Chitch thanks them for the information, and presents them with a reward- apparently, before fleeing to Barley to settle down with his infant daughter, he was a lieutenant commander in the fleet of one Umidono Kaiden, an elven naval commander attempting to take control of the lawless Cutthroat Isles. He gives them his jeweled badge, which could sell for a decent chunk of cash or potentially be useful if they ever need to deal with Kaiden in the future. Orluthe is the one to pocket it, as the rest of the party hems and haws over accepting such a gift.

SNext, they head to visit Kensa Kanthalga to pick up Saelhen's torn kimono- and after a lot of paranoid second-guessing re: heading directly for the Kanthalga house via the grass, go through the Temple of Diamode in front of it first, to update Malath on the situation.

They find her continuing to train the town militia in spearwork, in preparation for what she assumes is an impending assault from Wheat.

They... do not mention Arnie, because mentioning the culprit is Arnie could potentially fan the flames with Wheat. Instead, they mention that the murder weapon was found there, as was evidence of a dragon. Malath seems skeptical that a dragon would stealthily kill with a tiny weapon, and somewhat perturbed that Deathseekers are in town, but agrees to notify the town that the Deathseekers are at the tower handling the dragon issue, so no one does anything dangerous like going over there.

(Incidentally, Vayen has vanished, and Looseleaf's bugged medical kit has indicated that he's gone over to the tower. Hm.)

So, they pass through the temple and visit Kensa in her home. Kensa answers the door, wearing...

...ah.

See, Kensa assumed that after they went to the torture tower and didn't come back for several days, that they were dead or torture-enslaved- and like, the dead or torture-enslaved don't need a stylish kimono, right?

So she is suitably mortified when Saelhen shows up at her door, not dead in the slightest.

Benedict I. (GM): Kensa's down pretty quick, wearing the pink dress from before (if somewhat more disheveled), holding a folded kimono. To her credit, it looks very well-repaired- you can't even tell it was damaged. "I- my apologies! Here you are, ma'am!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen takes it. "While I have you here, would you like to hear a secret about this dress?" Kensa Kanthalga: "I- er, of course! Thank you!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "When I was of an age comparable to yours..." She leans in conspiratorially. "I hated this thing. I fell down in it in front of a ballroom full of people and I very honestly wanted to take a scissor to it." Kensa Kanthalga: "N-no way...!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I keep it because it was a gift and because I sometimes need it. But if it gives you pleasure to wear it, then it is accomplishing far more with you than it ever did for me." Kensa Kanthalga: Her eyes widen. "R-really?!" Saelhen du Fishercrown:"I do still need it, to be clear. I, ah, don't mean to get your hopes up." Kensa Kanthalga: "...Oh." "No, of course..." You totally got her hopes up. Looseleaf: Not only did you get her hopes up, you even got Looseleaf's hopes up. Saelhen du Fishercrown: To be fair, "prove that elves can be assholes too" is right there on her character sheet.

And as far as payment- Saelhen just implied that Kensa would be allowed to cut out a swatch or two of the silk during repairs, which Kensa immediately jumped on without discussing further payment. Except...

Then Saelhen... gives Kensa some advice.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Now, in your shoes, considering that I might have been still alive, what I would have done was this: cut out squares, maybe handkerchief-sized, here and here. 'One or two,' as I specified." The places Saelhen indicated on the kimono are... not great places for there to be handkerchief-sized holes. They would render it pretty much unwearable. "I didn't ever specify where the swatches should be cut out, true. And so you could certainly chalk up the issue to youthful enthusiasm and indiscretion." "A lady like myself could never do something so crass as ask you to pay for a dress you'd taken time out of your busy schedule to repair, working to the bone over long hours. And I certainly wouldn't have had use for something I couldn't wear or repair myself." Kensa Kanthalga: "I- wh...?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And so you would have had the swatches -- and, shortly, the entire dress with it." Benedict I. (GM): She is so confused. Is this lady trying to give her advice on how to grift her??? "That's- but that'd be...!" "I couldn't do that!" Looseleaf: oh my god is saelhen trying to recruit an apprentice is THAT what this is, Looseleaf thinks Saelhen du Fishercrown: "You could, dear."

Saelhen is trying to recruit an apprentice conwoman.

Saelhen retreats, at this point- they'll be staying for a week or so! There's time to lay groundwork!

Next time: some downtime in Barley, before the night of the dragon fight and the execution of Saelhen's master plan.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Head full of thoughts, but not enough energy to develop any of them fully means I yell them to the void.

If Rebecca’s phone got hacked and someone’s out there impersonating her voice as a trap, they’re going to be waiting a long while for Zoe to show up after it happens that first time. She’s just going to hang up the phone and blankly tell Adam to call Rebecca up because “I just got off the phone with her and she told me she loved me when I said bye, Mom, I love you. I just got more love and affection from someone who wants to kidnap me than I’ve ever gotten from my own mother in the past thirty or so years. That shit’s fucked up, man.”

Charles takes Fen out for walks that turn into jogs when Fen sees a squirrel and runs after his new friend. He has sit and roll over down, but heel and stay are skills this poor puppy is still working on.

Douglas turns into a Mini!Lucas and shows up to work in a poorly fitting suit. Lucas gives him a once over and then on their lunch break, takes him over to where he gets his more casual suits tailored so Douglas’ off the rack outfit looks a little more custom fit. He never makes fun of him the entire time because at one point in his life, he was the kid in the ill-fitting suit who wished he had someone to take him to a tailor instead of having to discover things on his own. He goes back to the shop later to get Douglas’ measurements and surprises him on his next birthday with a bespoke jacket that looks good with pretty much any dress shirt and a nice tie.

Rowena found a nail polish brand that didn’t smell at all and bought Morgan several different colors of red and a few bottles of black in a gloss and matte finish. They spent the evening painting the other’s nails (Farah insisted on a bright accent nail, which was how Morgan wound up with her middle fingernails painted neon blue and Rowena managed a magenta French tip)

Astrid was showing pictures of her friends to Felix, and there was a shot of her, Markus, and Markus’ sister Penny in full armor (Markus was turning 30 and begged them both to sign up for Witcher school with the rest of his brothers, which honestly wasn’t a hard sell, Astrid said yes before he even finished asking) and went “hey, it’s Agent Fisher!” to which Astrid went “whomst???” because she was still reeling from the fact that her nanny turned mother figure was a literal fairy godmother, but now her best friend’s sister is an agent and Felix spilled the beans that she’s also a werewolf?

“Yeah, her whole family is.”

“Excuse me, I need to make a call. MARKUS FISHER WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME YOU WERE A WEREWOLF?!? If I find out that Tony’s some sort of...he’s a WHAT? Oh no, we are jumping on the group video chat RIGHT NOW.”

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXIV

January 10, 2278.

Hannibal Hamlin just arrived a few moments ago, after Cross did. He sees me, smiles, and shakes my hand.

“Charon. Good to see you again, friend. How is Percy treating you? Has she found a solution to your contract yet?”

“Good,” I tell him. “We’re working on it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The back door swings open, and DeLoria arrives with the dog. Dogmeat bounds towards me, and licks my hand after I ruffled his fur.

“Yo. I’m here. Where’s Percy at?”

“She’s retrieving a few things from the house. She’ll be here soon,” I tell him. “Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

“Yeah. I had the dog with me to keep watch.”

Just a few moments later, we heard the back door opening once again. Gob exclaims something I couldn’t hear, and Percy comes into view, dragging a missile launcher with her. It’s the one we found on the first day that I started serving her.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to double check a few things. Paladin Cross, this is for you.”

DeLoria’s jaw drops at the sight of the weapon. Cross carries it with ease, and thanks my partner.

“Holy shit, Perce. Where’d you even get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, these arrived just in time, Charon. Moira had a hard time procuring them, so let’s put them to good use,” Percy turns to me, handing me a package.

I look inside and smirk.

“As you command.”

Nodding, Percy sets the map Doc Church drew out for us on the bar top.

“Here’s the plan.”

It was near midnight when we finished our meeting.

“Let’s go home,” Percy tells me. I follow her.

After cleaning up, we went into Percy's bedroom, my bedroom now too, I suppose. I lay awake next to her that night, thinking back to the days we spent with the Abolitionists, and their influence on me.

Right after that incident with Harkness, Percy runs into an escaped slave in the city, Mei Wong. She gives Wong some caps so she can buy a weapon. Then, that’s when we learned about the Temple of the Union, and met Hamlin.

November 11, 2277.

Staying close to Percy, we walked on, accompanying Hamlin and the others to the Lincoln Memorial.

Nearly two centuries ago, my first mission occurred here. I think I was… fourteen. Or fifteen. Fuck, my memories from before the Great War are still hazy, but I know it happened. Under the orders of our contract holder then, our unit was tasked to suppress protesters gathering at the memorial.

I remember everyone’s actions.

Vanth, our sniper, did not hesitate to open fire, making rubber bullets rain on the crowd. She didn’t even aim it to the ground; she aimed at the people. Everyone followed suit, save for me who stood there, mortified. I only got moving when my electric collar went off.

Magwayen did the best she could to avoid casualties. I followed her. The others did not. At the end of the day, Mag treated the wounds on my back. Whip marks. Punishment for being too soft.

The next day, I went harder on the people. I remember the smell of tear gas. Mag became distant since then.

I’m certain that if hell exists, I would go there, regardless whether hurting all those people is my will, or not. My hands killed them. I’m a murderer.

I’d never thought I’d come back to that place and do something right for a change.

I watched as my mistress helped the Abolitionists return the statue’s head back where it belonged. Smiling, sweat pouring from her brow, Percy approaches me, and tells me to enjoy the rest of the day while she talks to Hamlin.

They talked for hours. Occasionally, Hamlin would look at me, a certain understanding in his gaze.

I brought my mind back to the present. I figured out earlier that Percy must’ve spoken to him about my contract. Heartbeat slow, Percy sleeps next to me, and I look at her unmarred face. As gently as possible, I brush a lock of stray hair from her face. This angel… she’s doing everything she can to free me from its hold, huh?

Maybe it’s time.

I think I can manage it.

If I survive tomorrow, I want to come out as a free man.

After planting a light kiss on her shoulder, I closed my eyes.

