#The empire destroyed his life so yeah

[ich-theosaurus]

treasure planet is the romanichal movie ever i will not elaborate

[other-peoples-coats]

struck by the idea where, For Reasons, plan saddest desert hermit doesn't get off the ground and team proto-rebellion have to pivot and pivot fast.

chucking the conspiracy equivalent of a uey at 100mph on the highway, and everyone involved is sleep deprived, stressed as fuck, and experiencing y'know, several levels of Devastating Grief.

the person with the brain cell is bail organa, a man who in canon spends like 20 fucking years playing ding dong ditch with a genocidal psychic space wizard and his boss, an even more genocidal space wizard. This man is not lacking in gumption, one can say. he is possessed of life threatening amounts of chutzpah, one might also say, except that he spends twenty years winning the ding dong ditch match with, again, a genocidal fascist dictatorship which includes two genocidal psychic space wizards who literally know he was in tight with the genocided group of space wizards plus the [mumble] number of other murderous genocidal space wizards, plus the rest of the non-space wizard space fascist cohort.

So. What does a man with a spine of steel, a heart as big as a planet, and more gumption than anyone should possess do, when plan 'split up the kids and hide the most famous man in the galaxy on the saddest hell planet' is a no go?

lie. lie like a fucking rug.

What's palpatine going to do? day one of the empire, his super awesome chosen one space wizard makeover project is still in progress and not yet wheezing his way into the galaxy's nightmares, and bail fucking organa strolls into the imperial senate with:

one (1) baby (female)

one (1) baby (male)

several (~20+) aides and various hangers on, including;

one (1) brown haired blue eyed man who could, if you squinted a bit, probably get third place in a general kenobi lookalike competition, were those now not super duper illegal

Sidious, of course, could be like A JEDI KILL HIM TRAITOR ETC, but, crucially, his wheezing attack dog is still on the lab table getting seven inches added to his height and cup holders installed, or whatever the fuck skeevy sheev added in as extras. Palpatine is an old guy who is still trading on being A Beloved Grandfather who was Reluctant To Take The Throne, and is still easing the galaxy into the whole, y'know, we're a fascist empire now, kneel or perish.

Palpatine, on day one of the empire, can't point at bail fucking organa and be like HABOURING A TRAITOR unless he is really, really sure, like 110% sure, because it's bail fucking organa and every goddamn senator will baulk like a horse at a plastic bag if he accuses, again, the senator of alderaan of high treason on day one of the empire.

A secret rebellion is fine, if not ideal; you can theoretically stamp it out, and, also, it's small, percentage wise.

The entire fucking galaxy thinking that, hey, if the guy in charge is going to go after fucking alderaan, what's to stop him going after us? bigger problem. huge problem. original trilogy kinda touched on that one. Day one of the empire, everyone is still basically on war footing, and fuck man, if alderaan is copping it....maybe this empire isn't great after all. maybe we can make our OWN empire, with a different emperor.

Would palps win? eh maybe. would it destroy all credibility forever and ever amen? yeah. the difference between a 'legally installed emperor' and 'a dictator we must overthrow' is how willing the galaxy is to lick boot, and there's not yet the fear of The Empire black bagging you to keep those tongues going.

so. palpatine can't say shit. palpatine can imply shit, palpatine can get his lackies to say shit. but, crucially, palpatine himself can't say fuck all about the goddamn kenobi lookalike that is now following after organa and wiping his kid's little butts and playing gofer and whatever else.

and what's more believable? bail fucking organa is hiding a traitor, or bail organa and his wife have a situationship with a guy who looks sort of a bit like a former general? the same kind of situationship that like, half the senate has had at one point or another with a guy (or guys) who looked sort of a bit like said ex-general. go to any high level business and/or political building, you'll find half a dozen guys who look vaguely like said hot ex-general, and many of them will have a more or less (often less) accurate coruscanti-ish accent. or will develop one.

(hey, it's a niche. gotta pay the bills somehow, and if you get the job because you dyed your hair and grew a beard, well, you're still using your political science degree, right?)

of course, that only holds for so long, but by that point it's been, y'know, a while. and that looks worse in a different way -- what, kenobi was fucking walking around in front of the whole imperial senate, and none of them noticed? absolutely not, all credibility is gone forever.

which means. that palpatine and the organas are stuck in a full on staring match about this guy who is 100% for sure not kenobi, because -- well. he can't be kenobi. becuase that would look bad. but also. it's kenobi. but also. it can't be kenobi.

(vader takes one look at this guy who looks like his master kenobi and then rolls his eyes, because he has already met aproximately 90,000 people who look vaugely like his master and he got very good at picking out how the newest one was not kenobi his master by the time he was a senior padawan.)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

I'm sorry for dumping all this to you, you can not read it, this is not a question but Arrin has been my Roman Empire since Christmas. This is my first time writing just for the sake of it (much less NSFW) so yeah... (you can ignore this)

Ok, so imagine that one day, Darling is feeling really fucking horny. I am not talking about "Arrin's pheromones strikes again", "Usual Needy Darling", or even "Somehow A/B/O exists in this era and Darling got all the omega-ness". I'm talking talking H O R M Y. So you decide to also test out your beloved mate's stamina and see if you can outlast him in bed

It wasn't that bad at the beginning of the day. Arrin wakes up first. Cuddles your sleeping form. Spoons you or if he still has his cock inside you (you were bouncing on him last night and you just slept on top of him), maybe grind into you slowly (soft enough to not wake you up), maybe a kiss or two or ten on the face. When you wake up, one of you cooks breakfast (if you guys won't do some morning fun times before that), and you guys feed each other (mostly him feeding you). Maybe a cuddle before you both leave for the day

At first, you were just nuzzling into him. You cling his arm or torso whenever he's not doing anything and when you guys get some down time, you sit on his lap, nuzzling you face into the crook of his neck while he wraps his arms around you. By the afternoon, you're sucking him off and nibbling his neck. He is now grinding into you but you, for some reason, won't let him get you off. Your clinginess and horny levels are skyrocketing (due to the lack of release), by the end of the day and when you guys are at home, you pounce onto him. Kissing him and begging him to please BREED YOU. You guys go at it for R O U N D S. Arrin is a bit surprised at how eager you are today. You guys always want each other but this is different somehow. After 10+ rounds of you guys cumming, you are still very needy and are now on top of him after doing so many positions. Your stomach now bulging at little bit due to the amount of cum in you that there are puddles on the bed and other areas of the bedroom. Arrin is beginning to be a little bit tired and you are beginning to get overstimulated in a slightly painful way but you still want more.

Despite loving the fucked out expressions on your face and how your chubby tummy bulges due to his cum making you look pregnant (does wonders to his breeding kink fr fr ngl), he is starting to get worried for you but couldn't do anything due to how much you've been pawing at him, whimpering to not stop, begging him to kiss you and mark you, staring at him with that needy doe eyes and how even though you are now laying on his chest on top of him, you are still bouncing on him like his purpose in life is to breed you (maybe it is)

You cum on him for the nth time, your needy dripping hole also milking his cock, filling you up with once again with his cum. You ride out your orgasm which, combined with the feeling of his fresh warm cum inside of you, just makes you cum again on top of him on top of the previous orgasm. Pleasure blinding you that you pass out from it all.

Arrin waits for a minute to collect himself and to check on you (seeing as you sometimes pass out for 30 seconds or go to sleep immediately after your sessions). It's been 3 minutes, he's been tapping your face and you're still limp and not waking up. So he decides to just go to sleep and maybe you'll be fi--

10 minutes later, an entire floor of the local hospital has been destroyed due to the Chief's rampage and was only stopped when you woke up

After all that mess is over, he did not touch you in a sexual way nor did he grant his darling mate's wish for breeding in fear of the same incident happening again. He turned into a fucking celibate monk that was somehow not swayed by his sexy mate's pleas and whines, not even when they're nuzzling into him and pawing at him and giving him that puppy dog eyes. You're the Beggiest Beggar in All of Begdom and he's still not budging. After all, being Chief requires strong will and sacrifice for the greater good and you, my dear, are the greatest good he's ever had and he's not gonna lose you

Well maybe it wouldn't hurt to do it, if that means you're going to stop giving him that sad teary face

You're getting only three rounds and a full body massage though ... You still need to rest

Sorry for that, I just really wanted to write a joke about Darling Reader fainting due to excessive cumming with the very very slightest touch of Cum Overdose and Arrin running to and destroying the hospital in worry... also I want feral Arrin, it can be very hot for a mostly chill and sane man plus or minus a little bit of kidnapping and neck snapping to go feral once in a while especially for our sake

The fact that someone wrote a whole fanfic about my work is extremely flattering.

Also if anyone else wants to write something like this, everyone is free to use my OCs and post their work as long as they note that it's fanfiction and link to the original fic or to my blog.

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (1/3)

As of 15th May 2024, these are some of the BEST stories I have read in the fandom. Of course, this is completely subjective and there are many personal factors as to why I crowned them God Tier. 

Mainly:

Reading it for the first time: ‘Oh, this is really good, I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life’

When compiling the list: ‘Oh my god, this fic, man, this fic!!’

There are many other fics that match the first criteria, but for it to be on this list, I needed to have these two reactions.

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!! They’re there for a reason. PLEASE make sure you understand where the story is going to be before reading!!

Without further ado, I present to you, my roman empires:)

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

4. Honorary Mentions (4/3)

Best of the Best Authors

Authors that I trust with my life, whose work are ALL incredibly well written. 

COMPACFLT @compacflt

They’re the first person to pop in my head when I was thinking about making this list. No amount of time and words will be enough for me to describe how good their work is. Seriously. It’s on a level I’ve never seen before for fanfiction. The world building, the characterization, the prose, everything. COMPACFLT has a way of understanding these characters, it makes so much sense and fits so well with canon. I’m just at a loss for words. Genuinely the reason I converted to Icemav supremacy.

When We Get Around to Talking About It 

Goose has been dead for a week and a half when Iceman loses his first wingman in a dogfight with six Soviet MiGs over the Sea of Okhotsk. Goose has been dead for thirty years when Iceman loses his second wingman to a surface-to-air missile on the tail-end of a mission he's responsible for: he's sent his family on a suicide mission to destroy a uranium enrichment facility in Russia's Far East. This is the story of those thirty years in the middle. (Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.)

This was the first story I’ve read from them. And it’s so… I don’t have words.  It’s told from Ice’s perspective, filling the gaps between TG and TG:M with added Icemav and Hangster. In my mind this is canon:D

Debriefing (& Other Stories)

"We can start here, I guess. If we're talking about us," Pete says. "Nineteen-eighty-six. The first thing I thought, when I saw you in that O-club, was: Iceman is off-limits. Capital O, capital L." Despite himself, despite the fear, Tom laughs a little. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" "Well, first off, we were competition. And yeah, you were attractive, but then you opened your mouth and I swear. You were just an asshole. Goose is trying to introduce you to me and here I am thinking about how much of an asshole you are. Shut up about Cougar, asshole." "It was supposed to be a friendly competition!" "Yeah, right. So that's what I was thinking: he's attractive, clearly doesn't know how to talk to other men, might be into the proposition if I framed it the right way. But he's an asshole, so this competition is just gonna be friendly." Pete pauses. Then he says, "Ice, you wanna get married?" And that's how they start talking about it. (Or: they finally get around to talking about it. Plus a couple extra stories for good luck.)

Sigh and send COMPACFLT a loving look. This Maverick's POV adds so much to the story without being repetitive. COMPACFLT deliberately tells their story like puzzle pieces, and they complete each other—just like Icemav, if you will. 

The Slider oneshot is truly something else. I was so eager for the upload and kept an eye on their account for updates religiously. To flesh out a character that barely has any source material is an incredible skill to have. And the Bradley oneshot… Omg… My favorite characterization of Bradley, period. 

Tremors & Aftershocks

They both come back to their senses and stop openly crying again eventually. The stitches fall out of the thirty-year-old wounds and the scars fade back to skin-color. Life stops being so painfully raw after a couple weeks back home. You get used to miracles the way you get used to anything else. One day at a time. [Or: 40 years of extras, from 1982-2022. Some true love, some heartbreak, some miracles.]

To me, this one has a different feeling from the other two. More focused on Ice and Mav’s relationship as opposed to the whole plotline. It’s tender and bittersweet and feels like being hugged for the first time and then told that you wouldn’t get another hug in thirty years time.  

What impresses me most is that, if you go to COMPACFLT’s Tumblr account, you’ll see the thought they’ve put for these stories are INSANE. They’re so educated on the military and its history and it adds so much to these characters. I’m not American and all my writing for Top Gun will always stem from google searches and other fics. If you’re a nerd like me and like to read about other’s analysis about topics they know nothing about, I suggest you go to their account and have fun.

COMPACFLT, you have captured my soul with your writing. Thank you for your service and I wish you well in life.

AortaArgent @aortaargent

If you’re looking for an author who can write smut like nothing else, go to their profile. Better yet, click here, and scroll down to the threads they made about girl!Mav and get horny real quick. It’s a shortcut to heaven really. (And yes, I’m still upset that they seem to have left the fandom, but I still hold the stories they’ve left behind close to my heart:)) My favorites:

like a shotgun (needs an outcome)

“Ice gave me a handjob when we did this,” he argues. “Oh, that’s what gets you moving? Seeing who comes first?” With that, Slider takes hold of him, wrapping his hand around and keeping his fist steady. “Go on, baby girl. Fuck it like a good little -” He squeezes Slider’s balls a little harder than he���d imagine is necessarily pleasant. For Slider. It's definitely nice for him. “Fuck,” Kerner chokes out, weakly. Ice sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I told you he bites.” In which there are multiple realisations, improbable numbers of pilots hanging out in a shared shower, volleyball games and verbal tennis. Yes, it's compulsory to wear your dogtags in the shower - never know when you could need identification. (Only kidding, it's for added fuckability.)

It’s so hot... but believable at the same time. BDSM is just one of those things where you read about it and can tell if the author has experience or is just extremely well-informed. 

Eye to Eye 

“Maybe it’s not just us looking to get a piece of you,” Wolf says. He’s right by Maverick’s head, and a shiver rolls down his shoulders in a sweeping tide at the soft click of each word against his ear. “Maybe we offered. You’re so pretty, Mav. It’s not a hard sell.” His hands twitch with the effort of not reaching up to tear off the blindfold and find out if they’re telling the truth or just winding him up. It’s possible. Occupied, blindfolded, he might not have noticed the door opening. More guys could have been in the showers. Two hands circle his ankles, firm over his boots, and hold him steady. Someone else has his left hand, kneading the tendons down the back of it. Anyone and anything is plausible. A continuation. Finally.

HOT DAMN. That’s all.

AortaArgent portrayed Ice and Mav’s relationship as absolute and secure while having fun with Mav’s dynamic with the other guys. All of their works are mind-boggling and simply amazing!

thecarlysutra @icemankazansky

Need I say more? Carly’s one of the most prominent members of the Top Gun fandom. Actually, I trust any member of the Top Gun Old Guard. With Carly, there’s something about their writing that makes me think of discovering an old box of CDs you used to watch relentlessly, dusty and worn, but the nostalgia rushes back and it’s achingly familiar. You can tell they’ve been writing for Top Gun for so long the characters kind of became their own. And when you click on any fic they wrote, you can fall and trust they’ll catch you. My favorites:

and i promise, you're the locksmith

“Is something going on in your neighborhood?” Maverick asked. “Like … a pest problem or something?” “You could say that,” Ice said. “Like … a coyote or something?” “Suitors,” Ice said. Maverick's attempts to woo Iceman are somewhat complicated by the promise Ice has made: Anyone who wants to marry him must catch his cat, which wears the key to his house around its neck on a silver chain. Inspired by the Tumblr legend.

