#and another has been declared a war criminal despite trying to do good

[confusion-est]

The future shines bright It doesn't mean anything good

[salmonthestoryteller]

Against All Odds

Roswell New Mexico Coda 03x03

Isobel sighed - half in relief and half in frustration - as she parked her car by Michael’s truck.  Her brother was unsurprisingly sitting by his fire pit, but he seemed calmer than he had at the drive in.

Michael rolled his eyes when she got out of the car and approached him.  “I’m pretty sure I’m safe here, Iz.”

“There was a fire at the church.”  Isobel took a seat by him.  “We’re back to square one.”

Michael groaned, hanging his head over the back of his chair. “Well, the sunflowers are from me, I guess. So it’s someone I’d be willing to pay respects to.”

“I thought you were convinced it was you.”

“…”. Michael sat up, keeping his gaze on the fire.  “Well, Alex doesn’t think so.”

“You talked to Alex?”  Isobel asked.  Michael shrugged. “So you run away from Max and me - twice I might add-“

“I didn’t run-“”

“You never come to us for help, and trying to help you in anyway is a sure way to start an argument-“

“I don’t need charity-“

“But you will go straight to Alex Manes and tell him everything?”

“…if I was gonna kick it, I kinda wanted to see him at least once.”  Michael explained.

Isobel frowned.  The giddy feelings Michael had allowed to seep through their shared connection before Alex returned had been absent.  She thought perhaps he’d simply been too busy helping her save Max to say anything about their reunion but this didn’t really sound like that at all. “What happened?”

“Alex says if I was the one dead he’d… react differently.” A small flicker of hope again, but nowhere near as substantial.

“So, Alex said your death would affect him deeply.  Sounds like a pretty enormous declaration to me.”

“…yeah.”

“So why aren’t you with him?  Oh, shit, is he here?”  She glanced towards his trailer.

“What? No!”

“Well, I don’t get it.  What happened to all those “I think it’s our time” vibes-”

“He’s seeing someone else.”  Michael snapped.

Isobel froze at his words.  “Oh…”

Michael sighed.  “Yeah, so not our time.  Okay?”

“But I mean, if he’s saying you dying would affect him so much, how serious could he be about the other guy?”  She couldn’t help but point out. Honestly, she may have to do a little digging herself.  She wasn’t above being a manipulative bitch if either of her brothers’ happiness was on the line.

“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly interrupt their reunion kiss to ask how serious their relationship was.”  Michael responded sarcastically.

Isobel winced. She imagined that hadn’t been a great thing to witness.  “Maybe it’s not that serious?”

“Serious enough to let him know when he’d be back in town.”

“Yeah, but he also told you when he’d be back in town.”

“Alex has better options than a junkyard mechanic in Roswell with a criminal record. I can’t exactly fault him for choosing them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I thought you were going to date Alex Manes, not a member of my Mom’s yoga club.” Isobel quipped. “Is he really that interested in boyfriend bragging rights?”

“He’s a decorated war hero. Can’t exactly go on dates with a criminal.”

“Didn’t seem to have a problem asking you to use your criminal talents to break into a top secret alien facility though.”  Isobel crossed her arms.  “Wait, is this why you cleaned up your act this past year?  For Alex Manes?”

“Look, don’t we have a murder to solve?  My non-existent relationship can wait.”

“That’s not a no.”

“There were a lot of reasons, Iz.  Knowing about our moms. Sanders.  Having you, me and Max back to how we used to be.  And, yeah, maybe some small piece of me thought it might impress Alex.  Most of which has all been turned on its head, so… can we please focus on the murder now?”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Isn’t the point that we don’t know the name?”

“I mean the name of who Alex Manes is seeing that you apparently think he can brag about to his yoga club?”

“He doesn’t do yoga.”

“Irrelevant.”

“If I tell you, will you finally drop the subject?”

“Deal.”

“Forrest Long.”

“A Long?  Are you serious?”

“Dropping the subject, remember?”

“Come on, you can’t expect me to not say something about that.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, Forrest isn’t a bad guy.  Black sheep of his family.  Guess he and Alex have that in common.”

If she was already concocting a list of all the gossip mongers in town she knew who might know something about Forrest Long, Michael need never be the wiser.  “Gregory isn’t so bad.”

“Please tell me you two never-“

“No.  Just an observation.”

“Uh-huh.  So are you still seeing the bartender?”

“We aren’t serious. I don’t think I can be serious about someone who doesn’t know about us. Our collective history on that isn’t so good.” Isobel let her eyes rest on the fire - she didn’t like thinking about how that applied to her own past. To Noah and how he’d never truly been unaware. How their entire relationship had been nothing but lies.

“I hate the idea we cover another murder. Thought we were done with lies…”

Isobel frowned, watching the flames. “What if I’m not crying cuz of who it is, but how they died?”

“Meaning?”

“What if it’s cuz we’re to blame? What if it’s like Noah and Rosa and-”

“Hey, that’s not gonna happen.”  Michael cut her off.  “The only potential evil alien around here is in a cage in the desert and he’s staying there.  Nobody’s making us do anything ever again, okay?”

“Promise?”  Her smile felt shaky even to herself.

“Promise.” Michael didn’t hesitate.

End

Author’s Notes:  *sideeyes Jones* If you dare make Isobel go through that again…

I don’t think they’ll actually do mind control again.  Though it is one possible explanation for bringing up Noah at the funeral in the vision.

Mostly this was an excuse for Isobel and Michael interaction. Cuz Isobel may live to torment her brothers, but their happiness really is important to her.  There is a touch of classism with the way every character who is not named Liz Ortecho treats Michael during the course of the series, some more than others.  Isobel, however, has definitely gotten better about it since the first season.  So I can definitely hear her reacting to the notion that Michael wasn’t “good enough” boyfriend material defensively.  Because despite her own “stepford housewife” Roswell persona, she never allowed it to interfere with having Michael in her life - even when his behavior was at its worst.  And I can totally see her social media stalking poor Forrest and being like - yeah, no.  My brother is way better. (Sorry, Forrest.)

While I’m pretty sure Alex has long forgotten the words that started the communication errors between Michael and him, I think a part of Michael is still very hooked on that “I want to be with you, but not if you’re wasting your life.”  He still feels at some level that who he is isn’t “good enough” and that’s probably why he was willing to take such a huge step back when he realized Alex was interested in Forrest.  He needed to prove he could be “good enough” first.  And I need Alex to smack him over the head with the fact that he stopped caring about that shit somewhere around Caulfield.

Also, the fact that the only person Michael feels safe going to when things are bad is Alex?  That says things.  He’s had moments with other characters but in each instance they’ve come to him.  The only person Michael willingly goes to is Alex.  He’s the only person he feels truly safe asking things out of.  The only one he allows himself to shed that “but if I owe them, that’s dangerous” mindset with.  And thinking about that is truly heartrending.

[feelingbluepolitics]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/09/23/robert-kagan-constitutional-crisis/

Much of this article is trash, written by a mewling conservative trying to distinguish Republicon policies and Republicon ideology as beyond and separate from "trump precursors" for "the last 30 years." Try 60 years, or more. Go all the way back to them with their fury and screams over Social Security as an evil Communist plot.

Kagan is a Never-trumper attempting to sound reasonable despite being a mental conservative, who thinks -- much like poor, beleaguered Joe Manchin -- that Democrats "need to let good Republicons" help them save the country.

He's one of those types of fools who, when he speaks of officials with integrity, is alluding to Mr. Anti-vote Raffensperger, who is to voting like so many white male Republicons are to immigration -- none too happy about illegal or legal. His hero Raffensperger is also one of the leading architects of the Republicon rash of Jim Crow 2.0 laws which Kagan points to as a prime symptom of Nazi-type fascism threatening American right now...but logical consistency fares extremely poorly on the Right.

However, there are some useful points in this article. The criticism leveled toward the Right by a [pre-trump] insider is one. And the insistent urgency of our nation's crisis is another.

"The United States is heading into its greatest political and constitutional crisis since the Civil War, with a reasonable chance over the next three to four years of incidents of mass violence, a breakdown of federal authority, and the division of the country into warring red and blue enclaves. The warning signs may be obscured by the distractions of politics, the pandemic, the economy and global crises, and by wishful thinking and denial. But about these things there should be no doubt:

"First, [t]rump will be the Republican candidate for president in 2024. The hope and expectation that he would fade in visibility and influence have been delusional. He enjoys mammoth leads in the polls; he is building a massive campaign war chest; and at this moment the Democratic ticket looks vulnerable. Barring health problems, he is running. [Or legal problems. Or even better, in order to be a bit safer, both].

"Second, [t]rump and his Republican allies are actively preparing to ensure his victory by whatever means necessary. [t]rump’s charges of fraud in the 2020 election are now primarily aimed at establishing the predicate to challenge future election results that do not go his way. Some Republican candidates have already begun preparing to declare fraud in 2022, just as Larry Elder tried meekly to do in the California recall contest.

"Meanwhile, the amateurish 'stop the steal' efforts of 2020 have given way to an organized nationwide campaign to ensure that [t]rump and his supporters will have the control over state and local election officials that they lacked in 2020. Those recalcitrant Republican state officials who effectively saved the country from calamity by refusing to falsely declare fraud or to 'find' more votes for [t]rump are being systematically removed or hounded from office. Republican legislatures are giving themselves greater control over the election certification process. As of this spring, Republicans have proposed or passed measures in at least 16 states that would shift certain election authorities from the purview of the governor, secretary of state or other executive-branch officers to the legislature. An Arizona bill flatly states that the legislature may 'revoke the secretary of state’s issuance or certification of a presidential elector’s certificate of election' by a simple majority vote. Some state legislatures seek to impose criminal penalties on local election officials alleged to have committed 'technical infractions,' including obstructing the view of poll watchers.

"The stage is thus being set for chaos.

..."Most Americans — and all but a handful of politicians — have refused to take this possibility seriously enough to try to prevent it. As has so often been the case in other countries where fascist leaders arise, their would-be opponents are paralyzed in confusion and amazement at this charismatic authoritarian. They have followed the standard model of appeasement, which always begins with underestimation. The political and intellectual establishments in both parties have been underestimating [t]rump since he emerged on the scene in 2015. They underestimated the extent of his popularity and the strength of his hold on his followers; they underestimated his ability to take control of the Republican Party; and then they underestimated how far he was willing to go to retain power. The fact that he failed to overturn the 2020 election has reassured many that the American system remains secure, though it easily could have gone the other way — if Biden had not been safely ahead in all four states where the vote was close; if [t]rump had been more competent and more in control of the decision-makers in his administration, Congress and the states. As it was, [t]rump came close to bringing off a coup earlier this year...

..."Where does the Republican Party stand in all this? The party gave birth to and nurtured this movement; it bears full responsibility for establishing the conditions in which [t]rump could capture the loyalty of 90 percent of Republican voters. Republican leaders were more than happy to ride [t]rump’s coattails if it meant getting paid off with hundreds of conservative court appointments, including three Supreme Court justices; tax cuts; immigration restrictions; and deep reductions in regulations on business.

..."From the uneasy and sometimes contentious partnership during [t]rump’s four years in office, the party’s main if not sole purpose today is as the willing enabler of [t]rump’s efforts to game the electoral system to ensure his return to power.

..."With the party firmly under his thumb, [t]rump is now fighting the Biden administration on separate fronts. One is normal, legitimate political competition, where Republicans criticize Biden’s policies, feed and fight the culture wars, and in general behave like a typical hostile opposition.

"The other front is outside the bounds of constitutional and democratic competition and into the realm of illegal or extralegal efforts to undermine the electoral process. The two are intimately related, because the Republican Party has used its institutional power in the political sphere to shield [t]rump and his followers from the consequences of their illegal and extralegal activities in the lead-up to Jan. 6. Thus, Reps. Kevin McCarthy and Elise Stefanik, in their roles as party leaders, run interference for the [t]rump movement in the sphere of legitimate politics, while Republicans in lesser positions cheer on the Jan. 6 perpetrators, turning them into martyrs and heroes, and encouraging illegal acts in the future.

..."Even [t]rump opponents play along. Republicans such as Sens. Mitt Romney and Ben Sasse have condemned the events of Jan. 6, criticized [t]rump and even voted for his impeachment, but in other respects they continue to act as good Republicans and conservatives. On issues such as the filibuster, Romney and others insist on preserving 'regular order' and conducting political and legislative business as usual, even though they know that [t]rump’s lieutenants in their party are working to subvert the next presidential election.

"The result is that even these anti-[t]rump Republicans are enabling the insurrection. Revolutionary movements usually operate outside a society’s power structures. But the [t]rump movement also enjoys unprecedented influence within those structures. It dominates the coverage on several cable news networks, numerous conservative magazines, hundreds of talk radio stations and all kinds of online platforms. It has access to financing from rich individuals and the Republican National Committee’s donor pool. And, not least, it controls one of the country’s two national parties...

"The world will look very different in 14 months if, as seems likely, the Republican zombie party wins control of the House. At that point, with the political winds clearly blowing in his favor, [t]rump is all but certain to announce his candidacy, and social media constraints on his speech are likely to be lifted, since Facebook and Twitter would have a hard time justifying censoring his campaign. With his megaphone back, [t]rump would once again dominate news coverage, as outlets prove unable to resist covering him around the clock if only for financial reasons.

"But this time, [t]rump would have advantages that he lacked in 2016 and 2020, including more loyal officials in state and local governments; the Republicans in Congress; and the backing of GOP donors, think tanks and journals of opinion. And he will have the [t]rump movement, including many who are armed and ready to be activated, again. Who is going to stop him then?

..."[Republicons] have refused to work with Democrats to pass legislation limiting state legislatures’ ability to overturn the results of future elections, to ensure that the federal government continues to have some say when states try to limit voting rights, to provide federal protection to state and local election workers who face threats, and in general to make clear to the nation that a bipartisan majority in the Senate opposes the subversion of the popular will. Why?

[They, just like trump, want and intend to be in power at all costs.

..."We are already in a constitutional crisis. The destruction of democracy might not come until November 2024, but critical steps in that direction are happening now. In a little more than a year, it may become impossible to pass legislation to protect the electoral process in 2024. Now it is impossible only because anti-[t]rump Republicans, and even some Democrats, refuse to tinker with the filibuster. It is impossible because, despite all that has happened, some people still wish to be good Republicans [sic] even as they oppose [t]rump. These decisions will not wear well as the nation tumbles into full-blown crisis."

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 20

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE WAR ROOM

Carefully unrolling the parchment in his hands, Arngeir spread a large weathered map across the table as his companions took their place in the war room, ready to discuss the upcoming assault. Sigurd, Styrbjorn, and Eivor all waited patiently in silence, watching the jarl finish his preparations as they filled their predecessors’ roles.

It felt strange to Eivor, seeing Sigurd standing in Ulfar’s position. Even though he knew the old raider wasn’t coming back from the dead, it still made his head spin to see someone else in his shoes. It was no more than a simple changing of the guard, and yet, to the Wolf-Kissed, it felt like witnessing his entire world shift.

Though, he had to admit, there was something about the king that caught his attention too. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but Styrbjorn seemed... different today. More... composed. Dignified. As if the life in him had suddenly been reignited. His appearance radiated a noble presence, and his expression looked free of the fatigue that so stubbornly clung onto his eyes. Eivor guessed he finally took Sigurd’s advice to heart.

“Alright,” the jarl said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “We’re all here. Good.” He stepped forward a bit, resting his palms on the table’s surface. “Now, I understand that you’re eager to put this battle in motion, but before we start devising a plan, I believe the king has something he wants to say first.”

“Indeed,” Styrbjorn replied, linking his hands behind his back. “I have declared Gorm’s judgement, and I thought it would be necessary to inform the rest of you.”

That caught Eivor’s interest. “What’s to become of our prisoner, my lord?”

“For now, I’ve made the decision to keep Gorm alive. He has knowledge about Kjotve that could prove to be useful later on, so I will not dispose of him just yet. Once this war is finished, however...” the king exchanged glances with the prince, “...he will be executed. Publicly. Sigurd and I have agreed to grant him a merciful death as repayment for his cooperation, but he is to be beheaded on Bjornheimr soil.”

Arngeir paused. “Bjornheimr? Does this mean you won’t be taking Gorm back to Fornburg, my lord? Normally, when the king passes judgement on a criminal, it is he who swings the axe.”

“True, but seeing as how Gorm wronged your people more than anyone else, I’ve decided to leave his fate in your hands. It seems only fitting to me.”

The jarl was satisfied with that. “...Very well. I agree to these terms.”

“Then it’s settled. Gorm will be kept here as our prisoner for the remainder of the war. As soon as his father is killed, he will follow in his footsteps. Are we clear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Then I won’t hinder this plan’s development any further.” Styrbjorn turned to his son. “Sigurd, you said you had new information pertaining to Kjotve’s whereabouts?”

“I do.” the prince confirmed. He walked up to the war table and leaned over it, pointing to an island on the western side of the map.

“According to what Gorm told me, Kjotve should have arrived on an island by now known as Thrymr’s Tomb. He’ll be making use of an abandoned fort located in its northern half.”

Eivor took note of the island’s name. “Thrymr? King of the jötnar? Is there a reason for that name?”

“Ah, it’s connected to a local tale, nothing more. Due to the island’s peculiar shape, the folk in that region believe it was once a fragment of Thrymr’s skull. They say it flew off his head when Thor struck him with Mjölnir, and landed in the ocean. Thus, its name.”

“And what of Kjotve’s defenses?” Arngeir asked. “What can we expect when we arrive?”

“The fort itself was built a long time ago, so its defenses should be nothing that we haven’t seen already. Plus, it’s been deserted for ages now. Its walls are feeble and decrepit. We should be able to break through the gates rather swiftly. The biggest challenge we’ll face -- is reaching them.”

“Why is that?”

Sigurd slid his finger down the map. “Because the island has no trees.”

That took everyone by surprise.

“What?” Styrbjorn blurted out. “How can that be?”

“Whoever the fort’s original occupant was, they chopped down all the trees on the island so that their foes wouldn’t have anywhere to hide. This means we’ll have no cover, and no way to approach it discreetly. We’ll be forced to launch a head-on assault.”

Eivor began growing concerned. “And how simple do you think that’s going to be?”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “I won’t lie to you all. It’s not going to be easy. There’s a river that separates the island into two halves. The fort is on the northern half. We’ll be on the southern half. And the only way to reach the gates... is by crossing the bridge.”

Arngeir paced around the room, stroking his beard in thought. “The bridge will have us all cornered into one spot. We’ll be nothing but walking targets for Kjotve’s archers. They’ll slaughter us before we can even knock on his front door...!”

The Wolf-Kissed wasn’t so sure. “...Maybe. Or maybe there’s something else we could do.”

Sigurd’s curiosity took hold. “You have an idea, Eivor?”

The younger man thought for a moment. “...What if we formed a shield wall? We could protect ourselves from oncoming arrows, and move forward during the time between the onslaughts. It would be slow, but much safer than charging to the gate.”

“A solid idea,” the prince conceded, “but how would it work in this case? Don’t forget, we still need a way to break down the gate. How could we transport a battering ram across the bridge, and maintain a shield wall at the same time?”

“We could create a wall around the ram.” Eivor suggested.

“Around it?”

“Yes. As you said, we’ll need to bring a battering ram in order to get through the gates. But if our men are going to be moving something as big as that, they won’t have any hands free to lift a shield. So that’s why... we’ll protect them in the process. We’ll form a shield wall around them, and keep them safe from any arrows.”

Sigurd played out the method in his head. “...Hmm. It’s damned risky, but I’m afraid it’s the only option we have. The battlements are too tall for us too climb, and there’s no way we could cross the river by foot. We could swim, theoretically speaking, but it’s such a dangerous path that it’s not even worth considering.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first of all, it’s freezing. The water would probably kill us before Kjotve could. And secondly, the river’s current is so strong that we would most likely be whisked away, or even drowned. Trust me, we’re better off taking our chances with the bridge.”

“Hm. Makes sense.”

The king posed another question. “Alright. So we’ve decided on a way in? We’ll dock our ships on the southern half of the island, and cross the bridge using a shield wall. In the meantime, the rest of our warriors will focus on moving the battering ram to the fort’s gates. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Sigurd confirmed.

“Very well, then. What happens once we’re inside?”

“Then, we find Kjotve. And put an end to this miserable war.”

Eivor felt a sense of worry flare in his chest. “But what if he escapes a second time? What guarantee do we have that he won’t flee again?”

A grim look hovered over the prince’s gaze. “Our guarantee is Dag’s death. He was Kjotve’s ally, and the reason our previous assault ended in failure. He told the man to flee before we could reach his shores, but this time, he won’t be around to warn anybody.”

Arngeir raised a point. “Of course, however, it is worth nothing that Kjotve might have taken precautions already. After all, I think it’s safe to say he’s probably aware of Gorm’s imprisonment by now. He will be anticipating an assault, now that his own son has been subjected to interrogation.

“Indeed,” Sigurd conceded. “So we’d do well not to let our guard down, no matter how much of an advantage we have.”

Eivor was pleased with that. “Sounds good.”

Styrbjorn jumped back in. “Then, have we agreed on a plan? I believe our current strategy will be our best option, and unlike other battles, we won’t have much time to adjust it. So if anyone has any concerns or objections, now is the time to speak up.”