January 11, 2278.

Today’s the day.

The sun’s setting on the horizon. DeLoria walks in front of me, obviously nervous as hell. We approach Paradise Falls’ entrance, where a guard asks us to halt and state our business.

“Yo, is this a place where I can sell people? My friend gave me this piece of shit here and I don’t want anything to do with him.”

The guard looks at us with scrutiny. DeLoria looks like an absolute dick, wearing shades and a set of ill-fitting armor. Only an idiot would buy his disguise, but I guess the guard’s one after all.

Good for us.

Behind him, Percy emerges, and snaps his neck. He lands to the ground with a thud. The others approach; Hamlin and Simone from the Abolitionists, and Cross from the Brotherhood. The paladin hefts the rocket launcher, and as Simone kicks the gates open, all hell breaks loose.

Crouching, Percy disappears again, and the only thing giving her away’s the silver-white outline of her stealth field. The Abolitionists provide Cross some cover fire as she fires the missiles at the slavers.

Now, my turn.

DeLoria follows me close by, and we approach the slave pen.

“Remember the plan,” I tell him. “Watch my back as I get these gates open.”

“R-right,” DeLoria stammers, taking a steadying breath. “Shit, shit. What have I gotten myself into, man?”

“Hey. Do it for the kids.”

The younger man nods at me, bravado coming back. “Yeah! For the kids!”

As soon as I unlocked the gate, DeLoria tossed a bag at the adult slaves. “Here, protect yourselves. Run for it!” he yells.

I moved on to the next gate, where the children stayed. They huddled together, looking at me with fear. But when the gates swung open, they reluctantly approached. Next to me, Percy emerges from thin air. The kids looked at her with awe.

“Hey. Your friends from Lamplight asked us to help you. Follow the guy with the nice hair, kids. We’ll meet you outside.”

The children followed DeLoria, while the other slaves joined the fray, exacting retribution on their captors.

“Charon, you know what to do,” Percy tells me, squeezing my arm, and disappears once again.

I take out the contents of the package Percy gave me the night before.

C4 explosives.

Time to blow this place up.

I started at the clinic. An old slaver lies dead on the floor. The vault next to the cash register is already looted. Must be Percy’s doing. She’s still thorough. I placed one explosive under the desk.

After that, I went to the slaver barracks. The place is deserted, bottles lying about.

Then I heard a click of a gun behind my head.

“Hold it right there,” a familiar voice tells me. “Wait a minute, it’s you! Hah, the zombie- ugh!”

A shot resounded through the building, and the slaver’s body thumps against the floor. I look behind me, and Percy stands there, 10mm in her hand. Her stealth armor helmet pops open and she smiles at me.

“C’mon big guy, let’s get a move on.”

She watched my back as I installed another explosive, and we ran back out to face Paradise Falls’ leader.

Eulogy Jones.

I kick the door to his pad open, and he sits atop the bed, looking far too relaxed for someone whose base is being torn to shreds.

It’s almost as if he was expecting us.

Two female slaves jump at Percy and before I can save her, Eulogy Jones shoots my calf, and I kneel, groaning in pain. I can barely keep my eyes open as one of them searched Percy for my contract, and handed it to Eulogy.

No, no! Not this shit again!

“Good girl, Clover,” the slaver croons.

Then, he turns to us.

“Ah, I knew the two of you would show up here. Welcome.”

A look of horror crossed Percy’s face as she heard shouts outside. Bloodied slavers barged through the door, and one of them was grabbing DeLoria by the collar.

“Butch! Where are the others?!”

“They got away, don’t worry about- ow! That hurts!” One of them kicked the greaser.

“Not for long,” he tells the greaser. Then, he turns to my partner.

“Word travels fast in the wasteland, you know. It didn’t take long for us to figure out what you’re up to, my dear. The two of you haven’t really been subtle about it. Paradise Falls has contacts everywhere. It didn’t take much for one of them to strong-arm Church into telling us what you’re up to.”

“Bastard!” Percy spits. “What have you done with him?!”

The two women restraining her keep her down as she tries to wriggle free.

“Let’s just say that Jotun sent him into an early retirement.”

That dangerous look, the one that frightens me, is back on Percy’s face. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line, trembling in her fury.

“And you,” he turns to me. “Who would’ve thought that you’d be back here, fifteen years later, Charon? Or should I say, Artyom Volkov.”

In the corner of my eye, Percy is looking at me with uncertainty. “Artyom Volkov?”

“That’s right, Miss Zhou. That’s your bodyguard’s name, before he was brainwashed into submission. There are a lot of things that you don’t know about him. Did you know that aside from helping us acquire new merchandise in the past, he was a war criminal, before the bombs dropped 200 years ago?”

“Liar. Charon can’t even remember most of his life before that. How could you know such a thing?”

“You never bothered to learn his history? My dear, I simply asked him all those years ago. Artyom here probably locked those memories away when I sold him to Ahzrukhal. Fifteen years is a very long time and you’re bound to misplace some memories, but I suppose someone as young as you wouldn’t know.”

Percy is breathing hard, looking at me with those wet and wide eyes, and I couldn’t look at her. The entire ordeal felt like peeling gauze off a wound that didn’t quite heal, or my skin being charred by hellfire from an atom bomb.

“Charon, tell me he’s lying.”

I can’t answer her. She’s no longer holding my contract.

“Answer her, Charon,” Eulogy orders me, and I comply, bile rising to my throat.

“He’s not.”

My new master steps closer, and grabs my partner’s jaw.

“I could put you in the pen as breeding stock, like this boy here,” Eulogy said, motioning to Butch.

“But you know, you remind me of my Clover here,” he continues. “Crazy girl, and I’m an expert on crazy girls. I just know you’d be crazy in the sack too. You just need to be housebroken.”

“Fuck you,” Percy spits.

“Soon, babe, soon. Now, Charon, take Miss 101 and her friend here to their new quarters.”

I feel it, the ghost of an electric shock shooting upward to my brain again.

But I can withstand it now.

“No.”

Percy and Butch look up to me, and before the burn can incapacitate me again, I whip out my shotgun and shot Jones in the head, twice. One to kill him, another out of spite.

My shotgun clatters to the floor, and the shocked slave girls couldn’t do anything as Percy escapes their grasp and takes back my contract from Eulogy’s dead hands. 

“You disobeyed another order,” Percy gasps, looking at me with a soft look.

A piercing shriek filled the room as the girls lunged at me, but Percy shot one of them in the head. The other one who got too close, she whips with her pistol.

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, Percy wait! These girls are slaves too! We can’t just shoot ‘em,” DeLoria exclaims, rushing over to the fallen girl. DeLoria attempts to help her up, but she scratches his chest, kicking and screaming, and she turns to me, manic.

“You son of a bitch! You killed daddy! You killed Mr. Eulogy, you killed him, you killed him! I hate you, you fucking shuffler!” she shrieks, like a petulant child. A deranged, petulant child.

Percy knocks her out cold. “You’re welcome to carry her, Butch, if you care so much.”

“Percy…”

Limping, I place the last C4 explosive while Percy loots the place clean. Then, she comes and wraps her arm around my waist, supporting me, holding me like she did the first time I ever got injured in her employ.

We hear heavy footsteps, and Cross comes into view, offering us a helping hand. Behind us, DeLoria carries the unconscious slave girl in his arms. I’d never thought I’d see the day when he’ll care for anyone other than himself.

I’d never thought I’d see the day that I would be free from my contract either, but here we are.

“Percy, I think I’m ready.”

My partner looks up to me, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.

“You guys go on ahead,” she tells Cross and the others. “We just have some unfinished business to attend to.”

We sit outside Eulogy’s pad, her back against my chest, and Percy fishes my contract out of her PipBoy glove. Her glasses are fogging up as it starts snowing again. I dug in my pockets, and after palming through crushed cigarette boxes, I found a lighter.

“Charon, are you sure about this?”

I nod, trembling as I hand her the lighter.

“Do it.”

I expected my skin to be set ablaze as the fire ate the edges of my contract, or for agonizing pain to shoot up my spine and kill me in an instant, but instead, I stared as my paper soul went up in flames without eliciting a single reaction.

As the paper turned to ashes, I sat with my partner in silence.

“It’s done. Charon, your contract is gone- Charon, no!”

I never noticed my hand reaching for Percy’s pistol involuntarily, aiming it to my temple, and firing.

When I opened my eyes, Percy was on top of me, breathing hard, her small hand restraining my arm in a surprising show of strength. She wrenches the pistol from me and throws it a few feet away from us, then she looks me in the eyes, her glasses slipping off of her face and landing on my chest.

I can feel her breath on my lips.

Burying her face in my chest, a sob wracked her body. I held her as tight as I could.

“C’mon, let’s send this place to hell.”

Reunited with our companions, I hand Percy the detonator.

Paradise Falls is no more.

[smokahuntis]

Tulitque

Signet

Kenobi Series

Chapter 1: Salvator

Summery: Maze starts to practice her Jedi skills as they make a trip to Nevarro to get some money, meeting a new friend and having a talk with an old Jedi Master.

Word count: 4,007

Authors note: this is an original series based 37 years after the rise of Skywalker!

Chapter 2: Tulitque

Maze sat in her room staring at a pen, trying to do something, anything really. She didn’t understand how any of it worked. She barely knew anything about the jedi, other then the price of their items on the market. She honestly started to question if this was all a bad dream, or if the lightsaber killed her. She was starting to hope that was the truth, she couldn’t save the jedi. She wasn’t a good person, she knew that, she was a black-market tradesman. She’s helped countless bandits and sith, Murderers and Bounty hunters a like.  She groaned giving up on the pen, looking up at the helmet she brought with her, it sat on a shelf in front of her.

“Like you can do any better.” She said in a mocking tone towards the hunk of Baskar, it didn’t move.

“I believe it is unhealthy to speak to the helmet.” SYI said standing at the door, barley fitting threw it because of his wide shoulders.

“I think, I like talking to him more then you.” She said looking over her shoulder at the droid. She stood from the carpeted floor of her room and picked up the pen she tried to move earlier. Just as she was about to speak again the ship shook causing her to fall against the wall of her room. “What in oblivion was that?” she said gaining her balance back, before walking out of the room to the cock pit to talk to Neo.