This one’s so cute!!! Ugh, I’m never going to get tired of reading Icemav fall in love over and over again. 

Dreams of Impact

Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Sigh for the second time and send hearts Carly’s way. Basically, Mav gets transported to another universe and weird things happen. I love fics that dabble with the universe, the what-ifs, the what could’ve been. Do you ever have that moment when you make a decision, look back and wonder how life would be if you chose differently? Click on the link and read 🫵

aelibia @topgunreacts

God. aelibia’s just too good. It’s like banger after banger after banger. If you’re looking for an author whose work is a guaranteed good read, click the link and it’ll show you magic. They have Icemav ranging from tender and soft to angsty, portraying all different sorts of love and a way of writing explicit sex that I’ve never found anywhere else. 

I can’t even pick which one’s my favorite because they’re all my favorite. Especially the series they wrote, oh my god. I love them all. However, one that I reread religiously and being giddy over is this:

Wine Dark Sea

Raised by a selkie mother bound to a human man, Ice returns to the human world as a teenager with a singular purpose: to find the source of human strength, and claim it for himself. But after a careless mistake binds him to another human man, Ice is forced to reconsider his most fundamental beliefs: What is the meaning of strength? And what is the cost of freedom?

It’s so silly at times and heartbreaking most of the time. I especially love the later chapters where the evil is defeated and Ice is just being a silly seal while Mav’s being the supportive partner that he is. This fic is the SOLE REASON that my favorite animal is a seal. Thank you for opening my eyes to something that has been so obvious from the start, your majesty aelibia.

I also humbly present these seal drawings because the image of Ice galumphing around a Navy base, complete with wet smacks and people shrieking in horror makes me laugh everyday. That, and the scene where Mav is surrounded by four fat harbor seal pups and reading a story to them. Eleven out of ten. 

This one’s my favorite:}

[irrationalgame]

Hux: “I don’t care if you win, I need Kylo Ren to lose.”

Broke: Hux defected to get one over on Ren because he’s so petty and pathetic.

Woke: Hux defected to get one over on Ren because the idea of an abusive Sith tyrant being in charge of the galaxy as Palps puppet stood contrary to what he had spent his life trying to achieve. Finding out the Sith had infiltrated the Order and turned it into another Empire, another regime built on the disorder brought by selfishness and the tyranny of force users, he acted to destroy his life’s work rather than see the Final Order succeed. But yeah, also because he is petty and pathetic.

[brucewaynehater101]

Kon, Bart, and Cassie all have just as much authority as Tim in the empire, Tim just has veto power and he's only allowed to use it against them if he verbally and clearly explains why he is against their actions. Tim is the emperor, he is the ultimate authority of all the empire, but his life partners keep him grounded. Also each one of them has their own planet within the empire and therefore the right to wear their own crowns.

Bart is also plotting to get a death star without the planet destroying capabilities so basically an artificial planet/moon. He plans to keep it as a back up moon for earth and otherwise the official imperial ship so his own ship can go back to be used for incognito C4 space shenanigans

Heck yeah! I think it depends on how much YJ is helping out the planets. If Tim is the one doing most of the work (which I doubt), then the other C4 members don't get as much of a say. However, Tim probably shares his "game" (the system he uses to manage the planets) with the others so everyone can help out.

I think each of the C4 in crowns would be gorgeous. I wonder what type of crowns fit each member the best.

Also, good for Bart. He deserves a death star. Give Bart a death star

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 260

TL;DR - Cale learns about the group Cotton and fake Hilsman belongs to. Cale hears about demon world stuff. Cale receives messages from Foreign Minister Bailey and Clopeh. Cale's group enters the castle in disguise.

More Info Dump It seems both of my guesses last chapter are correct. We get another info dump, and Cale's group finally enters the castle. Let's summarize the new information we learned:

God World, hunters, and Demon World are involved in one big mess because they want to change the status quo

One group wants to stop them, which is the group Cotton and fake Hilsman belong to

The group is called "Arbitrators" and its leader is... the illegitimate daughter of the former Demon King

Current Demon King is a hardliner who deposed the former Demon King who is a moderate

Arbitrators leader is the only surviving child of the former Demon King

Arbitrators know little about the new god world the hunters are trying to create

So... will TCF Part 2 really end in 300 chapters? The scale has gotten so big now that even demons are involved. 😂

Cale was mentally panicking and cursing when he heard about the demon world stuff too. 🤣🤣🤣 He was so badly in denial about the job he had to do, brainwashing himself that he only needed to take care of the hunters. Yeah, as if that would work, Cale... 😂

Let's organize this mess... The groups involved are:

God of War's group - gods jealous of ancient gods, God of Chaos (?), Lady Orsena

Hunters - 5 families, some wanderers

Demon World group - current Demon King and his followers

Arbitrators - illegitimate daughter of former Demon King and her demon followers, Cotton, fake Hilsman

God of Death's group - Cale's group, gods on the side of Cale, the worlds (Xiaolen, Jungwon)

There's also the side of God of Balance, the Divine World, the Red Bloods, and all that mess with King Zed and the Thames. Cale's slacker life dream goes further and further away... 😂

Oh yeah, during the part about the new god world the hunters were trying to create, Cotton suddenly had a crazed look upon hearing it. CH and the others became alert and tense at the "aura of the battlefield" she emitted. Apparently, Arbitrators knew little about it, so Cale scammed her into thinking that he knew what and where that new god world was.

The Messages In the end, the Har Kingdom gave in to the empire's demand and agreed to head to the empire. Foreign Minister Bailey messaged Cale, asking for help, and Cale decided to go to the imperial capital too.

But when Cale received a message from Clopeh saying, "Everything went according to Cale-nim's will. Only one temple was destroyed, and everything went easily", Cale decided that he REALLY needed to go to the imperial capital. 🤣🤣🤣

Alberu though... Cale was feeling anxious that Alberu had not sent any message. He was seriously trying to deny the possibility that Alberu had become addicted to the game even though the back of his neck felt cold. 🤣🤣🤣

Ending Remarks That Demon King info was a surprise to me. Today's chapter ended with Cale's group disguising themselves as soldiers and servants to secretly enter the castle, so I'm expecting some fights and robbery next week.

[oliveroctavius]

Doesn't the decision to get involved with Sam Bullit prove Gwen was a bad person?

Hey, I've been looking for an excuse to post about this. The Sam Bullit arc isn't really about Gwen (though it certainly reveals some things about her character). The Sam Bullit arc is about racist dogwhistles and why they work.

ASM #92 pg 19: "I will bring law and order to the people of this great city! I will show no mercy to the anarchists and all others who would destroy our way of life!"

Bullit's platform is not openly white supremacist in the sense that it doesn't overtly mention race. He talks about laws and safety in a way meant to appeal to rich white voters. The true meaning should be clear to anyone with any political awareness (who are those others and what is our way of life?), so why does this rhetoric attract "otherwise rational" people?

ASM #91 pg 6: "I want to volunteer to help you--in your campaign for DA. Because--I want you to bring Spider-Man to justice!" "We need strength--strength to punish those who mock the law! I will use such strength to bring Spider-Man and others like him to justice! I will not betray your trust."

Gwen makes her decision to back Bullit on the way home from her father's funeral. There's a very real phenomenon of tough-on-crime bills named after (white) murder victims. The grief of families who feel like justice hasn't been served is a powerful tool to push harsh laws while smothering any criticism as "disrespectful" to the victims. What’s in a Name? An Empirical Analysis of Apostrophe Laws, 2020.

Bullit showed up at George Stacy's funeral with this exact goal in mind, and when Spider-Man "kidnaps" Gwen later, he leverages the media obsession with white girls in danger for his cause. Gwen is a pawn, but she did offer her help first. Her desire for closure is very human and her short-sighted reactionary faith in "the law" is very white.

Oddly absent from your "proven bad person" takeaway is J. Jonah Jameson. The Bugle lends Bullit a platform to make Gwen's personal tragedy a political talking point. JJJ has the ~Black best friend~ excuse and everything, and he still blows past red flags like crazy.

ASM #91 pg 7: "Maybe they were better days than now! At least we had law and order then." "Yeah--and lynch mobs, and bread lines, and Uncle Toms..." "Come off it, Robbie! What's wrong with a man standing for law and order, anyway?" "Maybe it just depends on whose law--and what kind of order you're talkin' about, man!"

(Another point of this arc: marginalized groups learn to recognize dogwhistles pretty quickly for survival reasons. If they tell you something is a dogwhistle and you don't see it yet, look closer.)

ASM #92 pg 9: "Parker's story just served to open Jameson's eyes--but I've kept a dossier on you. I haven't been city editor all these years for nothing! I know where your support comes from. I know about the lunatic hate groups who are backing you. I know what you really mean by law and order!"

Late in the campaign, the Bugle switches sides. This scene tends to be described as JJJ giving the racists what-for, but the moment is truly Robbie's. (Note that it took Peter getting roughed up for Jameson to take this seriously!) JJJ can yell at Bullit all he likes without consequences, but Robbie is kidnapped and threatened by white supremacists in retaliation. It's Robbie's determination to speak up that eventually puts Bullit out of the running for good.

The Bullit arc isn't there to sort characters by Bad Person and Good Person. Neither Gwen nor JJJ have to personally hate black people for their self-centered sense of safety to be weaponized by a racist agenda. This is a Stan Lee PSA about masked bigotry and how it might appeal to you even if you consider yourself a Good Person.

But for some ~mysterious~ reason, Gwen's brief agreement and Jameson's brief rejection are the only parts of these two issues I ever see brought up, with Robbie's major role not mentioned at all. Some ideas fit more neatly than others into smug ship-war quote tweets and anon asks, it seems.

[horror-beeings-artandwriting]

BESTIE!!!!!

DROP MINOS PRIME X TRANSMASC READER(or just masc if that's easier lol) HCS THAT YOU HAVE, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS /nf /ref (Reader can be whatever species you need it to be, I just want FOOD-/silly)

Oh, hell yeah, of course!

Prompt: Minos x human spirit reader hcs

Character: Minos Prine

Pronouns: He/Him reader

Minos is equal parts mad and happy that you’re in the lust layer with him, you were just trying to love, but then again, at least he gets to have you with him. He’s sweet loving and kind. You’re his one and only. He will make this place a paradise for you… He loves keeping you in his arms, kissing and loving on you constantly. You were his consort, his love, his husband. He loved taking you out on walks around the layer of lust, he was proud of his empire he built. When Gabriel came down, you were one of the main reasons he didn’t fight, he didn’t want blood on his hands when he came home to you. But…Gabriel didn’t listen. And Minos was killed…his soul however was not, his will, his need to protect his kingdom, to see you again, started to form him into a prime soul. Gabriel imprisoned him before he could form his physical body, but his mind was fully formed… Minos often dreams of you in his prison, hoping no, PRAYING, you survived…he misses your laugh, your smile, your smell, how soft you were… He wishes to hold you again to see you again to not be trapped in his own decaying corpse, but he cannot do anything and it hurts him so knowing he’s destroying everything, he built everything she left everything you loved… When the machine finds him, he thinks he has a chance to get out, to find you again, but…he was defeated. When he woke after his soul was shattered… He saw your face, maybe loosing that battle…was the best thing he had ever done.

Hope you enjoyed! Kinda angsty but eh.

[bluegirl-14]

Listen, I don't care how long ago the final season of Voltron was aired, I don't care if anyone is still in the Voltron fandom. I will ALWAYS be pressed over how they did these characters SO dirty.

First off, the final episode of the series was such a damn copout. Ending the series with Allura dying to 'save the multiverse' and having the paladins forgive Honerva? After everything she had done in the 8 seasons leading up to this? After she tore apart the same multiverse she destroyed because the one timeline she found where Lotor knew she was a fucking liar? Make it make so much sense Dreamworks.

And then the 10 years later shit. Shiro had a wedding. Okay, yeah, he got out of the Garrison and settled down. He should, after all he had been through. I bet dying and being stuck in Black for months would lead to some introspective work. But killing Adam so there was no gay relationships, and then to pair him with a character who had like, what? Two lines in the full series, and we saw Shiro interact with once, as a Captain and crew setting? No build up, no hints during the full season?

Don't get me wrong. If the writers wanted to give Shiro the chance to shed everything from his past life, then by all means, they had the right to. But the way they did it was not only poorly written, but it also left those who had been hoping to FINALY see Shiro interact with his partner, that had been teased at outside of the show.

Hunk is another one I had a big problem with. As a plus size person, who felt like she was just that 'fat best friend' during the airing of the final season, I related to Hunk. I loved how he was more than the foodie. He's an engineer, he's smart. He matches Pidge in intellect. He's kind, he's brave despite his anxiety. He had nausea a lot. He's fleshed out, he's more than fat and food jokes.

And they took that all away, to make him Gordan Ramsey of space. They took 8 seasons of character arcs to make him that. A fucking fat person likes food joke. Once again, I wouldn't have had a problem if that wouldn't have been it. Make it a soup kitchen for those displaced during the Empires rule. Make him donate food to needy planets. Hell, have him travel with Keith, giving food to the planets they go to for help. Just, something that acknowledges Hunks generous nature, his kindness. Not Food Wars.

Speaking of Keith, I found that while I expected his ending to be similar to what it was, I didn't have any real emotion about it. He was a displaced child, who was, from what we can assume about what little we really know about his childhood, outside of him meeting Shiro and how his parents met. He always felt like he didn't belong, with the Paladins, and struggled being leader because he didn't feel like he lived up to Shiro's expectation or his legacy after he died.

So Keith teaming up with Lotor's generals to basically continue what Voltron did makes sense, I guess. But, I would have loved to see something else. If anyone deserves to settle down, aside from Shiro, I think it would be Keith. I can see him as the type of person to give a child, either adopted or biological, the childhood he wished he had.

Pidge's end is as to be expected. She's working with her parents and her brother, working for the Garrison. Out of all the characters, I honestly think Pidge had the least amount of true character arks. She had the moment in season 1 or 2 when she wanted to ditch Voltron to find her brother, and Keith called her out. And when she bonded with Green in season one on Olkyn. But once she found Matt and Sam, Pidge had stayed consistent in her behavior and beliefs till the end of the show. She, like Hunk, was a stereotype. She was the nerdy, smart friend, the guy in the chair.

I would have loved to see her do something with botany, like her mother. Something that ties her back to Green. Because even though the Lion is gone, the bond and the respect she gained would have still been there. So for her to just immediately go back to that tech guy was a disservice.

Lance's and Lotor's endings are by far the ones I hated the most. With Lance, there was NO reason that Lance had to become a fucking farmer. After everything that happened to him during the season, for him to immediately quit was ill planned and just a bad move. If they wanted to write Allura out at the end of the series, then sure. Lance steps back to grieve, starts replanting the flowers on New Altea in honor of her.