There was a unanimous silence.

“Very well. I will inform my clan of our discussion today, and prepare them for the battle ahead.” The king turned to the jarl. “Arngeir, I think it’s best if you do the same.”

The other man displayed a slight bow. “Of course, my lord. I’ll start making preparations right away.”

“As for you two,” Styrbjorn faced Eivor and Sigurd, “try to get some rest. Both of you will have a long day tomorrow. The journey to Thrymr’s Tomb will take quite some time, and there’s no saying what will happen during the fight itself. I need you to be sharp.”

The prince nodded assuredly. “Understood.”

“Good. Then this meeting is concluded. Take care of any unfinished business you may have, and prepare yourselves for war. This will be the battle that shapes the future of the entire kingdom. Defeat is something we cannot afford. Stay vigilant. All of you.”

Stepping away from the map, both Styrbjorn and Arngeir made a swift exit from the war room as they headed out to the village, determined to turn their plan into a reality. The torches’ flames flickered in their wake as they strode through the archway, and settled down with a series of soft quivers once they were gone.

In the meantime, Sigurd and Eivor remained at the war table and simply stood there in silence, drowning in the sea of worries that plagued their thoughts. Both of them had plenty of risks to consider in the upcoming battle, but one fear in particular kept shaking the prince’s mettle. 

“I can’t believe it...” Eivor whispered, staring at the map, “...after all these years. After everything we’ve lost. We finally have a chance to take Kjotve down for good. We have his son as a prisoner, and he no longer has any allies amongst our people.” An inspiring spark glimmered in his eye. “What if this is it, Sigurd? This could be the victory we’ve been waiting for.”

The older man crossed his arms. “...Perhaps.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to pick up on his tone. “Is... something wrong, Sigurd?

The prince leaned against a wall and sighed, unable to conceal the sorrow he carried.

“...You do understand that if everything goes according to plan tomorrow, and Kjotve dies, my clan will leave Bjornheimr permanently?”

The realization struck Eivor like a club, and he found himself quickly being drained of the hope that had just settled in.

“...Oh.” He murmured. “Right.”

Sigurd gave him an apologetic look. “Forgive me, love. I know it’s an unpleasant thought, but it’s the reality. If we win this war, I’ll return to Fornburg... forever. And I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to come back.”

Eivor shrugged. “So, what are you saying? You don’t want us to win?”

“No, of course not. It’s just...” the prince pushed himself off the wall, “...I’m going to miss you dearly, Eivor. It’ll be difficult adapting to a life without you.”

The younger man’s head drooped. “...I understand. I’ll miss you too.”

Sigurd approached his partner. “My offer still stands, you know. There’s a place for you on my longship if you wish to join us. You’re more than welcome.”

Eivor drifted off into silence for a moment, pondering the decision.

“As much as I’d love to go with you, I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t know if you can? What do you mean?”

The Wolf-Kissed glanced upward at his companion. “Don’t forget, Sigurd, you’re still a married man. Up until this point, it’s been easy for us to hide our relationship since everyone’s been so focused on the war. But the minute it comes to an end... their attention will be back on you. And if someone finds out...”

Sigurd took Eivor’s hands into his own. “They won’t. We would just be friends in the public eye. And even then, we could do so many things together -- hunting, fishing, sailing, drinking, you name it. I could show you around Fornburg, take you to places unlike anything you’d ever seen; places where we’d be alone. No one would suspect a thing.”

“Are you sure? No one would find it odd that, in addition to your new wife, you also decided to bring her brother? Think about this, Sigurd.”

“I have,” the prince insisted, “and I want you at my side, Eivor. I love you. You know this. Damn what anyone else says.”

Eivor let out a breath. “I love you too, but...” he pushed Sigurd’s hands away, “...I. Just. Can’t. I’m sorry.”

The older man grew concerned. “Why not, though? You and I have been hiding this for weeks already. This is nothing new. Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his gaze sink to the floor, feeling terribly guilty about the heartache he was causing his partner.

“I wouldn’t be able to handle the pain, Sigurd.”

The response earned him a puzzled look. “Pain? What pain?”

“The pain of seeing you with someone else. You and I may be lovers in private, but to everyone else, we’d have to be friends. You’d have to maintain your image as husband-and-wife with Randvi, and I’d be forced to watch it from the side. I don’t know if I could handle that, Sigurd.”

A shadow of harsh understanding dimmed the prince’s passion, and he finally began to realize the source of his lover’s hesitance.

“...Ah. I see.”

“And besides,” Eivor continued, “I can’t leave my father behind. He’s already lost Thora to this war. If he had to say goodbye to me and Randvi as well, I don’t think he...”

“It’s okay, Eivor.” Sigurd reassured, in spite of his disappointment. “You don’t have to explain. I... understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I may not be happy with it, but I understand. I can’t ask you to keep this charade going forever, especially amongst a clan you’ve never known. It... wouldn’t be fair. And you have a father here who needs you. I can’t take you away from him. No matter how much I may want you.”

Eivor felt a tad more relieved. “...Thank you, Sigurd. I know it’s not the outcome either of us were hoping for, but it’s what we’ll have to live with once this war is over. If we survive long enough to see it through, that is.”

Sigurd stepped back a bit, allowing his companion some space. “...Of course. You’re right. This war is bigger than the both of us. We’ll need to prioritize our duties above all else if we’re going to make this alliance work.”

He paused for a short while, attempting to distract himself from the disheartening news. It was clear that he was trying to prevent his emotions from breaking through the surface, but even then, Eivor could see that the man was heartbroken.

“...Anyway,” Sigurd said, clearing his throat, “I should get going. There are many things I need to take care of before we set off. I’ll be in my chambers if you need me.”

“And I’ll be at the temple if you need me.”

The prince found himself intrigued. “The temple? Are you planning on making an offering?”

“Not exactly. There’s someone I wanted to speak with before the battle. I saw them praying at the temple earlier while I was walking to the longhouse.”

“Who, Ingrida?”

Eivor shook his head. “No. Randvi.”

The answer took Sigurd by surprise. “Randvi?”

“Yes,” he replied in remorse. “I haven’t been a good brother to her lately. I’ve practically deserted her ever since your clan arrived. I didn’t even talk to her after Thora died. She’s been dealing with all this grief in complete solitude, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Sigurd nodded empathetically. “Of course. Go. See your sister. You and I can talk later.”

“Take care of yourself tomorrow, love.” Eivor said, caressing the man’s cheek before he took his leave. “I don’t want to return home without you.”

The prince gripped his hand securely, looking him straight in the eye. “I won’t let myself fall to Kjotve’s axe. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT DAY

THE TEMPLE

Pushing through the hills of snow that lounged on the earthy terrain, Eivor sauntered towards the temple as a gust of wind fluttered across the land, shaking the chimes that lined the path. A series of scattered clinks decorated the air in the breeze’s wake, and up ahead, Eivor could see the statues of the gods rising into view.

They remained as adamant as ever, despite the mayhem thriving around them. They guarded the village with an unwavering iron gaze, and towered over the worshippers who knelt at the base of their feet.

It was a sight that would’ve brought Eivor a sense of peace in the past. He often came here when he needed guidance from the gods, or comfort from the seeress’ words, but now... all he could think about were the sacrifices they’d made.

Thora, Ulfar, Eirik, Dag... the list grew longer everyday. Their village seemed to be occupied by more ghosts than people at this point, and returning to the temple did nothing but remind Eivor of the times when he had the luxury of taking his loved ones’ company for granted.

What if this was the last time he’d ever see Bjornheimr? What if something happened tomorrow? He was hopeful that he’d finally be able to corner Kjotve after this insufferable chase, but really, he had no guarantee.

It was entirely possible that Eivor could’ve ended up sharing his father’s fate once this war was over. There was nothing else to secure their victory other than the sheer will of their raiders, and ultimately, he had to remind himself that he was just another man.

If Eivor fell tomorrow... there was no coming back. He’d simply be gone forever, and his soul would be taken by whichever god claimed him first.

His legacy in this world would be no more than a warrior who died chasing an impossible dream, and to the Wolf-Kissed, that was a fate far more frightening than death. A fate where he would only be remembered for his failures.

“Randvi?” Eivor called out, searching for his sister. He got no response from the woman in the moments to follow, but eventually found her sitting on a bench positioned before Freya’s statue. Her head was hanging low between her shoulders like an anchor, and her elbows rested gently on her knees.

“Randvi.” Eivor repeated, trying to get her attention.

Still, she offered no answer.

“Hey,” the young man said again, kneeling in front of her. “It’s me. Eivor.”

Randvi’s stone-cold stare inched towards his face at the sound of his name, revealing nothing but a pair of dead orbs sitting in her sockets. 

She looked even worse than Arngeir did. Despite his grief, the jarl still seemed to have some fight in him at least. It may have been an act to preserve his clans morale, but even then, he had proven he was capable of leading a battle. Randvi, on the other hand, appeared as if she had joined Thora’s side already.

Her temperament was entirely devoid of any signs of life. She sat on the bench like a frail plant withering in the sun, and the way she peered through Eivor made him wonder if she truly knew he was even there.

“...We should’ve listened to her.” Randvi whispered at last.

Her brother shook his head in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

“We should’ve listened to her. She knew all of this would happen.”

Eivor glanced back at the temple. “...You mean Ingrida?”

“Yes. Do you not remember? The day the Raven Clan arrived, she warned us of a vision. Freya’s statue had just fallen, and the gods entrusted her with a dream of the path ahead. A dream of Tyr.” Randvi frowned. “...Ingrida told us about the treachery we’d face. She told us to turn the Raven Clan away, but we refused to listen. We dismissed her fears because we didn’t want to insult King Styrbjorn. And now look where we are.”

She gazed upwards at Freya’s idol. “...What if we had called off the alliance? What if we never went through with this marriage? Would we still be where we are now? Would Thora and Ulfar be alive?”

Eivor took a seat beside Randvi, sharing her anguish. “I don’t know, sister. I really don’t. The gods have been difficult to predict lately.”

The woman scoffed. “Forget the gods. Our prayers have proven to be all but useless. Thora and Ulfar both spent their entire lives following a code of honor, and yet, the Nornir still let them die. Meanwhile, men like Kjotve get to roam free, causing nothing but suffering and death everywhere they go. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be a fool to rely on the gods for protection. I don’t need them. What I need is you.”

Randvi turned to her brother. “Where have you been, Eivor? These past few weeks, you’ve made yourself scarce. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. I understand we’re in the middle of a war, but...”

Eivor’s tone sunk with guilt. “...I know, Randvi. I know I haven’t been a good brother to you.” He paused for a second. “I’m... I’m sorry.”

A fatigued breath escaped from the woman’s lips. “Well, to be honest, you aren’t the only one who’s deserted me. It seems like all my friends have either died or disappeared. You, Sigurd, Thora, Ulfar... even father keeps to himself these days. The only company I really have anymore is Ingrida, and she’s almost gone completely mute ever since Eirik’s death.”

Randvi stood up from the bench and crossed her arms in thought, taking in the view of Freya’s statue.

“I just miss Thora so much. I see her in my dreams every night. She was always there for you and me, keeping us safe in a world that wanted to leave us behind. She knew how to make people laugh too.” Randvi’s shoulders slouched. “...And Ulfar. I’ll never forget the times when he held me as a child, calming me down after I woke up from a nightmare. He may not have been our real father, but I loved him like one.”

Eivor nodded. “Me too. He was always there to keep me company after Kjotve killed my parents. I can’t imagine what my childhood would’ve been like without him.”

Randvi peered at the clouds gliding above the temple, almost as if she were looking into Valhalla itself.

“I suppose the best thing we can do for them now is to make sure that their deaths weren’t in vain. Knowing Thora and Ulfar, they wouldn’t have wanted us to be consumed by our grief. They would’ve wanted us to push on, no matter the cost. I just wish it were that easy.”

Eivor rose to his feet, joining stepping next to his sister. “It won’t be. But we’re so close to the end, Randvi. Just one more battle, and we can finally put all this tragedy to rest. We only need to fight for a little longer.”

The woman didn’t appear reassured by that. “That’s easy for you to say. If we win, you’ll get to go back home and celebrate your victory. But me? I’ll be forced to travel to Fornburg with Sigurd, and live in a clan full of unfamiliar faces. I’ll have to start an entirely new life far away from here, and spend the rest of it with a husband who hardly even cares about me.”

Randvi shut her eyes in frustration and took a deep breath, attempting to ease her nerves. A bottle of boiling rage sat corked in her chest, and without even meaning to, she had smashed it open due to seeing Eivor’s face again. 

He was one of the only people she trusted, after all. With her older sister gone, Randvi no longer knew who she could confide in. She had kept all this pain locked inside her mind, and until now, she never realized how severely it was hindering her.

“...I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so curt. I’m sure you have your own burdens to bear. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“No, I understand,” Eivor assured. “The stress of this war has taken a toll on all of us. And let’s face it -- I haven’t exactly done my job as a brother. I should’ve checked on you more often.”

Randvi shrugged in curiosity. “Is that why you came today? Because you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, actually. I saw you while I was walking to the longhouse. I was occupied with matters concerning tomorrow’s battle, but I still wanted to speak with you.”

A hint of warmth radiated from the woman’s gaze. It was clear that Randvi was surprised by the gesture, but grateful for it nonetheless.

“...Thank you, Eivor. Even though you and I haven’t spoken much recently, I am glad to see you again. I missed having your company.”

A loving grin spread across the man’s face. “I missed you too.”

Randvi slowly approached Eivor, placing her hands on the sides of his arms. “Please, be careful tomorrow, brother. I know you aren’t the type to sit by and watch a battle unfold, but it’s been difficult enough dealing with Thora’s death. Don’t make me bury you too.”

He held Randvi’s hand in a comforting manner, speaking with sincerity.

“I’ll do everything in my power to return unharmed. But I can’t let Kjotve go.”

“I know. And I don’t expect you to. Just remember what matters. Even if you survive this war, losing yourself to revenge can be a death in itself. I don’t want to see that happen. Can you promise me it won’t?”

“Of course. You have my word.”

Randvi didn’t press any further than that. “...Then I suppose it’ll have to do for now. The thought of coming back home to your corpse terrifies me, but I understand how much Varin’s honor means to you. I won’t deny you that.”

“Thank you, Randvi.”

The woman stepped back from Eivor and turned towards the temple’s entrance, ready to get some rest before charging into the storm ahead. Her mood seemed to have lifted somewhat ever since her brother arrived at the temple, but the perturbed nature she carried made it evident that she wasn’t free from her fears just yet.

“Good luck, Eivor. Even though I have faith that you and I will see this war to its end, I’m aware that anything could happen. Fight well tomorrow. If I don’t get to bring you home... then I pray that the Valkyries will.”

[tybaku]

Aches and Pains (bkdk drabble):

Izuku tears up when Kacchan turns his back to him without another word.

He feels stupid about it though, and a bit silly, since he’s acting almost like a little kid again, ever so possessive over his favorite toy. He tears up, and then stuff his face into his own shoulder in reddened embarrassment all while slipping into the beating aches in his body—the gentle and persistent thrum of a overworking machine.

“Kacchan,” he whines and mewls like it’s going to make any difference, as if Kacchan was just going to spin on his heel and keep him company in his early grave.

Kacchan isn’t like that though. Kacchan is stubborn.

So Izuku wiggles in place and take his own arms into his scarred hands, kneading the straining muscles weakly. “Kacchan, please. I’m dying,” he announces to the empty room, just loud enough to carry out through the open door and to the hallway, where Kacchan was loitering about and probably doing absolutely nothing of importance.

“Tough shit,” Kacchan calls back not nearly as loud, gruff if anything. It’s a fake bothered tone, Izuku knows, because he’s had years to become acquainted with Kacchan’s manner of speech. What kind of fiancé would he be if he couldn’t tell the difference? (Oh, that sounds nice. He’s a fiancé now. He’s so very blessed.) “Deal with it.”

Izuku throws his head back into their pillows, more so on Kacchan’s side of the bed (the right) and groans dramatically, hair spilling everywhere. He vaguely hopes Kacchan has fun picking out Izuku’s green strands from his pillowcase.

“Kacchan is so mean! Do you want me to cry?” Izuku asks, continuing to run his hands over his arms and shoulders. It’s nowhere near as soothing enough, and nowhere near close of a mimic of Kacchan’s warm, soft palms. “Kacchan, I’m going to cry. I’m crying, Kacchan. You made me cry.”

Miraculously, Kacchan appears in his beautiful, scowling glory. “Stop manipulating me,” he says flatly, glaring a hole into Izuku’s head on his precious pillow as he steps into their shared bedroom. “I already said no.”

Izuku huffs and puffs and then juts his lip out. “You’re so mean! Just rub my arms already, Kacchan! I have brittle old man bones!” Izuku squeezes the meat of his arms as some sort of evidence to the claim.

Kacchan however only blinks at him, not the least bit amused. “And who’s fault is that?” he asks in mild disinterest to his moaning and groaning, far too used to the entire spiel. Blah, blah, blah, rub my arms and something, something, you’re so mean.

“Villains!” Izuku says, still squirming. Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Evildoers and criminals! I feel so old. Just a small old man. My arms hurt. My back hurts. Give me massages,”

Kacchan walks over finally, but just to lean over Izuku’s frame, grab a pillow, and smack his chest with it. “You’re twenty five. And no means no. It’s not even your turn, asshole.”

Izuku makes big, sweet eyes at him as he grabs the hem of his tank top. “Kacchan,” he starts seriously before the eyes start to narrow darkly. “It’s my turn.”

Kacchan looks down on him, eyes just as narrow. He leans down slowly, easily dwarfing Izuku despite all the muscle the latter has packed on. Izuku instantly goes into hyperdrive, nearly every one of his senses honing in on Kacchan’s everything. He almost whimpers for two very different reasons.

“No, the fuck, it isn’t.” Kacchan declares sternly before pouncing on his prey, jumping right into bed and encasing Izuku’s hips between his thighs. Izuku’s breath gets knocked out of him, and he screams as Kacchan starts thwacking his pillow across his face repeatedly with no finesse.

“Kacchan! Stop! It’s my turn!” Izuku yells between the cushioned assault on his face. He’s had worse.

“Like hell it is! Give me a massage, you damn nerd!” Kacchan yells in separate syllables as he continues to attack. The grapple for the pillow back and forth, but the straining in Izuku’s arms leaves him on the losing side of their impromptu battle.

“No! Go away! Fuck off!” Izuku protests as he tries to cover his face.

Kacchan growls above him. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“No!” Izuku screams again before sticking out his hands and pushing Kacchan back with all of his unquirked might. Kacchan topples to the end of the bed, disoriented in its sheets, and Izuku grabs one of the other pillows on their bed in his pause of confusion, welding it like a weapon.

“You give me a massage, Kacchan!” Izuku cries out, and then smacks his fiancé in the face.

This, understandably, was considered an outrage to Kacchan, and it leads to both of them having a full blown out pillow war, complete with loud battle cries, flailing limbs, and knocking stuff over. It goes on for about ten solid minutes, but Izuku gets kneed in the groin twice and Kacchan’s lip starts bleeding so they both call it off without a clear winner.

They both lie panting in their shared bed of shame dejectedly, Izuku crying and Kacchan halfway there.

Everything hurt, even worse than it did before. There was a worn sort of pain shooting up Izuku’s arms, and curling around his shoulders and thighs. He knew it must’ve been the same for Kacchan, since they both held similar symptoms for their chronic pain. Just another thing they bond over.

“Okay,” Izuku sniffles, hurting a bit too much to move properly, “how about we both give each other massages. And then we sleep forever,”

Kacchan breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to relax into the bed despite all the hurt grating into his muscle tissue all the way to the bone marrow. “Sounds good.”

Izuku gives a nod and then shifts around a bit to face Kacchan, despite his upper body screaming at him not to, and stretches his out his arms. “Me first? Please?” he asks in a small voice as he sets his hands on Kacchan’s shoulders. Kacchan lets out a long huff from his nose but nods minutely and gets to work.

Kacchan’s hands are amazing. They’re soft, but heavy and rough in just the right places. His palms are smooth against his aching muscles, but his fingertips are calloused and are able to expertly dig into any knots they come across. Izuku loves it.

“Mm,” he hums in mind numbing content, fluttering his eyes closed. “Do the thing, Kacchan. Please?”

And Izuku doesn’t see it, but he knows Kacchan rolled his eyes at the question. “You only want me for my quirk,” he says in a low, fake annoyed grumble.

“What else is there?” Izuku jokes in a soft voice, tone round and sweet in a tease. Kacchan doesn’t laugh, but he huffs with his entire chest and that’s as good as he gets when he’s in pain.

“You would know,” Kacchan throws back before taking his hands off Izuku’s skin and reaching out to the tired air around them. A small, staticky crackle of light then bursts in his palms, and the familiar scent of a pleasant, but mind-numbing sweetness wraps around them. Izuku’s eyes stay transfixed on the little firework-like explosions popping hotly in his fiancé’s strong, gentle hands. He does indeed love his quirk.

Kacchan stops the crackling after a few seconds and touches Izuku’s arms again.