“What was that?” she asked looking out the front of the ship at the fleet of TIE fighters.

“We’re under attack.” He said casually, flipping on buttons. “I’ll get us out of here, might want to buckle up.” She moved sitting in the copilot’s seat and opened the weapons of the Cruiser. The see threw, light blue screen lit up in front of her. It didn’t take long for her to lock onto a TIE fighter, blasting it from existence, exploding in front of them. Neo stared in shock as the purple beams destroyed the small fleet of TIE. After everything was clear, he turned to her. “I thought this was a cruiser!” he yelled in shocked.

“Modified, cruiser.” She said before taking out any of the others who opposed the ship. When everything was done she shut down the cannons, and the folded back into the ship, like they were never there.

“can you do that from pilot’s seat?” he asked looking at the screen that disappeared from in front of her.

“Yea, but its better if you focus on flying, I’ll take care of the weapons okay?” she said standing up and messing up his hair. “also,” she started before turning to him pointing her fingers at him like guns. “we need to go to Nevvaro.” She said turning back and walking towards the door.

“Nevvaro? What for?” he asked still turned to look at her.

“I have to return something.” She said about to leave but cutting back into the cockpit to look at him. “You might want to change.” She said pointing to his Resistance jumpsuit. “They’re not a big fan of, uh … the resistance.” She then left and walked back to her room to grab the items wanted on Nevvaro, leaving Neo to question himself in the cockpit, before turning back to set a destination.

Maze made sure everything was ready for the trade on Nevvaro.

Finding herself with a welder’s mask on in her office as she heated the metal of Beskar to remove the Signet delicately from the side of the shoulder plate. It was a beautiful signet really, a tribally decorated mudhorn, showing a glimpse into the life of its bearer. She would have liked to meet him really, especially after all the hell she went threw to get this specific piece of armor. The buyer however was someone Maze and SYI knew well, well SYI better then Maze since he did all the trading for her. Maze usually stayed back on StewJon working for the next job and SYI delivered and picked up information for and from the guild. Because of this she had never actually met the guild leader or anyone she traded with really. Just like yesterday, when the Darth Spiro came to her, it was shocking for someone so high up the chain to come to her instead of a trooper or assistant. Now that she knew why he was there it was not as shocking.

The blue and red sparks flew from the Beskar as she worked to get the signet off neatly, Beskar was always something she had had problems with since she was not Mandalorian. It took much longer to mold and mend, but the pay off from it was huge. Sometimes she almost begged for Beskar based jobs over Ship work. She’d worked on ships her whole life; it was tiring. But with Vin being a hero, and the money she got from helping, ships were still her main work. It wasn’t uncommon for ships to run out of fuel and land on StewJon, or even crash. However, it was not common for those planes to be X-Wings and TIE. The empire and resistance rarely came to StewJon since it had no material or real use, so they thought. The people that were lucky enough to call the place home were some of the best fighters known to space kind, and by fighter she means fighting death. People on StewJon lived for what seemed like forever, some of them were probably older than Yoda. Maze could never figure out why they all lived so long, some would say its because how pure the planet is, others would joke and say it was because of the force, and honestly right now, she didn’t think they were joking.

The signet removed easily, and she placed it neatly into a dark box she had made before-hand. She really didn’t know why the item had such a price on it, but she knew that the Karga’s would do anything to get it into her hands. She ended up with It out of luck, really she thought she was going to die trying to get it from the Jawas. Most of the armor at the point she got to the shoulders and helmet, was destroyed, but she still managed to save a piece of the chest plate. She didn’t understand why, no one did really, it was garbage at that point, but the shredded pieces of the Mandalorian chest plate spoke to her. Maybe she thought she could use it one day, maybe she thought she could sell it for its beskar, but either way it found its way into one of the closets the ship had. That’s where Neo’s next question came from.

“Why do you have a ruined chest plate?!” he yelled out across the ship, some how finding an accusing tone in his voice as he came into her room. She lifted up the protective helmet and looked at him from her spot on the floor.

“I was going to use it…” she stated in a duh tone of voice.

“Use it for what?” he asked looking at her.

“It’s Beskar, I’m sure ill find something” she said before completely taking off the protective gear and laying It aside. “you look good” she said gesturing to the plain white shirt and brown leather jacket he wore.

“I look like an idiot,” she said looking at her.

“looks better then that horrid orange jumpsuit…” she mumbled before pushing past him grabbing her harness before clicking it over her body. It was the same outfit she wore anytime she left StewJon for something, tightened black cargo pants with a matching long sleeved turtleneck, and laced boots that came just above the ankle. The harness held her blasters and ammo, and the rest of the ensemble worked to intimidate people, plus with SYI at her side no one really tried anything with them.

“That jumpsuit was my fathers!” he said following her into the main room of the plane.

“That is exactly why it should be retired!” she said smiling at him kindly. “Plus, you look…” she walked over fixing the collar of the jacket, before taking a good look at him. “Like you’re ready to be a space cowboy.” She giggled before covering her mouth to not laugh. He did look good, but it defiantly wasn’t him. He rolled his eyes and walked over to a mirror, running his fingers threw his hair and shaking his head.

“can you a least tell me what’s so important on Nevvaro?” he asked before turning back to her.

“If me and you are going to fly across the universe in search of jedi or whatever we are doing, we need money.” She claimed as she walked towards the cockpit and watched as the jet slowly landed just outside Nevvaro City, “I have a certain object that pays a lot, plus I need to ask some questions.”

“You know people on Nevvaro?” he questioned looking at her.

“Sorta…” she said walking out the door of the ship and onto the ashy earth of Nevvaro. He followed after her argently, speaking frantically.

“Sort of? What do you mean sorta?” he asked looking at her, SYI trailing behind them, guns out and ready.

“I’ve worked with him before.” She said as they moved towards the tall gates of the city.

“I’ve worked with him before.” SYI stated as he walked behind them.

“Okay SYI has worked with him before, but on my behalf.”

“And he knows you?” Neo asked looking at her, being careful to not bump into anyone on the way.

“In a way…” She said stopping and looking at him. “Look, if we are going to work together I need you to know some things. One, I work illegally and violence sorta follows me. Two, No one but you SYI and everyone back on StewJon know my real name, I have many names… hell you don’t even know my real name.” she said as she began to walk again, he was about to speak again when she added to her statement. “Three,” She turned pointing at him. “I have no damn clue how the force works, and I don’t know anyone who does, so if you have a suggestion id like to hear it.” They started walking towards the old cantina, SYI opening the door for them and going in first since they were familiar with him.

“Wait what’s your real name?” he asked looking at her and she shook her head walking into the cantina. The loud voice of the infamous guild master rung threw the place as he greeted SYI.

“SYI!” he said standing to move towards him, but paused seeing Maze and Neo, “and you brought friends?” he questioned looking at them

“I would hardly consider us friends.” SYI stated causing Maze to roll her eyes.

“I’ll remember that next time you need a tune up.” She said, The Karga picking up on who she was with her statement. He smiled in shock once it really connected to him who she was.

“If it isn’t the Black Bird herself, Rocket-man, The star reaper!” He exaggerated as he moved his hands threw the air, announcing her many names. She still wasn’t sure how she got Star Reaper, something about how well she built weapons for ships. “I thought you’d be taller…” he said looking down at her small figure, all eyes were on her at this point, disappointed to say she actually knew most of these men from selling ships and weapons.

“I thought you’d be younger…” she retorted back to him and glanced towards the seats, sitting down with her and Neo, SYI standing next to them guarding them.

“So, what brings the little hermit from her cave?” he asked leaning back in his seat.

“A few things really, one being this item,” She said pulling the black box from one of her many pockets, laying it down on the table. He leaned forward eying her before opening it, staring at the beautiful metal of the signet in wonder.

“The buyer will be ecstatic with this.” He said running his hands over his face. “I thought we’d lost it…” he shook his head before snapping his fingers at the bar keep who understood quickly and left the room.

“Two, you are one of my best customers, and I know you work with a lot of people.” He nodded for her to continue. “I want to know what you know about the force.” To say he was shocked with the question was an understatement, but he nodded and agreed.

“I don’t know much, but if you are asking for the reason, I think you are, I know you are not safe here…” He spoke low, leaning forward so she could hear. Her blonde brows furrowed together as she got the message, the bar tender came back with a container made of steel. Neo looked around seeing eyes were 6 her again, as the container hissed and revealed the amount of units in it, she stared at the guild master in shock.

“Who did that signet belong to?” she asked causing Neo to look back and see the units, letting out a small ‘wow’.

“That’s for me to worry about,” he reminded as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and writing something down on it before putting it in the container and closing it. Sliding it back over to her, SYI picked it up before looking down at the Karga. “But you need to go before someone deicides they want.” He nodded towards the door and she took the sign, before shaking his hand and leaving.

“what was that about?” Neo asked looking towards the container, looking back up at the people around them, eyes trailing them.

“We’ll find out on the ship…” she said looking at him, finally noticing the looks. They had almost left the gates of the city when they were stopped. A deep loud growl of a voice boomed behind them calling out for the bounty droid.

“Hey SYI! Forgetting something?” the man asked, his voice loud rough and deep, his skin dark blue and scaled like a lizard, just like the men who stood beside him. The three of them turned around looking at the man, Maze being the cocky person she was, was the first to speak. Stepping forwards, her boots digging into the black sands of Nevarro, her hands on her hips.

“And what would that be?”  she asked glaring the large Mythrol down as he stepped forward in a challenging tone. Maze may have hated SYI, but nobody was going to speak to him like that.

“Step back blondie, this don’t concern you. It’s between me and the droid.” He said starting to move past her and to SYI, but she put her hand on his chest pushing him to a stop he glared down at her, his men reaching for their weapons.

“Yea, he’s my droid, so this does concern me I’m afraid.” She said in a calm manor, she was used to dealing with assholes who brought things to her at the shop, so she wasn’t intimidated by him. Not yet anyways.

“Your droid huh?” he said moving to look at her, towering over the small mechanic. His eyes trailed her before he chuckled, grabbing her by the front of her harness and holding her into the air. His face inches from hers, she could smell the alcohol and rotten stench of his breathe, her face twisting in disgust. “I’ve been waiting for the day I could meet this little shit’s maker!”