But Lance has so much more potential than. Make him a pilot, make him a teacher. Hell, pull a Keith and have him volunteer around the planets. Anything that would show off his pride in himself, and to she Allura that he would live his life for her, because she died saving it. Yeah, he can keep a cabin close or in the field, so he always has a memory of her, but he needs something else.

The final season with Lotor was just dumb. The writing had set him up as this exiled prince, who never wanted to be like his father, who watched him blow up a planet that Lotor had spent YEARS on, because his son pissed him off. Lotor killed his father, was conspiring against Haggar, wanted to study Altean alchemy with Allura. He was finally going to learn about his mother's people from those who actually knew her.

And then they make him just like Zarkon.

I. Hate. That they made that planet of Alteans, and Lotor was harvesting them for quintessence. I get they were setting it up for Haggar to use them as pilot in the final season. But there were SO many other ways to do that with a similar affect.

Especially considering the fact that those people had been in hiding since Altea exploded, and Lotor was a fucking baby then. Like...have Haggar keep them hidden instead? It would have made more fucking sense. She still felt a sliver of a connection, despite not knowing why because she lost her memory.

Lotor grew up wishing he could know more about his other side, and having no one to ask about it, because no information remained after the race died. So to satisfy his curiosity, he started studying other cultures, other planets so he could compare. Maybe he'll find something similar to Altea, and can guess from that.

And then, wow, there are Alteans left. And they have Voltron, isn't that so great? But wait, my father want's the Black Lion, and his witch is acting shady. That's odd, I wonder what that's about?

Holy crap, she's been hiding more Alteans for the past 10,000 years, and they have no idea what's been happening outside of their planet. And even more holy crap, she's been harvesting them so they don't get to powerful, and so she can sap up their power for herself. Why didn't anyone know about this?

Then continue on, with Lotor eventually teaming up with the Alteans and liberating them, but obviously they don't all go, because they don't trust him (Galra, duh.) And the ship that is carrying them all is attacked, and the ship explodes, or something. The Alteans get angry and Haggar, now starting to remember and realizes who she is, uses this to her advantage, and now boom, we have the pilots in season 8.

And this way, if you want to keep Keith and Krolia finding the Alteans, you have it. If you want Romelle, you have it. If you want more Alteans living with the Paladins, or at least have Allura and Coran meet them, you have. And of course, Lotor doesn't die. And for his ending, have him and Keith work together. Have him travel the stars, studying the different planets. Have him become a scholar, a archivist, a librarying. Anything! The possibilities are endless.

Now, on to Allura. To be completely honest, and you can burn me for this, I never really loved Allura. It wasn't really anything specific I didn't like, I just didn't grow any strong attachments to her as a character. I felt bad for her, sure. But nothing much outside of that.

But I do believe that she deserved a better ending. Even if she does still die in the end, she shouldn't have had to bounce from guy to guy to hide grief, because that shit was still there. She should have been allowed to continue her relationship with Lotor, because that was cute damn it.

It wasn't fair for her to have been in a relationship for what, a month before she died? It sure as shit wasn't fair to Lance, who had spent the whole series chasing after her, to get her, and see her die directly after. Not cool.

And if the whole reason they did it was to stop Klance, or what the fuck ever people believe they did it, pull a Curtis, give Keith someone else. He meets someone after Allura dies, he settles down, or continues with his red cross in space shtick. Or have him stay single, because some people just don't want a relationship. It doesn't matter because people would have written them together in fanfic anyway.

And last, but certainly not least, Coran.

Coran, the gorgeous man, was done so dirty, it's not even funny. To start from the top, he was the only main cast who didn't get to say goodbye to Allura at the end, and is the sole Altean left who remembers Altea. What the fuck.

Even if they are making New Altea, it's not the same. He lost his child, the only other person who understood the grief of loosing a whole PLANET. Family, friends, homes, graves, photos, memories. Gone. History destroyed, never to truly be brought back. Anything that Coran forgets is gone. Well and truly gone, because the Castleship would have possibly had records still, but that was destroyed when Lotor died.

He doesn't have her crown anymore, because the crystal is in Shiro's prosthetic, he doesn't have the ship, he doesn't have the Lions. All he has are the Paladins, and the mice. And a handful of Alteans who never were on Altea, and probably don't know all the customs he does, because of the 10,000 years difference. That's a pretty shitty ending.

So, long story long, my ending.

Adam doesn't die. He is in the piolet accident, but survives by a miracle. He's in the med bay for the entirety of the final two season, and wakes up during the final stretch of season 8. The whole time, before they leave for space, Shiro has flashbacks to times spent with Adam, and we see Shiro have regrets for going into space. He talks to Keith about retiring after everything is over.

Either Lotor and Allura, or they end things in space and Lance and Allura go on their date (I personally would rute for Lotor and Allura, the are so cute) and get their heartfelt scene, foreshadowing the end of the series.

Hunk reunites with his family, and he watches the people of the camps struggle to get back on their feet, and Hunk help them out however he can. We get a scene of him watching a local soup kitchen that had been swamped with people, and Hunk rolls up his sleeves, make a remark bout cooking with less/weirder items, and knock the people in the soup kitchen off their feet with is food. A shot of him watching everyone eat, and Hunk feels pride, in watching the affects of his food. It's different than feeding his friends, and even different than the parades and the dinners planets through Voltron.

Pidge, who is still grounded for sneaking off to space, spends time in the greenhouse with her mom, watching her work. It reminds her of Reiner, and makes her miss Okyry. She mentions Green and nature to her mom, and her mom jokes back about her finally starting to get into nature. They bond over plants, and Pidge grows a little bit fonder to grass and dirt.

Them space time, series progresses, OMG Haggar is sending mechas after us, and Alteans are the piolets. OMG x2, the piolets are dying , what is happening. Allura, what are you doing with that symbiot, that literally just killed that piolet?

Then, the end.

The multiverse is falling apart, Haggar is going to destroy everything. What do we do?

Lotor, in a desperate final act, confronts Haggar as his mother, finally acknowledging that yes, the woman who he had despised his whole life is he mother. He finally speaks to her as his mother... and denounces her.

Honerva is heartbroken. She curses him, swears that if he will not be her son, then there will be no world period. In retaliation, just like he had his father, Lotor lunges forward, and kills Honerva. As she dies, he cradles her in his arms, and listens as she mumbles about her beautiful son, before finally passing on.

But the events do not end there, because time and space is unraveling apart. They can't fix it, only Allura has an idea, and she's crying. She tells them, and despite everyone's protests, they know what must be done. She says her goodbyes, parting with a kiss to Lotor/Lance, strong hugs to the other Paladins and then...

She turns to Coran, who despite his quietness, has been sobbing the whole time. He pulls her into a hug, face pressed into her curly white hair, breathing in the flower she adored so much, and says their finally goodbyes.

The universe is saved, and everyone grieves a tragic loss. They start traveling back to earth, the Paladins and Coran and Lotor keeping to themselves for the most part, Lance/Lotor barely making it from their room most days, when they come across an alert. A planet that had not been in the charted maps they had, and certainly not in the area they had traveled mear days ago.

Upon closer looking, it looks almost exactly like...Altea.

With the last of her quintessence, Allura had somehow made a new Altea for Coran and the other Alteans to live. Coran breaks down upon seeing a field of flowers that smell like his princess, and imminently starts planning for a tribute for her, right on the top of the hill facing out towards the flowers.

Time skip follows, and Adam waeks up, Shiro asleep at his bedside. Adam, with such slow, shaky movements, wakes up Shiro, and the two finally meet again after years of being apart. Shiro imminently proposes on the spot, not baring to loose the man he loves again.

Keith starts traveling the plants, heling out where he can. The remaining Marmora's help him, tending to villages or injured people, when Hunk asks if he can come too. He wants to help, and he's smart, and strong. And Keith mentions that the best thing these people need is a warm meal, and there's no one who knows that better tank Hunk. So they travel, heling the planets, meeting more people, bonding (Because yeah! Hunk and Keith are the best!)

Pidge is on Altea, helping Lance and Coran with setting up the Alteans. Her electronic skills are unmatched, and she takes this time to pick a couple samples for her mom. Lance catches her, and offers to take her around the fields, and they do. It's peaceful, the sun setting and breeze. The best sunset she'd seen since before Voltron, in her opinion.

Lotor slowly opens back up to the others, grief pushing him away from everyone. Coran is the first he goes to, asking the older man about Allura, and Altea, anything to keep is mind off his loss. Coran indulges him, going on about the old Castel (which still blows up some how, just cant think of it now) and Lotor listens like his life depends on it. After everything is set up on new Altea, Coran askes him to become and advisor, which Lotor accepts.

Then we go to the final scene, which is a couple years in the future. Lance is teaching fighter piolet classes at the Garrison, Shiro is happily married, Keith and Hunk are still red crossing it up in space, Pidge is a Botanists and Cyber Scientist (or whatever the hell she is) and freelances across the universe, and Coran and Lotor are co-advisors for new Altea with Romelle as one in training, which Lotor writing a full, in depth history of the Galran war and Altean history. Nothing will be lost again.

They are at dinner, under Allura's statue, it's growing dark. They finish, they have drinks, and go to bed. Lance wakes up first, in a symbolism for the first episode, him finding his lion first. The others follow, and soon, they are under Allura's statue once again. The lions are all active, which they haven't been since they saved the multiverse. The group watches the Lions stand, and roar, before a shimmering blue figure fades into existence. Allura. She doesn't see them, because she's only there for the Lions, or so the others think. As the Lions start flying into the sky, she turns around, waiving slowly to the Paladins and others, a smile on her face, before fading.

A camera shot of the group on the ground, like the series, zooming out as they all watch the Lions leave, for the final time feeling the connection of Voltron, before the Lions fly through the galaxy, into a new one, in the shape of a woman curled into a ball.

End of series.

Okay, its 6:30 now, I'm going to bed

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! I love your Bouquet idea, it's so cute and unique. I would like to request an Echo x reader where's he's came back from the Clone rebellion to Pabu with a yellow Orchid and Corriander?

Lust For Life

Summary: The Clone Rebellion is over, and miraculously, the Clones won. And now, Now Echo has to decide where to go from here.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1571

Prompts: Yellow Orchid - New Beginnings, Coriander - Lust

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I started writing this and realized very quickly that, based on what I was writing, I couldn't made lust-lust work, so I decided to be clever and interpreted it as lust for life. I hope you don't mind.

It’s over.

In spite of everything standing against them, they won.

The Clones, his brothers, they’re free.

No one will ever be able to use them as a weapon again.

Echo presses his hand over his eyes, even as flexes the new, prosthetic hand that Senator Organa all but shoved on him several days earlier. Ah, no…not Senator. He’s Chancellor now, isn’t he?

As one of the men who helped destroy the Empire, Chancellor Organa has given him a very large room in the Chancellor’s palace. And he’s currently laying on the most comfortable bed that he’s ever laid on in his life.

Too bad that the room isn’t helping him feel any better.

Echo lifts his new prosthetic hand and holds it above his face. His scomp had been destroyed when he used it to stab Darth Vader.

It was not a clever thing to do, and he regretted it almost immediately.

But seeing Vader in front of him, telling him and Rex that he’s General Skywalker…well, something snapped in Echo and he just reacted. 

Echo sighs and drops his hand to the side. He’s tired. He wants to go home. To go to her. Maybe now he can give her a future worthy of her.

“Echo?” He glances towards the door, and flashes a weak smile at his older brother, “You alright, vod? You vanished after dinner.” Rex says as he enters the room, and sits on the bed next to his younger brother.

“Yeah. I’m just…” Echo sighs and then sits up to look at his brother properly, “General Skywalker.”

Rex sighs, “You did the right thing-”

Echo scoffs, “Of course I did. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what’s the problem, Ech’ika?”

Echo scrunches up his nose at the nickname, but doesn’t say anything about it. In fact, he just drops his head on his brother’s shoulder, “I remember some of the stories General Skywalker told me and Fives. About how he was a slave-”

“Really? He hated talking about that stuff,” Rex replies as he lightly strokes Echo’s hair. It’s only recently started coming back in, and Rex couldn’t be happier for his little brother.

“He wasn’t really sober,” Echo explains, “And I just…he was a slave. How can a former slave be okay with enslaving an entire race of people?” He blurts.

Rex sighs softly, “I think, when Anakin turned into Vader, he enslaved himself again. He seemed to genuinely think that he was doing the right thing.”

“That’s-!”

“I’m not excusing him, Echo.” Rex interrupts, “I’m just trying to answer your question.”

“...sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Rex continues comforting his brother for a little longer, “Something else is bothering you.” It’s not a question.

“...Fives.”

Talking about his twin is never easy. Sure, they’ve always known the odds, but the reality of losing Fives was so much harder than he’d ever expected.

“...Echo, Fox didn’t have a choice-”

“What? No. I know that. I don’t blame him. Force knows that he blames himself enough for both of us,” Echo says, “I’m just…disgusted. Did Skywalker know that Palpatine was manipulating him?”

“The only person who can answer that is dead, Echo.”

He sighs and thumps his head on Rex’s shoulder a couple of times, “Do you think Fives would be proud?”

Rex hugs Echo tightly to his side, “I know he would be.”

He laughs softly, “Good.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, and then Rex lightly squeezes the back of his neck, “What are you going to do from here?” He asks quietly, “I’m sure Bail would give you a place in his cabinet if you want.”

“I’m going home. To Pabu.” Echo replies, “The others are still there, and they need to know what’s going on.” He pauses, “And, well-”

“Yes?”

Echo sighs, “There’s a woman-” He trails off when he sees the grin on Rex’s face.

“What’s she like, Ech’ika?” Rex asks, his grin growing.

Echo huffs, “She’s…good and kind. She smiles at me like she can see the man under the machine-”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Rex asks.

“No. Not yet.” Echo replies, “I…haven’t asked.” He admits sheepishly, “But things are different now, I suppose.”

“Hm…a new beginning.” Rex muses thoughtfully, “For all of us.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

It has been almost a year since the last time you saw Echo, and you’re not ashamed to admit that you miss him.

You miss his easy jokes and warm laughter, and the way that he was always the first person to offer you help around the house.

And sure, his brothers are great, but they’re not Echo.

You pout slightly, he hasn’t even commed you. Not even after news came out about Emperor Palpatine dying and Senator Organa taking over the new Republic.

You’re not dumb, you know Echo had something to do with that. And a part of you, a larger part than you want to admit to, is worried that he’s not going to come back.

Your pout becomes more pronounced. Maybe this is what is meant by missed connections? You should have asked him out when you had the chance, maybe then you’d be more confident that he was going to come back.

With difficulty, you push your melancholy to the side, and grab the box of donations that need to be sorted before they’re put out for sale. Work is always pretty good at distracting you from what’s bothering you.

Half an hour later, the door to the warehouse you’re working in opens and you hear heavy footsteps through the rows and rows of stuff that need to be organized. 

It’s weird, since you are pretty sure that you are working alone today.

You set the box to the side, and get to your feet to prepare to send a customer away, this wouldn’t be the first time someone came into the warehouse looking to buy something after all.

“Sorry, you’re not allowed back her-” You trail off as you blink at the man standing at the entrance to the little room you and your coworkers made, “Echo?”

He smiles at you, “I’m back, cyar’ika.”