Kacchan’s hands are magic. They feel like heaven. They’re so warm, and loving, and Izuku melts into them like a pat of butter to a hot knife. Kacchan is made of the sun and every star in the sky, surely.

Izuku purrs and hums and murmurs thank you’s and I love you’s over and over as Kacchan rubs out all the aches and pains of his weary body with his sweet and soothing quirk. His hot massages were the best.

“Mm…Thank you, Kacchan.” Izuku says one last time, already feeling a thousand times better.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kacchan says as he sits himself up with more effort than should be needed. “Shoulders now, please.” He rolls one half in emphasis, half in discomfort. Izuku smiles gently and sits up himself, quickly getting to work on his part of the deal. If Kacchan says please, Izuku can’t refuse him.

“Of course, Kacchan!” he chirps as he kneads his taut shoulders as heavily as he could, knowing Kacchan liked the roughness and weight. When he presses the into any knots he finds with his knuckles, Kacchan sighs in relief. “You’re tense,”

“No shit,” Kacchan mutters as he rolls his neck side to side, “Put your back into it.”

“I’m trying,” Izuku says, because he is indeed trying to do his best without any extra strength from his quirk. “What about your arms? Or your back? Want me to walk on your spine again?”

Kacchan just snorts and then shakes his head. “This is fine for now. Maybe later.” He hums in delight when Izuku’s thumbs knead the sorest spot between his shoulder blades. Izuku laughs quietly and can’t help but lean in to press a small kiss behind Kacchan’s ear, right over a little freckle.

“Love you, Kacchan.” Izuku murmurs kindly, loving the way Kacchan’s skin begins to glow a pretty pink.

“Love ya too, Deku.” Kacchan mumbles back with a sort of pout, eyes closed and breath slow but steady.

Izuku smiles.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

wait a minute. So I've read your bits on civil war 2008, and I have a question for you: all the characters in the civil war event, at least the major players(like stark, Cap, Spidey, FF), do you believe that they are acting OOC, or that the writers chose to bring out the character's worse qualities to create drama?

And do you think that if the writers had written them In Character, or at least written them to be more balanced, would it have improved the story? Actually, do you think that Civil War could have been... at least A not Bad Story under an intense rewrite? or that the whole concept should have been thrown away?

The OOC talk is tempting and also partially justified. There is a batch of previous stories scattered through the years with the Fantastic Four dealing with similar scenarios where Reed is pretty much anti-government.

1) In one Social Services sue the FF4 for endangering Reed and Sue Kids by keeping them in the Baxter Building despite it being blown up once every 2 weeks. They ask them to "register" them and put them in a safe government facility, so to spearhead a new law where they can get pre-teen superhumans "out of harm way" or some shit.

Keep in mind Franklin is still a Mutant in this story (And still is right now because FUCK YOU SLOTT). Anyway, Reed seemingly agrees,only to set up a dummy facility and "register" his kids there. He doesn't even announce it he literally only writes it in the Government's documentation and shit.

The facility is razed to the ground a couple hours later. Because yes the Baxter Building can explode at any time but AT LEAST they are there to protect the kids from the countless people.

2) In another story, Reed is asked by Congress to create a device that outs mutants and "abnormal" humans, so the government can better individuate them for "reasons." Reed agrees, and makes a device SO POWERFUL it detects every deviations from the supposed norm, so when he gives a demonstration in Congress, he reveals half of its members would qualify as "Mutants" if they kept that line of inquiry, which makes them hastily drop the whole thing. This was intentional, because who the fuck are they to decide who is or isn't not normal?

3) Compare and Contrast with Civil Ear Reed Richards, who is a McCarthy apologist who goes "Logically speaking, we need to listen to the government on this one otherwise we might get burned just like my (gay coded) artist uncle was by the McCarthy Trials in the 50s when he told the court to shove it and his life was ruined as a result. It's the rational way to do it."

4) (The three main proponents of the Registration Side being Rich, White, Heterosexual Men in positions of powers, with jobs in the science field that justify their decision with "Facts and Logic" was PROBABLY unintentional, but is also a great unintended allegory for this kind of shit. The ones who are hurt the most but these kind of laws are the ones who can't afford it after all, and who is ever going to go after the rich and powerful first? Especially if they come with little repercussions on their lives (Tony, Reed and Hank where all already outed as Superheroes after all))

5) Peter is OOC in OMD mind you, Civil War goes pretty much how you'd expect him to go (gets manipulated by authority figure into it, MJ and May are supportive of him because they see only half the facts, the SECOND Peter realizes that those people are monsters he drops them and gets the shit beaten out of him for it, unlike Reed or Tony who can AFFORD having their identities public Peter barely has the money to survive which ends with May getting shot for it). It's an incredibly poignant scenario that I wish was used to TELL A MESSAGE rather than just a backdrop to shoehorn OMD in.

6) Which is to say Civil War could indeed be written better under the same premise. If they want to keep the Patriot Act Allegory, they should be aware of what that would entail for the characters that support it.

We are currently seeing a similar scenario going on in Marvel in the Champions comics where the registration side is pretty much spearheaded by an unambiguous evil corporation and shit. In light of Civil War I existing the whole thing kinda loses its impact (Like that one joke scene where Tony goes "Maybe we should register them" with a smug look on his face as if he isn't responsible for so many deaths), but at least they are trying to shift the conversation? The villain is not the Government of course it's Evil Apple, but at least it's not a "Both Sides are equally ok" centrist bullshit take like they did in Civil War or in Skyrim.

Like, fuck, it's literally called CIVIL WAR to invoke the American Civil War in the context of the "brother kills brother" interpretation some bastards are so fond off, I wouldn't call THAT a "Both Sides are valid" scenario by a long fucking mile, yet here we are.

7) I think the best way to put it would be to set up the same scenario but make it realistic to the setting and shit.

Hank and Tony still support the Government because one is a Skrull Chaos Agent the other is misguided, Carol takes Reed's place in the Triad because Women can be War Criminals too (She was leading the equivalent of a child soldier program during Civil War so she is one already at least). Steve is also anti government because this is happening during the fucking BUSH ADMINISTRATION and he goes "When will Washington decide who the villains are?" Like he did in canon but in, like, a poignant moment.

Speaking of Reed he will keep his family neutral and go "I admit superheroing does need failsafes and some kind of oversight mind you, I just don't this this country's government has demonstrated their right to be that."

Let's not put the "Cap you are out of touch because you don't know what MySpace is" or "Luke every time I see a Sentinel that's like seeing a Burning Cross" rants in the story too because those were some raw shit.

Tony, again, lives in privilege, so it wouldn't exactly affect him, and is genuinely trying to do good, so we need to put him as the "Patsy" who gets duped by Skrull Hank Pym for it, the government is the one with the secret prison for Superheroes, Hank is the one recruiting Nazi Scientists and starting child soldier programs, clones Thor, sets up with the Government a Super Prison in the Ocean (can't use the negative zone without Reed), outside of US Jurisdiction so the government can ship then there with no trial and torture them. When Skrull Hank Pym is confronted for it, and the blame is attempted to be pinned on him and him alone, he goes "Are you earthlings daft or something? I did almost nothing, it was your government who did most of the work in their desire for security and safety, I just sped up the process for them, they would have done all of this with or without me."

Around the ending Tony finds out and is devastated and drops the whole thing."

When someone tries to comfort Tony over it because he didn't know any of this he goes "Oh, that's were you're wrong Peter. I knew. Deep down, I knew things weren't right, unjust, but I did nothing, because I could make things better from the inside, because it didn't affect me, because It would have been inconvenient to me to stop this. This is on me for passively accepting it as it is on the ones who enforced it." Which leads him to make amends, that way he is not as much of a awful character here.

The scene where The US kidnaps Ororo so they can strong arm Tchalla into getting registered happens but is treated as a international crisis as it deserves.

The Prison Break finale happens because Namor discovers the prison in HIS FUCKING DOMAIN and just goes ham on it with the help of the Anti Registration side, he drops a line like "I've seen shit like this before, I've seen what happens when man declares another man a criminal for things out of their control, for what they've been from birth, and I say NOT IN MY KINGDOM!" or some shit (He is a WWII veteran after all).

Since Steve isn't pummeling to the ground Tony in this scenario there isn't the dumb as fuck Everyday Heroes scene and he doesn't get shot by Sharon later on..

We have instead the scene from Secret Invasion where Skrull Hank Pym kills Steve (In SI it was Skrull Queen killing Janet Van Dyne) on national television, which leads to the anger of everyone involved who rush him, only for Tony to be the one who pull the trigger.

Tony is put in charge of SHIELD, which leads to Iron Reign (Dark Reign equivalent), and the story ends with him going "Let's see if things can reach change from the inside this time" as he actually reforms Shield from his position of power. The Registration Act becomes unpopular due to Steve's death and Alien Interferences, so that helps, and leads to actual protests in the streets after Namor reveals to the UN the war crimes the US is committing. It's a slow process, but is something.

OMD doesn't happen, The Peter storyline remains pretty much the same, but instead of Tony bragging about his private prisons for Superheroes in hell, it's the Punisher who shows up to him and reveals some troubling shit he discovered, Peter Confront Tony for it who dismisses it as fake news because he doesn't want to believe, Peter drops the registration side out of disgust, which then leads to the government sending villains after him rather than Tony. Tony is then seen strongly arguing with Maria Hill for this since Peter almost died from what he got from his suit readings (which he never hijacked or deactivated), but the Skrull Hank Pym shows up and supports Maria Hill for it, and Carol is busy with her child soldier program to comment.

May still gets shot and dies right as Peter and MJ discover MJ is pregnant with their second Daughter, which is ripe for lots of good stuff.

Maria Hill will therefore have to take even more of a role as a Government Plant and shit, but what's new.

Johnny Storm still gets hate crimed on but not by black people. Maybe confirm him as Bi while we're at it? You know, to get topical and all.

Ideally No More Mutants never happened so mutants are still a thing and most of them are vehemently anti registration. Emma Frost appears neutral at first glance, but ultimately she is playing the long game, secretly helping militant mutant groups and shielding the school from unwanted attention. She still has a restraining order filled for Tony Stark, she still points out to Carol how fucking dangerous a mutant life can be if outed via mind powers.

Can't think of much else for now, maybe Felicia helping MJ and May while they are in hiding? MJ is nauseous and all and she goes "must be the nerves" and Felicia agrees but May knows. This could lead to the polycule post May death since Felicia blames herself for it for not being fast enough, and MJ now is pregnant and scared and the Registration Act is getting repealed by the future is still glum and Peter is depressed so they all comfort each other and then 69 issues later we have a two parter maxi event where they face their fears and BANG we get the polycule.

Aunt May still poisons the Chameleon while he was posing as Peter. She actually actually poisons him rather then just drug him this time, because she knows of that one time he tried to force himself on MJ while posing as Peter which lead to MJ beating the shit out of him with a baseball bat, and May is a nice old lady but there are things she really can't stand you know?

Felicia and MJ help her hide the body. Peter never finds out.

And that's it?

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) he says he wants to as well, but he is a liar  STAR WARS

Jangobi Week Day 3 - Undercover

A03

Jango sweeps through the halls like a violent summer storm, all but spitting in anger, teeth bared in a furious snarl under his buy’ce. They had been betrayed.  He had been betrayed.

Ben had betrayed him.

Almost a year ago, they had found a scrawny, underfed redhead barely out of his teen years wandering  Manda’yaim  , just another victim of  Kyr’tsad  and the Kalevalan pretenders. His story had been one that they’d all heard, orphaned by  Kyr’tsad as a child and raised among the New Mandalorians’ sickening idea of foster care. They’d all considered him one of so many unlucky children, but he’d proven that he was  Mandokarla  despite the  dar’manda  way the Kalevalans had raised him, without a connection of  aliit  or a proper education as a  Mando’ad. He hadn’t allowed himself to be brainwashed by their propaganda, had seen past it, and he hadn’t let Kryze and his ilk destroy his connection to the Manda.

They’d taken him into their homes, had welcomed him as one of them, and taught him what it had truly meant to be  Mando’ad. Jango’s own vod Myles had adopted Ben Naasad into his Clan, had made him Ben Rau of House Mereel. He had given him the name and soul that had been denied to him his entire life, had helped him forge his  beskar’gam  and complete the  verd’goten  that the  dar’manda New Mandalorians had never allowed.

Jango had fallen in love with him, had asked him to exchange the  riduurok  with him, and now he can’t help but wonder how much of it was a  lie. Ben - if that even was his name - had been a spy. He had been spying on them all along, passing on everything he learned to Kryze, the Republic dog that he is.

Had it all been a lie? Had the love Ben had felt for him, for all of them, been just a ruse? All that time together, all those times they’d fallen into bed together and given over pieces of themselves to the other. The warmth in blue eyes, the sweet lingering kisses and the teasing drag of graceful hands across Jango’s skin; had it really been  just a mission to Ben?

Jango had nearly torn the compound apart looking for his  ven’riduur after the Republic-New Mandalorian attack that had shaken his home, when he’d learned that Ben was missing. He had figured then that they’d purposely captured the intended of the Mand’alor, had taken his captive; Ben had been sick recently, could barely get out of bed in the mornings with throwing up everything he had eaten the night before. He had been clammy and feverish, and Jango had been trying to convince his  cyare  to go see a  baar’ur because he didn’t know how to help him. When the attack had happened, Ben should have been in the Mand’alor’s suite, resting surrounded by  verde who would protect him, but Jango had returned to his rooms, victorious in repelling the attackers, to find the guards he had assigned to his ill  ven’riduur unconscious on the floors.

The beskar doors that should have been protecting him had been cut away at the walls, by a  lightsaber. Jango had nearly been overcome with protective terror, seeing the melted, warped stone and his missing  ven’riduur  who had been too sick to even get out of bed that morning, who definitely wouldn’t have been able to defend himself against a  Jetii, no matter how skilled of a fighter he had grown to become over the year with the  Haat’ade.

It hadn’t taken long to organize an attack group; Jango’s people loved his intended. Ben was easy to like, spunky and feisty, but gentle and kind at the same time, a vicious fighter who cared so much for  ade that he spent most of his free time with the Clan children and Foundlings. He and his people had rarely ever attacked the New Mandalorians, saw it as dishonourable to fight those who wouldn’t even pick up a weapon to defend their own children, and kept most of their battles solely in negotiations - Jaster was especially good at cowing Kryze and his ilk, who took one look at the crippled former Mand’alor and thought themselves above him, who seemed to forget that it was  Jaster  who had made the  Haat’ade  who they are - but in working with  Jetiise, who had nearly killed Jango and his super-commandos on Galidraan, to take Jango’s  ven’riduur, they had given the Haat’ade an open invitation for  war.

It had been criminally easy to take over Sundari, to steal the city out from under Duke Kryze and his Kalevalan pretenders, and retake it for Mandalore. It had been far too easy for the enraged  Haat’ade to take the palace, to take custody of the children of House Kryze, to take the Duke’s youngest daughter and grandson as wards. Neither Bo-Katan or little Korkie would come to harm among the Haat’ade, instead they’d be adopted into a different Clan while House and Clan Kryze were dissolved and declared dar’manda, and the New Mandalorians and noncombatants that surrendered and swore to Jango as the Mand’alor would be given leniency and a chance to achieve cin vhetin.

It had been far too easy for all the trouble they had been giving him, but Jango had ensured his hold of  Manda’yaim.

While his verde had been taking the capital, Jango had gone hunting, intent on finding where his  ven’riduur had been hidden, and trusting his connection to the Manda to lead him to where he needed to go. He hadn’t been led towards the cell block like he had been expecting, instead, Jango had found himself marching through the guest wing of the palace, where the Duke’s most important visitors were to be housed. He had found his  ven’riduur  laying in a plush bed, looking a little green, wearing the distinctive robes of the  Jetiise, the shaggy red hair that Jango had so loved running his hands through shaved down to the cut of a  hibir. He’d jerked when Jango had burst into the room, staring at him with shock and fear as he’d fumbled with the hilt of a  jetii’kad, and for a moment, they’d only stared at each other as Jango tried to understand what he was looking at.

He had still been processing it when the Jetii had attacked. The large Human had come out of nowhere, but Manda’s warning and the widening of Ben’s eyes had given him the time he needed to dodge the green  kad’au  the could have taken his off of otherwise. The fight that had followed had been a blur; his anger and fury had given him the strength he needed to win though, but the moment the  Jetii’s body had dropped, Ben had  screamed .

Jango had known then, what it was that his  ven’riduur was.

A  Jetii  and a spy; but still, this was the man Jango had loved. He had ordered the  baar’ur to treat him, when they’d brought him back to Keldabe, but instead of being moved to their room, like he should have been if he hadn’t betrayed them, Ben had been locked away in a cell, to await his fate while Jango finished up meeting with his council and setting up a loyal governor to take over Sundari. He’d taken longer than he usually would, trying to work his way through the tangled knot of hurt betrayal in his heart, had tried to ignore the ache in his chest.

He’d only had one heart to give, after all, and he’d given it willingly to a man who had been lying about everything.

Jango meets Myles outside of the cell block. His  vod’s hurt is a palpable thing in the air around him; Myles had loved Ben too, just as much as Jango did, and his  vod’ika’s betrayal had hurt him just as much as it had the young Mand’alor.

Wordlessly, Jango claps his battle-bonded brother’s shoulder in support, and Myles’  buy’ce dips. They’re both silent for a long moment, taking strength from each other just as they would on the battlefield, before Myles speaks.

“It couldn’t have all been a lie.” He says slowly, and the vocoder in his  buy’ce  may hide a lot of things, but Jango knows his  vod just as well as he knows himself, he can hear the shakiness of unshed tears, the cracking of a broken heart, and Jango squeezes the other man’s shoulder. “Right?”

Jango thinks of the man he had fallen in love with; thinks of the genuine kindness and delight in blue eyes, and fiery spirit of a fighter that couldn’t be faked - the way he had  flourished  learning the ways of a  Haat’ad. Ben had kneeled at his feet and sworn to the  resol’nare, had declared his desire to follow the path for  cin vhetin. He had kissed Jango with such gentle passion, had let Jango show him how to make love, and had accepted Jango’s proposal to become one.

Not all of it could have been a lie. No one could have faked all that for over a year; not even a  Jetii.

A memory rises above his distress, of ancient texts and listening to his Buir late at night as they’d gone over the history of Mandalore. There were ways, old ones, to truly seek cin vhetin, Jango remembers, and once the idea is there, it takes root and flowers. Ben had sworn to  cin vhetin, had sworn to a fresh start, and there were ways Jango could lead him on that path. Ways that not even the  Jetiise could poison.

But he wants to hear what Ben has to say first.

“We won’t let it be a lie.” He swears to Myles, watching the way he perks up, despite his confusion. “Ben is one of us - whatever he was before doesn’t matter anymore. He swore  cin vhetin, and that’s what he’ll do.” With that, Jango steps past his second, feeling the other man fall in step behind him more than he sees him, and they sweep deeper into the cell block.

In front of him and just outside of the only occupied cell on this level,  Baar’ur  Nawara straightens. Helmetless, the Twi’Lek salutes, “Mand’alor!” Xe greets, and Jango nods to the older  Mando’ad.

Beyond the red laser shield, Ben sits huddled on his cot, back to them and eyes on the wall, and Jango can’t force his eyes away from his  ven’riduur  despite his words being for his  baar’ur. “Anything to report, Nawara?” A flinch travels up his  ven’riduur’s spine.

“'Lek  ,  alor.” A gesture of a hand signals for the doctor to speak, and Nawara only hesitates momentarily. “I ran some tests, to see what could be making him so ill, and I received some positive results.” Xe swallows nervously, “He’s pregnant, Mand’alor, just past eleven weeks. The fetal DNA is a fifty-percent match to yours.”

Jango stills, and he watches Ben - his  pregnant ven’riduur  - shiver. The joy of learning that he’s going to be a Buir is undercut by his anger at his  cyare  for leaving, but now, he can’t help but wonder how willing Ben had been to leave. He could have easily let the  Jetii  into their suite if he was really running, could have left, but instead the  Jetii that Jango had killed had forced his way in, had cut down the blast doors and taken him. Ben could have interfered in their battle at any time, could have leapt to the  Jetii’s defense, but instead he’d watched. He hadn’t even fought when Jango had sedated him for transfer back to Keldabe, and the Mand’alor knows that he could have.

Perhaps Ben had come to them as a spy - but it seems likely that he’d grown to genuinely want to be among the  Haat’ade.

“Why?” Jango’s voice pierces the silence that had followed the doctor’s words, but they’re not aimed at Nawara.

“I was given a mission.” Ben’s voice is quiet, thick with tears, but he doesn’t look at Jango, and he’s no longer using the Kalevalan accent he must have appropriated for his deception, it’s High Coruscanti instead, but Jango can hear the underlining burr of the Concord Dawn accent his knows his  ven’riduur  had picked up from him. “I was to infiltrate the  Haat’ade  and report back to my Master. To ensure you didn’t get more of a foothold on  Manda’yaim, and to support Duke Kryze and his Heiress’ claim to the system.” His head droops lower, “The Senate wants access to the beskar mines, but can’t move openly because of the treaties, not without looking like the aggressor to the other systems. I’m young enough that it was decided that I was the best option to complete this half of our mission; an orphan of the Clan Wars looking to join you would be more believable than a man nearing his fifties.” Ben’s voice breaks, and Jango wants desperately to hold him, to comfort him and wipe away his tears.