Maze reached for her gun and about the same time Neo and SYI pulled out their guns, causing the small group of bandits to do the same. Even though there wasn’t that many of them they still outnumbered the trio.

“Let them go Greevan!” A voice said from behind them, loud and modulated, yet somehow feminine. The Mythrol groaned, dropping Maze back to her feet, barely catching herself. His attention turned to the figure behind him, shining in the sun of Nevarro stood a Mandalorian. Their black and gold armor instantly pulling the attention of Mechanic. She could already tell they were a woman, a woman who struck fear into the blue beast.

“Astro…” he groaned looking at the helmeted woman that stood before them. His voice rang with annoyance and anger. “This doesn’t concern you…”

“Greevan…” The Mandalorian said stepping forward, towards them, she completely caught the attention of everyone around as she spoke. She peaked everyone’s interest, maybe it was what she wore, or how tightly she gripped her twin pistols, or maybe the sword that attached to her back. But nobody moved, nobody spoke or stopped her. She stopped in front of the reptile skinned man, he still towered over her, even Maze almost towered her.

Greevan’s breathe was instantly ridged, careful, and scared. How could this one girl scare him so badly? Just as Maze started to ask herself that questioned, the Mandolorian she came to know as Astrid quickly moved. Kicking the mythrol back onto the black ash of Nevarro, quickly recovering she tightened the grip of her pistols. The moment everything set in shots were everywhere. Maze and the Mandalorian were quickly thrown behind a large cart shooting over the top of it. Neo and SYI, on the other side of the path behind a building, peeking the side to take shots.  

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when I saw you!” Maze yelled over the gun fire, The Mandalorian only chuckled and looked at her.

“well I was tired of them running off business.” She said, maze swore she could hear a slight chuckled escape the modulated tone of her helmet.

On the other end, Neo and SYI were barley holding on, finally Neo got an idea. “SYI help me up!” he said pointing to the roof of the smaller building they hid behind, SYI quickly complied and helped him onto the roof. Crawling across the roof with his gun in hand, he peered over the edge smoothly, taking out two of the blue men before they noticed him. This gave Maze and Astro an opening, an opening they both took. Sliding out from behind the cart, maze quickly picking up a long metal rod from the side of the cart, Astro quickly pulling the sword from her back, sparking to life in her hands. Maze moved forward, a Mythrol swinging at her with his rifle just she slid to the ground taking out his legs, sending him straight forward and his neck into Astro’s blade. Maze recovered from the ground quickly, her back-meeting Astro’s quickly.

“Nice move.” Astro complimented as she swung at another one of the Mythrols, Maze chuckled as she pulled her gun back from her waist and shot a man that was running after her.

“Thanks, I tripped…” She said calmly before they separated taking out the rest of the bandit Mythrol group that plagued Nevarro City. Their breathes heavy as they turned looking at each other, the bodies of the blue men surrounding them, shot and cut up. Neo and SYI quickly moved towards them, recovering from their hiding and sniping spot.

“Well, that was.” Neo started and SYI finished.

“Intense.”

“Yea, im sure it was really intense from your hiding spot SYI!” Maze said turning to face the IG unit. “Why did he even know your name?” SYI’s eyes lip up as he was about to answer but Astro beat him to it.

“His name is, was, Greevan, he separated from the guild about a year ago and has been stealing from and hurting guild members.” She turned to Maze again putting her right hand out, all her fingers exposed but her middle, covered by the type of glove she wore. Maze took her hand shaking it firmly. “You’ve done a great service to not only the guild, but the tribe, I saw his manor towards you as an opportunity.” She pulled away before sliding her sword back into its holster. “We could use someone like you.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit caught up at the moment, but it seems like you have things under control.” She said gesturing around to the bodies once again. Astro chuckled and shook her head. “However, I have a special talent for finding things that belonged to important people, so if I come across another, I’ll be sure to return it.”

“Thank you…” Astro said her voice seeming monotone because of her gold helmet. Still shiny an gold, little drops of blood covering near the eye area, yet it seemed stunning still.

“I’d watch that helmet, she has a thing for them.” Neo says pulling them all from their train of silent thoughts. Maze shook her head and sighed.

“He’s not wrong.” SYI said causing maze to quip back quickly.

“Okay! Let’s go to the ship before we get another welcome party out here!” she says before thanking Astro one last time, as they start to walk in their separate ways she gives one last glance to the manalorian, followed by. “I hope to see you again, Astro”

They boarded the ship, Neo quickly finding his way to the cockpit so they could leave, SYI setting down the container of Credits down on a table. Maze moved over, opening it and grabbing the small slip of paper, unfolding it exposing the message written on it.

                    “The Jedi and the way of the force has been long forgotten out here in the outer rim, however I hear of old survivors on Jaguada and Tatoonie, maybe they could help you find what you are looking for.”

“Jaguada…” she said running her fingers over the lettering like it would change, the name echoed in her head like she’d heard it before, images flooding her head of red oceans and green sands. Mountains taller then any she’d ever since. Then suddenly it was as if the world around her slowed and faded to blues and greys, familiar yet distant voices filling her ears.

“It’s familiar because you’ve seen it,” Master Windu said approaching her, looking down at the paper in her hands. “Some Jedi have the ability to see important events before they happen… even if they are years even decades away.”

“Still haven’t decided who will train me have you?” she questioned looking up at the tall man before her.

“On the contrary, it is a hard decision since we don’t know much about you, Maze.” He began walking around her before his eyes trailed her like a vulture, trying to study her. “But of course, you could always call out to one of us…”

“Call out?” she asked watching him, he stopped in front of her, looking at her eyes, remembering Obi-Wan so fondly as he looked at her.

“Yes, when a jedi who has no master still and is in need of training, finds themselves in dangerous, there strength of the force calls out to the fallen jedi and pulls one to them.” He began looking at her, “For Example, you are outnumbered.”

“Like today?” she said cutting him off before he continued.

“Think more intense, but yes…so you are in danger and the force isn’t guiding you and you cant figure out why… its because the spirit of the force inside of you is searching she another to connect to you.” He finished and she nodded understanding and looking at him, leaning down and pulling the lightsaber from her boot before looking at him.

“Would this have a sway on who it connects to me?” she asked before looking back into his eyes. He nodded, and as he did they were cut off as Neo entered the room breaking the illusion. Mace faded away as neo took in the scene before him.

“Why the hell are you holding the lightsaber like that?”

The character Astro, belongs to my friend @astromechovess you can check out her page here!

Taglist: @hxldmxdxwn @jediminddicks1000 @tereza-96 @everythinggeeky @obiwkenobi @fanboyswhereare-you @labyrinth-runner

[fyeahkristin]

HERE ARE MY AVENGERS: ENDGAME THOUGHTS! HELLO YES THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE!

Hello, welcome to my tumblr! I don’t use it very much except for fandom stuff but I figured this was a good way to talk about my thoughts without everyone losing their bananas over spoilers on twitter. 

It goes without saying that THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE. 

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

YUP. 

OK, so probably the thing I’ve been asked the most is How Do I Feel About Fat Thor. Great Question!

The short answer is: PRETTY FUCKING BAD! 

The long answer is: PRETTY FUCKING BAD*, But--**

*The treatment of fat Thor in this movie obviously sucks ass. We’re taking a character who has been through monumental change, and who is obviously suffering so much. And then for some reason, in our grand finale of the whole saga we are using that character... to make fun of fat people AND people suffering from mental illness AND from people suffering from substance abuse issues, all at once. Endgame reallllly runs the gamut here of Bad Fat Tropes: We’ve got an Actor Wearing A Fat Suit, we’ve got The Fatness Being Played For Laughs, we’ve got Jokes About How Fat People Are Slobs, we’ve got Completely Out Of Context Critiques About What Thor Must Be Eating, we’ve even got His Mom Telling Him To Eat A Salad! Like, they really went for it in terms of making me angry at everyone in the theatre who was eating all this up.

I’ve seen this movie twice now and somehow the laughing at the fat jokes was much MUCH WORSE at the second screening (catch these hands, woman who yell/giggled apropros of nothing “he’s SO FAT!!!!!”) I’m basing this on a sample size of two screenings so far, but my chances of getting into a fight with someone for laughing at Thor mid-screening has just been raised to 1/3.

I’m not opposed to the idea of tackling Thor’s obvious PTSD and substance abuse issues with the kindness and sensitivity they deserve. But like... this wasn’t that! Hearing people laugh in the theatre when Don Cheadle said that Thor’s blood was made of Cheese Whiz was infuriating. Especially when you’re dealing with someone like Chris Hemsworth who is obviously gifted enough of a comic actor to sell a litany of things... why punch down? 

**There is one (1) (ONE) (JUST ONE) (ONLY ONE) upside to the presentation of fat Thor. And I’m not so naive to unnecessarily give the Russos credit for making this choice intentionally because it clearly happened for the sake of plot convenience. But the one good thing that came out of making Thor fat was that ultimately, the Thor who helps smash Thanos to bits is... fat Thor! I kinda kept waiting for the montage where Thor loses weight before the big battle and it just... never happened. Like, when he gets back into the swing of things, he gets some armor that fits his new body and his beard braid glow-up, and then he fucking Goes To Town On Thanos (with Mjolnir AND Stormbreaker!!) as fat Thor. And I know it most likely wasn’t intentional, but I will admit I noticed and I was... slightly moved by it! It DOES NOT excuse any of the earlier stuff. Like, not at all. No one here is getting a medal! And this might be a good example of the bar just being so so so so sooooo low for fat representation, that I am like OM NOM NOM YES SO GOOD at something that doesn’t deserve credit. But in the midst of the carelessness of this film’s senseless cruelty about Thor’s body, we are accidentally shown a character who didn’t “lose the weight” in order to achieve his goals. And guess what, the world didn’t end! Thor didn’t mess it up! I think most importantly, it’s (intentionally or not) now an example of why we don’t need a character to lose weight to be powerful again. It honestly made me want to stand up in the theater and be like “WHO’S FUCKING LAUGHING NOW, YOU HORSE TURDS”  

Also, should Thor go on to have a weight loss montage in GOTG Vol. 3: you can basically disregard all of this. 