You trip over a box, but somehow manage to fling yourself into his arms, “You’re back!” You say cheerfully as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Echo laughs softly, as he catches you, his arms tight around your waist, “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come back!” You reply as you push away slightly to look up at him, “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt were you?”

“I’m fine, and I was, but I had really good doctors.” He lifts his prosthetic arm and wiggles his fingers at you, “I even got a gift from the new Chancellor.”

“Oh! Look at that!” You take his hand and trail your fingers lightly over the metal, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I like it.”

You look up at him, and scan his face curiously, “Hm.”

“What’s up?”

“You seem…happier.” You note thoughtfully, “You seem less like the weight of the galaxy is resting on your shoulders.”

“Yeah? I know you liked Grumpy Echo…what do you think about this one?”

You grin at him, “I like happy Echo even more.”

He grins back at you, looking his physical age for the first time since you’ve met him, “So, I came to a decision while I was on Coruscant.” Echo says lightly. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I’d love to.”

“Have you ever heard of having a lust for life?” Echo asks as he takes your hand in his metallic one, and then twirls you, pulling a startled laugh from your lips.

“Only in books,” You reply, another laugh falling from you as Echo starts dancing with you between the rows of donations.

“Well, it’s a strong desire to live a full and rich life,” he explains as he twirls you again and again, a bright grin crossing his face at your delighted laughter. “And I’ve decided that I want that.”

You’re breathless with laughter and you’ve been smiling so widely that your cheeks are starting to hurt, and your face is flushed with delight, “I want you to have that too.” You say.

His eyes dance with mischief, “Good, that makes step one of my plan so much easier.”

“What’s step one?” You ask him.

He twirls you one more time, and then pulls you flush against him, “Convince you to be my girlfriend.”

“And the other steps?” You ask as you set your hands on his chest and stand on your toes to bring your lips closer to his.

“Hm. Step two is to kiss you until you’re breathless.” Echo replies, lowering his head so that his lips hover just over yours, “Step three is to wine and dine you at the finest restaurant on Pabu. Steps four through seven are to make sure that you’re never unhappy again-”

You push a little higher on your toes so your lips press against his.

One of Echo’s hands fists in your hair, while the other holds tightly around your waist, as he immediately deepens the kiss, as though it’s the only thing that he’s been thinking about for ages.

“Is that a yes?” Echo asks, his lips hovering just over yours.

“It’s a kriff yes,” You whisper, “I should have asked you a year ago.”

“Ha! I win at romance,” Echo teases, before he crashes his lips against yours again.

[bostrichidae]

screaming without the v.

so. guess who just watched my adventures with superman season 2.

AUUUUUUGUAUGHHGH (/POS????? I THINK??????)

SPOILERS BELOW CUT

i love kara. i love the way her character was handled, i love her realistic mix of naivety and maturity beyond her years. i'll talk a bit more about her later.

the representation of krypton is beautiful. from kara's point of view, she sees the kryptonian empire as this utopian place where all was well in the world, but clark knows better. he's seen the truth of krypton from a mostly unbiased perspective, and could probably make the connections between krypton and similar empires on earth. he understands that the beauty of a so-called perfect world comes at a devastating price. of course kara didn't know about the destroyed planets due to her brainwashing, but even after she found out she denied it because krypton is perfect, because why would the planets have to get destroyed in the first place? why wouldn't they want to become part of this perfect world?

and clark. aurgh, clark. i stand by my belief that this is the best characterization of superman. his fear of hurting others, his fear of being a weapon, his constant fighting to protect the world from devastation and to unite all peoples within our nation even if the powers of that world reject him for existing. and when he became his worst fear, when his body became a weapon turned against earth, he still fought. he fought to protect his family, his friends, his home. he fought against himself, his origins, and everything he was supposed to be. by breaking free of brainiac's control, both kara and clark claimed their own identities. they separated themselves from their predecessors and ancestors, allowing the kryptonian empire to truly fall without the pillars of the next generation holding it up. i have so many fucking thoughts about the generational trauma of krypton but i won't get into that right now.

now back to kara and her relationship with brainiac. she was a sheltered, manipulated child, and her situation absolutely reeks of stockholm syndrome. she's aware that brainiac isn't her biological father, but he raised her. he saved her from that escape pod, she taught him to be strong. every time he called her weak, beat her, scolded her over small mistakes, he was only helping her get stronger! her father was never wrong, when he called her weak it's because it was true and he wanted to help her be a warrior!

right?

clark is an outside influence, a foreign entity, an unpredictable variable getting in the way of their relationship and helping her to open her eyes. but after everything, after brainiac is revealed to be the kryptonians' murderer, she still despairs when he dies. she feels sorrow for the man who nearly killed her cousin, who wiped out her people, who brainwashed her into acts of genocide. who raised her, who cherished her as a daughter, who shaped her into the warrior she is today. i think it will be fascinating to see how she copes with brainiac's death and her different environment in season 3, especially because we saw she kept part of her father abuser with her. she's a wonderful character they could never make me hate you kara from my adventures with superman. i think rät by penelope scott really works well for her and her life with brainiac, give it a listen if you haven't before.

other stuff i really liked about this season:

lois and sam, how their past together is revealed as their future together constantly shifts trajectories. two lanes diverged, amiright fellas... hahah... yeah. i love how lois still carries her father's lessons with her, even after everything he did. how yes, he was a shitty father, but he truly did care about keeping her safe. that he's a flawed character with problems of his own- and she acknowledges that, and recognizes why he does what he does. but still doesn't forgive him. this show is SO FUCKING GOOD at complicated relationships i swear

livewire and heatwave power couple? fuck yeah. monsieur mallah and the brain returning? hell yes. STEEL??? HELL FUCKING YES.

silas stone cameo and somewhat important role in the first half of the season, hopefully we'll see more of him soon... (hopefully we see victor. im a little bit not normal about victor stone. in a non simp way.)

kara and james is so cute... love me some healthy straight ships in my silly show about a himbo and his emotional support goblins. clois and jara double date RIGHT THIS INSTANT I DEMAND OF YOU

the alternate world where clark was raised on krypton... i kind of want to see more of that. like a short episode released independent from the storyline showing a bit more of kryptonian culture and what it would've been like to grow up there. i just think it'd be really neat

lex. calm down buddy. ur like 12. you don't need to go bald yet. sees season 3 first images LEX. PUT THE WEAVE BACK ON THIS INSTANT.

speaking of season 3... KON EL!!! HE'S ARRIVED!!! i'm actually tweaking out rn i need season 3 to be released. i need to know!!! fanfiction will only indulge my fantasies for so long.

clark and kara doing spiderman kisses with lois and jimmy thank you for coming to my ted talk.

cat grant is such a theater kid... she definitely played patty in a production of grease at some point.

if you've made it all the way to here then thank you for reading my essay(?) on why maws s2 is peak superhero media. and thanks for listening to me as i scream without the v anyways go watch this wonderful show

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Moonshine

(Masterlist)

dont tell the others, but this is my favorite chapter by far

(Content: fainting, nausea, overexertion, alcohol, crying) 

==================

Things were ramping up quickly. The missions now came almost back to back, the temporal limitations of space the only obstacle to their continuity. Delta was out in the field at least once a week. Not every job was as dramatic as the deadly laser light show had been, but they were hitting critical targets for the Empire. After the display at the mech site, money suddenly flowed in. Life aboard the Thorn grew a bit more bearable for the soldiers, now getting reacquainted with the affluence that followed the Empire. Simon had been given better tech to train with and was putting it to good use. Delta snapped the heads off of the dummies without a second thought, perhaps dangerously overtrained in his responsiveness. All the excitement was getting to him. He clenched his fist to destroy the next test-dummy and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Simon tilted him onto his side, in recovery position. Delta winced as the shock wore off, a dull headache replacing it. Once his head had stopped spinning uncontrollably, he carefully sat up, trying not to vomit from the exertion. Simon sat cross-legged beside him, offering him a juicebox and some crackers. Anything heavier would’ve just added to the nausea.

“How are you feeling, champ?” Simon asked, nudging the juice closer to him, “Feels like we’ve hardly had time to talk recently.”

“I’m okay, sir,” Delta murmured. His head was between his knees, waiting for the rest of the vertigo to drop off, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but with all the changes, y’know. I wanted to check in on you,” Simon leaned in, trying to study his expression, “Emotionally, I mean. See if you were adjusting okay.”

“I’m stable,” Delta said. This was always the answer that got doctors to leave him alone. They’d pry, sometimes, trying to get a more detailed picture of his mental state. It was all just to evaluate his fitness. He would never give them reason to doubt it. He was stable - and you didn’t have to worry about him breaking down or going postal or anything like that.

Simon looked disappointed. He pulled his bag closer, retrieving a medium-sized paperback from it. The cover was a deep red. He offered it to Delta, who immediately began to flip through it.

“It’s a treatise on empire and succession. I know it’s not what you’re usually into, but it seemed relevant, with all that’s going on right now. I thought you might appreciate it,” Simon shrugged, “I have more once you’re finished with that one. I know you read fast.”

“Thank you, sir,” Delta said softly, placing the book beside him. His eyes flitted up, sensing movement from the balcony. A few people had entered, he didn’t know how long ago. They were watching him. Simon noticed too, a tired grin appearing on his face.

“Just some seniors. Probably want to see what all the fuss is about. Finish your meal, kid. We’re not giving free shows.” Simon patted him on the back. Delta flinched at the touch, then felt ashamed at having done so. He sipped at the juicebox pensively.

============

Delta waited outside of Paris’s door. It’d been a minute with no response, but he heard motion inside. He lightly rapped his knuckles against the steel door, stepping back just in case. 

This time, Paris opened it immediately. “The fuck do you want?” 

There were other people in the room with him, talking loudly amongst themselves, laughing.

“You said-“

Paris didn’t even wait for him to finish, “I’m busy. Take the day off.”

The door slammed shut in his face. 

============

This was fine, really. It gave Delta a chance to rest, catch up on the books he’d been reading. But he found himself strangely restless, wanting to pace along the floors of the ship. It was so much busier than it had been a few weeks ago. When he stepped into the central hub, a wave of déjà vu washed over him. There were the Emperor’s old generals and commanders, each of them orbited by their respective factions. He hadn’t seen most of them since his childhood. He was surprised Paris had even allowed them onboard. 

Delta was content to observe from the shadows. Most people went out of their way to avoid him, but with his hair tied up and baggy clothing on, he was not so immediately recognizable. He hovered close to the group that belonged to the General Nezu. Though he wasn’t present himself, Delta recognized many of the staff’s faces. Nezu had worked particularly close with the Emperor, especially towards the end. His people had been spread out across several tables, but as their lunchtime drew nearer, they began to disperse. They localized closer and closer to the leftmost exit of the workspace. Delta noticed the laptop left unguarded.

He didn’t know why he did it. He’d never considered himself particularly sneaky, but then again, he’d never really been given the opportunity. With nobody looking, he used a soft aura of telekinetic energy to slide the laptop off the desk and into his hands. He hid it on the inside of his hoodie, then walked silently and swiftly back to his room. He propped up his chair in front of the door so that it couldn’t be opened from the outside. He put out a little pulse, searching for hidden cameras, making sure none had been installed since the last time he checked. Nothing. He knelt down beside the bed and opened the laptop hinges up, just a little bit, enough to tape up the front camera. Then he opened it up completely. 

It hadn’t autolocked in the time it took to reach his room, thank god. The first thing he did was to disable the passcode lock. He’d never been able to use a personal computer before, but Simon had shown him how it worked when he was curious. He’d even given him books on it. Delta sat up abruptly, moving over to his desk. There was a small flash drive in the bottom drawer. He had nabbed it a few weeks ago, but he hadn’t been able to see what was on it until now. He took the compsci textbook out of its pile, sending the others in it crashing to the ground. He startled at the noise, but rushed back to the laptop to finish the mission. He slammed the drive into the USB port, but it didn’t enter. He flipped it over, trying the other side. Still nothing. He flipped it a final time and it slid in smoothly.

The flash drive itself was mostly empty. There were a few folders he would check out later, but for now, he was focused on copying everything the laptop had onto it. It gave him an estimate of 45 minutes. While he waited, he looked through the windows already opened on the screen. One of them was the Empire portal. Another, the site of one of their ship venders. The last was an email inbox with a financial spreadsheet pulled up. Delta ripped out one of the blank pages from the textbook, jotting down the username and passwords of the websites that were open. He saved the email and the password. Then, he clicked around on the browser, searching for other websites with info he could scrape up. But he didn’t know how to navigate the browser intuitively and began to get scared of triggering some alarm. He looked anxiously at the countdown, waiting for the rest of the files to load. 

Delta ejected the drive, taking a deep breath. He hid it back in the drawer, then turned the laptop off. He flipped it over, feeling the device with his hands, letting his powers give him a sense of the small mechanisms inside of it. He was now glad for the precision practice; it let him swiftly unscrew the bottom of it and begin to disassemble the computer’s guts, searching it over for any signs of a location tracker. When he found none, he gave a sigh of relief, disconnecting the laptop’s battery. He stored them separately, hiding them in a bag beneath his mattress. Then he sat on the mattress, innocently, trying to look calm. It was enough for one day. His hands were shaking too bad to even type, he wasn’t going to push it anymore. He took the book Simon had given him, rolling onto his side to read it.

============

It was well past dinner time when he finally looked up, remembering where he was. Though he wanted to stay in his room, he figured he should probably go eat something before tomorrow. They sprang missions on him all the time now and they were a lot more miserable if he was undereating the day of. He removed the chair from the door, slipping out into the hall.

He was just outside of the kitchen when he heard a soft sobbing. He did a double take, looking down the hall. In one of the offshoot corridors, all the way down by the end, a figure was collapsed against the wall and crying into their hands. With a start, Delta realized it was Paris. He was piss drunk. 

Delta kept walking. The institute he’d grown up in had nurtured certain traits in its students, and empathy was not among them. Nor was excessive emotionality valued in the empire. He filled up his bag with fruit and granola bars, ready to hide out in his room the rest of the night. But as he exited and saw Paris quiet, now toppled over, he felt a small twinge of concern. He hesitated, weighing over the options in his head. Nobody would know if he left, least of all Paris. He wouldn’t even remember any of this in the morning. But it wouldn’t do good to have the prince passed out defenseless, on a ship swarming with his enemies. Delta rolled his eyes, readjusting the bag on his shoulder before heading down the hall. 

“Your Highness?” Delta bent down beside the still form, prodding him gently, “Paris?”

Paris groaned. His face was puffy with a drunken blush. Tear tracks were still visible. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Leave me alone,” he whined.

“Alright,” Delta stood up.

“Waitno. Please,” Paris said, his speech slurring. He sounded so sad. “Mm sorry. Don’t go.”

He reached a hand out to grasp Delta’s sleeve, but it wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. He looked like he was going to cry again. Delta gently removed his hand.

“C’mon. Stand up,” he offered both hands to Paris, who took them cautiously. Paris stood up shakily. He was both taller and heavier than Delta - and much stronger, even when he wasn’t trying to be. Delta nearly fell over as Paris leaned on him.

“Wherewe going?” He mumbled.

“Bed,” Delta told him. Paris let out a small giggle, before remembering how miserable he was.