“But it wasn’t about the mission anymore.” Jango says slowly, “Was it? If it was just a mission, you wouldn’t have accepted my courtship, wouldn’t have let me fuck you -” Ben twitches, “- because you’re not that kind of person, are you, Ben?”

“It’s Obi-Wan.” Ben whispers, voice cracking, “Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“No, it’s not.” Jango states, voice confident, “You swore  cin vhetin. Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer exists.” Slowly, the Mand’alor steps forward, keying himself into the cell and pulling off his  buy’ce as he moves. “A fresh start - who you were before no longer matters.” He comes to a stop next to the cell cot, and slowly reaches out a hand. His fingers move through short, prickly strands of copper hair that lack the waves that he had grown to associate with his ven’riduur, and his nose crinkles at the sight of the ugly nerftail and braid he wore. Neither would be comfortable under his  buy’ce . Ben melts into the touch like he always does, hiccuping faintly on a sob. “You’re Ben Rau, of House Mereel, soon to be of Clan Fett.”

“This  wasn’t part of the mission.” Ben sobs, one hand pressing against his stomach as he lifts his head so that Jango could meet his  ven’riduur’s bloodshot eyes and see the tears trailing across freckled cheeks. His gaze is pleading. “Master Qui-Gon said I was getting too attached, and ordered my extraction.  You  were never part of the mission.” He shakes like a newborn striil, “I didn’t want to leave.”

Jango steps forward again, gathering his  cyare  into his arms and letting the younger man collapse against him. “K’uur.” The Mand’alor soothes, “I know, Ben.  Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

In his arms, Ben breaks, but Jango is confident in his ability to help him put himself back together.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42 @tumceteri-fratres

[aion-rsa]

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

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“All I have in this world is my balls and my word, and I don’t break them for no one,” Tony Montana declares in the 1983 gangster classic, Scarface. Yet Al Pacino’s antihero breaks both in his quest for money, power, and women. And just as he is on the brink of winning the trifecta, he is blown away like so much dust up a nose.

Did he lose because the Cuban mobster didn’t heed the advice of his first crime boss? Or is it because he just couldn’t stand to see his sister and his best friend wearing his-and-her pajamas? In truth, Montana’s fall can probably be traced back to when he learned to speak English by “watching guys like Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney.”

Directed by Brian De Palma, and written by Oliver Stone, Scarface is a remake of Howard Hawks’ vastly influential 1932 mob movie, so Montana’s explosive descent was preordained. Tony Montana continued Pacino’s run of criminal icons, which included Sonny in Dog Day Afternoon and the ultimate crime family head, Michael Corleone in The Godfather films. The actor supplanted Paul Muni’s Tony Carmonte as the recognizably scarred face of the title role. Pacino would go on to play Carlito in Carlito’s Way and Lefty in Donnie Brasco, but while each hoodlum brings a new facet to his rogues gallery, none of his gangsters ever achieve their ultimate desires. They almost all reach dizzying heights, and everyone of them sees the dream slip through their fingers. Still, Montana experiences perhaps the greatest fall of all.

The original 1932 film took place during Prohibition when crime was a viable means of survival. De Palma’s adaptation happens in the Reagan era, a time when lucky opportunists could get their lips around the spigots of cash before it got a chance to trickle down. Tony’s economic theory is much more succinct: “You know what capitalism is? Getting fucked.”

Scarface is a rags-to-riches-to-self-destructive fireball story, and nothing succeeds like excess. Montana’s first crime boss in America, Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia), has weathered the climate change from President Carter to the Gipper, and warns Tony to never “underestimate the other guy’s greed.”

In the original Howard Hughes production, Tony was an immigrant from Italy. In the Cold War era film, Montana is a refugee from Cuba. Their shared first mistake is to believe in the American Dream.

The World Is Yours

These words are flashed in both films and hit each of the two criminal aspirants as hard as the “give me your tired, poor, and hungry” promises carved under the Statue of Liberty. Scarface opens shortly after the Mariel boatlift, the 1980 exodus which followed Cuba’s economic crash. Montana seeks asylum, telling immigration officers he is a political prisoner who doesn’t agree with his country’s politics and owns nothing under communism. He says even American prison is better than his life on the Caribbean island. The officers note his criminal past, the telltale tattoo on his arm, and the scar on his face, which despite their insults was obviously not caused by oral sex.

In exchange for a Green Card, Montana and his friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) assassinate Gen. Emilio Rebenga, who tortured the brother of the crime boss Lopez. Tony settles in sunny Miami. And when he gets out of the kitchen and into the heat of crime, he hits the ground running. “The World Is Yours,” after all. All you have to do is take it, and Montana has both hands out.

Frank warns his protégé, “The guys who last in this business are the guys who fly straight – lowkey, quiet; and the guys who want it all – chicas, champagne, flash – they don’t last.” But Montana is a meteor, bound to burn up in the atmosphere. He gets caught on the orbit of Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar), agreeing to supply cocaine from Bolivia independent of the other drug lords. Within a few years, Montana is doing so well, the feds target him for tax evasion.

Tony’s Betrayal of Frank Lopez

Montana’s betrayal of Frank Lopez is crucial to his downfall. Frank is the father figure who initially took a chance on Tony. He let him rise through the ranks, even as he tried to bite off more than he could chew. Frank’s biggest mistake is not making sure his underlings follow his sage advice. He also ignores one of his own commandments. Lopez underestimates Montana’s greed. He trusts Tony to accompany his trusted second-gun Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) to Bolivia to meet with Sosa, and continues to let Tony operate after the druglord hangs Suarez from a helicopter.

The deal Montana makes behind Frank’s back is a major step toward the fall. The vow Tony takes never to betray Sosa ultimately leads to the last splash. Montana breaks his word to both of these men, and they bust his balls as a result. When Tony returns to Miami, Frank is suspicious over Omar’s death and his returning soldier’s independence. As Montana begins to build his own cocaine empire, Frank orders a professional hit.

For gangsters, the only good cop is a bad cop, and it is advisable to grease the wheels which move crime. Mel Bernstein (Harris Yulin) demands his take early in the film at the Babylon Club, which has the perfect cocktail napkins for bribery notes. Bernstein was willing to overlook the murders of Rebenga, “Hector the Toad,” and “that bloodbath at the Sun Ray Hotel.” Tony should have taken him at his word when the cop said he could clean up Tony’s Lopez mess.

Before Tony eliminates Frank, he is hungry. The money and drugs are not a distraction. After he begins to accumulate power, he lets his public profile rise and indulges in conspicuous consumption. Montana keeps a chained-up tiger in front of his compound just to let everyone know how powerful he is. There are real life precedents for this. Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar imported hippos for his private zoo. Brooklyn mobster “Crazy” Joe Gallo kept a pet lion named Cleo in the basement of his headquarters. The scenario was also probably inspired by Miami’s most notorious drug lord, Mario Tabraue, whose predilection for wild cats was featured in the Netflix documentary Tiger King. But the most conspicuous acquisition Montana leveraged cut Frank the deepest.

It’s always a mistake to go after the boss’ girl. James Cagney’s Tommy Powers knew this in The Public Enemy (1931). James Woods’ Maximillian “Max” Bercovicz skirts this in Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984). Montana sets out to steal Frank’s trophy wife, Elvira Hancock (Michelle Pfeiffer), from the moment he lays eyes on her, though he waits for the height of his reign to claim her. He does it as much to emasculate his former boss as he does it out of desire. It’s a betrayal equal to having Manny whack Frank while he pleads for his life.

The new couple is married by 1983, but with a marriage always on the rock.

Don’t Get High on Your Own Supply

Montana’s downfall is aided, abetted, but most of all mirrored in his descent into addiction. He probably took his first sniff from Elvira’s stash, but even as Montana bemoans, “I got a junkie for a wife,” he doesn’t get wind of his own problem. “Another Quaalude, and she’ll be mine again,” he reasons as the trophy wife climbs off the pedestal and up on a shelf.

Montana is in deep drug denial when Elvira leaves him after he openly complains she can’t have children because she is polluted with the yaya he’s been peddling. He should at least entertain the notion when she openly wonders if he would even be alive to raise their child.

In American Gangster, Denzel Washington’s Frank Lucas knows enough not to dip his nose into the supply. And while Pacino’s slide into the junkie aspects of his character is physically more subtle than Ray Liotta’s bug-eyed Henry Hill in Goodfellas, the results are just as devastating. When Montana was crushing the competition and bagging the Sandman, he had discipline. His mind gets muddled as his drug use spirals out of control. He makes rash decisions, dips into schizoid delusions, and succumbs to white powder paranoia. He can’t see his way through the haze to find alternatives. He walks right into the undercover cop’s money laundering bust.

The drugs dull his instincts. If Tony wasn’t high at the security command center, he would have seen Sosa’s soldiers encroaching his compound over the cameras. He had 10 bodyguards on the property, he could have positioned them defensively. The only thing his ultimate hit man is hiding behind is a pair of killer shades. He never should have been able to sneak behind Montana’s back. Tony also wouldn’t have gotten rid of his most trusted weapon.

Over and Underestimating Little Friends

Tony Montana’s right-hand man would have been the best, first defense against the Sosa attack. What Tony does to Manny Ribera is his worst action. The two are virtually brothers. Their bond goes beyond being partners in crime, it tightened in the “Freedomtown” concentration camp, and solidified in the Miami chainsaw massacre. It is because Manny is Tony’s most trusted soldier that he will never be good enough for Tony’s sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Tony’s saving grace is he believes he is doing all this to ensure a better life for his sister. Gina is supposed to represent the innocence he sacrificed, but she is also an unattainable sin.Tony’s mother doesn’t try to separate her children merely because her daughter might be swallowed in the criminal life; she is curbing what she sees as Tony’s unnatural urges. 

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Even if Tony doesn’t see Manny as a rival for his sister’s affections, he still sees him through the eyes of a fellow criminal, and a womanizing one at that. Tony is just like his mother, who rejects him. Tony brands his friend, and ultimately seals his fate with it.

The problem is Ribera wasn’t made to be a gangster. He is a loyal and efficient consigliere and soldier for Tony’s crew, but he would have been happier slapping his name on knockoff designer jeans. Besides the bubbling incestuous tension exacerbated by the coke haze, Tony doesn’t want to see his best friend happier than him, and denies Gina a real chance at the happiness he wants for her.

It’s the one thing Tony can’t buy for her. Gina and Manny fully expect Tony to be thrilled by their marriage. They were going to surprise him with the news. Tony’s incestuous protectiveness speeds his downfall. He murders Manny as a punishment. Gina is shot by Sosa’s men. Montana loses the two most important people in his life, and his inability to control his lusts destroy them all.

“Say Goodnight to the Bad Guy”

The biggest contributory factor in Tony’s downfall is his humanity. In The Godfather, Sonny Corleone advises his brother Michael not to take things too personally in business. When Lopez gives Montana the mission of delivering a bundle of cocaine to Columbian dealers, the rising mobster takes things very personally. The deal goes bad when Montana’s friend Angel Fernandez is murdered with a chainsaw in a scene so aurally graphic (watch it again, there’s no violence shown, only heard), it almost got the film an X rating.

It was allowed in the film in the name of education, Stone pointed to a DEA report which detailed the exact scenario. Tony teaches the Colombians a lesson in humanity. Not content with leaving with the cash and the coke, he kills every single gang member who had anything to do with Angel’s death.

Tony also lets his conscience be his guide when he’s working the GPI on a hit. Faced with serious jail time for his tax evasion arrest, he makes a deal with Sosa, who is also under fire. Montana agrees to fly to New York and assassinate a journalist before he can give a speech on Sosa’s organization. A bomb has been planted in the journalist’s car, and Tony is in charge of tailing until the perfect detonation point. But when Tony arrives on the scene to assassinate the journalist, he notices the man’s wife and children are with him. Montana not only breaks his word, the promise to protect his powerful partner, but he murders Sosa’s right hand man, Alberto, rather than kill the children playing in the back seat.

“I Always Tell The Truth. Even When I Lie.”

Tony Montana may have been the ballsiest and most charismatic of his machismo mob, but he wasn’t the brightest. He acknowledges his intellectual shortcomings, “I come from the gutter,” he admits. “I know that. I got no education, but that’s okay. I know the street.” But he doesn’t read signs. He can’t tell a freeway from a dead end. Frank Lopez may be a blowhard, but his words of wisdom could have been carved in the cement. 

All the concrete Tony brags about has gone to his head, making his skull thicker than Pacino’s accent. Montana is brash and unbending, narcissistically adherent to only his own advice, and his own worst counsel. His anger blinds him, the battery is running low on his foresight, and he’s so flashy his enemies can see him coming from miles away. And he can’t see them when they’re standing close enough to breathe on the back of his neck. 

Final Massacre

Of course the most obvious reason Tony ends up the way does is because he fights off an army by himself. He’s got quite an arsenal, and the coke probably makes it seem like a good idea at the time, but the decision to stay and fight is vastly miscalculated. Even if Tony had survived the last assassination attempt, Sosa’s men would always be hunting for him. It would have been a short hunt. Tony Montana would have died of a heart attack from all that coke he snorted.

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[phantomchick]

List of wips - aka struggles

Call Me A Jason Todd fic I started two years ago and still go back to poke at longingly, will the second and final chapter ever be posted? Who can know for sure.

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I tell myself that I don't need Anyone (But the truth is no one needs Me) Another Jason Todd fic I haven't completed, posted two years ago for whumptober, it was the only day of whumptober I participated in, intended to be full of Captain Atom and Jason Todd interacting during the fall out of Bludhaven getting chemo'd but he doesn't show up in the first chapter and have you ever tried to read Infinite Crisis? It's a fucking mess. With this wip I have a close to justifiable excuse in that I refuse to write without knowing the canon, and reading through all the canon that's relevant is A Task.

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The Monster in The Man A Merlin fic floating around my drafts, currently at a good bit over 5k wherein Merlin gets POSSESSED by an old enchantment gone mad. Written because a Merlin fic I read ended on a horror style cliffhanger and I couldn't handle it so I charged my way through the first 2k of a sequel and I've been adding to it ever since. Angst with a hopefully happy ending, if I ever frikking finish it.

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The Dragon Lord In the aftermath of his father's death after Merlin inherits his father's dragon lord abilities he notices some minor changes to his interactions with his friends, the thing is that Merlin is a dragon lord and unusually what he hoards is people, things might just turn out the better for it.

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Maelstrom A Naruto time travel fix it fic that wouldn't leave me alone until I got the first chapter out, ironically it has left me entirely alone since I finished the first chapter and I have no idea if inspiration for it will ever return or when that will be.

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You Don't Know Anything Long long ago in a land of asks and a time of legend @paradise-runway sent me a fic request for "one where the other Bat boys find out the circumstances of Jason's death and resurrection and their reaction?" it has been lingering in my drafts haunting me ever since, someday, someday I shall fulfill what has been promised.

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Of Curses and Covenants A longfic exploring the magical underbelly of Gotham's history, focuses on the intertwined relationship of the Wayne Family and the Zatara Family brought about by how often Waynes through the generations have ended up being cursed. I have an index of all the curses ready, the problem with this one is the plot and the story.

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Vicki Finds a Bat (temporary title) Vicki Vale stumbles upon a still alive young adult Jason Todd at a wafflehouse on the way back from snooping into Cobblepot's latest criminal schemes. Convincing the young man to go back home to his loving father might prove more of a challenge than she thinks however. (will have a happy ending if I ever fucking finish it, for now it looms in my drafts like an unhappy gargoyle)

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Hug Deficit A fic about Jason being touch starved and his family fixing it, hurt/comfort all the way, post resurrection.

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Stephanie Brown and The Mansion of Man Pain Robin Era Steph, she and Alfred have pumpkin spice lattes together, it's their thing because I say it is. Includes, Alfred raised 5 boys counting Bruce, he's not sure how to handle a little girl and Bruce trying to dad plus Steph trying her best. Would be a lot easier to write if I was any good at comedy.

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Another Time, Another Place Some twenty years or so after their death, Martha and Thomas Wayne appear in the middle of Wayne Manor's ground floor parlour room, the major problem with this? Not only are Bruce and Dick away, Alfred's on holiday in England! Which is why Jason as the eldest has been unwillingly nominated by his younger siblings to deal with the situation at hand. Martha and Thomas in this are heavily inspired by @unpretty's amazing portrayals in her fics with them.

- Queen Blackfire and the Lazarus Lord An au with Soulmate identifying marks: Jason Todd was having an okay time as de-facto leader of The Outlaws, a band of misfits and rebels with hearts of gold (or at least silver) saving the world the best they could and filling in the gaps the more straightforward heroes tended to miss while they were at it. Then he found out he was soulmates with the Alien Warrior Queen bent on declaring war on planet Earth if the Justice League didn't find her soulmate for her. Things with his friend, team mate and potential future sister in law Kori just got super awkward and the only good thing he can find about this situation is how angry (and protective? But maybe he's just imagining that) Bruce seems over the whole thing.

Side note: Kommand'r freaked out during the years Jason was 'dead' and accidentally brought peace to a huge chunk of space and intergalactic society via building up her empire after throwing herself into work to escape the grief.

- To Grasp The Hand of a Fox Naruto and Kurama travel back in time to save the world but unfortunately they land in the same moment that Kurama's just been put under a genjutsu by Madara Uchiha, Naruto has to make his way to Konoha and wake Kurama up before the villagers seal him away inside Mito. Can he save his friend in time to save them all?

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Those Winter Sundays Mcu fic. Snapshots of Tony working hard for the avengers and no one noticing. Civil War Team Iron Man.

- Salvation Rides a Solar Wind Iron Man fic in a Science fiction / Western style fic where Tony's presence is described through the eyes of the aliens he helps. Au where the war with Thanos goes very differently. The type of fic that needs like 5 multi chapter fics in a single series to truly shine, hence why I will likely never finish it.

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And We Break Away Again Jason goes back to Talia after Damian is brought back from the dead by Bruce. It's not that he begrudges his little brother his resurrection, the opposite, but he can't ignore what Bruce did to him by taking him to the magdala valley and he can't ignore what Bruce doing for Damian what he didn't do for him, (do for Dick, do for any of them besides the blood related one) means. So he decides to go back to the only person who ever seemed to understand why he wanted to avenge himself in the first place, the only person who seemed to agree that he had a right to be angry that he'd died at all, the only person he can trust to hold him together while he feels like he's falling apart that won't judge him against the heroic mold while they're at it. Not sure if this will be a oneshot or a series but we're going good Talia with this one regardless, DC's been ruining her lately but through fanfic all things are possible so fuck them.

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Fan The Flames In the aftermath of a magical fire taking hold of the Daily Planet in Metropolis, Superman is missing, can Batman and the rest of the Justice League find their friend as well as the identity of the evil arsonist before Lex Luther does it first?

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In a Whisper (In a Wish) Ichigo Kurosaki protects people, it's not just who he is, it's what he is, down to the core of his very soul. The only problem is, that a few weeks ago he sacrificed half his soul to protect the world. It aches inside where he knows something important used to be. When everyone he cares for is avoiding him and he's starting to feel more like a shadow than a person, that aches at him too and he can't help but wish, quietly, privately, painfully, to himself if no one else that things were different, that he wasn't so broken or so alone. But if wishes were fishes they'd fill a whole sea (just be careful not to whisper them within the hearing range of the Hōgyoku).

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An Honest Conversation (Is A Bitter Thing To Crave) Jason kidnaps Bruce but things don't go as Bruce expects. First of all the reason Jason was able to kidnap him was because Stephanie of all people was his insider, why would she support someone Batman knows she's only met once. And second of all the reason he's been abducted - So that Jason can drug them both with the same substance. And when Bruce asks what he's doing this for Jason only responds, "We don't trust each other enough to have a truthful conversation otherwise" and refuses to say anything more while they wait for it to kick in. What will be revealed by this forced honest encounter on both sides? -

carrying the world on thin shoulders Midoriya Izuku deserves better from literally all the adults in his life so this is part whump part hurt comfort part fix it fic that sprawls out from time to time but it's pretty bad tbh, at some point I'll probably make it neater and give it something resembling a coherent plot. Hopefully. -

Trust Issues HP fic. Harry gets dosed with a potion that's supposed to reinforce your strongest survival instinct, the person who drugged him might've intended to be helpful but said potion happened to be at extra strength and he was given what would be a normal fix for the regular version but for this one is twice the recommended amount. Great.. The biggest problem about all this - beyond his internationally wanted godfather Sirius endangering himself by hiding out in a cave near Hogsmeade against all rational advice, his best friend Ron hating him, everyone in school besides his other best friend Hermione also hating him or avoiding him and the entire Goblet of Fire problem - is that he can't bring himself to trust anyone enough to tell them what's wrong.