Anyway, those are my thoughts on fat Thor.

OTHER VARIOUS SKETCHED OUT ENDGAME THOUGHTS THAT ARE VERY DISORGANIZED (AND THAT’S WHY PAYING EDITORS AT MEDIA PUBLICATIONS IS ESSENTIAL):

-- In both screenings I was at, people fucking LOST THEIR SHIT when Cap caught Mjolnir for the first time. I fucking knew it too, Thor!

-- I know a lot of people are pissed about how the end of the film doesn’t really honor Bucky’s relationship with Cap as well as it could, and I think this is legit. But hear me out: the second time I watched this movie it occurred to me (from the way they are speaking to each other) that perhaps Cap and Bucky had a conversation before this that we don’t see where Cap spells out his intentions. Their interaction feels more like a true goodbye, and I think it’s possible we might see a flashback to this conversation early in the Bucky/Sam Wilson TV show.  I also think that anyone who didn’t see Peggy as endgame hasn’t been paying attention (and to be honest about my biases, I have always ALWAYS loved Agent Carter, and so this ending is very much a fix-it fic for me.) (Bring back Agent Carter, you cowards.)

--To quote Alanna Bennett “[Time Travel] has never once made sense in a movie or TV show bc it’s literal nonsense” so of course it doesn’t make sense in Endgame either. I know Cap theoretically should have gone out help Bucky and fix S.H.E.I.L.D. and stop 9/11 or whatnot but he didn’t and to be honest, I’m not gonna spend so much time thinking about it where it hampers my enjoyment of the movie. You know what also has plot holes? Life. Life has fucking plot holes.  Cap is tired, let Cap has his nice life where his kick ass wife takes the drivers seat for once. 

--I agree with everyone who says they did Natasha dirty. Also the black Widow movie coming out next year IS (reportedly) A PREQUEL? Marvel, that’s a straight up Lucasfilm trap, don’t fall for it. Just yadda yadda magic amulet and bring Natasha back, you have the power! As a an aside, I am a staunch believer that prequels are never a way to move a franchise forward. The way to move a franchise forward is to... create more characters and move it forward. I am a visionary, I know. Hire me to consult at your next business gathering!

-- Oh, Tony. In retrospect, this was the only major death that could have both made sense and honored the journey of the character, but I still wasn’t ready. The only upside here is that Shuri must now be Our Princess Of Technology And Gadgets and I am ready for it. 

EDIT:

--MY STONY SHIP LIVES FOREVER this was the most Stony movie I could have possibly imagined that also involved Tony being married with a kid. Tony and Cap spent the whole movie having mental make-up sex, you can’t convince me otherwise, TONY CHECKING OUT CAP’S ASS IS NOW CANON. IT’S CANON. 

[unabashedrebel]

Prison Break

The dark dank chasms of Stormwinds own prison were a cold affair. The smell alone was enough to force more than a few guards to hastily switch their shifts. Shouts and screams often echoed through the poorly lit stone brick walls. Races from all walks of Azeroth professed their innocence, hollered about their unfair treatment, or spouted insanities borne of their solitude.

But one voice yelled just a little louder. A metal cup had banged against iron bars for the better part of an hour. “I dont belong here!” The human pleaded. “They’re going to escape!” Was another of the popular phases. “Please! Someone! Just hear me out!”

The man had made so much noise that even his neighbors started to berate him, “Shut the fuck up! I’m trying to sleep!” The cell overs occupant added. “You think you’re the only one who’s in here for some bullshit?” Another added. “Yeah I’m with the first guy! Shut the fuck up!” A distinctly Kezan voice added.

Finally the warm glow of a torch flame crept down the darkened halls. The pace quickening as the commotion continued, “Oy! You all keep it down or I’ll bring the mages in here to shut you up.” The guard barked. Halting the noise from all cells but one.

Loudly the clanking of metal on metal continued, “Please sir! Please just hear me out!”

The guard dressed in Stormwind regalia stopped in front of the cell with a labored sigh. “I hear this twelve times a week. I promise you whatever you have to s---.” The guard stopped in his tracks as his eyes went wide at the revelation, “Jenkins?!” The very guard he was coming to relieve.

Out in the quiet streets of Stormwind as the night began to descend on the Alliance capital a tall male in ill fitting armor of the guard strolled with an orcish prisoner in tow. Chains wrapped around the captive at both his ankles and wrists, leaving him just enough room to shuffle behind.

“So… something has been bugging me about this.” The Orc said in a low tone. “If you could have pulled this off why wait so long?”

An elvish voice replied, “Tell you what man. We live through tonight and I’ll tell you all about it.” Kirollis whispered. “So just, you know, act natural. And stop talkin’ to me like you’re bud, I’m a guard remember?”

The Orc gave a slow and subtle nod. His saviors words rung true in his mind, so deep into enemy territory that the slightest slip would undoubtedly earn them an execution rather then an extended stay in the Stockades.

“Get movin’ ya filthy green skin!” Kirollis boomed in his best Common accent as the pair passed through the archways leading to the docks. Shoving his companion forward in the process. A show for the soldiers stationed at the entranceways, who seemed to only laugh at the Orc’s misfortune.

Once cleared the rogue would confess, “Sorry. Appearances and all that.”

Grunting the captive would reply, “You enjoyed that.”

“Maybe a little.”

Suddenly the booming clangs of the great bell situated above the Stockades began ringing insistently. While Kirollis had assumed his charade would only last so long, it was still a little sooner then he would have hoped. Regardless, most soldiers moving to assist would at the very least assume it was an escape currently happening- rather then one already far in its progress.

“Oookay, let’s uh… lets walk just a little faster.” Kirollis muttered as they picked up the pace down the long ramps leading to the harbor. Time was certainly against them, and with no way to know the shipping manifests? They’re was blind, a leap of faith.

The Orc let out a gruff grunt as the shackles around his ankles jingled against strain as his strong legs struggled against their confinements. “I would be if you hadn’t insisted on these chains. You should have handed me an axe!” He growled, luckily away from anyone who may notice.

Kirollis shoved the Orc in response, “You know I could have left you in that cell right?” The revelation only producing a grumble from his ‘prisoner’.

Though both of them straightened up as a platoon of Stormwinds finest rushed passed them on the ramp. Most passing save for one towards the end. Stopping near the pair he would greet them with a wave, “You there, soldier. Where are you taking that prisoner?”

Kirollis froze a moment, haunching himself over to hide his height and shroud his eyes beneath the overbearing helm. Clearing his throat, “Oy, this one goes to the labor camps out in Arathi. I t’ink they lobotomized him or something. He’s a tad slow.”

The human laughed as he looked over the Orc. “I thought they came like that just stock.”

“Aye, I suppose. Ya should check the Stockades though. Some commotion goin’ on about there.” Kirollis added with a swift nod of his head. Silently hoping the man would take his advice rather then probe him further. “We got ah boat tah catch. And i’m ‘fraid they ain’t gonn wait.”

With another stern nod the soldier offered his blessing, “Carry on.”

Once they were out of earshot the Orc let out an undignified grunt, “Really?”

“I had to sell it dude. You know how humans are. Always think they’re superior and the rest of us are idiots. Maybe just take a little pride in the fact you got one over on him. He can think what he wants, but at the end of the day he’s the dumbass that let us go.”

“Mmm…” The Orc remained silent, content to take the win on that front. Though a moment later he posed, “How do you plan to fake the transfer papers?”

“I’ve got it covered.” Kirollis mentioned as they approached the dock, and their exit. Placing a hand on the Orc’s shoulder he would attempt to pull him into a cloaking spell. But instead of disappearing from sight they remained. “Uhm…” The rogue cleared his throat before gripping a little harder

“Uhm?!” The Orc tipped his gaze over his shoulder toward the rogue. “I thought you had this covered.”

“I haven’t done this in a while okay?! Maybe I have performance anxiety.” Kirollis tried to rationalize. Far be it from him to pick this time and place to educate the Orc on how the relationship between Sin’dorei and mana worked.

“Do you have a plan B? We have company.”

“Plan B was shouting that you escaped and trying to slip away in the commotion.”

“I hate you.” The Orc stated in a spiteful whisper.

“Yeah yeah, just follow my lead. I got us this far didn’t I?”

Two guards approached from the wooden docks, leaving their post from the boarding plank of an Alliance transport ship. “Hold there.” One said before holding up a hand in a stopping gesture. “Do you have papers for that prisoner?”

“Yes, I definitely do.” Kirollis stated in an airy tone as he stepped around the Orcs right side. Shiftily positioning himself at the flank of both soldiers, until their back was against the waters below.

“I had em right here… hold on.” The rogue said as he shifted around against the blue tabard of Stormwind. It was all a ruse, however, as Kirollis quickly barrelled into the soldiers, knocking one into the other and finally into the water itself with a loud splash. Their metal armor surely would be their downfall in such a situation. All he would have to do is hope nobody noticed the missing guard. Looking over his shoulder he would casually mention to his new friend, “Get on the ship.”

With a gauff the Orc would reply, “You’re really starting to sound like a guard.” Though a chuckle escaped him, impressed with Kirollis’ ploy.

As soon as they were both on board the rogue quickly shouted, “Make ready for sail! Commanders orders, we’re to leave right away!” That commanding tone of his on full display. With a plated boot he would shove the gangplank back to the docks.

“Ya heard the man, make ready to sail!” The first mate of ship shouted as the rest of the crew fell into line.

The Orc leaned forward to whisper, “You know they’ll kill us as soon as they find out right?”

“Yep. Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty good at shooting down birds. And I got a plan before we make it to port.”

A trusting nod was given from the Orc as the two made their way below deck.

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN     Pt. 11 Who Will Know

Grave robbers!

There shall be hell to pay for robbing his grave; disturbing his rest and peace. The magician’s fury explodes forth now!  But how?! No one will like the answer.

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon

THE WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER.

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness, cancer

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

“If I die in this world, who will know something of me? 

I am lost, no-one knows, there’s no trace of my yearning.

But I must carry on, nothing worse can befall. 

All my fears, all my tears, tell my heart, there’s a hole. 

I wear a void, not even hope. A downward slope, is all I see.

As long as breath comes from my mouth, I may yet stand the slightest chance. 