“They fucking left meee,” Paris’s voice was both high and raspy. Delta walked him down the hall. He took him into the elevator, confident they would not make it up the stairs. Delta shushed him, which did not work.

“They’re all juss snakes and vipers. They don’t have feeeeelings. None of em care.” His voice was weepy and without venom. “Nobody care. How am I supposed to save this? Is ruined. I can’t.”

The elevator door dinged open. Delta half-pushed, half-carried him out. Paris took the wall for support, which was a great help. They managed to stumble down the remaining length of the hallway until they’d arrived at Paris’s room. Delta had to scan the keycard for him; he was looking at it like he didn’t know what it was. Delta fumbled for the lightswitch, throwing Paris off in the general direction of the bed. Delta shut the door, looking around the room. It was totally trashed, even worse than usual. Bottles laid everywhere, as well as various loose articles of clothing, makeup and face paint. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he’d be the one to clean it up in the morning. Paris was crumpled up on the bed, still fully dressed. 

“Do you want to take your shoes off?” Delta asked him, keeping a considerable distance. Paris kicked them off with real signs of struggle, even worse when he had to remove his jacket. With a sigh, Delta unbuttoned the front for him, peeling it off his shoulders. He was slick with sweat and grime. Not seeming to care, Paris collapsed back down on the bed, at least this time managing to get his head on the pillow. Delta moved to bring him a glass of water from the bathroom sink.

“Thank you,” Paris said sweetly as he placed the glass down on the nightstand.

“Don’t mention it,” Delta rolled his eyes. He jumped when Paris reached for his wrist.

“Stay?” Paris begged, “Please stay.” 

Delta wrenched his wrist away. “Absolutely not. You’ll beat the shit out of me if I’m still here in the morning.”

“Nuh I won’t,” Paris promised, “Please stay.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Delta backed out the door, flipping the light off.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink

[oakantony]

Yes, Chef

A completely uncalled for Hisoillu Chick-Fil-A AU. I honestly have no idea. Maybe I'll put it on AO3 one day idek. (It's in progress. Enjoy the rough draft.)

tws for this part include: neglect, financial abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, ableism

future tws for this story will eventually include: canon-typical violence, explicit sex, possibly the raunchiest handjob i've ever written in my life

Enjoy!

-

It didn’t matter how accurately Illumi wrote the quarterly reports, how perfectly he arranged the weekly schedules, or how precisely he ordered supplies--his father would always fuck it up and leave Illumi there, alone, to clean up the mess.

In this case, literally.

His 15-year-old brother, Killua--middle child of the family and now shortest-lasting employee of their fast-food empire--had completely trashed the kitchen before giving his father, and Illumi, the middle-finger. “I quit,” he said as he stormed away. “Don’t expect to see me at home, either. I’m quitting this bullshit family, too.”

For some reason, Illumi believed him this time. Maybe it was the enormous backpack he carried with all his essentials--packed like he truly meant to move away. Maybe it was the new friend he’d found last month, whom he claimed had a bed big enough for the two of them to share. Maybe it was because Illumi, deep down, understood the sentiment.

Hm, no. Not that last part. Never that last part.

Illumi was loyal to his family until the end. How else was he meant to live? The vast fortune belonging to the Zoldyck family awaited him--so long as he continued to manage the business.

“He’ll come around,” said Silva in a gravelly, too-certain tone. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking perfect and statuesque despite everything. “He’s just in those hellish teen years.” He placed an enormous hand upon Illumi’s shoulder as a farewell and started to walk away, his long white hair swaying in a braid.

“Wait,” said Illumi. He swept a hand over the overturned prep station, the spilled jugs of peanut oil, and the broken dish sprayer dripping water down the side of the stainless steel cabinets. “We open in twenty minutes, do not have our pre-prep, and now we are down a cook.”

Silva raised one silver eyebrow. “I’ve trained all of my children to handle this. So handle it.”

He departed, checking his phone almost idly, utterly unconcerned. The pink sky of dawn winked through the door’s gap briefly before it sealed shut. Click.

Illumi hadn’t worked a fryer in almost six years. He took a deep breath and tied his long, straight, black hair into a high ponytail at the top of his head. He would have to net it before cooking, but this was fine for now. He’d debated cutting it many times previously--

But his father had long hair, and there seemed to be some sort of unwritten pride in maintaining hair like this even in a setting that would make short hair…simpler. And Illumi would do whatever it took to make his father proud.

Perhaps working the kitchen today will feel nostalgic, like back when I was a teen, he thought as he began to clean the kitchen. Quickly, efficiently, and well enough that most wouldn’t even be able to tell it’d been nearly destroyed. His first employee came in whistling, oblivious to the issues.

“Good morning, Canary,” said Illumi.

“Hi, boss,” she replied, bowing her head in greeting. She looked at the mop he held and across the kitchen, which was back to square zero--almost.

“Will you prep?”

“Oh no. Did the evening guys forget?”

“No,” said Illumi. “My little brother was meant to start his first ever shift this morning. Instead, he destroyed the kitchen.”

“Killua?” she asked, head tilted.

“That is correct.”

She hissed through her teeth in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Does that mean we’re down a man?”

“Do not worry. I will work the fryer today so that Amane will help take orders.” His watch trilled in warning. Sixty seconds before the doors open for the morning. He began to list off the things they needed: “Onions, tomatoes--lettuce is already shredded, but we need it pulled out from the walk-in--”

“Yes, yes. I got it, Mr. Zoldyck. You go check the front of house.” She held her hand out to take the mop. “I’ve done pre-prep at least a hundred times. I got the list memorized.”

The tightness Illumi didn’t even realize he had between his ribs began to loosen, allowing him to breathe in deep. Relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate you.” He would have to remember this moment when it came time for promotions next month--Canary was more than deserving of the assistant manager role. By the time he thought to say as much to her, however, a line of SUVs materialized very suddenly around the brown brick building, and several parents were standing at the doors.

Later, he noted to himself. He would tell her later.

He unlocked the door, held it open, and greeted, “Welcome to Chick-Fil-A.”

“Thanks,” said a particularly harried-looking mother as she stepped inside, holding the hand of a toddler covered in what Illumi hoped was dried chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

-

“It’s too bad you’re usually stuck at the front with customers, because you’re really good at this, actually,” said Gotoh. “I forget sometimes that you worked in the kitchen for years before taking over as manager.”

The timer chimed, alerting him that the chicken breasts were done cooking. “Father starts all of his children off as fry cooks,” said Illumi, deftly lifting the basket out of the pressure fryer. “This is a much simpler job than balancing books.”

Gotoh chuckled as he placed another tray of battered breasts aside Illumi, ready for the basket and fryer. “And you prefer cooking?”

Illumi watched the cooked chicken tumble into the shiny silver container and pondered the question. “No,” he said. “I prefer strategizing. My ideas are better than my food.”

“We don’t ever really use original ideas,” Gotoh pointed out. They had a set menu of items with some seasonal pulls and, on occasion, test products that came down from corporate. No one manager would have power enough to exact real change.

He knew as much. It didn’t stop him from scribbling restaurant concepts in the office after business closed, considering the popularity of certain items, the cost of ingredients--it was almost like a puzzle, but a creative and original one. “It is just idle thinking. Nothing I would ever do in reality.” 

Silva had made that abundantly clear during their last conversation on the topic. Illumi glanced up to the dented stainless cabinet door to the left of Gotoh, fist-shaped. It almost seemed to wink at him in cruel memory. Illumi still needed to get someone to come out to do that repair. City inspectors pointed it out on their last sweep; technically a dent didn’t break any laws, but visible damage in the building did pull their ranking from A+ to simply A.

Illumi changed into a new pair of gloves and began to prepare the next batch of chicken breasts. “After I drop these, will you wait for the timer? I need to check our applications.”

“Of course,” said Gotoh. “You managed to fill in on the fryer and post a job listing already?” He turned to look at the big digital clock over the kitchen door. “It’s not even one PM yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“That is what I am paid to do. Be efficient.” He lowered the basket into the fryer and made quick work of fastening the latch.

Gotoh chuckled. “You know, there’re rumors you and Milluki don’t even get paid for working at your father’s restaurants.”

“That would be ridiculous,” said Illumi. “And illegal.”

“Oh, I know,” said Gotoh. “Your father wouldn’t do something so disrespectful anyway.”

“Indeed.” Illumi got paid biweekly, just like everyone else. His checks were directly deposited into the family’s shared account. While he didn’t have his own card to use, his mother made sure to give him a handful of twenties each week as "spending money." It seemed fair enough; the rest of his income was likely used to pay the family's many bills. The allowance he was given was generous, really, considering he got to stay in his childhood bedroom rent-free. Not that he had much choice. He'd talked briefly about moving out a few years back and his mother burst into tears almost immediately--

He was going to be thirty next year. He would broach the topic then. Probably.

He pulled off his gloves and headed towards the manager’s office. “I will be back in twenty.”

“Take your time,” Gotoh called back without turning around.

-

His feet ached, his stomach growled in hunger, and sweat covered him head to toe, but Illumi nonetheless arrived at the isolated booth at exactly the correct time to interview the only real candidate he’d been able to find for the fry position in the last twelve hours. Already the qualified stranger sat, eating a complimentary order of fries.

Illumi took a minute to catch his breath, appreciating the soft plastic cushion beneath his seat. He actually had yet to sit today. He’d just hauled an enormous bag of trash to the dumpster, alone, and he’d nearly been crushed under the weight of used paper trays and styrofoam cups as exhaustion made his arms twinge and shake. “Hello,” he said, only slightly winded. “I am Illumi Zoldyck. Manager.”

“Hello. Long day, I see,” came the low, teasing voice of--?

Illumi looked down at the paperwork he snagged. Hisoka Morow. “My day has been fine,” he said, nearly believing it. “Busy. But fine.”

“Funny,” said Hisoka. “Mine has been exactly the opposite. Slow, but terrible. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Please hire me, if only to give me something to do.”

Illumi looked up, surprised, and took in Hisoka for the first time.

He was severe-looking, but unusually handsome still, with an angular face, doll-like smooth skin, and vividly pink hair. “We do not employ cooks with unnatural hair colors.” He took his pen, slashed through Hisoka’s name, and began to stand up. “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s no problem,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand to stop Illumi from departing too quickly. “I read the rules linked in the listing. I wouldn’t’ve come here to waste your time, I assure you. I’m happy to wear a hat.” He shrugged. “I’ll cut it, too, if you insist.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, giving him another once-over. He was clean-shaven--and clean in general, which counted in his favor. In fact, as Illumi lowered back into his seat, he realized Hisoka smelled very good. Fresh, warm, and a little sweet. It was a subtle scent--he’d not bathed in cologne like some interviewees of the past. “Very well. Your resume says you have extensive experience on the line at Revere.”

“An understatement made purely for legal reasons,” Hisoka said. “I was the sous.”

Illumi slowly lowered his pen to the paper, glaring at Hisoka in complete disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Hisoka. “I’m not allowed to include it in my credentials because of some, hm… issues with the chef there.”

Illumi tilted his head in thought. “Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Oh, you know him.”

“K City is not that big. I know all the restaurateurs. They are our competitors.”

Hisoka laughed, and loudly. 

Illumi bristled and said, “I do not know what is so funny.”

“The idea of corporate--industrial--large scale fast food fried chicken considering itself in competition against one of the most elite Italian fine dining restaurants in the country is--” Hisoka’s smile turned catty. Sharp. “Quite unfair. It has a Michelin Star.”

Illumi was silent, mostly in shock, for a moment. And then he said, coolly, “Our business serves an average of 2,491 customers per day and earns upwards of eight million dollars per year. At this location alone.” Illumi tapped Hisoka’s resume with the end of his pen. “By my estimations, Revere earned a profit of under 1.2 million last year, and is slated for even less by the end of this one, and Lucilfer works in his kitchen every single night, 365 days per year, and has done so for thirty months so far. If you add the other stores in our portfolio, the Zoldyck business nets profit at almost ten million total without my father ever having to step foot inside these four walls. And we’re closed on Sundays.”

Hisoka blinked in a way that made it apparent he was tallying the numbers Illumi just shared. “You’ve done your research.”

Illumi continued, undisturbed, “You are right. It is rather unfair for me to compare Chick-Fil-A to Revere. We are not in competition.”

Hisoka slowly sank in his seat, a smirk growing on his face. He placed his chin into his hand and glanced Illumi up and down, as if reading the blue-striped polo uniform. “Interesting. Tell me--are you forced to wear the khakis, or is that something you’ve opted to do for yourself?”

Illumi stood up and wasn’t interrupted this time. He ripped the resume in two as he backed away from the table, words like ice. “This interview is over. You will not be offered the position. Thank you for your time.”

Hisoka called after him, voice a suggestive purr, “My pleasure, Illumi.”

-

Illumi stood in the doorway of his room, staring. Numb. The smell of burnt oil, of salt, of car exhaust lingered in his hair, under his nails; permeating him so entirely that he felt inhuman. He was, instead, a piece of sentient furniture from Chick-Fil-A. And he was so tired that he contemplated skipping the shower just to pass out (and clean his sheets the next day). 

But there was a problem with that plan. With any plan.

His door was gone.

“You’re going to stand there for how long, exactly?” said Milluki, his younger brother. Second oldest of the kids. Manager of the Byren neighborhood Chick-Fil-A--an under-performing, but still meticulously maintained, store. “You’re gonna have to go talk to them eventually.”

“You say, ‘them.’” Illumi turned to look at Milluki, all too aware that his dark circles and pale-sweaty skin made him look nearly sick. He had been awake for close to twenty two hours and pulled a double shift. “Mother and father both removed the door?”

“Maybe. I heard them talking.” Milluki took a slow sip of the iced tea he’d brought home from the shop. “Said they were mad you didn’t already have a replacement fry cook, or something.” He shrugged. “Really, they’re just mad about Killua, but he’s not here to be mad at.”

Illumi looked at his empty doorway. Half a hinge hung off the corner, bent from when his father must have wrenched the door away earlier. This wasn’t a rare punishment in their household. If a child behaved poorly, they got their door taken away. No privacy, at least until they served time for their crime. “I am to be punished for not posting a listing, finding a replacement, and placing him on the schedule by closing time.”

“Sounds like it,” said Milluki. “You really couldn’t find someone?”

Hisoka’s hot pink hair flashed in his mind, and then his feline smile, and his--wait, what color were his eyes? Illumi couldn’t recall. Eventually, he said,  “No.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a door until you hire the role. Or until Killua comes back.”

Illumi took a deep, steadying breath, and headed to his parents’ bedroom to listen to their complaints. And while his father berated him, shouting insults about his lack of focus--his patience being mistaken for fear--his affection for his staff being mistaken for condescension--his beautiful appearance being mistaken for vanity--

Illumi stared at his door, propped up on the far wall of his parents’ bedroom. It covered one of their windows, but they had several more in this wing of the fancy “McMansion” they had built after Illumi was born. 

“I won’t stand for your distraction,” Silva said with an air of finality. “Today’s failure is about your attraction to men. Isn’t it?”

Illumi blinked wide-eyed at his father. “I am sorry?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” his mother asked from the bed where she was tucked beneath the covers. “We’ve been discussing it. You’ve never liked a girl. Not ever. It’s because you’re gay.”