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Truth is Treason in the Empire of Lies A post marvel avengers story, thor pov probably, made because I like to dive into a pool of thor & loki sibling feels sometimes: Starts off as Thor regales his new human shield brothers with the story of his banishment and return to Asgard ending with Loki falling into the Void and the Avengers have some questions, questions Thor had not thought of, remarks on things that Thor doesn’t know how to explain away.  After he goes to Loki’s cell and asks him some things he becomes more and more angry despite having no one he can punch > Gets drunk and criticises Sif and The Warriors Three after they try to calm him down > mention of Loki still being underage by Aesir standards during Thor 1 seeing as Thor was being crowned due to being of age in the movie > heavy inspiration drawn from queen regnant by peaceheather. “For while the Treason I detest, the Traitor I love still.” Currently just an outline.

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Separation Split personality disorder Red Hood and Jason Todd, alternatively, Red Hood is a demon/parasite latched on to Jay. A lot of work necessary considering right now it’s currently just an idea inspired by a cool tumblr fanart.

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A Trinity of Head Wounds The dcu trinity in the aftermath of a fight against some alien invaders (or something along those lines), whump, hurt/comfort, starts with them arguing, ends with them bleeding on each other in a friendship way, whole thing should take place in a single room on the watchtower and be a oneshot so it's gotta be a short and sweet one-two gut punch with the feelings which is difficuuult.

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A Stark in The Stars an mcu fic, a really over complicated mcu fic, mostly because of Steve Roger's timeline fuckery, Tony's alive but he's not supposed to be, but so are a lot of people who were dead but aren't now you might say what with the snap and the blip. The thing is that Steve's timeline fuckery is making it so that everyone keeps getting confused between the two different timelines of events, obviously more confused the more that their characters were connected to the films/the events that were altered, the punchline of this particular fic though is that Tony's still alive and he's unaware of the timeline of events where he died. And as he's currently in space he's also unaware that everyone on Earth thinks he's dead (because why wouldn't they? he died in endgame after all). That makes this fic super tough to write because like ultimate unreliable narrator right here and not sure how to tie in the whole 'oh wait actually everyone on Earth thinks I'm dead because of the canon timelines' thing in or at what point of the story to do that at. The fuckery of it all gives me a headache. Plot is hard. Also all of that's basically background to the actual focus of most of the fic thus far which is Tony travelling around space in an Iron Man suit up until the point where it won't be background.

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Magic Chained Merlin au. When you put magic restraining cuffs on Magic himself you don't just bind him you bind all magic the world over. It is therefore, infinitely lucky that Uther Pendragon never became aware of this fact.

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A Child in The Cold bnha Midoriya deserves better also Recovery Girl and Aizawa have shit to answer for as far as I'm concerned.

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[zuzuslastbraincell]

fun world-building facts about the eyeliner incident:

so the main canon divergence is that roku killed sozin, instead of just chilling in his cottage for ~50 years. he ended up leading a coalition force against him, in prep for civil war, although was able to bait him out to an erupting volcano and kill him at the age of 40 or 50 or so. roku then lived for another 100 years (hardly out of character for an avatar to do so).

roku went further, though, and after killing sozin, declared there would be no more fire lords in the avatar state. this split the fire nation into monarchists and anti-monarchists, essentially, and there was still a fair bit of civil unrest/war after sozin’s death because not everyone agreed.

a lot of monarchists ran off to the colonies after sozin was killed, to protect their assets, to protect their lives, as a place to hide out until the storm blew over (it did not blow over) and to regroup for a next assault (which did not succeed).

this was fine, until a second phase: roku wanted to give the radicals in his coalition a leading voice in the next government to be. a lot of people disagreed. in the colonies (many of which had officially been handed back to the earth kingdom), there were riots, lots of dissent, etc. amongst fire nationals.

when the north western earth kingdom became the site of resistance against radicals in the fire nation (as roku’s opposition to sozin was based on a coalition of liberal nobles and bureaucrats & emerging radical workers syndicates), a lot of monarchists & ultranationalists ended up emigrating with the initial wave of noble émigrés, and eventually, some of the more liberal nobles supporting roku turned against them as well. (this is also how roku’s youngest daughter, rina, who was married off to a sozin loyalist in a hostage situation organised by sozin, ends up in the earth kingdom - she and her husband defect, and initially support roku, but seeing the radicals that he is genuinely helping and supporting, they move to the earth kingdom). the reputation of this second wave depends on province - ex-soldiers are always hated, and the north west & regions in close proximity despise the fire nation, but the east & ba sing se has always been quite hospitable, & many have dual bases in ba sing se and the northwest. the ba sing se nobility, over time, mingle more and more with high profile fire nation émigrés who have property.

fire nationals in the earth kingdom are thus culturally different, usually, to fire nation citizens in the modern fire nation. more likely to be monarchists, more likely to hold sympathetic sentiment to azulon etc. (though most agree - publically - that sozin went too far, even if they think azulon should have his crown in private), and a lot of their styles of fashion, music, art, dance etc. is based on a lot of “antiquated” “old fashioned” fire nation traditions with some earth kingdom ideas mixed in. to fire nation residents, they just look at least 80 years out of date.

fire nation descendants in the earth kingdom are more likely to be involved with particular organised crime syndicates (the triads, as opposed to ones with other names). this is because after the war ended abruptly with sozin’s death, a lot ex-mercenaries and ex-soldiers stationed in the colonies/northwest began to find work/business through protection racketeering (in absence of organised govt. in the north-western earth kingdom). even in the modern day, the north west has problems with corruption, control, and is economically quite deprived despite having massive resources and that’s an after-effect of colonialism and attempts by the national government to ‘penalise’ the officials in that region for colluding with fire nation nationals/ex-colonists (very exasperating for genuine earth kingdom officials, and earth kingdom locals). roku did try and help the region but he’s generally disliked for lots of reasons & was trying to stop the fire nation from collapsing after supporting the radicals (a controversial decision!) and facing counter-revolutionary violence. i think roku felt like he neglected the fire nation for the earth kingdom in his youth and that’s why sozin was able to get as far as he did, so i think he made the very difficult decision to prioritise trying to sort out the fire nation. hence why yu dao is in a bit of a state. i imagine yu dao (republic city) is a big buzzing city but has those same problems with organised crime we see in lok.

the sozin dynasty, as azulon & his descendants are called, aren’t an exception to this involvement in organised crime. a lot of people were actually quite sympathetic to a young azulon after his father was killed at around the age of fifty or so, including fire nationals in the earth kingdom, but also the nobility in the earth kingdom, themselves staunch monarchists, who saw sozin as the problem and not the system of monarchy itself. all of this allowed azulon & his family to flee the caldera & manage to transfer a number of their assets with relative ease; they were never penniless, despite the sob story you might here.

azulon set up links with local businesses who were run by sympathisers, as well as organised crime syndicates, and through wise purchases, good advisors, & some savvy of his own, shifted from aristocracy to bourgeoisie with relative ease, & bought/negotiated their place at the negotiating table, to eventually come to be considered the lead stakeholder in those crime syndicates (with enough distance, though, as not to be suspicious). very much saved his name from being a laughing stock through his own ability there, but if you’d hear the story told, people who say that folks were deferential to him in part because of his lineage (sometimes, but not always true - the revolution had caused people to doubt).

regarding his sons, iroh had far more involved in organised crime and illegitimate business than ozai, who essentially looked after the more boring legitimate side of things (but took that role seriously and expanded it beyond being a simple front). iroh actually had a worse reputation up until azulon died, and was just considered a very competent but cut-throat political/business leader/general player with a lot of very very shady links that couldn’t quite be proven, but also like, was famously quite charming and well-liked in the high society ba sing se network. like, i want to be honest to show iroh here - he was bad! in the show, he was a war criminal! i mentioned he was a war profiteer (largely because ‘war criminal’ doesn’t make as much sense imo), and that was almost definitely regarding civil wars/coups that have been attempted in the fire nation & earth kingdom. this stopped when lu ten ended up being shot in the crossfire during a turf war and rather than pursuing a violent vendetta, iroh stepped out of the spotlight and let ozai take over the reigns more.

anyway, after zuko was burned for attempting to stand up to ozai, iroh basically faked his own death and completely ditched anything left of what he’d spent his life building in order to whisk zuko away and invent new identities for themselves in the fire nation (ironically) where they worked as tea shop workers (yes. li and mushi, still canon). i don’t think they live in the caldera, since cameras/photos mean it’s easier to be tracked, and zuko probably lives somewhere quiet-ish like ember island. zuko has a decent adolescence, considering, after he’s estranged. no “find the avatar” in this universe, for fairly obvious reasons.

i’m not an expert in organised crime by any means but hopefully this all makes sense. a lot of what azulon/iroh/ozai is doing, through the purchase of land, the control of business, the use of organised crime as an illicit form of govt. essentially is a form of colonisation, where the region is deprived due to fire nation business interests and in earth kingdom control in name only. corruption and close ties between ba sing se and fire nation émigrés mean that centralised govt is underfunding & turning a blind eye to it (which, in canon, ba sing se does, ‘no war in ba sing se’ etc.). most of the colonisation efforts are centred in the north-west, but azula is brought up in ba sing se given it’s far more reputable/prestigious, though she’s undoubtedly been to both places.

as for what’s happening in the fire nation, i feel like aesthetically it’s a little different - ba sing se is ancient buildings with sky trains, lots of urban sprawl & a very wide and endless city, whereas i imagine the caldera is a very tall city due to limited space available, more skyscrapers in the fire nation due to limits in islands. also, the fire nation has sea trains and submarine trains/tunnels, because. politically? haven’t quite decided but they’re some flavour of anarchist-communist (was reluctant to use that word in the fic itself because people have all kinds of interpretations of it, often very negative knee-jerk responses to it, but essentially: community-owned services and businesses and spaces instead of privately-owned ones, with egalitarian principles enshrined into the culture & identity now) over there if i’m honest, with lots of democratic councils. obviously i don’t think it’ll be perfect and i imagine ‘the national question’ is something that comes up a lot, with some difficulties between national & regional identity (imo the fire nation is very diverse, we see the sun warriors and then the sages who help korra in s2 are from different groups/cultures than the militaristic one that rose to prominence in the 100 year war and i hc a lot of that regional diversity was steamrolled for sozin’s imperialist project).

ANYWAY

there’s a reason i made this post on my main last week:

this is getting very long but hopefully this is some insight into what i’ve been thinking about when i made this AU

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (4)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: ANGST. family trauma, slight self harming, mentions of drinking (this chapter is heavy. Please read at your own discretion!!!!)

⍟ Word Count: 4.1k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: I need to really double my warnings because some content written in this chapter might be triggering to some people. It’s a heavy chapter but I need to show why Y/N hates the Soulmate Bond so much. So please read it ONLY when you are 100% SURE that it’s okay for you to.

I also want to thank @oprandomfeels and @zuvaati for leaving those comments on the tags and everyone who reblogged and commented on this series because it really kept me going writing this chapter! You guys remind me that there are people out there who are looking forward for more of this series. I was in a huge slump recently that it’s been difficult for me to write anything at all, even though how much I actually enjoy writing this before. So I’m really really thankful for everyone!! I’m so glad a few of you liked this one! Alright, that’s all! Here’s chapter 4!

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

“And then what happened?”

It was, as always, a glorious day. The weather was warm despite the season, the breeze was cool to the skin and the perpetually blooming wisteria trees gave purple shade to anyone who would sit underneath. 

With an intense headache that could only be remedied by a hangover potion you have discretely snatched from your father’s wares, you were once again seated next to two of your very best friends, who were more or less intrigued by what had transpired last night.

“Like I told you! Nothing happened!” 

You exclaimed, now grumbling because it had shot another pang of dull pain to your temples. 

“What do you mean nothing happened? He brought you to your room, plus you were drunk! Don’t tell me you didn’t at least kiss him?” Soonyoung objected, quite concerned about your unintentional celibacy. 

“And why on earth would I kiss him?” You shouted back, scratching your head. “Just because he took me to my room, something is bound to happen?”

“The situation couldn’t be anymore suggestive than that, you know?” Wonwoo quietly added, twirling a pen on his fingers. “You can’t blame us for expecting something.”

Groaning at this, you took another dose of the disgusting potion on your hands. It tasted like fish left for days out in the open, and weirdly, of cinnamon. While you were trying to quell your headache, another comes in.

“Could we just put a stop to this?” You asked as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I don’t know why you both are so curious about my night, but don’t we have more pressing matters to attend to?”

On your words, both Soonyoung and Wonwoo turned their gazes to somewhere else; anything else other than you. 

“Oh Wonwoo, don’t you think the weather is so nice today?”

“This tea sure is delicious. Where did you buy this, Soonyoung?”

You could feel a vein in your head tick in irritation. 

“Surely, you both don’t mean that my sacrifice to attend that stupid ball, to spend a night with Lee Jihoon...all of it,” you began as the two of them gulped at the dangerous intent you were emitting. “Was it all completely useless?!” 

Hurriedly, Wonwoo held a hand at you. “Alright, alright! Calm down! Let me explain.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him; your arms crossed. “Do, pray tell.”

“Look,” Wonwoo sighed as he glanced at Soonyoung who was being a bit sulky. “The meeting was cancelled. Someone had probably tipped them off, we don’t know. It was a good idea that we didn’t go inside the room, or else they would’ve known we’re on to them.” 

Your scrutinizing gaze suddenly transformed into something tinged with concern. Sighing, you exchanged looks with them. 

“Are you sure no one that night has realized who you two are?”

Wonwoo nodded gravely. Soonyoung followed suit. “Absolutely.”

“That’s good, but we should be more careful from now on. We don’t know who to trust and anyone could put the two of you in difficult situations,” you warned in a hushed voice. “You could’ve walked out of the Crystal Palace as criminals framed for sex trafficking.”

Soonyoung suddenly realized the gravity of their actions and frowned. Wonwoo was no different, but a lot calmer than his friend. 

“We’ll proceed with caution from here on out. Yet there is absolutely no way I will walk out from this investigation,” Wonwoo declared, his eyes determined. 

“I second. We will get to the bottom of this,” the other male added, glancing at you and Wonwoo.

You nodded at them and smiled softly, understanding their convictions. “We're in this together.” 

There was no way of knowing what the next few months would look like for the three of you and your small publication, yet you have to push on; you have to gamble your own safety for the truth. It was frightening of course, but the fear was not enough to quench the fire within you. 

“But the matter still stands,” Wonwoo interrupted your thoughts, taking a sip of his tea. “You really should have kissed Lee Jihoon.”

◇

The man in question pushed through the French doors leading to an expansive rose garden.

The cultured autumn roses were in full bloom in late September as its scent wafts through the air, creating a romantic feel throughout the area. Devoid of any tall trees, one could easily see the breadth of the garden as it extends to the forest of oak at the far end of the estate. The beauty of the garden was stupendous yet not surprising as the owner of such place was a high-ranking noble of ancient pedigree. A blue grey pavilion lay at the center where Lee Jihoon easily spotted the people he was about to meet.

Fresh from a hearing, Jihoon still had his uniform on, just minus the heavy robes he was required to wear in Parliament. Every third week of the month or so, a meeting is usually scheduled between his longtime friends. Just to check up on each other of course, or often times, something more. 

Marching towards the pavilion in undeterred steps, Jihoon was greeted by a warm call and the scent of brewed coffee. 

“Aren’t you running a bit late, Jihoon?” An older male asked, his military uniform easily indicating that he was a five-star general, and someone no one wanted to mess with. 

“I apologize, Seungcheol. The hearing went on more than I thought it would,” he replied, finally taking a seat on one plush cherry wood arm chair with an exhausted huff. 

“Coffee or tea?” Another asked, his lips curving into a small smile as he offered Jihoon the refreshments on the table. 

“Coffee, please. And make it black. I need something to liven my spirits up,” he replied as the other poured him one on a dainty cup commonly intended for tea. 

The man named Seungcheol simply chuckled at his friend. “Oh? Is something the matter? You look like you haven’t had a good day lately. Don’t you think so, Joshua?”

“He certainly needs coffee, in my opinion.” 

“Oh, don’t you know it,” Jihoon dismissed as he slumped on the chair, covering his tired eyes with an arm. 

“I suppose the recently discovered Cilvekan agents aren’t making anything easier,” the man named Joshua added as he placed the cup of coffee in front of Jihoon who had eagerly sipped on it at once. 

“It is making things a lot worse. It’s the reason why the hearing for today had become so long-winded,” Jihoon sighed, placing down the cup. “There are some who just can’t decide what to do with them.” 

“To be perfectly honest, it would’ve been more useful if they were interned to the military intelligence department. We could’ve used them to double cross,” Seungcheol added, leaning back against his chair. “Now that they have been publicized and a hearing is in full swing, they’re practically useless.” 

Joshua simply tutted at Seungcheol, knowing full well that he was part of the military and thus biased on his views. 

“Nonetheless, it is best advised that we steer clear from such strategies. Espionage during times of relative peace is questionable in varying degrees. It could lead us to a war we never wanted. Notwithstanding the fact that it is me who would have to clean this up if something happens,” he took a sip from his coffee cup. “I reckon we double, even triple our counterintelligence measures against agents here in Porta Persa. We clearly have no idea who we are to trust these days.”

Jihoon listened to Joshua’s suggestion, understanding what the Minister of Foreign Affairs meant. 

“I’m still undecided on my opinion but I’m leaning on Joshua on this matter. A war with Cilveka is totally uncalled for when there’s one looming just underneath our fingertips,” Jihoon remarked, crossing his arms with a serious expression on his delicate features. 

Seungcheol took a sip from his cup gravely. “I suppose it is inevitable of a future. Considering that we ourselves are partially responsible for not taking action.”

Jihoon and Joshua glanced at Seungcheol with grim look. They knew. 

“As Jeonghan isn't here, I might as well ask if you're to release more material for him to use, Jihoon,” Joshua remarked suddenly as the other simply heaved a sigh, brushing his dark hair with his fingers.

Jihoon once again sighed, another burden heavy on his shoulders. 

"I don't think I can do it any longer," Jihoon said. "The deeper my bond with her gets, the more I'm convinced that the songs I write is all propaganda. It weighs on me."

The two men furrowed their brows at him, wondering what he was talking about.

"Her?"

"Propaganda?"

"You know," Jihoon replied, doing gestures with his hands since he found it difficult to articulate what he was trying to say. 

For a while, Seungcheol and Joshua simply glanced at Jihoon with bewilderment. He wasn't exactly making sense with how he was just making shapes with his hands. That is until the general remembered their past conversation from last month. 

“Ah, this is about your soulmate, isn’t it?”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Joshua asked with curious eyes. 

"No, I just…" he groaned again, "How do I say this? It's all… it's all so confusing! She's confusing me!" 

"Why is that? Isn't a soulmate bond supposed to prevent confusion between parties?" Joshua asked. 

"You do know our bond is different…" Jihoon remarked, and taking note of his friends' expressions, he took it upon himself to explain. "Like I told you before, she hates our bond, she hates our connection. She tried to with tamper it so I couldn't get through, but that simply made the bond unstable. Now, whether she likes it or not, her thoughts are constantly on my mind like a thick fog of ideas. It's virtually impossible not to be influenced by them."

“Have some more coffee, Jihoon. You need it,” Joshua offered as he poured into Jihoon’s cup. 

“Thank you,” the other casually took it, and continued. "Her thoughts become mine. Her passions make me doubt my own actions which I never had to before. It's…she's changing me, and I don't know if I like it or not."

The two men were quiet, Seungcheol more so because of his own soulmate bond. 

“Honestly, I’m so confused,” Jihoon confessed. “I don’t know what to do. I can't even tell her any of this.”

"Yours is a special case Jihoon," the general began as he thumbed on the ring on his left hand. "I won't pretend I understand everything about what you're going through, but all I can say is that these soulmate bonds are meant to change you. You can't be mere individuals anymore, living different lives on this earth. You have been bonded by magic and by the Universe; both your minds and hearts have become one single unit. If she has influenced you, it would be the same for her. If you are confused, she is too. And that's natural because both of you are transforming into beings that will eventually live your lives together and form a healthy family." 

"I don't know Seungcheol. I want my freedom in my thoughts and in my actions. Everything I've known is turned upside down and it's making me uncomfortable." 

"She must be feeling the same way too. Didn't you say she hated the bond itself? She must have hated how someone else's thoughts are entering her mind as much as you do," Joshua interrupted, his voice calming and sweet on Jihoon's nerves. "Look, Jihoon. You're a strong person. You're someone who's intelligent, hardworking and efficient in everything you do. You can do everything by yourself. But that is also your greatest weakness. You're too comfortable on your own. You're afraid to let anyone else in because it could ruin the balance you've maintained in your life. I admit that soulmate bonds are frightening in its own way, but it's there in order for us to grow."

"But I've got you, my friends and my family to share my burdens. Isn't that what I'm doing right now?" He asked, now a bit frustrated.

"But you hold us at a distance. You've never been able to truly share that side of yours that is raw and vulnerable. You know you can't stay like this forever," Seungcheol continued, parrying Jihoon's argument. 

Jihoon sat himself straight in a huff, unable to reply because he knew Seungcheol had hit the target directly. He is afraid, yet he refuses to admit it. He thought that having a bond would make things easier for him, but everything proved to be much more than he can swallow. 

For a moment, Jihoon sat there in silence as he took a sip of lukewarm coffee from his cup, yet his feelings of tension refuse to calm down, the hairs on his back standing in aggression. It was unusual since he was no longer conversing with Seungcheol and Joshua, and tried to dive deeper into the feeling.