A shaft of light is all I need to cease the darkness killing me.”

-“Who Will Know” Shin Godzilla, 2016

That dismal day of the funeral was relatively uneventful, even though the remaining members of the sinister six had attended alongside their hated enemy. The Avengers perhaps wished to apprehend them, however Otto was once more several steps ahead of them. A quick teleportation device was all that was needed to evade their would-be captors after the service was over. 

However gaudy it was, Beck had finally gotten that statue of himself he joked about having once he became famous. Was it in poor taste? Perhaps, perhaps not. Alexandria Beck paid no mind to it. All she could do at the service was stare at the ground where her brother laid six feet under, feeling only the hallow void that often lingered in their family like a curse. 

Maria Beck was quiet. She was a well mannered child; she did not really get what was going on. The last two Becks left immediately after the funeral. There was nothing in New York they could ever want or stay for. Not anymore. 

                                               -----------------------

A week has passed since he was buried. Otto was always the mistrustful type. Something to do with consistent bullying and betrayals throughout his life. That being said, was it so unheard of to keep cameras around the grave site of your recently deceased friend? For Otto, it wasn’t. 

The alarm was raised and Octavius was roused from a rather unhappy slumber. Chameleon was already up. Someone had dared to disturb Beck’s rest? There would be hell to pay indeed. Wasting no time, the pair of them left immediately to confront the grave robbers.

                                               ----------------------

It had recently rained, loosening up the soil. The group in question were known body thieves. They often targeted mutants for their DNA. 

Graverobber 1: “Hhhff... they buried this guy... really well...! The soil is packed.”

Graverobber 2: “Should we haul off the statue, too? It has bronze and gold plating. Could be worth a good amount once it’s stripped down.”

Graverobber 3: “We could, but I’d rather get the body more than anything. Do you know how much we could sell the Slayer of a Herald of Galactus for? I also heard they guy had undergone a super soldier serum prototype procedure. We could sell part of him to Hydra for sure. Maybe just his arm.”

Grave robber 2: “The armor is one of a kind. AIM wants the teleporter and quantum matter displacer for 500 million dollars.”

Graverobber 1: “Holy shit, I know you said millions but daaamn... hffff almost there.... I can see part of the coffin... I hope it won’t smell too bad...”

Graverobber 3: “Well, it’s been about a week, so I wouldn’t expect anything exactly good...”

Otto: “...You imbeciles...”

The grave robbers whirled around at the sudden voice, but before they could react, a pair of Octavius’s metal arms had constricted one of them, threatening to snap his neck. The other two pulled out their guns, ready to shoot, when Chameleon lunged out of hiding, tackling and pinning one of them to the ground, his knife against his neck.

The last robber was afraid, and in his panic, called through a radio for reinforcements as Otto swung an arm at him, knocking the fool to the ground. 

Otto was about to land a killing blow when Spider-Man leaped into action, landing a web on the robber and pulling him out of the way as the metal tentacle slammed into the ground where the body snatcher had been half a second before. The robber was far from free, however for he soon found himself wrapped up and immobilized by Spider-Man’s webs. 

Otto: “Spider-Man... We have trash that needs to be cleaned up.”

Spider-Man: “Yeah, but I’m not lettin’ you kill them either Doctopus. I’m taking them to the police.”

Chameleon: “They deserve far worse, Spider. These... this SCUM has robbed probably hundreds of graves... Imagine all the stolen bodies they have desecrated! If you turn them in, I have no doubt in my mind that their friends and clients would break them out once more to tear up more of the dead.”

Spider-Man: “Okay, Chammy, I’m gonna need you to calm down. I’m just as much against grave robbing as any other wall crawler, but creating more dead people isn’t the answer! Let him go and I’ll handle this!”

Otto: “Your track record of ‘handling things’ is mediocre at best. Turning them in will solve nothing. Only direct action will!”

With that, Otto began to crush his ensnared victim. Peter lunged at the pair, attempting to save the idiot who had incurred the wrath of the sinister six. In doing so, some of the excavation equipment fell into the grave, busting open the coffin. The smell wafting out was.... far from pleasant. This made Otto fly more into a rage, whipping his arm to slam Peter right in the chest, knocking the wind completely out of him.

The robber pinned by Chameleon took the opportunity to try and tase the super villain. Chameleon was agile enough to dodge the nearly point-blank attack, but lost his grip on his victim. The thief quickly got to his feet as three more of his friends hurried onto the scene, guns pointed at the two sinister six members and Spider-Man.

Being surrounded and having no real options, the trio stood down as the grave robbers unwebbed their friend. 

Grave robber 4: “Well. It’s not everyday that we get to cart away an extra three bodies, boys!”

Otto: “Do not assume that you can kill us so easily. You will leave here with nothing. Not even your own lives, you vermin.”

As if almost on cue, bright green mist began to slowly fog around the graveyard.

Spider-Man: “...you doin’ this, Ock?”

Otto: “..No... I’m not...”

The robbers seemed perturbed by the sudden fog, however they kept their aim straight, ready to shoot.

That was until a plume of thick green smoke roiled out of the open grave. Everyone recoiled as the sound of cracking mahogany and scrape of metal could be heard below. 

Beck lurched and pulled himself out of his own tomb, raggedly wheezing. He was covered in dirt, mud, and his own blood. His armor was still as torn open as it was on the day he died, his helmet busted open.

The sight of him made everyone’s heart stop. His face was withered and had an expression of enraged confusion. His chest gaped open, his ribs exposed to the night air as his rotting innards hung dangling from what little flesh still held them together. 

Beck staggered to his feet, barely keeping his balance as air hissed in and out of his dilapidated mouth and his torn lungs. He stared at the crowd for a moment, trying to take in his surroundings, he blinked at the sight of Otto and Chameleon, lurching slowly toward them.

Beck: “Otto...? Chameleon...? where.. szztt.. am I...?”

His mouth did not move, but his voice came out all the same. It was distorted and sounded... like it was coming from the speaker within his helmet.

Spider-Man: “Quentin..? What’s...how...? You need to stop moving, you’re coming apart!”

At Parker’s indication, Beck took a better look at himself. Stammering and stuttering at the sight of his own torn carcass. The horror on his face made it all so much worse.

Beck: “HHzztt... h-how... Otto, h-help me.. wh-what..s.. happening?”

Realization at the situation sent an abysmally cold chill down Octavius’s metal spine.

Otto: “...The neutral net,” He breathed. “The neutral net I made for you to control your robots.... It must have... copied your mind into it’s processor... Your body is being animated... by the nano machines in your blood that helped link your suit to your body and repair damaged tissues... Quentin... You... died.”

Mysterio was quiet for a minute, clearly trying to process everything.

Beck: “.....r-right.... Terrax.... I.. was stabbed... I... I’m dead... I was alright with it too... It wasn’t so bad.... I was... shzzt... peace...”

He looked back at his grave, dirt, mud, and tools spread everywhere. His statue stood resolute, with all the authority of fate itself, standing by to judge the wicked on this night.

Beck turned back towards them.

Neo Mysterio: “I was... Alright with it. I was. At. Peace.” 

He gritted his teeth, rage in his mechanical voice. With his dead eyes he glared at the tormentors who would rob him of his rest. His claws came out with an audible “shink!”

Grave robber 2: “H-hey..! S-sorry man! We.. uh. We are just t-tryin’ to make a livin’ in this world, ya know?? We didn’t mean it!! We’ll go! ‘c-cmon guys..! Let’s scram!”

Grave robber 5: “Hell no, he died once, he’ll die again, just shoot the bugger and let’s go!”

A few of them shot at Quentin, the bullets either bouncing harmlessly off of his carbonadium shell or tearing into an already festering corpse.

Beck: “YOU ROBBED ME OF THE LAST THING I HAD IN THIS WORLD! YOU ROBBED ME OF MY PEACE!!”

He marched forward, bullets pounding against him relentlessly as he continued unperturbed by the deadly barrage. Spider-Man, Chameleon, and Octavius dared not get caught in the line of fire, rather they took cover from the spray of bullets scattering across the graveyard.

Relentless, now that was a fun word. He was going to take absolute revenge here and now. Relentless was how he was going to tear them limb from limb and make them feel every bit of agony his soul felt right now.

Beck: “I WAS FINALLY HAPPY. I WAS FINALLY CONTENT WITH MYSELF. I WAS FINALLY OKAY WITH LETTING IT ALL GO. FOR SO MANY DAMN YEARS I HATED EVERYTHING I DID AND EVERYTHING I HAD BECOME. I HAD FINALLY DONE SOMETHING I AND OTHERS WERE TRULY PROUD OF. 

I PAID FOR MY SINS WITH MY DAMN LIFE AND YOU COME HERE OUT OF GREED TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME?! HOW ABOUT I TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM YOU!!!”

Spider-Man: “Beck! STOP!!”

He was a second from tearing his claws into one of their faces when he was dragged out of his atomic rage. Spider-Man yanked the robber out of Quentin’s hands and flung two web bombs at the rest of them, securely immobilizing them to the ground.

Otto: “Quentin! Enough! Enough. You don’t have to keep fighting, it’s.. it’s over.”

Beck paused for a second. The anger still boiled within him. He was a victim, it wasn’t right that he could not take matters into his own hands. It wasn’t fair! 

....Maybe Doc was right, of course. Killing these bastards was their goal, but would it solve anything? Would it make anything better? No. It really wouldn’t. It would only drive them deeper into the hate that had already consumed them.

Beck let his hands fall to his sides. Spider-Man took that has his queue to get out of there and alert the police.

                                                 -------------------------

With the arrival of the cops, the three reunited members of the sinister six had to leave. At the base, they were met with Sandman staring at them in disbelief. His friend was back from the dead! However zombie-like he appeared, Flint was a kind soul and could not stop himself from welcoming back Mysterio with a hug.

Quentin remained rather silent. He didn’t know how to take anything anymore. He felt as hollow as he physically was. He.. was dead. He was gone. He had been unwillingly dragged back into suffering. A cloud of depression clung to Beck as Otto worked on a way to reverse the bodily decay and fix Quentin. 

Fix Quentin. How can you “fix” a dead man? How can you undo such a traumatic thing as dying? It was certainly interesting once his brain was reanimated. The human brain dies in about five minutes after circulation has been cut off. Beck had been dead for over a week. 