“And now your preferences are getting in the way of your judgment.”

This was so far out of left field that it took Illumi a moment to gather himself enough to say, “I am not gay.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I am not,” he repeated. “I simply have not had time to pursue a relationship.”

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you’ve never gotten laid. I’m a monster, giving you a good job, at a good establishment, making good food. Yes, I’m a fucking nightmare parent.” He pointed one large, well-manicured finger into Illumi’s face, and hissed, “You have no idea how lucky you are that you were born into this family. That your whole life has been served to you on a silver fucking platter.”

“I know,” Illumi said. “I am very grateful.”

“So don’t bullshit me on your utter lack of a social life.”

Illumi looked over at his mother and saw her flexing her jaw impatiently. Eventually, the connection between today’s failures and his sexual preferences bloomed, fully-formed, in his mind. “Oh. This is because Killua moved in with his best friend.” Pause. “His gay, male best friend.”

“No. This is about you,” Silva said.

“You are wondering about all of your children, now. Whether or not we’re also gay. Did you inquire with Milluki?”

“Milluki has a girlfriend,” his mother said, shrilly. “Online. He’s our only son that we know, for certain, isn’t queer.”

She wasn’t using the word the proper way, Illumi thought. It wasn’t a reclaimed term representing a community of different people. She meant it as an insult. “I do not have time to date,” Illumi repeated. And immediately amended, “I have not made time.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” Silva said, stalking closer. “If you ever bring a man anywhere close to this house, you’ll lose more than your door. Do you understand?”

Illumi lowered his head. “Yessir.”

“And hire a fucking fry cook by the end of the week. Don’t make me ask again.”

-

Inside the kitchen, a timer chimed from above and below. The roar of voices--chatting, taking orders, requesting items--pressed in from all sides. Distantly, two car horns honked.

Illumi pulled the fry basket and dumped the cooked chicken into the container and hissed as a splatter of hot grease grabbed him around the wrist. The handle to the fryer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the brown tiled floor, hand spasming in pain.

Another timer. More voices. Another honk.

“Mr. Zoldyck? Hey--Mr. Zoldyck?” He ignored the burning, pulsing pain and kneeled down to scoop the handle from beneath the cabinet where it’d slid away. “Illumi!”

He stood up, hair falling free of its net, and came face-to-face with Amane. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a complaint. She wants to speak with the manager.”

Illumi looked at the fryer, the alarm continuing to chime. “It will be a minute--”

“She’s throwing quite the fit, sir--”

There was a loud clatter--the sound of a tray hitting the tiled floors in the dining room--and an ear-piercing scream that Illumi knew, as the eldest of five children, belonged to an infant. 

Amane reached out to take the fryer basket handle. “I’ll take care of the food. Go ahead.”

Illumi shook his head to clear it--he felt dazed, still. Foggy from a lack of decent sleep. The real issue with not having a door was that his enormous family’s sleep schedules all varied, so he was shocked awake only an hour or two after he finally was able to fall asleep last night.

“Mr. Zoldyck, your hair--” Amane said.

Illumi reached up and found the hair net caught around his left ear. He tugged it free and threw it, and his gloves, in the trash. He strode through the kitchen, to the dining room, and was able to find the offending woman very easily. 

“It’s an allergy!” she shrieked. “An allergy! I told you she had an allergy and now my child has puked, and if you fucking retards think I’m cleaning that up, you have another thing coming!”

The infant, Illumi noticed, was wailing alone several feet away. Red-faced and trembling in her little red mary janes. "Mamamama," she sobbed.

Illumi approached the woman with one hand outstretched, directing her away from the cashiers. “I am very, very sorry for your experience.”

The mother's rant stopped as she found herself surrounded by Illumi’s tall, unusual presence. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Illumi also managed to scoop the child up, off the floor, and into his embrace. She was small enough that he could hold her with one arm. Her child’s shrieking stopped--almost immediately. The tension inside the restaurant broke, finally. Several patrons breathed out in relief.

Illumi patted the baby sweetly upon her leg and she stared at him with a wet face, frozen in childlike awe. She sniffed and Illumi produced a napkin--branded, of course, with the iconic chicken silhouette--and wiped her nose with the practiced ease of a five-time big-brother. He said to her mom, “I will comp your meal while you have a seat.” He gestured to the only available booth, walked her there, and handed the child into her arms. 

“Well, I’m not cleaning that mess.” The woman stiffly pointed to a watery pile of debris that had already been blocked off by a caution sign. 

“We would not expect you to,” Illumi said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

While the restaurant went back to normal, Illumi felt truly exhausted. “In addition to your refund, you have received a ban. We will take your image from security footage and if you enter this establishment again, you will be escorted out. And if necessary, I will press charges for trespassing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not allowed to call my employees fucking retards without consequence.” He looked at her daughter. “Your baby is welcome whenever she would like--as soon as she is old enough to come without you.”

He escorted her to her bright red SUV and when she sarcastically said, “Thanks a lot,” he responded very sincerely in return.

“My pleasure.”

-

His back twinged in pain as he sat in the manager’s seat in the office--closet, really, with a desk--and scrolled through security footage to find a clear image of the newly banned patron. He found her, easily--and something else he hadn’t been looking for.

A flash of hot pink hair, a fanged grin, and a handshake.

With Gotoh?

Illumi watched as Hisoka walked with Gotoh out the far side door of the restaurant. He took a deep breath, printed off the saved image of the woman, and stormed out to the parking lot where Gotoh parked every day.

He sat in the front seat, sipping a shake, tapping away at his iPhone. He didn’t even notice Illumi until he opened the passenger side door and said, “Why were you meeting with Hisoka Morow during your lunch, Gotoh.”

Gotoh jumped in surprise and relaxed immediately when he realized it was Illumi bursting into his car. He placed the shake into his cup holder and gestured for Illumi to sit. “It was a request from your father. You know him?”

“He was the candidate I interviewed yesterday. And rejected.”

Gotoh’s face turned grave. “I had no idea.”

“And you met with him because my father said to do so.”

“He didn’t say you’d already interviewed him. He just said it was the only qualified candidate our location received and that I should court him--do whatever it took to get him on board--so I did.”

“Do whatever,” Illumi echoed. “And what does this mean.”

“He can keep his pink hair, as long as it’s under a hat, and he’s starting at twenty per hour. He also requested to work your same shifts, which I told him would be no problem, since you’re here every day. He begins tomorrow morning.” Gotoh lifted his phone. “Should I call and fire him?”

Yes, Illumi almost said. He frowned in thought. “You did not find him to be an unattractive candidate?” Gotoh seemed to relax, marginally, and Illumi realized he had been speaking clipped--angrily--before. He had an intensity about himself, he knew. He’d been told many times that his ‘vibes’ were, occasionally, ‘haunting.’ (Amane’s exact words.) Illumi softened a bit as he said, “I am sorry. I thought, briefly, that you were working for the enemy.”

Gotoh gave Illumi a thin-lipped smile. “I’m loyal to the last. If I’d known this was the same guy, I would have pretended to not have seen your father’s text about it.”

“You found Hisoka to be an acceptable candidate?” he leaned forward in the seat. “I found him to be abrasive, hostile, and ignorant about the industry.”

Gotoh clicked his tongue. “My impression is quite different. He seems too qualified, if anything. He’s definitely weird, but that’s why he’s gonna be in the back.”

“He did not like me,” Illumi said. “I do not think he will respect me as manager.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Again--my impression is…different.”

“Explain.”

“That was one of his stipulations, I said. He will only work shifts with you.”

“Why?”

“He has aspirations to run a restaurant of his own one day, he said. He wanted to learn from the Zoldycks themselves. I figured you’d enjoy having another employee with bigger aspirations within the company--when you’ll likely graduate to regional manager next month, you’ll need good minds here.” Gotoh rocked his phone back and forth midair. “But we can tell him ‘nevermind'. I’ll call him now.”

“No. It is fine.”

Gotoh hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Well, your shift is over, Lumi. You want me to drive you home?”

Illumi shook his head. “I need the walk.”

Gotoh scoffed. “Do you? You’ve been up since, what, five? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

No. He was very tired. Illumi gave Gotoh a small, slightly strained, smile. “Thank you, Gotoh. I will enjoy the walk. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Along with Hisoka,” said Gotoh.

Illumi left the car and ignored the way his back twinged, yet again.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Guns for Hire

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

------

Dawn covers Nevarro as the covert surrounds the Gauntlet as you give your final goodbyes. The Armorer speaks to Bo-Katan and Din with Grogu in his pram by the bounty hunter’s side. You spot amongst the crowd the copper and white Mandalorian as he moves forward and you pull away the group as you stand in front of Kaz.

“I guess this is goodbye…I wish you could come.” You say your foot kicking at the rocks as he nods wishing that could be true.

“You’ll come back soon. With many Mandalorians then we can return home.” He says trying to think on the bright side you nod feeling your throat tighten up and your eyes burn. You fling your arms around his shoulders as he accepts your embrace your head buried in his neck as he holds your head close to him the other around your lower back. “Oh mesh’la I’ll see you soon.” He whispers in your ear as you try to remember this feeling. You pull back his hand cupping your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. A bunch of sad beeps comes from below looking down as R4 bumps against Kaz sad to leave as well. You both chuckle sadness in your voice as he rubs the droid’s head.

“I’ll miss you too R4.” He says and the droid nuzzles itself against his leg. Your gazes meet as he leans forward his helmet meeting your forehead as your eyes close accepting the Mandalorian kiss. You knew the others could see this but you didn’t care it was your life. “I’ll miss you mesh’la.” He whispers and you feel the affection and adoration in his words. You nod wordlessly if you speak you were sure to break. 

“You watch my ship you hear me..?” You say and he chuckles, his laughter a melody as you reluctantly have to pull back. “I promise not to take it on a joyride.” He jests and you give a sad smile trying to take him all in before you have no choice but to turn R4 following beside you as you return to the adults. Din and Bo-Katan were silent having seen the whole display and while Din wanted to shelter you from the world he knew he couldn’t take away this one moment of happiness. The protective father in him was afraid to see his little girl grow up but he had no choice but to watch her mature, fall in love, and soon she would leave to live her life.

The Armorer looks over at the four of you nodding, “Good luck on your journey.” She says and you all nod and before you know it your boarding the gauntlet and leaving Nevarro off to find these other Mandalorians. You were heading to Plazir-15 where the supposed remaining Mandalorians that were once Bo-Katan’s were off to. Entering the atmosphere see the large plains of grass as you that was covered in large domes that reminded you of the destroyed planet of Mandalore.

“There they are,” Bo-Katan comments and you see out the window seeing the large fleet station outside the city in an open clearing, the light cruiser with multiple other ships. “That’s quite a fleet.” Din comments and Bo-Katan nods,

“It took me a long time to assemble it. Most of it was captured from the Empire.” 

“I knew they looked familiar. Could come in real handy taking back Mandalore.” Din says and the female Mandalorian is silent, “Axe Woves is their leader now. It’s going to take some convincing to get them to join us.”

“I wonder what they’re here for?” You ask why such a large fleet would be on this kind of planet, “This planet isn’t on the New Republic Registry, so I’d guess it’s an independent world that hired them for protection.” Bo-Katan gives her best guess.

“Can’t imagine Woves will be happy to see you.” Din brings up the possible bad blood.

“Yeah….I’ll land outside the fleet’s perimeter. It’s probably best if we go in on foot.” She says when a fanfare fills the ship, “Welcome to Plazir-15. The Outer Rim’s only remaining direct democracy,” A voice comms through on the comms, “You’ve been assigned a docking slip. You will be guided on the assigned path. Engaging automated guidance.” The ship suddenly jolts as Bo-Katan lifts her hands seeing the controls being to move by themselves.

“What happened?” You ask as she huffs, “They’ve taken control of the ship. I guess we’re going for a ride.” Soon you land on your assigned docking and walk down the ramp seeing two imperial droids and the air is suddenly tense.

“Welcome to Plazir-15. Please proceed to your hyperloop pod,” The protocol droid directs you to the hyperpod. You four walk past the droids R5 staying on the ship with R4 joining you.

“Why do they have Imperial droids on an independent world?” Din whispers to Bo-Katan who shrugs, “It’s the Outer Rim. Your guess is as good as mine.” Entering the pod Grogu sitting next to Bo-Katan and you next to Din R4 in the middle as the doors hiss close.

“Bring us to the bay closest to the Mandalorian fleet.” Bo-Katan asks the pod as a female voice on the P.A. comes through, “As per Article Nine of the Coruscant Accords, permission must be granted from High Senate for access to self-defense forces in the peacekeeping zone. Do you grant permission to scan your chain code?” Bo-Katan and Din hold out their vambraces producing a chain code and R4 reveals your chain code from his system. Three beeps fill the air as it scans your codes.

“Din Djarin, Bo-Katan Kryze, and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze. Your presence has been requested by the leadership of the planetary democracy…” It responds and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters. Perhaps at a later time.”

“Please do not attempt to leave the vehicle. This is not a request.” The automated system ignores her request and you're sent speeding toward the opulent and shining city.

“I’ve never been here before. Have you?” Bo-Katan asks and you both shake your head, “I haven’t even heard of it.”

“Do you think we’re gonna have to blast our way out of here?” You ask looking at the city passing by quickly as you draw closer, “We’ll find out.” The pod jolts to a stop and the five of you exit hearing the sound of light music, before a large banquet at the end of the table a couple dressed extravagantly with patrons all around. The room goes silent before the man stands waving you over,

“Join us! Come! It’s a party,” He lets a booming laugh as the guest join in as well, “Come! Everyone, special guests. Mandalorians and a Jedi.” You felt like entertainment as the guest ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ as you make your way to three already placed chairs beside the decorated man.

“I hope you like secretions. Take a little sip-sip. Come, please.” The three of you take a seat in between Bo-Katan and Din with Gorgu still in his hovering pram. The man with a large salt-and-pepper beard turns to the gorgeous woman next to him,

“Honey. Do you love me?” He asks in a sing-song voice as the woman laughs cupping his cheek, “Oh, my goodness. Yes, I do.” She repeats the same melodic tone as the both of them laugh.

The man turns to face you three holding his hand together as he introduces himself, “Let’s address the bantha in the room. I was once a facilities planning officer during the war. And thanks to the New Republic Amnesty Program, I was able to help rebuild Plazir-15.”

“You were Imperial?” Din asks and the woman rests her hand on Bombardier’s, “He was. Plazir suffered greatly under Imperial rule. My husband came here as part of his rehabilitation. He oversaw the rebuilding of this planet on which my family served as nobility since it was originally settled, and…we fell in love.” She says dreamily as her husband grins pressing a kiss to her knuckles,

“We fell in love. We did fall in love.” The two of them laugh and the Duchess’ eyes land on Grogu, “Could I perhaps hold the baby? Please?”

You both look at Gorgu as he coos Din speaking up, “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” The Duchess holds a small piece of fish making kissing noises and Grogu jumps out of his pram landing in her arms, “You are so fast. Yes.” Din sighs seeing the child being coddled

“You see, it was time for our planet to move into a new age. We held direct democratic elections for the first time in our history. We are both royals and elected leaders.