In an instant, he knew it wasn't his. 

A pang of pain flashed inside his chest, making him clutch on it with a tight grip. The cup he was holding fell to the ground into pieces, as Seungcheol immediately raced to his side. 

"Jihoon! Is something wrong?" He exclaimed, watching the other groan in pain and then turned to Joshua. "We have to take him to hospital!" 

"I'll prepare the carriage!" 

"No!" Jihoon suddenly shouted, his breaths turning shallow. "No…no….I need to go back to the dorm. I need to find her." 

◇

Exhausting your supply of hangover potions, you went back to your house in town to steal from your father's wares. You never really had a problem with brewing potions, proving that you had an affinity to the craft which could've been passed down to you from your father but come heaven and hell, you will never admit that. 

With a small wooden box attached with a leather strap that hangs from your shoulders, you sneaked into the empty house and to your father's now closed shop. Much to your surprise though, the lights were on and heavy crates tower beside the ingredients cabinet. 

"Oh, you're here."

A familiar voice greeted you from the office, making you turn around swiftly. 

"Father…" you replied, your face marred with sharp eyes and a deep frown. 

"Are you staying at the Royal Academy now?" He asked, stepping out from the shadows and into the light pouring from the glass windows of the shop. He was much tanner and thinner, a clue that he has been to the tropics for some time. 

"Yes. I'll be taking some potions and some stuff with me. I'll be gone as soon as I can," you told him with a cold voice as you filled your box haphazardly with numerous ingredients in a way that they almost slipped out of the container. 

“How is Soonyoung and Wonwoo?”

You curtly replied. “They’re good. Still the same.”

“Are you eating well? Are the dorms good enough for you?”

“They’re fine. I’m living comfortably.”

“Have you met any new friends?”

“I’ve met a few people.”

“Who are they and where are they from?”

You huffed, annoyed and impatient that this conversation was still ongoing. “I can send you a list later if that makes you happy.”

“Don’t join those sororities or fraternities, do you understand? They’re dens of insurgents.”

You chose not to reply, his subjects gradually turning sour in your opinion. Talking to him always felt like talking to a machine.  

If there was any way much faster than the rate you're going right now, you would've done it. You wanted to leave as soon as possible with just a few words and greetings exchanged. Heart thumping with adrenaline, you were fueled by the darkness inside of you, yet you kept it concealed before things could get ugly. 

"I heard from Mr. Kwon that you're still running around with that little tabloid of yours," your father began and you knew instantly where it would lead to, "You better stop this childish play and find something meaningful thing to do." 

If there was anything stopping you before, it was long gone now. 

"It's not childish play!" You screamed, ignoring the fact that Alizarin berries had scattered on the floor. "You don't understand how much this means to me! You never even tried to understand me! So don't try and pretend you know what's good for me when you don't know who I am!"

Your blood was pumping wildly in your veins, your fists tightly clenched. Anger that has long been restrained now broken free and flowing rapidly in your blood. But you knew this was exhausting, so you tried to slip away as fast as you could.

"Have you forgotten how much I sacrificed for you, you ungrateful child? How much I worked so hard so you would be able to live comfortably?" He retorted back, watching your once retreating figure stop from reaching out for the door.

"I never wanted any of those! I never begged you for luxuries! We could be hungry and homeless right now, I don't care! I know we could crawl out of that eventually!" You shouted, your shaking back was the only thing he could see, until you turned to him, your cheeks wet with tears. "I only want one thing, Dad! Just one thing! I wanted you to stay with me… For you to show me that I still had a father even after mom died. Yet you couldn't give it to me." 

"No, you listen to me. I had to leave for you to have food to eat! I had to work hard for you! Don't you know how much I love you? How much I did for you? I don't think you understand that because you keep on running around with that silly paper pretending you know everything about the world."

It was always like this. You already knew. Arguing with someone like him, you felt, was like talking to a wall. He was in a different page and refuses to see your own. The real child here, you begin to question who it really was. 

Yet you kept going, the fury in you refusing to subside.

"Do you ever listen to anything I say?Yes! Just neglect your own daughter and give her all the money in the world and expect her to be grateful! Yes! That's what a good parent is! If mother was still alive, she would've loved me more than all the food you could ever give me! You would never know how much strength I needed to have when you left me here all alone!" 

Your jaw was rigid with sorrow rage, teeth gritting. Yet, much to your surprise, all he did was laugh at you mockingly. 

"Isn't that great? You being so strong after all!" 

It hurt you, more than anything. The look on your father's face, the dismissal, the invalidation of all your emotional needs, your need for his love and compassion, you never thought a parent was capable of doing that to a child. 

More tears stream down your face as you were shaken into silence. The pain in your chest unbearable, your breath turning into laboured heaves. It had hurt. It hurts so much. It wasn't really the words themselves, but the intention to mock, to belittle; that was the one that struck you to your core. 

"I hate you…" you muttered in a low voice, shaking and begging to be understood. "I hate you so much! I needed your love back then! I needed unconditional love! Yet where were you? Where were you, huh? Soonyoung and Wonwoo are much my brothers more than you are my father! They were there for me come hell and high water!" 

You took a breath and continued, your voice rising.

"But it's too late now. You can no longer take back the words you've said. No matter how much you tell me you love me, I would never believe you! You never loved me! Or mom! Or anyone! You only loved yourself and your money!"

Turning around you reached for the door, not even listening to his outraged tantrums behind you. Your own anger too loud in your ears.

"Since you care about gratitude so much," your voice was still hoarse yet resolute, as you were halfway out of the door. "I'll give you two carriages full of gold within five years from the profits we gained from that silly newspaper. That's for everything you bought and did for me since I was born. Think of it as severance pay. You lost me. Goodbye."

Leaving those scathing words behind, you ran as fast as you could. Faster and faster than the wind could ever take you. Your tears were streaming down your face, the wooden box slinging carelessly as it bounced against your hip, yet you continued running down the cobbled road to a destination no one really knows. 

All you could hear was your heartbeat slamming against your chest, the muffled cries you attempt to quiet down, the sound of your heel clicking on stone. Running away felt liberating as the wind slapped harshly on your cheeks. Yet your heart was in so much pain that you forget everything else. 

Reaching the Royal Academy dorms, you forcibly opened the door to your shared room as you immediately raced towards your own room; afraid to encounter someone you didn't really want to see. 

Yet of course, he was there. Lee Jihoon was there. 

Waiting at the common living room, he rose at your presence, his expression tinged with great worry at your state of ruin. He ran up to you, trying to make you stop moving away. 

"Y/N! What's the matter? Why are you crying?" 

His question however were brought to deaf ears as you pushed him away, shaking your head at his close proximity. You didn't want to see him. His presence simply amplified the pain you were feeling.

"Leave me be, Jihoon!" You screamed, pushing him further from your doorway. "I don't want to see you! You're the last person I want to be comforted by!"

You slammed the door, the desolate sound reverberating across the expansive room as you sat there on the floor, still crying. 

You were tired, exhausted. Legs that were trembling with fatigue, lungs that were almost bursting at the seams. Your heart was aching with so much pain and heaviness. 

I will no longer believe in anything. Love is temporary. Love will eventually fade away.  Soulmate bonds are stupid and fake. It's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This is stupid.

You choke out a cry. 

Gathering all the strength left in your body, you crawled to your bedside and pulled out a huge and heavy trunk from underneath. As you unlocked it with not much gentleness than trying to break it, you were greeted by various bottles of potions. 

If soulmate bonds could really bring happiness, then why is it that I'm in so much pain? Why did mom die then?

Eyes spying on the clear glass bottles, it didn't take much time for you to decided what to do. 

If this is what love is, then I don't need it. If I'm just going to suffer, then I don't want it. I'm fine on my own. I don't need stupid soulmates to make me happy.

Picking up a familiar bottle, you harshly pulled out the stopper and swallowed everything in one gulp. Instantly, you felt the effects moving under your skin, making you shiver, yet it didn't matter, the pain in your heart was far more painful than anything you’ve feeling right now. The magic wrapped itself around your wrist, tighter and tighter like a vice suffocating the bond.

From now on, I'm living for myself, by myself. I don't need love from anyone. I won't beg for love from anyone. No one could ever give it to me but myself.

Another set of sobs spilled itself from your lips as you clung tightly on anything you could get your hands on. They continued gushing like an uncontrollable waterfall, as your heart rejects the words your head was conditioning you to feel. You knew you wanted love more than anything, but that would only make you weak. And weakness is the last thing you needed right now. 

I need to erase every last bit.

Pulling the glove which was hiding your bond mark, you gazed at it with extreme disgust on your face. The thick horizontal bars only reminded you of your father's mocking laugh. 

I hate this. I hate this. 

You rubbed on the black lines with your thumb, hoping that it would lighten the color. But of course, it didn't, so you continued to rub it off. Again and again, and again until your thumb was warm and your wrist an inflamed red. 

Disgusting. This disgusting thing! I wish you never came into my life!

In desperation, you scratched it with your sharp nails, teeth clenched. It was ugly. It felt like chains binding you to a future you never believed in. Straight bruises of scratch marks mar your skin, yet it didn't matter to you. The pain was dull and empty compared to the weight on your chest. 

Stupid. Disgusting. Ugly. I hate this bond. I hate this so much!

"I'm so tired…" you muttered to yourself, burying your face on the soft mattress. 

"Why can't I just be happy?"

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |

-Hyeri

[unchartedtrivia]

War criminal. A psychopath. A man whose crimes are unimaginable.Or perhaps a cunning, clever manipulator who knows exactly what to do to make people stop digging into the subje:readmorect aand stop “biting at his heels”? 

CHARACTER TRAITS: 

- Boldness: low fear, high stress tolerance, tolerance of unfamiliarity and danger, high self-confidence, social assertiveness. Typical character traits for a soldier. Importantly, these are considered psychopathic traits. They do not directly qualify someone as a psychopath, but they are traits that are in the spectrum. 

- He is curious of the world and his enemies. He is an intelligent man who does not believe in paranormal and supernatural phenomena that “can’t be explained” and has no evidence for it unless he is confronted with hard facts and reality. It’s visible while Nate and Flynn were terrified by Yeti - Shambhala guardians. Lazarević was the one who was calm and didn’t hesitate to kill it with cold blood, even if he didn’t meet this sort of enemy earlier. He was still aware of the threat, but he didn’t hesitate to move forward. He was the only one who didn’t believe in supernatural surroundings and paranormal creatures like the yeti. And only Zoran realized that yetis were actually human. 

- He isn’t completely lacking of empathy (it is visible in the scene of Jeff’s death). 

- Lazarević thinks long-term, looking ahead and anticipating various scenarios, more and less favorable. The advantages and potential benefits must always outweigh the disadvantages and losses. Everything must be carefully thought out. If something does not go according to plan, he can adjust quickly. 

- He knows all the psychological tricks. (more in PHILOSOPHY) 

- Patient - he looked for Cintamani stone for more than a few years. 

- Able to work with others, but only as commander-subordinate. 

- Is very sensitive to disloyalty, disobedience and betrayal. 

PHILOSOPHY: 

- Everything can be used against you. If the enemy knows anything about you, he will try to use it. If you show you care about something, others will take advantage of it. The less is known, the better. 

- Don’t show emotions, feelings, don’t care about anything. This is the safest way. 

- Violence and terror are only tools. He uses violence to show his power, terrify his enemies, influence them and pressure his subordinates. He uses it deliberately, on purpose. Violence is supposed to create his image in the eyes of others, like PR. It suggest that Lazarević is an experienced manipulator who knows all the psychological tricks. 

- He does not do anything without a reason - everything must have its purpose, effect and outcome, even threats and insults (vide the scene where he terrified Flynn with the Phurba dagger) 

- Emotions are also a weapon. He doesn’t show regret, remorse or positive emotions. Most of the time he is calm. Anger is meant to terrify or pressure others. It’s visibly in the scene with Flynn (as above). 

ORIGINS: 

According to wiki, Zoran Lazarević is Serbian; judging by his appearance, he is about 50 years old or not much older. At the time, Yugoslavia was part of the Soviet Union; there were common rules and principles, such as compulsory military conscription at age 18 and a “bachelor tax” (tax on not having children). 

Why am I mentioning this? Because it sheds some light on his character. It is likely that after the age of 18 he was conscripted into the military, with which he later associated his life. Given his character traits, he was excellent material for a soldier and later a commander. And judging by his knowledge and skills, he was gradually promoted to special services like the KGB, where he was taught to manipulate others, not to succumb to pressure and mental and emotional blackmail. He can also use other means of mental coercion - blackmail and psychological pressure, intimidation, etc. 

If we consider the English - that is, the original language version of the series - we can assume that Lazarević had a good understanding of English, not necessarily just because the language of the game requires it. His vocabulary, grammar and very strong accent prove that he knew bookish language, rather not used in everyday situations. This confirms Lazarević’s special status - he was most likely taught the language in a more “traditional” way, rather than by learning the language in an English-speaking environment. The creators even took care of such a small detail. 

DID HE HAD FAMILY - WIFE OR/AND KIDS? 

Lazarević is a man who openly shows “I have no weaknesses (PHILOSOPHY). The past, feelings, emotions - he hides everything. 

So would he start a family and have children if it could be used against him one day, especially if he was an intelligence officer? 

No. It seems highly questionable to me, given his life philosophy and lifestyle. He is a man with clear priorities and life goals, and a family would be an obstacle to achieving that plan. 

(Interestingly, the "original” Lazarević, not his skin, available in the game, has a black patch with a black hand sign instead of an emblem on his shoulder. I dare to think that this is a reference to the Serbian secret organization “Black Hand” which assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand in 1914. And going by a source from wikipedia, Lazarevic’s uniform from Uncharted 4 multi suggests he may have been a KGB volunteer). 

BECOMING A LEGEND 

The war in Yugoslavia and the division of the Republic of Yugoslavia into individual states were the first serious “test” of Lazarević’s abilities; already then he began to build his legend of a merciless man who does not hesitate to commit even the gravest crimes. Lazarević probably already foresaw that after the fall of Yugoslavia, he would become a nobody and the secret services would start hunting him down. 

NATO BOMBING 

Lazarević thinks long term, looking ahead and anticipating various scenarios, more or less favorable. The advantages and potential benefits must always outweigh the disadvantages and losses. 

Strange that he didn’t foresee the NATO raid, isn’t it? 

Why would a man of his kind, with his character traits, high intelligence and experience not guess that such an action would be carried out against him? To count on it not happening would be naive, to say the least, and not in Lazarević’s style. He is the kind of person who always has to have everything precisely planned. 

Let’s think about this: NATO obtains the location of Lazarević’s hideout and he knew it. He had time to organize equipment and people, etc. At the same time, it is a chance to give up identity and be declared dead - especially if the body cannot be identified or found. The benefits outweigh the potential risks.  

 Interestingly, it seems to me that not everything went quite according to Lazarević’s plan. Why? Because, as we see in the first scenes in the game featuring him, he is very sensitive to disloyalty and betrayal; he says “I’m surrounded by traitors and fools!”. 

It isn’t a fact, but my own assumption: “someone” has betrayed his hideout and passed information to NATO? Or - if Lazarević decided himself to reveal the hiding place - perhaps the potential “traitor” gave NATO the real, factual information? This would throw up an interesting thread explaining why he is so sensitive to lack of loyalty. It is possible that he foresaw what would happen, but NATO or the traitor took him by surprise. It would also show that despite his preparation for various situations, he never considered diversion within his own ranks. But, as I said at the beginning of this paragraph, it’s my own assumption. 

THE ARGUMENTS FOR LAZAREVIC KNEW ABOUT NATO’S INTENTIONS:

- He always has to have everything planned.

- He anticipates situations long term, thinks ahead.

- Considering him dead or missing is a benefit that outweighs the risk.

 ARGUMENTS FOR WHY LAZAREVIC DIDN’T KNOW:  

 - He never considered treachery in his own ranks (which is why he reacts so negatively to his subordinate’s attitude). 

BECOMING A LIVING LEGEND, FEAR AND MADMAN 

It wasn’t long before he was branded a madman, feared by everyone from local warlords to the common people and his own army.  It is fair to say that the tools he used - violence, cruelty, war crimes - were used solely to exert fear and pressure. Interestingly, however, Lazarević is not someone who bullies others for pure pleasure and his own comfort. 

All three murders he carried out in front of Nate’s perspective eyes were swift and intended to put the victim to death immediately rather than prolong their agony. Significantly, they were all intended to underscore the atmosphere of fear, danger, and terror surrounding Lazarević. All this was well thought out.  Let’s talk about these scenes. 

FIRST MURDER: UNNAMED SOLDIER WHO STOLE AN ANCIENT COIN 

Nate sees Lazarević in his own camp; one of the soldiers brings to him another subordinate who was caught stealing an ancient coin. 

Lazarević asks “you would betray me for this?” “Zoran, I can explain!”. “No, no need […] I am surrounded by traitors and fools!” Why did he do this?  NO PUNISHMENT: if he did not punish the subordinate, he would show his weakness and undermine his authority.

PUNISHMENT WITHOUT VIOLENCE: If he punished him without violence, he would prove to others that he has no authority, there is no serious punishment, and stealing is profitable (if you don’t get caught). 

DEATH PENALTY: Punishing a subordinate with death is an example to other soldiers, a warning. It is a message to others - similar situations will not be tolerated. Significantly, this scene is very important in several ways. People like Lazarević are only lied to once; they know very well when betrayal begins. Since this man was able to steal from him even then, it is likely that he had already committed other things that made him untrustworthy but went undetected. 

If Lazarević had kicked him out of the army ranks or left him alive, he would have had to constantly watch his back; this man could have turned him in to NATO or other organizations, especially if he was offered a large sum of money. If he was so greedy as to steal a plain old coin, what if he was offered more? His betrayal would be highly likely. 

Throwing the coin into the pond also had its symbolic aspect. It was to show that even objects of value to others are in fact worthless to Lazarević and this is not really what the whole expedition is about. The pursuit of such trinkets is extremely foolish, as is cheating such a man. 

The coin was not more important than the loss of life. The man lost his life - and therefore something priceless - in exchange for something worthless.  

 Significantly: Zoran did not prolong his victim’s suffering, he did not play with his victim’s suffering, he did not abuse him mentally or physically. The punishment was swift, without agony. 

Action: quick murder 

Result: murder in front of other subordinates, throwing away a precious coin 

Effect: a message that theft will not be tolerated; to secure one’s “back” and remove a potential traitor from the ranks; to intimidate other potential traitors; to show that Lazarević rules with an iron hand, demands discipline and unconditional obedience and honesty. Violence is a tool.  

SECOND MURDER: CAMERAMAN JEFF 

The middle of a war, the city is in shambles, mostly divided between rebels and aggressors. There are no people, no medical aid, everything is ruined - from streets to buildings. Jeff is shot in the stomach by a random soldier. 

Recall: the middle of warfare in Nepal - there is no way to get medical help. The abdominal wounds are very serious, in part fatal. If you do not get help, carry the wounded, etc. the probability of the wound becoming infected, worsening the injury and death increases dramatically. 

Chloe rightly points out that Jeff was already dead from the moment he was shot; Nate and Elena, led by compassion, gave him false hope of survival and prolonged his agony. 

Then Lazarević appears; as an experienced soldier, he knows that Jeff doesn’t stand a chance. Zoran asks a simple question - “did you carry him all the way from the temple? Shame.”, then takes out his gun and kills Jeff on the spot, sparing him further suffering. He does what Nate would not be able to do, as Elena or even Chloe. He doesn’t prolong his situation or walk away, leaving him alive and suffering. He ends things quickly. He doesn’t abuse him. 

Was it cruel? No. It was sensible and just simply human (sic!).He did what Nate, Elena and Chloe were incapable of doing. He knew there was no other way out of the situation and he followed reason and mercy.

“Shame”. 

Lazarević makes a personal assessment of the situation; he considers prolonging Jeff’s agony and giving him hope of survival to be shameful. This aspect is interesting to note - it shows that he is not without empathy and conscience, even if he does not show it more openly. It is an act of pity, which at the same time emphasizes his legend of a merciless man. At the same time, the victim’s death is a good tool - it can intimidate Nate, Elena, Chloe and Flynn. Isn’t that the perfect way out of the situation?  

 Action: Quickly kill the badly wounded Jeff Result: ending the victim’s suffering, an act of mercy, Nathan’s moral evaluation 

Effect: intimidation of Nate, Elena, Chloe and Flynn, proving he is not reluctant to kill in cold blood, even for a good cause, highlighting black PR.  

THIRD MURDER: BLACKMAILED SUBORDINATE Compassion is the enemy. Mercy defeats us.

Let’s take a look at this scene: a soldier enters a room, doing standard reconnaissance. He is caught by Nate, who decides to use him for blackmail. Lazarević enters. 

What is the biggest problem in this situation here? We have three options:

SHOWING MERCY: shows the soldiers that their commander is weak and succumbs to emotion. Nate has the opportunity to dictate terms, not necessarily possible to meet. The authority of a fearsome leader with no weaknesses is overthrown. Showing submission, feelings, emotions and conscience and taking control. Losing control of the situation. Destruction of character traits. 