His brain had to be completely regrown, along with most of his innards, slowly through the use of nano machines and intense stem cell cloning therapy that Otto had just delved into. The absolute cutting edge of health care. It could not actually bring back the dead, however. The copy of Beck’s brain patterns were pivotal in restoring his best friend. 

Having his mind transferred back into his body was a melting mix of sensations. All of his nerves felt on fire. He was back. His armor and body fixed, the sinister six were whole once more. 

They tried to get things back to a sense of normalcy. It had been a rough month. Overall, things were back to how they were, but Beck felt differently.

He felt... different. He did not know how to put it, and Otto could tell it was bugging him. Was he alive? He had truly died. Was he just a copy and the real Mysterio was long gone? At this point, it was schrodinger’s magician. 

                                             ----------------------------

The news had caught wind of the incident, and the Daily Bugle published a story from an anonymous tip that proved Beck was back from the grave. Photographs and video to boot, thanks to Parker.  Quentin was enraged at Spider-Man for filming and photographing his dead body in such a back handed manner. There would be consequences for this disgrace. The news of his ressurrection also sent a chill through the super villain community, and gave the sinister six a new found respect. 

Not even death could stop them. 

Not that it meant anything to Beck. He was listless. They were going to continue with Octavius’s plan like before, but his heart was not nearly as into it as before, at least at first. He owed his friend his life twice over now. He was not about to let Otto down, no matter what happened.

Beck was heartened to hear his sister’s cancer had regressed. The operation date to remove the tumor was already set.

[castellankurze]

Maybe I just expected too much.

(spoilers below)

In 2012, ‘Fear to Tread’ by James Swallow was the last Black Library book for which I put down actual money.  I’d been slowly growing less and less interested in 40k, a change that I felt was driven largely by the Horus Heresy series.  FTT was a good enough book that I decided to make it my final purchase, but I was still a fan of the 40k setting, if not the tales BL was choosing to tell there, and I kept an eye out for books that might rekindle my interest.

One that was recommended to me several times over in the following years was ‘The Death of Antagonis’ a novel in the Space Marines series following the exploits of the Black Dragons, members of the 26th ‘Cursed Founding’ of space marines.  Partially this was due to what was reputed to be a badass character from the Sisters of Battle, partially down to the character of the dragons themselves.  But by the time I’d heard of it, it was off the shelves of my local bookstores and I’d either have to get the ebook version (which is useless to me, since I can’t use one on the job) or pay extra shipping, and since the book was already pricier than the 7.99 I was used to paying for the old BL paperpbacks, I wasn’t curious enough to pay even more to see if this was the book that would break my funk.

So it was that years passed and, as if by happenstance or a turn of fate, I happened to spy ‘The Death of Antagonis’ on the shelves of the Strand bookstore in New York City while on my honeymoon.  I grabbed it.

‘The Death of Antagonis’ (henceforth DOA) is a novel taking a peek into the lives of the decidedly nonstandard space marines of the Black Dragons chapter, a group of Wolverines who, as part of their genetic enhancement when becoming space marines, sport bone growths from their skeleton which they coat in adamantium to use as deadly close-combat weapons, a practice which garners them suspicious eyes from many branches of the fanatically pure Imperium of Man.

DOA starts off strong, and I mean really strong, as the Black Dragons engage in a desperate holding action against an undead horde on the ill-fated planet Antagonis.  Even as they do so, Inqusitor Werner Lettinger of the Ordo Malleus investigates them for possible Chaos corruption, while the mysterious Canoness-Errant Sethano joins them for unspoken purposes of her own.

For the first half of the book, the Black Dragons themselves are basically everything I could want from a story about space marines, alternating between genuine purehearted too-good-for-this-world sincerity in their declarations of faith and the protection of mankind, to deadpan snarky-ass motherfuckers who see right through Inquisitor Werner’s pretext for his investigations.

Canoness Setheno is a badass, and it’s easy to see why she was one of the selling points of the book.  Her name is taken from Greek mythology as one of Medusa’s sisters, and true to form of 40k poking its tongue into its cheek so hard it goes right through the flesh to waggle it at you, her title is the Gorgon.  While her character can be summed up as ‘do what needs to be done’ her particular brand of flair makes DOA far more memorable than it would have been without her.

Inquisitor Lettinger is something interesting.  Many 40k books like to make a character like the Inquisitor the dedicated bonehead, the asshole who shows up to ruin everything.  Werner is however, at least for the first half of the book, a bit more nuanced than that.  He’s genuinely fascinated by the Black Dragons, and while he showed up fully intending to prove their corruption, his actual exposure to the chapter has him question whether they’re really unsalvageable.  It’s a nice but of depth to an old plot.

Even the Chaos marines in the book are a fun twisting of the old narrative.  Rather than veterans of the Horus Heresy, they’re the devious results of a renegade pastor who once took part in the creation of the Excorcists marine chapter and the demon-summoning rituals therein, armoring the so-called Blades of Epiphany in gold (get it? the traitors wear shiny gold and the loyalists are mutants who wear black).

The plot itself rapidly moves past the doomed-world scenario into a deeper look at the Black Dragons themselves - almost as if David Annandale was told he had to write a book about a world dying and so shoved that out of the way ASAP so he could do more interesting stuff.  Namely, thrust of the plot of DOA is that the Black Dragons are about to have themselves a little family squabble.

The Dragons worship their deformities as a curse from the Emperor, paradoxically shaping them for their purpose as weapons and defenders of humanity.  They even hold up the most prized examples as members of special kill-teams known as Dragon Claws.  The problem is...what happens to those members of the chapter who then don’t exhibit those same deformities?  Are they left by the wayside?  Maybe somewhere along the way, they might get a bit resentful.

I’ll spare the blow-by-blow, but the first half of the book really sets up a fascinating narrative where everyone in the Imperial caste of characters is really, genuinely trying to do the right thing.  You could probably even write an actual thesis statement on the theme of toxic masculinity and how it applies to the Black Dragons, and how their instinctive fascination with their own body ideals inadvertently radicalizes young men who cannot live up to the chapter’s unspoken standard.

Unfortunately, then the second half of the book happens.

I don’t know what went wrong, exactly.  Maybe David Annandale got editorialized.  Maybe a deadline was looming and the book just had to be finished, damn the consequences.  Or maybe, like I said above, maybe I just got my expectations up too high.  Maybe I was too hype from reading my first 40k novel in so long and finding out a lot of it was playing to my prejudices to keep my feet on the ground.

Whatever the case, the second half of DOA feels like a massive step down as the Chaos plot takes ascendance and what really felt like something unique - a genuine difference of politics and  desires to best serve mankind - instead falls down into a far more standard issue ‘Chaos corruption blargalarg’ plotline.  The climax feels like it cribbed ideas from other 40k works like the World Engine and the Eisenhorn series, but it feels too rushed and unfocused to really do anything truly unique with them.  The Black Dragons are exhorted to embrace their role as the Emperor’s killing blades and it just feels too hasty, too cheap, a simple solution to a complex problem, with Chaos used as the kludge to explain the wedge driven into their ranks.

In the end, I still think this is the book that made me fall in love with the Black Dragons, because there’s too much Grade-A dialogue, especially in the first half of the book, for me to write it off completely, but ultimately I think it serves as a reminder, many years later, of why I parted ways from the Black Library take on the 40k universe.  It’s a 7 of 10 that really feels like it could have been a 10 of 10 if it had dropped the very by-the-numbers Chaos plot entirely and focused on the very natural tension in Black Dragons’ own ranks.

[ayearofpike]

Spooksville #20: The Dangerous Quest

Pocket Books, 1998 117 pages, 13 chapters ISBN 0-671-00268-6 LOC: not listed OCLC: 38115173 Released January 1, 1998 (per B&N)

Watch loves fantasy novels, but in Spooksville anything can become reality. His interest in one in particular has drawn a wizard to him, who has then placed a curse that is making him rapidly sicken. The only clues are the book and the Secret Path, and so the Spook Squad splits up to find a cure to Watch’s illness before it’s too late. But when they find almost identical other-dimension selves at the other end, we have to wonder if it’s ... TWO late?

Me and my big mouth. As soon as I knock on Night of the Vampire for being simple and straight-forward, we get this monstrosity (literally; it’s the longest one in a while). Magic, alternate dimensions, shapeshifting, multiple selves, and (not to scare anyone off too quickly) time travel all in one book. Let’s dig in.

Nobody knows Watch is sick until he suddenly collapses in the donut shop. He tells the story of trying to resell a book in the local bookstore the previous day when someone comes in looking for it. He invited Watch to discuss it over coffee, but before they even started talking about the story this weirdo touched Watch’s forehead with a green stone. He got dizzy long enough to not notice the guy leaving, but managed to follow him to Madeline Templeton’s tombstone. And it’s been getting worse ever since.

How long do the kids have? Probably not much. They agree to split up: Adam and Sally will retrace the Secret Path and try to find this obviously evil wizard, and Bryce and Cindy will work on finding the book and seeing what kind of connection there might be. This means starting at the bookstore, because Watch is pretty sure the dude never actually bought the book. They have to deal with the creepy bookseller, Mr. Carver, who evidently Bryce has a deal with about being allowed to keep his knives as long as he doesn’t use them on anything living? Squick. But he did sell the book after all, and gives them the name and address of the dude who bought it.

When they get to his house, though, he’s not interested in sharing the book, even after they tell him about the creepy guy who cursed their friend. He does want to see the portal that the dude jumped through, so they agree that Cindy will take him to the cemetery while Bryce runs an errand with his aunt, wink wink. Obviously the guy knows what’s up, because he takes Cindy hostage as soon as they’re at the cemetery and marches her back to his house, where Bryce is just at the door with the book under his arm. There’s a standoff — Bryce has a lighter to the book, Creepo is holding Cindy by the neck — but they agree that if Bryce gives up the book, Creepo will tell them what’s in it. Of course he doesn’t; instead he grabs both kids and chucks them in the basement. What he DOESN’T know is that Bryce has already been there and gone and back — he was RETURNING the book, after having made a photocopy of it. So he and Cindy settle down to read it.