“And the Mandalorian privateer warships docked in your fields?” You ask and the Duchess looks over at you, “Oh, we hire them for protection. Our charter forbids us from having a military because of my husband’s Imperial past.” Bombardier nods,

“But because of this, all of our resources go to growth and the people.”

“I’d like to speak to these “privateers.” Bo-Katan asks and the Duchess nods, “That can be arranged. There is just one condition.”

“What?” Bo-Katan asks and the couple looks at each other before rising to stand avoiding the question, “You really must see the view. Right this way.” The Duchess gestures to the balcony as you all rise to stand and the festivities grow silent.

“We’ll just be a moment. Enjoy your meal, and don’t get up. Let’s show our guests the view.” Bombardier says charismatically to his citizens and they quickly return to the banquet as you’re led outside.

“We have a problem.” Bombardier says dropping the persona once away from the people, “Yes?” You say a bit confused.

“A droid problem.” The Duchess says and Din stiffens slightly before asking, “What kind of droid problem?”

“Malfunction.” Bombardier says and his wife cuts in, “A coordinated malfunction.” “We think.”

“What makes you think that?” Din says crossing his arms as the couple looks concerned.

“The planet’s Imperial droids were reprogrammed for peace.” The Duchess explains, “I personally oversaw the program. I can assure you they were completely rehabilitated for peaceful purposes. Exclusively.” Bombardier defends his work.

“We thought.” The Duchess says and Bombardier grabs his wife's hand, “They were, my love, I personally oversaw the program.”

“What kind of malfunction?” Din asks wanting to get to the bottom of it.

“I mean, nothing too serious at first. Unexpected power cycles. Deleted task stacks.” Captain Bombardier explains, “Then it got worse.”  The Duchess adds and her husband winces continuing,

“Traffic accidents. Heavy equipment failures leading to injury…Assault.”

“Assault?” You say surprised droids that were reprogrammed were causing this, “Respectfully, what does this have to do with us?” Bo-Katan asks.

“Our constables are ill-equipped to confront battle droids.” The nobles explain and it adds a whole new layer hearing the droids were imperial battle droids.

“Battle droids?” Din says coldly.

“Uh-uh-uh-uh. Former battle droids. They’ve been rehabilitated for civic duty.” Bombardier tries defending but his wife shakes her head, “We thought.”

“They were.” “Obviously not.” The two argue before Bo-Katan cuts them off, “The Mandalorian garrison outside your city walls can make quick work of your battle droids.” 

“That’s just it.” The Duchess says and you tilt your head, “What?”

“Our charter forbids any standing army from entering our city. Our constables aren’t even allowed to carry blasters.” The Duchess explains.

“But you allowed us to be armed.” Din points out and the nobles nod,

“Exactly. The people have voted that we are a pluralistic society,” Bombardier explains, “You are Mandalorians. Weaponry and armor are intrinsic to your culture, are they not?”

“They are.” Din says and Bombardier turns to you, “And you are a Jedi. Your kind was once soldiers during the Clone Wars but are meant to be keepers of the peace.” You nod hesitantly.

“That’s right.” You agree, you wouldn’t call yourself a soldier and definitely not a keeper of the peace as you’ve been described twice. But you didn’t know from history that Jedi were once meant to uphold peace across the galaxy before they became soldiers during the Clone Wars.

“You see where we’re going here?” Bombardier says gesturing with his hand trying to get you to understand, “You want us to eliminate your droid problem.” Bo-Katan comments.

“Exactly.” Bombardier snaps his fingers, “I knew you would help us.” The Duchess thanks you three before you even made a decision.

“Hold on there, Your Majesty. We didn’t agree to help you.” Bo-Katan holds her hand up and the Duchess steps forward, “Please, Princess Kryze. Your Grace.” She begs and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“This is not intended to be a work of charity. Unlike my brethren outside your city walls, I am not a mercenary. Apologies if that is the impression I gave.”

“What I intended to convey is that I would hope that this “excursion” would be viewed as an act of diplomacy between our two planets,” Bombardier offers, “In fact, Plazir-15 would formally recognize Mandalore as a sovereign system and petition the New Republic to recognize it as such.”

“The mercenary captain, Axe Woves, indicated that he split from you because you had designs on ruling Mandalore once again.” The Duchess brings up the relationship between Bo-Katan and Woves. “Those plans have been abandoned,” Bo-Katan says harshly.

“The offer stands nonetheless.” The Duchess says as Kryze you two, “What do you think?”

“You had me at battle droids.” Din says and you nod, “Let’s get going.”

Before you could head off to begin your ‘excursion’ Bombardier stops you, “Wait Princess,” Three look back seeing him looking at you, “Do you mind showing your weapon? The Jedi are known for their craftsmanship for their lightsabers.” He asks and you are silent as he begs the Duchess looks excited to see the weapon and some of the guests are watching. You sigh feeling like a performer as you pull your saber from your belt and with a flick of your wrist the brilliant orange saber illuminates the room. The guest applauds in awe of the weapon as you wave it around with a deadpan expression wanting it over with.

“The hilt is beautiful this metal I’ve never seen before?” Bombardier examines the marbling of the hilt from his view as you retract the blade attaching the saber to your belt, “It’s beskar.” You say before you rejoin Bo-Katan and Din and you frown.

“I felt like a circus animal,” You sigh as R4 follows after you three Grogu staying with the Duchess and the Captian.

“These droids were all reprogrammed to serve the community from the stockpile of captured Imperial robotics scheduled to be scrapped at Karthon,” Inside the command center you met Commisoner Helgait as he stands in front of a large control table, the walls lined with screens showing security footage, “The droid’s reprogramming was a complete success, until one day, an isolated event…”

You watch on the screen a garbage droid pick up trash before violently flinging it around before leaving the mess, “Then others,” You see a B1 battle droid begin to throw around shopping goods as its owner looks horrified, “This is just a small collection of malfunctions that our security cameras caught.” You see the landspeeder controlled by a driver droid crash into a window as the crowd exclaims then in a restaurant the cook droid begins wielding knives quite viciously swinging them around as the patrons scream running away.

“Turn them off.” Bo-Katan suggests and Helgait looks over at her, “What?”

“Why not turn them all off? Who’s in charge of that?” She asks and Helgait points at himself, “I am. There’s a failsafe cutoff switch built into the system. However…” He shows the large red button before he pauses and you look at him,

“What?” You ask and he looks over at you, “The citizens voted against any interruption in droid services. They can’t live without it.” He laughs and Din crosses his arms,

“And why’s that?”

“The citizens are no longer required to work and can spend their days engaging in recreation, the arts, and participating in our direct democracy. If we shut down the droids,” He laughs at the idea, “Our citizens wouldn’t know how to survive. Our society would collapse.”

“Then what do you want from us?” Bo-Katan asks, “To seek out and decommission any remaining rogue droids, until we can fix the problem.” Helgait explains the female Mandalorian sighs holding out her hand, “Give us the list.”

“Well, for that, you’ll have to go to the lower level and speak to the Ugnaughts.” Helgait explains and you perk up hearing the familiar creature, “Ugnaughts?” Bo-Katan asks confused and Helgiat nods,

“Ugnaughts.”

Descending into the lower levels on a turbolift Din leaning against the glass wall, “See what happens when you rely on droids?” He says with malice and Bo-Katan looks over at him,

“Are you taking this personally?” She asks and he shrugs, “Just pointing it out.”

Bo-Katan sighs as the lift reaches the level of the Ugnaughts, “Let’s just finish this so we can be on our way.” Entering the workshop the Ugnaughts busy working on various droids that they seem to not even notice your presence

“I am Bo-Katan Kryze. Which one of you is in charge?” She calls out and they don’t even spare her a glance, “We were sent on behalf of The Dutchess and Captain Bombardier to help you with your droid problem. Hello?” She steps back looking at the two of you, “This is going nowhere.”

Din steps forward looking at all of them working, “I am Mandalorian Din Djarin, friend of Ugnaught Kuiil. You will answer our questions and help us with our task. I have spoken.” His wording draws the attention of all the Ugnaughts as they stop working and you find yourself at a table with some refreshments, “Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your table with us. We were engaged to hunt down and eliminate the malfunctioning droids.” Din thanks them

“There are no such droids.” The head Ugnaught states with a shake of his head.

“You may not have heard the news down here, but your droids are wreaking havoc in the world above.” Bo-Katan comments and that seems to draw a reaction out of the Ugnaughts, “There is not much of which we are not aware. These halls are the central nervous system of the city. I assure you, the droids are not malfunctioning.”

“Citizens have been harmed by these malfunctioning machines.” She retorts and The Ugnaught places his drink harshly on the table, “This is not the case. I have spoken.”

“We’re not in any way suggesting that your work is to blame. The stories of Ugnaughts’ skill with smithing droids are legendary,” Din says doing damage control, “We know that Ugnaughts are considered the hardest-working species in the galaxy. We, like you, have been engaged with a task to perform. We will investigate the dangerous incidents. We would appreciate your help.” He pleads and the chief Ugnaught turns speaking to another one before they face you again now holding a disc

“Here are the locations of the droids you seek.” Din accepts the item gratefully with a nod as the three of you stand, “Thank you. We are in your debt. I have spoken.”

Leaving the lower levels the three of you plus R4 find yourself in a hyperloop pod and Bo-Katan looks over at Din, “What was that?”

“I’ve spent time with Ugnaughts. There’s a particular way to communicate with them. Accusing their work of malfunctioning is an insult.” Din explains and your heart aches slightly remembering Kuill and his sacrifice for your and Grogu’s lives, “Now, they’ve indicated that there’s a likelihood that the next event will be at the loading docks.” Din says looking over the disc holding the location of any malfunctioning droids.

“How sure are they?” Bo-Katan asks and Din shrugs, “Hard to tell. Ugnaughts always seem sure of themselves.” You and Bo-Katan chuckle slightly as you arrive at your location,

“Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got so we might as well have a look around.” She says as you exit the pod at the loading docks. The mechanical footsteps as you come down a ramp seeing repurposed B2 battle droids loading boxes of cargo. You can feel the anxiety coming from Din.

“I haven’t seen battle droids since the Clone Wars.” Bo-Katan says slightly in awe, “I have.” Din says coldly as you draw closer.

“Any of ’em look suspicious?” You ask trying to spot the possible rouge droid.

“They all look suspicious.” Din comments and suddenly a B1 battle droid foreman appears before you, “Halt. This is a restricted area. You are to vacate immediately.”

“We have a few questions,” Bo-Katan says and you see Din move over watching the fleet of B2 droids working.

“Show me your identification please.” The foreman holds his hand out.

“We’re here on behalf of The Dutchess to investigate the droid malfunctions.” You explain and the droid nods still not approving of your appearance, “Yes, I saw the reports. Rest assured, I’ve had the entire line of loaders undergo maintenance protocols as a safety measure. The uh, certification is on file.”

You all look over seeing Din wave his hand in front of one of the droids but it continuing working, “Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The foreman calls out as Din looks at another one.

“Why’s that?” He says and the foreman looks slightly nervous by Din harassing the droids but they seem to make no reaction, “As a precaution. Their base function was warfare.”

“I thought they were just checked out,” Din comments then kick another droid as it stumbles while holding the cargo but it regains balance and continues working. “They were. Uh, what are you doing?

“Then this shouldn’t faze them.” Din says kicking another droid as the foreman calls out to him, “Uh, sir? Excuse me! Excuse me! Sir!” Din kicks another droid as it falls over on its side knocking the crate out of its hand. Suddenly the droid swings its arm out hitting Din sending him to the ground then runs away as Din pushes himself to stand.

“Re-certified, huh?” Din huffs as the foreman looks at him, “You should have left them alone.”

The three of you book it after him R4 on your heels as it knocks a bunch of pipes over and you slide under them before they hit the ground ahead of Din and Bo-Katan as you exit hitting a crowded street. You see the droid grab a crate and hurl it toward the three of you. The crowd yells and you whip out your saber the howl of the orange blade as it slices through the crate it avoiding hitting the three of you as you continue your pursuit.

The B2 droid jumps onto the front of a moving landspeeder as it screeches to a stop, it grabs a power unit chucking it at you. Din pulls you out of its path before it could flatten you. You three continue after it before R4 appears beside you telling you an alternate path, “Keep going!” You yell before turning down an alleyway and running inside a bar. Dodging a waiter as you rush through the restaurant patrons let out surprised noises seeing a person run through the establishment. You spot the droid appearing before a window and you push up on a table diving through the window and landing on it. Glass litters the ground as you swing your saber out it dodging the droid suited for war swings a metal fist catching you in the face. Your saber is sent flying out of your grasp as you crash to the ground. It advances on you and before you could whip the Darksaber out two shots fill the air before the droid drops to the ground dead.

You sigh seeing Bo-Katan holding her two blasters and soon Din is in front of you as constable droids arrive, “This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene.” You hiss in pain as Din’s hand touches your lip feeling it split.

“You should see the other guy,” You joke to the dead battle droid as he pulls you to your feet shards of glass falling from your body, you had some minute scratches as your saber returns to your hand with the force. Din mumbles under his breath using his cloak to wipe at your bleeding lip, “You’re so reckless you know that?”

“Scold later, I found a spark pad.” Bo-Katan says and you two turn seeing her hold up the pad from the destroyed droid, “What’s it say?” You ask as she reads the inscription,

“The Resistor.” She says and you tilt your head, “Sounds like a droid bar.” Din says and Bo-Katan chuckles flashing the small metal piece.

“And there’s an address.” Leaving the crime scene to find this address while the constable droids deal with the wrecked B2. Walking through an alley following after R4 who leads you to the address.

“Let me do the talking in there.” Bo-Katan says to Din, “Why is that?”

“Because I wanna get the information fast and get to the fleet.” Bo-Katan explains and Din nods, “So do I. What’s your point?” You hear music playing outside the multiple bars and nightclubs that seem to cover this secluded street.

“You kicking droids is really not helpful.” You pipe in and he gives you a look, “I figured out which one was malfunctioning, didn’t I?”

“You did it your way, now let me do it mine, okay? This is the address.” Bo-Katan comments as you enter the building. Music plays as droids chatter amongst themselves with them various droid beverages. It’s dead quiet with your arrival as all the droids look over at you.

“I don’t think they get many of our kind here.” Din comments as you slowly make your way to the bar where there is a bartending droid, “Can I help you?” He asks and Bo-Katan takes charge of this investigation.

“That depends. Is this The Resistor?” She questions and the droid nods, “This is.”

Bo-Katan places the spark pad from the B2 on the bar and the bartender picks it up examining it, “That spark pad was found on a rogue battle droid.”

“We give out lots of spark pads. What are you getting at? The bartender says returning the spark pad and Bo-Katan leans forward pointing at the bartop, “There has been a string of malfunctions that all point to this oil can.”

“You can check my registry. We are in full compliance with Planetary Hierarchical-” “If you don’t start answering questions, I’ll yank your memory circuit and dissect it back at the lab.” Din grabs a tool that sparks electricity aiming it at the droid's face as it is silent you and Bo-Katan look at Din. You see from the corner of your eye a blue protocol droid trying to leave.

“Nobody leaves.” He orders and everyone in the bar is frozen, Bo-Katan grabs his shoulder pulling him, “A word?” Din lets himself be pulled before glaring at the bartender, “Stay where I can see you.” Joining the small huddle Bo-Katan whisper-shouts at him.