Losses outweigh benefits. 

Benefits: none. 

NEGOTIATIONS: weakening authority among subordinates, overthrowing black PR built up over years. Nate’s unpredictable conditions, not necessarily possible to meet. Showing submission and taking control. Losing control of the situation. 

Losses outweigh benefits. 

Benefits: none.  

KILLING SUBORDINATE: Black PR maintained. Intimidation (terror) maintained. Giving the message that there are no weaknesses. Giving the message that Lazarević is not acting with feelings and emotions like Nate, but with his own conscience and cool logic. Maintaining control of the situation. Exerting mental pressure. Information to Nate that negotiations are not an option and he is in a weak position (intimidating Nate). 

The benefits outweigh the losses (loss of a soldier, lowering troop morale).

BLACKMAILING AND USING CHLOE AS EXAMPLE: Emphasizing Lazarević’s control over the situation and authority. Pointing out that Nate thinks with feelings and emotions and is easily blackmailed. Exposing Nate’s weaknesses. 

That shows that Lazarević knew about their relationship and Chloe’s involvement in helping Nate. Forcing Nate to give in, forcing submission, forcing further cooperation. Black PR maintained. Intimidation (terror) maintained.

Benefits outweigh losses (Nate’s refusal to cooperate, Chloe’s murder - getting rid of the traitor, Flynn’s intimidation, giving a warning). 

The murder of the unlucky subordinate was intended to emphasize Lazarević’s philosophy, to show that Lazarević has no weaknesses and is not guided by feelings and emotions, typical of an ordinary person. There is no place for emotional attachment in the boss-subordinate barrier - it is supposed to be a protection for both the one and the other. It is safer not to have emotional relationships, as they are a weak point and can be exploited. As you can see, Nate tried. 

The killing of the subordinate itself was done after a long moment of reflection, quickly and effectively; it is likely that Lazarević looked for a way out of the situation before finally making a decision (he did not act without hesitation, driven by an unconditional reflex). He did not prolong the victim’s suffering. Most likely, at the same time, he was prepared for a similar turn of events, given the fact that he ordered Chloe to be brought in and used influence and pressure techniques on Nate himself. It is worth noting how perfectly trained he was. 

At the same time, the murder of the subordinate highlights his status: the victim was a mercenary. He must have been prepared for a similar turn of events. In this profession, there is no place for mercy or loyalty. 

Does this define Lazarević as a bad person who “doesn’t care about people”? No. He doesn’t get paid to “take care of his people” when the stakes outweigh everything else. 

Action: murder of a subordinate, used as a blackmail tool, use of Chloe 

Result: killing a subordinate, taking away Nate’s argument for negotiation, taking control of the situation and being able to impose his own terms. 

Effect: to intimidate the blackmailers, to put psychological pressure on them, to prove that there is no reluctance to kill in cold blood in order to eliminate the “problem” - obstacle, to emphasize black PR, to emphasize his control over the situation. Getting Nate to cooperate. 

As you can see, all three killings were done for a specific purpose, in one case it was an act of pity (which is quite unusual for Lazarević, given the black PR he was trying to take care of). 

FOURTH MURDER: SHAMBALA’S GUARDIAN IN THE TEMPLE  

Remember the temple scenes where Nate and Flynn try to find their way to Shambala? After turning giant cylinders with Tibetan signs, the guardians appear - yeti. Humanoid, huge, not very intelligent apes. And when it seems that both men will not survive the clash, Lazarević enters the scene.  Interestingly, he is the only person in the entire scene who realizes that the yetis are not what they appear to be. 

This means that Lazarević is not only hard to fool with various tricks, but he is also a man who does not believe in paranormal beings. 

So why did such a man take an interest in the Cintamani Stone? Why did he believe in the legends but did not believe in the existence of the yeti? After all, both so far revolved in the realm of unbelievable things and were not verifiable in any way. 

There is only one explanation - Lazarević saw with his own eyes the effect of the Stone (for example, during the civil war in Yugoslavia) or reached military materials that studied similar topics. This would not be surprising - already during the war period this was dealt with by the Ahnenerbe (and Carl Schafer’s unit got very far - to the very temple with the elevator, judging by the fact that there we find German mp40s, not to mention the mp40s found in the temple with the mirrors!). 

On the other hand, it is doubtful that Yugoslav intelligence services would be involved in similar things. One would sooner expect it from the KGB, which emphasizes Lazarević’s connections with that organization all the more. 

MUSEUM HEIST: 

Compared to Flynn, who does everything the wrong way around, Chloe, who counts on others to do the work for her, and Nate, who acts rashly and without thinking through the consequences, Lazarević is the one with the clarity of mind and is the main force behind the game. 

He is most likely the one who devised the plan to break into the museum. Why do I think so? Well, an important point was made to me: Flynn was not intelligent. He is easily fooled. He doesn’t predict events. He can’t plan for the long term, as the scenes with him prove - including the scene with Nate and Elena escaping execution. At the museum, he didn’t even pay attention to the new, installed alarms - until Nate told him about them. 

And would someone like Flynn be able to prepare to carefully break into the world’s most guarded? I doubt it. I think Lazarević was behind the whole plan. At the same time, he also didn’t know about some of the security arrangements - not surprising, since he was a bystander and wasn’t there to check and inspect everything. And since he didn’t know about alarms, Flynn did not know about them either. 

Significantly, Jeff’s murder scene proves that Lazarević has heard of Nathan Drake before. He walks up to him, observes him, and says “so… this little man is Drake…?”.  He might have known Nathan from stories told by other people “in the industry”. 

So he had to know what he was like, he knew his legend. So why did he decide to choose Flynn and Chloe to work with? 

I think it stems from the fact that they both didn’t have reputations as thieves, unlike Nate. Nate had already proven on more than one occasion that he may have been able to provide someone with things that clients paid for, but he was trying to find their treasures for himself.

Example: a comic book. In the plot of the comic book, Nathan is commissioned to find a journal that belongs to the clients’ ancestors. At the same time he deciphers it before giving it to his client. He keeps the information to himself and tries to get the treasure before his principals. And here we go, here we have closer example: Uncharted 4 - Nathan and Sam take money from Rafe in exchange for finding Avery’s treasure. Nate offers Samuel a prison break with just the two of them, without including Rafe in the plan - he wants to leave his principal in a prison in Panama. 

Choosing Nathan to work with him would simply be dangerous. It would involve the risk of abandoning the assignment, of trying to get information “to his advantage,” of trying to get the treasure without sharing with Lazarević.  At the same time, Lazarević sees Nate as a freak, a person who will do anything to get the treasure. The dialogue in the coop proves this. 

(posessing Janus statue) “Well now that we have this… he will come to us.” “Why Drake would be there?” “Because like you, he is a little fool who will do anything for treasure”. Risk was too high. 

DID LAZAREVIC KNOW ABOUT CHLOE?

Of course. As we can see from his story and the facts we can deduce, he is a person who can quickly assess both the situation and people. At the same time, it should be noted that Chloe’s behavior itself was not very subtle - every time she was found, she held Nate at gunpoint. 

“Accidentally.”.

At the same time, she disappeared for long periods of time, no one knew where she could be found, and there were no witnesses confirming her presence anywhere. Too many of these miraculous coincidences, right? 

Leaving Chloe free would have a lot of benefits - among other things, she might have unknowingly led Lazarević after her.  So - since when did he know about Chloe and Nate’s collaboration?  

Although this is quite a debatable theory, I personally suspect that he knew about her participation during the search for the temple in Nepal or earlier, after Nathan and Sully escaped from Borneo. 

Why? 

Because it’s clear that the shots weren’t fired by Nate and Sully, unless Chloe dragged the bodies somewhere else and made it look like an accident. Flynn was most likely silent to save Chloe from punishment.  

All right, Nate and Sully escaped. We’re headed to Nepal. 

Chloe has a free hand again, she can move unattended, non-controlled by anyone. But are we sure? Would a man like Lazarević leave her without “care”? 

While Lazarević was destroying all the temples one by one, Nate and Chloe left quite a few bodies on their way to the right place. One would think that the rebels were the culprits, but the rebels were not particularly effective compared to Lazarević’s well-trained mercenaries, as seen in the scene with the bus or the attempted assassination of the mercenaries at one of the temples in the square. 

And the rebels were not well trained, not used to the new reality, and were not likely to have the latest equipment or numerical superiority. Meanwhile, what might Lazarević have found when checking one of the temples? A whole dead squad. 

Significantly, reinforcements arrived during the game - meaning that most likely some of the soldiers had received a call and responded to it. Two dead units and no rebel bodies nearby, even no one? Unlikely. The scene of the escape from the temple may have reinforced his belief. 

Let’s look at it from another angle: Chloe’s explanations are equally unbelievable. 

The first meeting with Nathan: Chloe catches them “at gunpoint”. Both men somehow escape. There are no witnesses, just two dead men and one armed person. Flynn stayed silent, or didn’t guess what happened. 

The second meeting with Nathan: Chloe disappears for a long time, cannot be contacted, eventually holds Nathan “at gunpoint”. And she found him “incidentally”. Highly possibly Flynn didn’t tell Lazarević anything. Perhaps that’s why he ordered Chloe to be taken from the place before Lazarević came. 

Third meeting with Nathan: Chloe kills Draza; although there are no direct eyewitnesses to this, it is clear that the fatal wound could not have been inflicted by Nate, as the shot came from a completely different direction. The only person who would know the truth here was Flynn, but he kept quiet, most likely out of fear for Chloe. 

The fourth meeting with Nathan: the dagger under Chloe’s care magically disappears literally minutes after talking to Lazarević. It’s unclear when it was realized that this had happened, but it’s not hard to guess who might have been responsible. Unbelievable. 

While Flynn would have been able to believe it, I doubt that the situation in the second meeting with Nate would have appealed to Lazarević, who had far more intelligence, both mental and emotional. This is further proven by the scene during which he took Chloe hostage during Nate’s negotiations. 

He was already aware of the fact that Chloe was very important to him, especially after situation in the train.  Importantly, I personally think Lazarević treated Chloe as bait early on in the game. Upon reaching the temple, he already knew what her proper motives were. In the end, he gave her the dagger, knowing that Nathan was on their heels. Wouldn’t it be convenient to give the dagger back to Nate indirectly and just follow his trail? 

Lazarević was aware that Flynn and Chloe would not be able to solve the mystery alone, which he clearly expresses in the scene by saying “Clearly hired the wrong man for this job."  

Interestingly, Chloe, after the scene when Lazarević terrorised Flynn by using Phurba Dagger, says of her employer, "he’s a monster!”. At the same time, she doesn’t judge herself that way by her actions towards Lazarević’s mercenaries - as if she didn’t commit the crime herself. However, this suggests something else - namely, that she suffered the punishment, or witnessed the punishment, that Flynn had to suffer for the failures of both of them. This would not be surprising, given the way Lazarević acts.

Interestingly, Lazarević respects the agreements or contracts - including during the scene where he wants to kill Chloe for being a traitor. This proves that he knew about it and her motives all along, but after a discussion with Flynn, he changed his mind. “That was not the deal”. 

COULD LAZAREVIC HAVE SURVIVED? 

Arguments for: 

- He doesn’t give up. 

- Experienced military officer. He survived the NATO bombing, the war in Yugoslavia, and was most likely a high ranking service officer. Given his knowledge and training, he also had extensive experience in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat.

- Rather, he had a weapon at hand, at short range much more effective than bare fists or mace (gun in his holster).

 Arguments against: 

- Surrounded by eight difficult to kill opponents. 

- Seriously wounded, weakened, reduced to the first floor (and thus to a position where it is difficult to get up on his feet and escape). 

- No time to react In the final scenes, he voluntarily consents to die as if he had surrendered - because he felt he had fought as an equal and been defeated. 

This is another trait of Lazarević’s that is very relevant to the scene as a whole - it tells us that he is able to acknowledge his loss in battle through the superiority and skill of others. In Uncharted 3 DLC coop Lazarevic, if he dies, tells us “Well fought, Drake (laugh) You are the better man. Still little… but better”. 

HYPOTHETICAL SCENARIO: LAZAREVIĆ ESCAPED 

Okay, maybe he would have survived, but what about the collapsed bridges and ruined city? Keep in mind that it’s likely that not all parts of Shambala were equally destroyed, as we see in the final scenes. What is even more significant is that there could not necessarily have been only this one and only one way in and out of Shambala. Most likely there was another escape route.  What is even more significant is that resin trees grew not only in this place. So Lazarević, while trying to escape - assuming he survived, of course - could have encountered another source of power, which could have given him more strength and healed his wounds. 

Does that appeal to me? Yes, it most certainly does. Personally never liked last scene. A fearless man like Lazarević killed by eight violet, mountain trolls? Nope. This character deserved better ending. 

Would I like to see Lazarevic return in some DLC or Uncharted 3 style co-op? Hell yes! 

[itsclydebitches]

With how much the """heroes""" are doing bad things that the narrative pretends are good--and especially things that characters the narrative pretends are evil have done--I wouldn't be surprised if, here in a few Volumes, they start actively doing things that literal villains have done. Attacking someone because they blame them for someone else's death, despite that person not having been their killer, is the most likely one with Qrow gunning for Ironwood now. (Part 1/?)

The tricky thing about RWBY’s writing - and what the show itself has yet to acknowledge - is that yeah, the group has begun doing “bad” things under the assumed justification that they’re for “good” reasons: 

Though it was never explicitly established, we started this series under the implication that these heroes were of the ‘shall not kill’ variety given how often Ruby tries to talk to people instead of just attacking them. Yet now Yang and Blake have killed someone and (presumably) kept it quiet. Yes, that was undoubtedly self-defense... but any fight where Ruby is attacked by criminals and killed them would have been self-defense too. The assumed morality of “Heroes don’t kill people” was tossed out the window and then never discussed 

Similarly, there’s been the implication that heroes act like respectful, upstanding members of society considering that these heroics are attached to a formal job that keeps said society running. Trying to sneak into a mission during your school days is one thing, stealing military property and then running from the authorities twice in one volume is one hell of another. Yet not only is this not acknowledged as a problem, the group uses language that thoroughly denies any responsibility: “You made us steal from you.” 

Much more overtly, the show established (even if I personally don’t agree) that heroes do not lie to their allies and keep such important secrets from them. Not only does the group keep plenty of secrets outside of the Salem stuff, we got a scene that was so obviously a parallel to Ozpin it still astounds me that the show then went, “Nah. It’s totally different.” 

Connected to that, heroes supposedly don’t manipulate people into fighting a war when they don’t fully know what they’re getting into. The show established that and then the fandom emphasized it all throughout Volume 6: Ozpin is horrible for getting them involved in a fight they didn’t know they can’t (“can’t”) win. Yet guess who, days later, continued to do that to their one remaining ally? Then weeks later pressured Ironwood to do it to the council? Then they did it to an entire Kingdom by saying, “Yeah, everyone needs to stay to fight Salem with us.” They don’t care if anyone else knows they’re fighting an immortal enemy. 

Many of our (presumably) less bad villains are considered villainous because they’re assisting Salem and her henchmen some way. Roman is more than a lowly crook because he’s assisting Cinder. Raven is more than a bandit because she’s helping Cinder, Watts, Mercury, and Emerald. Lionheart is no longer just a scared headmaster because he actively gave Salem information and fought the others. “Assisting the enemy” is a major black mark in this show and Volume 7 gave us Yang and Blake assisting, not an enemy, but a potential enemy in Robyn, and then much more overtly gave us Qrow teaming up with Tyrian. Then yeah, as you say, Qrow makes the threat to attack and/or kill a man innocent of tClover’s murder even if (so far) he hasn’t gone through on the attempt.

Again, we can assume that so long as the heroes are doing questionable things with good intentions behind them then those actions remain heroic. That’s an argument a lot of stories make. Only problem is... that assumption doesn’t extend to the whole cast. Ozpin is presented as being in the wrong despite having good intentions and those intentions achieving far more good than harm (that long time of peace). Then, outright stated, Oscar declares that Ironwood is as bad as Salem because he’s doing questionable things in an effort to save the world. So clearly “bad actions but good intentions” isn’t a justification offered to everyone. Only our main cast. It seems absurd to say, “Some volume we might see the group threatening an ally to get what they want”... but we’ve already seen it. Get out of my way, Cordovin, or I’m taking a headshot. Get out of our way, Ace Ops, or we’ll knock you unconscious and hide your bodies who knows where. Two years ago I never would have believed that we’d get such characterization, so I can’t think it absurd that things might continue to get worse. And by all means, give me a story about heroes who have to descend into awful choices in order to protect the rest of the world... but then don’t pretend they’re still perfect heroes. Especially don’t claim that while dragging the rest of the cast. 

[gear-project]

How much information of the events in the story does public know about?

Most people assumed Sol along with the Sacred Order were responsible for killing Justice back in 2180 after she broke out of her Seal (nobody knew Testament was part of the cause, or that Human Gears even existed).

The incident that happened in former London, England was kept private by the International Police Force, and Sheevus’ Blackard Company was shut down without much external questioning about it.  Most assumed the dormant Gear Hydra just stirred and caused trouble, and the former Sacred Order members dealt with it.

After that, the Data Disc Ky found was destroyed and kept under wraps... only Zepp’s higher ups knew about the incident, though the Jellyfish Pirates kept fragments of their data disc as a memento. 

A lot of rumors circulated about what happened to the Gear Dizzy back in 2181, but nothing factual was leaked to the public, at least where Ky is concerned.  It was officially stated that Jam Kuradoberi collected the bounty.

Most of what happened between 2181-83 was kept under wraps by the Postwar Administration Bureau, trying to cover their own tracks and fall in line with the Conclave’s rulings.  The public would learn about the PWAB’s darker underbelly sometime later, however.

As of 2184-85, people were just getting used to the United Kingdoms of Illyria being founded as a new nation, with Ky Kiske being the High King, Leo Whitefang as Second King, and King Daryl as the Third King of the nation.

Most knew the Conclave and Sanctus Populi (along with the United Nations) were behind the founding of Illyria, but not the inner plannings or conspiracy involved regarding it, nor its connection to the PWAB.

Ariels became Pope Maximus sometime before this, taking the place of Pope Hapinus prior to his “untimely death”.  People knew about it, but they didn’t talk about it much, that is until Valentine and the Vizuel Army invaded Illyria’s Capital.

Valentine not only invaded Illyria, but she destroyed several dormant Gears there while she was at it, hence the name of the event being called “Baptisma 13 incident”.  13 Gears that were kept under Illyrian watch disappeared, basically... or so the public knew at least.

After that incident, Ky made a public announcement as High King that he would be giving sanctuary to Sentient Gears within Illyria’s borders... and that REALLY got people talking.  It was a controversial subject... and also something people could hardly believe was real.

This also painted a huge target on Ky’s back for anti-Gear protests, calling him a Gear sympathizer, among other things.  A lot of politicians considered disassociating with Ky after this as well.  This was also around the time the Conclave decided to use the PWAB to put a bounty on Sol’s head.

Sol getting a bounty on his head raised a few eyebrows within the Bounty Hunting community... since he was pretty infamous among them.  But Ky later exposed this fake bounty as a sham and part of a conspiracy (and this wasn’t the first time fake bounties were posted, either).

In 2187, around this time Pope Ariels began circulating Anti-Valentine Opus detachments around the globe, as a means of “protecting the people against the Valentine threat”, (but was actually part of her scheme to use Gears to dominate the world.)  Most people thought Opus were some man-made robot, it never occurred to most that they were actually Gears.

At this point, nobody really knew what the Conclave were doing, that is until Ramlethal Valentine made a global War Declaration (Elphelt’s warning to Ky was kept a government secret by the way, only the U.S. President Vernon seemed to be given intel about her via Leo).

This, of course, was a ruse, and in fact the Conclave were hovering over the city of Babylon, about to completely destroy its Population (why they chose Babylon as their first target, isn’t exactly clear... but it might have some symbolic value internally).

By the time Sol and Ky finally caught on, Babylon’s people were gone...  It was as tragic as might imagine all over the globe, people mourning for lost friends and family who had once lived there.  A great catastrophe.  I’m sure many blamed Ramlethal for the incident as well, even if she was only indirectly involved.

The public also caught wind of the Illyrian Knights pursuing what they were calling “The Cradle” to the Black Sea... and there was a huge dustup about all the military presence there.  Nobody knew the Cradle had anything to do with Justice, however.

Around November 1st, 2187 Justice reappeared (according to reporters) right next to Illyria’s Central Organ Tower... though nobody really knew how that was even possible, and even considered the idea that Justice was supposed to be dead for years.  Local residents of the capital were temporarily evacuated, and that was about the size of what happened at that time.

Shortly after this incident, Pope Ariels made a public announcement that everything was connected with the “Universal Will” who had declared war on Humankind.  She used this speech as a way of giving hope back to the people, to encourage them to keep fighting on despite who their enemy was... nobody even knowing the truth of the matter.  She also used this as an opportunity to let the Japanese people be released from their quarantine, as a show of good faith (again, another ruse).

Not long after, several earthquake-like explosions in the form of Information Flares occurred around the globe... and nobody really knew the cause, or that they were even connected with Ariels and the Japanese.  Even one of Illyria’s major cities was destroyed, thankfully most people were evacuated (this was when Ramlethal was caught in Ariels’ trap).