Before I get to that, let me go back to the portal kids. They emerge in a land that is completely green, or maybe it just looks that way because the sun is green. They’re not there long before another Adam and Sally appear. Apparently they’re from a parallel dimension to our heroes, but their Watch is so sick that he couldn’t drag himself through the Secret Path. (Our Watch, of course, insisted.) They see a castle in the distance and decide there’s no better option than to try to walk to it.

(This is not too far out of line. Pike even acknowledges the Emerald City/yellow brick road trope in the text.)

But before they get too far, an armored warrior princess leaps out from the trees and demands to know who these trespassers are. They tell her the story of identical green-stone illnesses, and she concedes that the castle is the only place where they might find a cure, but there’s no way they can walk it. Instead, they’re going to have to ride pterodactyls. Well, the warrior doesn’t call them that, but that’s what they are. But they aren’t tame, of course; the gang will have to jump from above and surprise them. After a sticky moment where the Sallys miss their mount and the warrior has to save them, they get on board and manage to fly to the castle in no time.

Inside is the dude who cursed Watch. He’s like, dude, there’s nothing I can do, and Watch is all duh, I know that, I already read the story. Um, what? It turns out that the book was about a warrior princess who liked to go out hunting, only she accidentally killed a powerful witch in the guise of a boar and so his daughter cursed her with a fatal illness. The prince, her love, insisted that the young witch release the curse, but the only method to do so was to transfer it. But because the princess was royalty, it would require two brave and wise and good souls to take on the burden. Watch knew as soon as she appeared, of course, that the story was true, but he didn’t tell because he didn’t want anyone else to suffer. It’s true that our warrior princess is suddenly healed from an illness, but she is pretty pissed that the two Watches didn’t know they were taking on her curse. So they go to find the witch to see what she can do — and if it means the warrior takes back ownership of the curse, then so be it.

So they go to the dungeon, where the witch is locked up, and they demand she do something. She’s like, idiots, I already told you what needed to be done, and there’s not a whole lot you can do to change it. But suddenly the prince gets a shiver, like part of him just died. And it did! The dude back in Spooksville who was guarding the book is a kind of shadow-double of the prince, and he’s realized that it should have been him taking on the curse the whole time instead of trying to find some children who could sympathize with it. So he burns the book and dies with it, which makes the real prince realize it too. But before the witch can transfer the spell over, Watch speaks up. He wants to know if he’s worth enough that the other Watch doesn’t have to die. And this act of valor confirms it, and so when he closes his eyes and stops breathing, it’s the end of the curse.

No, seriously. Watch is dead.

They take his body back to Spooksville and bury it in the cemetery next to Madeline Templeton’s grave. Like, what else could they do? Watch had no family, probably not much money, and his only friends were this group of twelve-year-olds. Ann Templeton and Bum are there too, lots of tears, lots of mourning.

Until Watch walks into the cemetery.

Remember the time robot that sent the kids back to Colonial Spooksville and made a huge mess out of everything in the timeline? No, of course you don’t, and neither does anybody else: Watch made it so that they never found the robot in the first place. But he never went all the way away, either. He’s been paying attention to the gang’s activities, and when it transpired that he died, it made sense that maybe he could be alive again.

I don’t know, though. Things will never be the same, because the new Watch doesn’t have the experiences of the last month or so, and the others aren’t likely to forget fucking BURYING HIM any time soon. Still, I imagine that this is going to go away faster than even I expect. Much like my hopes of finally figuring out what the kid’s deal is and why his parents abandoned him in this burg.

[lyricaspromise]

Getting Shit Done

Written on 17th of Chauntayen, 1496

After we finished in the palace, we headed back out of the castle.  Finding ourselves in the same courtyard, with all the spoilers of our ill-gotten gains from inside.  Taking a short rest to recover what energies we needed, we realized this would be a good spot to honor the Jester's final request.  We buried him there, in the courtyard of the palace he had served, the palace in which he had died.  Lenna did a quick dedication of some sort, and we were able to set up a gravestone for him as well.  Now that we're done, we should report back to Marsque.  Of course, some of us are interested in tracking down those ghouls and dealing with them, while others only wish to continue on.  Enough of us are interested in finding them we decided to go ahead and focus on that and see if there's anything else we can get from the city as well.

Following our previous path back, we got detoured because of a building that had collapsed.  Our detour meant that we found an old market and were able to get ahold of another forty-two gold pieces, as well as a large, rusted iron key. There was a small rune etched into one end, though none of us could tell what it meant.  As we continued on, a terrible, haunting scream echoed out across the area.  I don't know why, but I went to flee.  Charra reacted quickly enough to grab my ankle and prevent me from flying off, and eventually I calmed enough to drop to the ground beside her.  She and I were able to tell it was otherworldly in nature, likely originating from the ethereal plane.  We continued on, Ai scouting ahead and Balasar watching our rear.

Eventually, we found a large, three story building.  It had a balcony on the second floor, and inside the second floor was a red light, flickering like a lantern.  Ai skuttled up to the third floor, while Ikki and I flew high enough to see through into the second floor.  Ikki ended up sending her familiar through and let me know what she saw.  From that, I sent a Message to both Charra and Ai.  Taras took a look inside, seeing only the ruins of an old brothel.  Ikki was about to use Minor Illusion to show us what she'd seen, a trio of banshee.  Knowing what we were about to encounter, Taras cast Deafness on Charra while Ai was able to make the rest of us earplugs.  Before that happened, Ai was able to tell us they have a number of elemental resistances, and immunity to others.  Lenna also Blessed Charra, Ikki, Balasar, and Myself.  Once that was done, Ikki dropped Silence into the room even as Charra charged in.

Combat Link Here

After we finished the banshee off, we took a chance to look around.  The red light was a Lantern of Revealing, and we were able to also get four vials of ectoplasm.  There was a large, innate bureau in one corner that matched the key.  I took the time to check for traps first and was able to dismantle it to gain one vial of the poison Courtesan's Pride.  We found an ornate corset in the bureau as well, which I was able to Identify as the Night Lady's Corset

Courtesan's Pride: a creature subjected to this poison must have the constitution to shrug this off immediately, or they become poisoned for three hours.  Their charisma and intelligence are affected for the duration, and they become very susceptible to suggestion.

Night Lady's Corset: magical leather armor, and when it is left uncovered creatures who would find the wearer attractive are more susceptible to advances.  They also are at a disadvantage to realize they are being charmed.

We eventually made it back to the rats and spoke with Agent 52 once again.  They fetched Marsque, to whom we reported our events in the palace.  He inquired about the pure iron, which we admitted to finding three bars of.  We offered them one, as well as most of the hardwood we'd gotten from the bedframe. We also offered to see what materials we might be able to bring down from the surface.

The Green Ears also each receives a ring from Marsque. While the ones the Night Shift were given will emit pheromones that will get them help, ours won't.  It will at least let the other rats know we are allies, not enemies.  We also got two more twisted rat tails, and a map.  The map will lead us to the Undersea.  Between that, and being able to use the water hole and a code phrase? It'll take us a half a day's walk to reach the Undersea.  Knowing that we would need a boat to traverse the Undersea and wanting to give Charra a chance to make the chainmail bag of holding she'd been planning, we decided to surface.

After speaking with Ox, we had over fifteen hundred gold pieces from selling the stuff from our raid on the palace.  Between that, and the gold that we'd found, we walked away with over 230 in gold apiece.  I have, never had this much money in the past.  Holy shit.  Requisition form wise, we each received five bronze and three silver forms.  The party as a whole also was given two electrum forms. We agreed we wanted to spend enough time for Charra to craft, and Balasar to enchant, a chainmail bag of holding. We came up on the 14th and spend the 15-17th crafting.  We head back down tomorrow morning.  I have a few new spells I can't wait to show off.  I also got a few new things from Ox.  With my silver forms, I got a set of magical tinker's tools, a third level Arcane Battery, and some Artificer's Goggles.  They can cast Detect Magic for an hour a day, which will save me some effort, and can make crafting easier.  For my bronze, I picked up a Candle of the Depths, five rumors, the Ox special, two scrolls of Find Familiar, and I'm still trying to figure out the last.  I'll decide on that before we head down in the morning.

Our first evening in the guild, we decided to enjoy some of the various alcohol that the party had found over our time in the guild.  But, something happened during our drinking.  I got hammered early on, and eventually, a drunk Charra turned to me and asked me on a date.  I can't really remember what I told her back, other than I accepted.  I can't believe I did that!  I, fuck. I'm definitely falling for her. But I'm still scared.

After spending the day working on our individual projects, we both cleaned up and headed out for our date.  Holy shit, a date.  I've never been on one before.  With, her, we went out, but it was never obviously as a date.  Shortly before we left, Balasar came running up.  They'd decided to cash in most of their forms for some gold.  Between that, the gold they'd gotten from what we'd sold, and Lenna, they were only two hundred short of being able to outright afford Plate.  Charra and I offered to cover whatever selling off their splint mail.  Because of how busy they were in the forge, they asked if we could handle making the purchase, which we were happy to do.  We also had other items we needed as a party.  Mostly adventuring supplies.  A pair of ten-foot poles and ten-foot ladders if we need them.  Ten more pitons, some grappling hooks.  Two sledgehammers and four shovels as well.  And, one other thing as well.  Took a bit to find someone who would sell it to me, but then also took longer to talk the price down.  Anyways, we were able to get those, and also the plate for Balasar.  The splint we sold for base price, so between that and what Lenna offered we technically had enough.  I added in 30 of my own gold so that Balasar wasn't left with nothing. We went out for dinner after bringing everything back, which was good.  And then we went dancing!  I am, not a dancer in the least.  We mostly just swayed together and tripped over each other's feet.  It was so great though.  Getting the plate for Balasar made me think of something we could do for Taras as a "We're sorry for being idiots" gift.  The second party form could be used to get them some plate as well.

Anyways, between crafting, seeing the Eclipse of Selune with the party, and a second date with Charra today, we had a good time above ground.  Charra surprised me for our second date.  She'd gotten a pair of flying boots from Ox with one of her forms, so we went flying together.  I'd managed to finish the flute that day, so we ended up sitting down and I played for her. The rest of the party agreed on my idea of using the form to get Taras plate armor.  So, we'll present that to him before we head down.