“What are you doing?” Din rolls his eyes and you see the movement in his helmet, “You’re wasting your time. You can’t reason with droids.”

“Din, their behavior is programmed. All they do is reason.” You stress but the bounty hunter wasn’t convinced, “They’re also programmed not to harm organics. How’s that going?” He retorts and Bo-Katan pinches the bridge of her nose,

“Look, you are not helping. Just because the malfunctioning droids happen to visit here doesn’t mean that this one is in on it.” She says, “I want to help.” The bartender offers.

“You want me to pull your hearing sensors too?” Din snaps back and you glare at the older man, “Din!”

“We are worried that if these horrible incidents continue, we will be…” The bartender explains before growing silent, “You’ll be what?” Din presses still suspicious.

“There are concerns among my customers that we will be replaced.” The owner explains. “By what?” You ask.

“Humans,” The droid says, “Most of us have been refurbished and reprogrammed. Some droids on Plazir date back to the Separatists. The New Republic would send them to scrap. But here on Plazir, they are given a second chance.”

“Well, these catastrophes don’t help your argument.” Diin retorts and the droid nods, “Exactly. That’s why we need your help. We don’t want to be replaced. We still have a lot to contribute. Human life is so short. They don’t ask that much of us. Organics created us. It’s the least we can do.” Suddenly the droids around you beep in unison agreeing with the bartender’s statement. R4 beeps too bumping against your leg and you pat the atsromech’s head. You’re led to the back office as the bartender droid sits at a desk.

“Do you have a record of what each of the suspects ordered?” Bo-Katan asks and the droid shakes its head “That is not how it works here. There is no selection of beverages as with organics. Here, droids are served Nepenthé.”

“What’s Nepenthé?” You ask the bartender as they pull out a box full of spark pads while flipping through them. “It is a viscous lubricant that protects against mechanical wear while delivering program-refreshing sub-particles.”

“So Nepenthé reprograms the droids that drink here?” You ask thinking you understand, “It patches the programming as the commands of the mainframe change.” Finding the multiple malfunctioned spark pads and scanning them.

“It seems the malfunctioning droids all imbibed from the same batch of Nepenthé.” It observes and the three of you look at each other.

Inside a morgue that was for the malfunctioning droid, the female lab tech opens a drawer revealing the destroyed B2, “These are the remains of the latest malfunctioning droid.” The lab tech withdraws the oil from its system before moving to a larger machine.

“We’re looking for programming sub-particles.” Bo-Katan asks and the woman nods placing the vial into the machine, “Yes. Let me isolate them.” The machine starts spinning as the data beings loading,

“All right, let’s see if they give us a reading. The particles are definitely present.”

“What are the chances that they’re still active?” You ask and suddenly you’re shoved behind a wall by Din as Bo-Katan pulls the lab tech to the ground, “Get down!” The white spherical lab droid spins violently attacking you all with its laser blasters.

“Watch out!” You say to Din unleashing your saber and throwing it at the droid it splits in half the blade returning to your hand as you all try catching your breaths from the sudden attack “They’re still active.” You breathe out as you look at the sparking lab droid. Following the incident, the lab tech brings a small sample of the oil under a microscope,

“These are the sub-particles.” She says before pausing, “Curious…”

“What?” You ask as you see on a screen what the tech was viewing, “They’re actually nano-droids.”

“How did nano-droids get into the Nepenthé?” Bo-Katan asks before you spot some markings on the droids, “What’s that?” You point at the screen, “The striations? Just an aberration in the metal. Probably malleability limitations at this scale.”

“No. It’s writing…” Bo-Katan says and you all notice the few lettering, “Rotate the perspective.” She asks and the lab tech rotates it once analyzed you see the writing, “It’s a chain code.”

“If it has a chain code, then we should be able to determine its point of origin.” You say and the lab tech nods checking out the chain code, “In theory. Let me see what I can find out…Yes, here we are. They were originally manufactured by the Techno Union. Been in cold storage for ages. The chain title says it didn’t arrive on Plazir through Droid Acquisitions. How strange…”

“How did it arrive?” Din asks as the lab tech dives deeper into the chain code, “They were requisitioned by the Security Office.”

“Is that unusual?” You ask and the woman looks back at the three of you, “It’s illegal. There’s no record of this transaction on the government registry. These droids were ordered by an individual.”

“Is there a name?” Bo-Katan asks and the chain code reveals who purchased it.

“Our head of security. Commissioner Helgait.”

You returned to the security office to capture your perpetrator exiting the turbolift seeing Halgait working away on the large console, “Check the cycles of security cameras for any potential irregularities.”

“Commissioner, we have some questions for you.” Bo-Katan calls out as the three of you move towards the man who waves you off, “Sorry, I have to check the data farm for anomalies.”

“We know about the Nepenthé. And the nano-droids. They didn’t malfunction.” Din says, “You programmed them to disrupt and attack. You’re coming with us.” Bo-Katan tells him walking towards him when his hand hovers over the large failsafe button,

“Everyone, freeze! If I trigger this failsafe, it will convert the planet’s docile workforce back into battle droids and unleash them upon the unsuspecting citizens of Plazir! Don’t make me do it.” He yells as Din and Bo-Katan aim their blasters at the man, “There’s no way out, Commissioner. Give yourself up.”

“Give up? I never give up. I didn’t give up to the corrupt Republic, I didn’t give up to the Empire, and I won’t give up to you.” Helgait spits and Bo-Katan frowns, “You’re a Separatist?”

“Separatist is a pejorative term,” Helgait shrugs, “I support democracy. Count Dooku was a visionary. He was cut short in his prime by the Jedi enforcer-” A sharp jab across the back of his skull and Helgait collapses to the ground. Standing behind him is yourself lowering the hilt of your saber. Everyone in the room looks shocked not even seeing you move, even Din and Bo-Katan knowing you were right beside them. Looking at where you stood only see R4.

“Politics.” You say shrugging as Helgait groans in pain. Returning to the festivities with Helgait in tow the Duchess and Captain Bombardier look at the Commissioner confused,

“What are you doing with Commissioner Helgait?” The Duchess questions as Din pushes the man forward, “We found the cause of your malfunctions.”

“Is this true?” The Duchess demands shocked and Helgait nods solemnly, “I’m afraid it is m’lady.”

“Despicable.” Bombardier scoffs and Helgait glares at him, “If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” “I beg your pardon.”

“This planet is unrecognizable since he arrived.” Helgait blames the Captain as he breathes deeply, “I had a feeling you hated me.” 

“I’m disappointed in you, Commissioner. You served my family well,” The Duchess says before returning to her husband’s side, “But Captain Bombardier is the love of my life. And I know his heart is true. Sure, he’s made some mistakes in the past, but who here among us has not? Is there no room for a little bit of forgiveness in a galaxy so vast?” Helgait looks distraught bowing his head in forgiveness,

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, My Lady. Perhaps someday I can earn such forgiveness from Your Grace.” He begs and the Duchess frowns, “Perhaps. As for now, you must live in exile on the moon of Paraqaat.” A squad of constable droids escorts Helgait away.

The Duchess turns back to the three of you “And as for you, Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, Lady Y/n Kenobi-Kryze, and Din Djarin of Concordia, I grant you an audience with our deployment of Mandalorian privateers,” She turns and grabs an item stepping towards Bo-Katan, “I also give to you both our highest honor, the key to Plazir. You will always be welcome in our domed paradise.” Bo-Katan accepts the gift graciously the three of you bowing to them.

She places Grogu on the ground and then to you, “Come young jedi,” You are a bit surprised before coming forward, “And to this little ones, I grant knighthood.” Your eyes widen slightly as you slowly bend to a knee.

The Duchess is given an elaborate blade, “You are now a knight of the Ancient Order of Independent Regencies.” She says to Grogu before moving to you placing the blade against each of your shoulders, “Though your trials of a jedi are not complete young jedi you will always be a knight in the eyes of Plazir.” You bow your head slightly as Din comes over picking up Grogu, “Go in peace, brave travelers. Until our paths meet again.” You four bid goodbyes and soon you find yourself back in the hyperloop pod.

“Now approaching landing field three.” The automated voice says as your sent zooming toward the fleet. Bo-Katan is silent looking out the window, “They’re Mandalorians. You’re their leader. They’re going to follow you.” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan shakes her head,

“I’m not their leader anymore. Axe Woves is.” You look over at the woman, “Then what’s your play?” You ask and she grows silent once again, “I’ll know when I get there.” Reaching their landing field is a bit of a walk before you come to the fleet, it was impressive the light cruiser and the imperial ships as well. You thought you’d seen a lot of Mandalorians from the covert this was twice as many. The Mandalorians under Woves command grow silent seeing the four of you arrive. You spot Woves sitting on a crate when he spots Bo-Katan as he rises to stand.

“Have you come back to join the mercenaries?” He calls out and Bo-Katan steps forward, “I’ve come to reclaim my fleet.”

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it? I’m now in command and grown quite fond of it.” Woves counters and Bo-Katan nods, “Then I challenge you, one warrior to another. Do you accept my challenge?” It’s silent as you wait for his response,

“I do.”

Woves fire a wrist rocket but Bo-Katan activates her jetpack sending her into the air and charging at Woves, knocking him to the ground with a kick. The two flips over both vibroblades are brought out as they swipe and slash at one another. Bo-Katan seems to get the advantage on Woves throwing him to the ground and disarming his blade. Woves rise charging at the woman with his jetpack the two are sent into the air ramming into a starship. Fists are thrown when Woves catches a fierce punch against her sending her to the floor. Bo-Katan charges him with her jetpack increasing her speed and pulling him into a headlock, “Do you yield?” With a yell, he rockets them on top of a starship. It’s brutal and vicious as they fight when Bo-Katan drags them down to the ground with a whipcord launcher. Woves sends a wave of flames but she blocks the blast with her personal combat shield. Bo-Katan gets the final advantage pinning him to the ground and holding him a knife point

“You’ll never be the true leader of our people. You won’t even take the Darksaber from her. She’s the one you should be challenging.” Woves says his words filled with venom as Bo-Katan presses the blade closer to his neck shaking him, “Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled by our own hands.” She hisses before releasing him sparing him but is the victor.

“Mandalorians are stronger together.” Bo-Katan speaks to Woves’ followers as Woves rises to stand, “But a child possesses the blade. Followed by a misguided zealot. One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.” His words are filled with venom and your blood boils your hand moves to your saber but Din rests a hand on your shoulder calming you down.

“Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the Way, just as our ancestors did,” Bo-Katan defends him, “He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were. Certainly as much as any of us. For Y/n she will be a rightful ruler for Mandalore better than any of us.” You hear the slight pain in her voice and you felt uncomfortable having their eyes on you seeing their young ruler. You were probably the youngest wielder of the Darksaber many adults with much more experience in life than you have. If Bo-Katan meant to control the fleet you would be ruling over this and more. Your hand rest on the Darksaber feeling the weight on your hip, the responsibility too much for someone like you.

“But according to our ways, the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber.” Woves retorts and Bo-Katan grows silent her weak hand shown. Without the Darksaber she would not fully have their support. The old memories returning now reveal the truth of the true owner of the blade.

“Then she shall have it,” You call out moving towards the woman holding out the hilt, “This belongs to you.”

“It’s not a gift to be given, no matter how well intended.” Bo-Katan shakes her head, she was already gifted the saber once and that led to the fall of their homeworld. “It’s not a gift,” You say before turning to the other Mandalorians

“While exploring Mandalore, I was captured. And this blade was taken from me. Bo-Katan rescued me and slayed my captor. She defeated the enemy that defeated me. Would this blade then not belong to her?” You explain looking at them who remain silent before raising your voice, “Would it not belong to her?”

Woves is silent before nodding having no choice but to agree, “It would.” You move to stand before Bo-Katan holding out the hilt of the weapon, “I return this blade to its rightful owner.” She looks down at you as you hold out the weapon.

“You could still rule Mandalore…” She whispers but you shake your head, “That’s not the life I was meant to live.” You respond and she takes the weapon as you rejoin Din’s side. You watch her look at the weapon before activating it in the presence of the Mandalorians. You had your ruler of Mandalore, you were all going home.

[marvelousmagicalaura]

The Lord Ruler's portrayal worries me. I hope The Stormlight Archive doesn't do this. 

I'll preface this post by saying this is not out of dislike for the Mistborn trilogy. I'm not trying to impose my moral viewpoints onto fellow cosmerenauts. And it's not meant to dismiss that fantasy characters can have their own unique beliefs. This is simply a rant on a topic that's bugged me ever since finishing The Hero of Ages. It came back as I was contemplating Era 2's nuanced portrayal of Elendel’s problems, Harmony's plans, and Autonomy's mindset. And since I'm reading The Stormlight Archive after Warbreaker, this involves a hope of mine.

My journey throughout Scadrial created an increasing sense of concern and worry over the Lord Ruler's portrayal. In my eyes, book 3 fell into the trap of characters defending the Lord Ruler's actions. Simply because they were for the goal of preserving the world. To be clear, I understand what Sanderson was trying to do. He wanted to make a world where most characters, even when destroying the evil empire, ultimately wanted a stable world. And for that, I understand why Vin or Sazed would call Rashek a "good man with honorable intentions."

Vin always wanted a stable life. And when she thanked the Lord Ruler as Preservation, I bet her opinions of TLR were being slightly filtered by Preservation's Intent. Sazed Ascended with full access to how Ruin and Preservation connected back to Rashek. He knew Rashek in ways no one could imagine.

So while their claims were understandable, it felt extremely gross. My first issue is that I lack the same knowledge of Rashek as Vin or Sazed. I only know Rashek as a bitter, violent glory hound Terrisman who maybe had slivers of understandable motives before Ascending. Then I only know him as an evil emperor going insane for 1000 years. I don't know the "good man" Rashek. I know the asshole who did 5% good things and 95% ends justify the means.

My second issue is that the "suffered under Ruin's hand" removed accountability. Rashek didn't NEED to make slaves out of most remaining humans, turn his people into jellyfish, restrict Allomancy to the ruling class, sacrifice humans for koloss armies, or wipe out all religions and cultures. But that line pinned it on Ruin's influence, even though Rashek did horrible things and made horrible plans during the Ascension. Instead of holding Rashek himself accountable for his own actions.

And on that note, fuck Rashek for even mentioning Ruin's whispers in the Fadrex city plate. Yeah sure, centuries of Ruin's influence pushed him to make the Terris breeding program. But those reprehensible actions above were all Rashek's fault when he was a new conqueror.

My third issue is the erasure of potential depth behind Ruin and Preservation's conflict. It doesn't give Preservation something 100% despicable to actively do. It ignores the fact Ruin doesn't insert new personalities, but rather influences what is already there. Ruin was the method through which Rashek did things, but Preservation is the reason and goal. Rashek ruined to preserve.

Brandon should’ve settled for Sazed acknowledging the tragedy and genius behind Rashek’s efforts, while acknowledging they were reprehensible and weren’t solely orchestrated by Ruin. I don't know what The Stormlight Archive will hold. But if there are any characters who go "ends justify the means" or "it's not my fault it's the god," I sincerely hope Brandon calls out their rusting nonsense with a hammer. He did it with Kelsier (complicated feelings about that), he did not do it with Rashek. I hope he does it in Stormlight.