Then, during the Feast of Victory (the anniversary of the End of the Crusades), Ariels publicly shot one of her own staff, and went on to reveal that she herself was the Universal Will.  At the same time, several cities in Illyria were invaded by Anti-Matter Gears and a contingent of Ariels’ Swiss Guard, the Phalanx Nine.

Several people were killed in the incidents, but due to everyone involved, no major destruction occurred.  In particular it was revealed a certain Winged-woman was seen protecting the people of Illyria above the city (which was reported in the local newspaper, and speculated upon).

At this point in time, two major bites of News Information have been revealed: Pope Ariels is now in Illyrian Military custody, while the International Criminal known as “That Man” or “The Gearmaker” is now in U.S. Military custody.  Both are pending a Tribunal, which is being discussed in an upcoming G4 Summit.

No one has publicly stated or speculated connections between any of these chains of incidents, other than the fact Gears were involved.  It was, however stated that the PWAB would be reformed and the Assassins Organization officially dismantled.

So far, the public discussion in Illyria seems to be embracing the idea of working alongside Sentient Gears (thanks to open comments about them from the Illyrian Military), though that seems to only apply to certain regions within the nation... no other outstanding opinions in other countries have been stated.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 42: Smooth Criminal - Part 3

The siblings lived off the grid for four years, scrounging their way through adolescence, making their way through acts of petty crime. As the War on Terror turned sour and the world’s finances crashed into global recession, Knowles and Toto each developed into hardened criminals in their own right.

By the time Knowles was 18, as well as dealing drugs, the two siblings were robbing banks, with Toto scouting and planning the heists, while his sister used her talent for violence to commit the acts. Together, they had an almost flawless record of success.

Despite this, Toto clung to his vices, spending as much time as he could high on marijuana. One night, Knowles returns to their then-residence, a disused and abandoned building in Watts, to find her brother in his usual state of intoxication. He reclines on a fine couch, staring listlessly at a flat-screen television.

“Wake the fuck up!” she shouts, kicking the sofa.

Toto doesn’t flinch. “Oh hey. I wasn’t sleepin’...” he says drowsily, “How’d the deal go?”

“4,000 bucks for that load of skag from last week. Fuckng’ chump change, but forget that! Have you even moved from that spot today?! All day, you sit there while I’m out keeping us fed!”

“Nah, I did… I did move today, I went to the bathroom like an hour ago, and--”

“Shut up!” his sister shouts, knocking the TV off of its counter and sending it shattering on the floor. “What the hell’s the matter with you?! You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you waste all your time and money on pot!! Are you trying to prove Aunt Janet right about you?! You want what she said to be true?!”

“... She was right, wasn’t she?”

Knowles pauses. “... What?”

“Aunt Janet said I was scum, and she was right.. So’s e’rybody. E’rybody thinks they’re somebody, but they ain’t… Dad mattered, he was somebody. He did e’rything right, e’rything he was s’pposed to do. Mom too. And then somebody walked to ‘em and shot ‘em in they fuckin’ heads. I couldn’t stop it… I couldn’t stop it. Because I don’t matter… Nobody matters…”

“Toto…” Knowles begins, uncommonly soft. 

“That’s no way to think at all, young man,” a voice from the doorway chides. 

Knowles was sure she locked the door behind her, and even if she hadn’t, she should have heard the latch click and the hinges swing open. But when she turns, she finds an old black man, standing as if he had been there the whole time. He is frocked in a white coat and wide-brimmed hat, with a gentle smile spread along his face.

The preacher removes his hat and raises it over his head, a gesture of salutation. “Good evening to the both of you! My name is--”

Knowles pulls her gun out of the front of her pants and fires four shots into the old man. He stumbles backwards and hits the wall, still clutching his hat. But a moment passes, and he simply gets up and brushes himself off right before Knowles’ horrified eyes. There is no blood, no wounds, nor even any bullet holes in the preacher’s clothes.

“Aaahh…!” he exclaims, like he just received a massage, “I thank you for that. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. As I was saying--”

“RAAAAGHH!!!” Knowles roars and unloads her weapon on him, emptying the remaining 14 rounds into the preacher’s body. Once that clip is empty, she produces another from her pocket, reloads, then empties that as well. Still, once finished the preacher starts to get up, none the worse for wear. 

“Knowles…!” Toto says as his sister is about to produce a third clip of bullets. “I don’t think it’s workin’...”

Knowles scowls. She keeps her pistol trained on the old man, but she doesn’t reload it. “May I speak now?” The preacher asks, and Knowles finally lowers her pistol. “Good evening to the both of you!” he repeats in the same tone of voice as before, even raising his hat in the exact same way, “My name is Brother Dust, and I’ve come to introduce myself as an admirer of your work. You may, perhaps, have already heard of me?”

“No,” Knowles spits.

“I have…” Toto says, blinking out of his lethargy, “You’re the preacher man. You was around back in ‘92… During the riot...” 

“Oh!” the preacher man exclaims, clapping his hands in delight, as he takes off his hat and places it on the counter where the TV was. “That’s good! Wonderful, this won’t take up too much time, then! Speaking bluntly, I’ve been following your activities closely for the last several seasons, and I am impressed! Most within the industry are convinced the recent campaign of bank robberies are the work of an entirely new, upstart gang, but I recognized the unmistakable touch of an independent entrepreneur. I was sure that it could only be the work of one, or at the most, two bold souls. And lo and behold, here you are! Like the Good Book says:

Beware you of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. 

For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. Therefore whatever you have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which you have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed on the housetops. 

That’s the Gospel of Luke. Chapter 12, Verses 1-3. Do you know the meaning of this particular passage?”

Knowles stares at him blankly. 

“Christ warns His apostles against the sin of the flesh,” Dust continues, “the chief among them being hypocrisy and the fear of death. The soul, He declares, is immortal. No Pharisee or man of violence can ever lay hands upon it, so why fear them? One who preaches the True Word should have no fear in him but the fear of God. To fear the hands of men when one has been ordained by the Almighty? That is the hypocrisy of which Christ speaks.”

“What the fuck… are you talking about…?” Knowles asks at last.

The old man blinks and then laughs, waving his hands about embarrassedly. “Oh my goodness, me, sorry about that! There I go again, spouting theology! I’m afraid I tend to get too caught up in my devotion! This is your home, and I’m merely a guest here to present you with a proposition. Young man!” he says, turning to Toto, still slouched on the bed, “Please, don’t hold back on my account! By all means, indulge in your narcotic. ‘Take a hit’, as the young people say!”

Toto glances at his blunt and stares at the preacher. He seems to be trying to think of something to say, but eventually, he raises the blunt to his lips and inhales softly. About a second after he lowers it, his eyes bug out of his head and he starts coughing heartily. 

“Toto?!” his sister cries, rushing to his side on the bed, “What’s wrong?!”

“I’m fine!” Toto replies, surprised. He raises his hand and stares at it with wide, completely lucid eyes. The high he was just enjoying appears to have dissipated like morning fog. “It’s like I smoked caffeine or something…!”

“Now that we’re all comfortable,” Dust says, drawing the siblings’ attention. He has sat down in the armchair adjacent to the couch, laying his hat on the coffee table. “I’d like to get to my proposition, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Neither sibling objects. 

“In very simple terms, I’d like to recruit into my organization. Now I know what you’re thinking…!” he proclaims, raising his hands in theatrical defense, “You’ve both been doing very well for yourselves as an independent outfit, thus I recognize your disinclination to becoming subordinate to another! But consider this: An entrepreneur may indeed have the freedom to operate how he or she pleases, but the risk of failure is far greater. Luck, or rather Fate, plays a role in the success or failure of every endeavor, and sooner or later, all of us lose favor with Fate.

“But as part of a collective, you receive the protection of your peers. What I propose is not to simply join an organization, but to become part of an enterprise that will give you the means to awaken your true selves! To rise above and-!!”

“SHUT UP ALREADY!!” Knowles shouts. Dust pauses, his passionate pitch cooling into an amused grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t give a fuck!” Knowles continues, standing in front of the preacher with clenched fists. “Even if I gotta die for it, nobody tells me what to do!! All I want to know is how you did all that shit?! How’d I empty my piece on you and you don’t even flinch?! What the fuck even are you?!”

“... Were you not paying attention? I thought I explained earlier, remember? Luke, Chapter 12?” Dust raises a finger to his temple and taps it gently. “I am a preacher of the True Word, who does not know the death of the body. And the True Word is that the List is written. The ink is dry. Only those with pure souls will see Paradise. Those like me, and like you.” 

“Pure…?”

“Yes. Only those with pure souls can become vessels of divine power. Your brother achieved purity through the banishment of desire, wanting nothing, giving himself over to the flow of Fate. But for you, my dear, your soul has been purified by the fire of hatred. The overwhelming desire to control, to consume. That is why you will both make excellent vessels.”

“That’s such bullshi--!!” Knowles begins advancing towards the old preacher, but a hand on her shoulder gives her pause. She turns to see her brother standing behind with a serious look on his face.

“... We’re interested.” Toto says to Dust, sounding more sensible than he has in years.

“... The hell we are!!” she yells, slapping his hand away. She expects him to recoil from her then, backing away from any confrontation, but to her surprise, Toto stands firm and looks her in the eye.

“We should hear what he’s got to say,” he says. “You saw what he can do. If… If he’s talking about what I think he is, then we might--”

“Fuck that!! Weren’t you listening before?! Even if I have to die, no one tells me what to do! Especially not you!!”

“Do you wanna stay here forever?!” Toto shouts, stunning his sister into silence. “Holdin’ up banks for the rest of your life, never changing anything?!” He calms down, lowering his voice, but his intensity does not dissipate, focusing into a quiet determination. He points at Dust and says, “He’s got… some kind of ability. Something that makes him special. And he’s offering to give us the same kind of ability… Can you afford to miss this chance? Don’t you still have something you need to do?”

Knowles opens her mouth to retort with some sharp, biting remark, but nothing comes to her. She stares into her brother’s eyes and sees strength in them she had never seen before.

 A moment of silence passes. At the end of it, she sighs, her tense muscles relaxing slightly, but not fully. Her hands remain in fists as she turns to the preacher man. “... I don’t pray.”

The preacher man smiles brightly and rises from his seat. “Worry not!” he beams, retrieving his hat, “Whether consciously or not, all our actions aid the will of a higher power…”

[izukusensei]

Double Edged Sword (part 1)

Todoroki is a visitor from a neighboring clan, a welcomed guest in Lord Yagi’s home. Bakugou is assigned as his escort, meant to not only chaperone, but to acclimate him to the ways of the Yuuei Clan. When Bakugou finds Todoroki stealing a treasured possession from Lord Yagi, his task becomes more difficult than he anticipated.

author: izukusensei pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Todoroki Shouto word count: 3000+ tags: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon AU, fighting, some adult content

“The sword of destiny has two edges. You are one of them.” x Andrzej Sapkowski 

Legend says that the Sword of Destiny will grant victory to any person who wields it. Its master will be able to turn the tide of battle… of war… of history. In the martial world, where clans have been vying for control for hundreds of years, this power is precious… priceless. 

But only the most worthy may wield the sword, as the legend goes. So, it has been passed down from hand to carefully chosen hand, from mentor to carefully chosen student, since its creation so long ago. The Sword of Destiny now belongs to Midoriya Izuku of the Yuuei clan, however left in the care of Toshinori Yagi - Midoriya’s mentor and the sword’s former master - who has promised to keep it safe while the young man completes his training.  

But it’s a dangerous time to be charged with such a task, to protect an object that holds so much power. The sword’s seventh master, Shimura Nana, has been killed in battle, Lord Yagi has been severely injured while avenging her death, and Midoriya has left Yuuei territory to complete his training, opening up a power vacuum in the martial world. 

Now, the Sword of Destiny lies waiting, ready for its new master to claim it. 

“If you come quietly, you may be shown mercy.”

“If I don’t come at all,” Todoroki replies, “then I have no need for mercy.”

Bakugou watches as Todoroki turns around to face him, the sword he has come to claim now to his back, still resting undisturbed on its pedestal. The room is dark all but for the full moon shining through the open windows, its light illuminating the sword’s wooden sheath and eclipsing Todoroki in its umbra, cloaking him in shadow. 

Neither man draws his weapon, though both are well aware that the other is armed. Bakugou is never without his sword attached securely to his hip and rarely is Todoroki seen without the twin blades upon his back.

But with any luck, they won’t come to blows. Not with steel, at least. Bakugou has never been one to back down from a fight, but that’s not how he wants this to end. Not with him and Todoroki. But Todoroki has gone this far, betrayed Lord Yagi’s trust and lied to Bakugou in more ways than one, so Bakugou knows that the other man won’t turn back now, no matter the outcome. 

“Lord Yagi invites you into his home,” Bakugou growls, “and this is the gratitude you repay him with?!”

Todoroki shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t have ever been welcomed into Yuuei territory as he was. As Lord Todoroki Enji’s only son, he’s the next in line to lead the Doryoku once his father cannot, the heir to a clan of murderers and raiders and thieves.

They’ve been terrorizing the border between the Yuuei clan and themselves for years now and Lord Yagi thought that a little good faith could change that. He and Lord Todoroki were brothers in arms once, so long ago. They fought together and lived together as comrades before Lord Todoroki decided that he wanted more than the humble life of a Yuuei warrior.

He went rogue, started his own clan – the Doryoku – taking in outcasts, criminals, and those not fit to lead a proper warrior lifestyle. The clan grew quickly and throughout the years, Lord Todoroki has made a name for himself as one of the most feared and formidable men in the martial world. 

So, when a message was sent to Lord Yagi, requesting that he take in Todoroki Enji’s only son as his ward, an offering to express his sympathies over Shimura Nana’s death and to build a bridge between the two clans, Yagi accepted with little hesitation. The younger Todoroki was sent under the guise of peace, but Bakugou now knows better. It was a ruse, all of it. And Bakugou fell for it, completely. 

Bakugou hasn’t been part of the Yuuei clan for more than a few years now, but he was quick to gain Yagi’s trust and the favor of Yagi’s student and successor, Midoriya Izuku. With Midoriya gone to train with Sorahiko Torino, Lord Yagi had assigned Bakugou as Todoroki’s chaperone, to see to his needs and acclimate him to the Yuuei clan’s ways of life. 

The two of them grew close, closer than Bakugou should’ve allowed. Bakugou feels his mistake like a knife through the heart, one which will leave a scar that he knows will never fade. 

“All I need to do is raise the alarm,” Bakugou continues, trying to coax some kind of reaction out of the other man. Anything to combat this cold silence that’s surrounding them. 

When Todoroki doesn’t answer, Bakugou begins to move, taking a few small steps to his left. Not fast enough to startle the other man into a fight, but enough that Todoroki has to follow him, pivoting his body where he stands. 

As Todoroki turns, the light from the moon begins to illuminate the porcelain skin of his face, leaving the other side in shadow. Bakugou takes in the shape of the man’s rounded cheek, the silhouette of a chiseled jawline, the soft white of his pinned-up hair that seems to shimmer beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Bakugou, at one time, would picture strands of his own flaxen hair intertwined in a braid with Todoroki’s long tresses. Bakugou’s shorter hair would bear Todoroki’s mark, as well – white and red woven into blonde. This is the Yuuei clan’s symbol of lovers parted, because Bakugou knew that the day would come when Todoroki would have to go back to the Doryoku. But he never thought it would be so soon, and surely not under these conditions. 

“I’ll bring this whole damn house down around you!” Bakugou snarls. “Is that what you want, Todoroki?!”

They’re facing each other, the Sword of Destiny now to Bakugou’s left, Todoroki’s right. Bakugou’s chest feels heavy, heaving even with so little exertion. He feels his fingertips begin to itch, his body become restless. He feels wild, out of control, so different from Todoroki’s cold composure. 

Todoroki breaks eye contact with Bakugou and looks out toward the window, up toward the moon. The wind wafts in, sending wisps of white and red hair billowing across his face. “You would have done it already, if you were going to,” he replies, seemingly unphased by Bakugou’s coming undone.

“This will be a declaration of war!” Bakugou says, almost pleading, needing Todoroki’s attention on him once more. “Shouto…”

Todoroki does look back at Bakugou then, with an expression that the other man can only describe as regretful. “You don’t understand,” he replies before he takes a breath and steels himself, hardening his face like a mask. He takes a step back on one foot, bracing himself for the fight to come. “I can’t leave without the sword.”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffs, getting into position himself. “Then you’re not leaving at all.”

Bakugou is the one with everything to lose, and he knows it. If Todoroki closes the distance between the sword and himself before Bakugou can get to him, then they will both be lost, Todoroki being quicker and more swift than Bakugou will ever be. And even if a chase does ensue, Bakugou will surely be led into Doryoku territory, which would no doubt be a deadly mistake on his part. 

So Bakugou attacks first, fists aiming at debilitating points in an attempt to end the fight fast. Nose. Temple. Kidneys. Todoroki evades all three. He counters with strikes of his own - jaw, chest, kick to the knee - which Bakugou blocks instead of dodges.

Todoroki is quick, slender, and lithe, his training obviously emphasizing grace, agility, and speed. He’s strong, but nowhere near as strong as Bakugou, who has grown powerful from years of wielding his heavy sword. In turn, Bakugou’s technique is blunt, brutal force. Slower than Todoroki, but more destructive. 

They’re true opposites of each other. Two sides of a perfectly balanced sword.

They lunge and parry. Punch, kick, and strike. With every step, Bakugou moves himself between Todoroki and the weapon he has come to claim, forcing his opponent to retreat further into the room with each charge.

Bakugou attacks with a signature move - Dragon of the Rising Dawn. Todoroki counterattacks with Winter Lotus. Back and forth, never wavering. Fanned Flame and then Frozen Tempest. Smoking Fire Flower and then…

Todoroki’s kick connects. Bakugou barely sees the man’s foot leave the ground before his neck is wrenched backward by the force of the blow to his face. He stumbles back in shock, spitting at the acrid taste filling his mouth. 

They’ve sparred over the months that Todoroki has been in Yuuei. Bakugou thought he knew how Todoroki’s body moved almost by rote now, the angle of his punches, the speed in which he can strike. He thought he knew, but as Bakugou has quickly learned, Todoroki has been hiding yet another piece of himself. Bakugou doesn't know this move. Has never seen this style. Todoroki knew - he knew he would have to use it some day.

Bakugou can’t linger on the betrayal. This fight isn’t over yet. Bakugou charges.

It’s quiet in Lord Yagi’s armory. The room is silent save for the sound of flesh on flesh when someone connects or blocks a hit, their heavy breathing, the shuffling of feet. Despite his threats, Bakugou has wanted to keep this discreet as possible, to convince Todoroki to give up and turn himself in, or to even leave and go back to the Doryoku. But Bakugou is caught off guard by Todoroki’s sudden change of style, the skills and techniques he has never before seen from the man. He knows that Todoroki will win this if he keeps fighting him hand-to-hand. 

The sound of metal against metal will surely draw a passing guard, if not rouse the household, but Bakugou pulls his sword from its scabbard anyway, whip-quick and poised toward Todoroki. 

“I’ll let you leave,” Bakugou says in an uncharacteristic display of kindness. “Just forget about the sword and go home.”

Todoroki shakes his head, eyes somber, as he reaches up and behind his back. He pulls his twin swords from their scabbards, not quick like Bakugou, but slow and steady and practiced. He’s opening himself up for an attack, and at this distance, with his speed, Bakugou could end it all now, could land the final blow to ensure the safety of the sword and the Yuuei clan’s position in the martial world.

But he doesn’t. He waits. It’s the Yuuei way to ensure that fights are fair and honorable, and even with so much to lose, Bakugou would never turn his back on the principals Lord Yagi and the Yuuei clan have instilled in him. 

And even if that wasn’t so, this is still Shouto…

They’re both without any armor. Bakugou supposes that Todoroki left his behind in favor of being silent and stealthy. Bakugou, for his part, only left his bed because Todoroki was yet to join him. He meant only to seek him out, not knowing that he would be bearing witness to that very man’s treachery.

Not knowing that not having his armor would be the difference between peace and war in the martial world. 

This is dangerous. Both men are deadly. Bakugou’s sword is large and heavy, and spans more distance than Todoroki’s shorter, thinner swords. But Todoroki’s weapons are light and swift, able to slice through the air with little effort. 

Like the ringing of a bell, sound echoes through the armory as weapons clash. Bakugou lets loose a barrage of blows, hacking-hacking-hacking away at Todoroki’s smaller swords and waning energy. The repeated impact becomes too much for him, and his sword is knocked from his left hand, leaving him with only half his defense, but double the strength to wield it.

Todoroki raises his sword with both hands, ready to deliver what will no doubt be a mighty blow. Bakugou raises his own sword to block it but is met with a kick to his unprotected stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him stagger back in pain and surprise. Before he can reorient himself, Todoroki’s blade slices through the space between them and lands flush against Bakugou’s throat.

The blow would have killed him, should have. The speed and strength behind the strike would have been enough to cut through half of Bakugou’s neck, but Todoroki stopped just in time. He does put more pressure against Bakugou’s throat though, taking a step forward and forcing the other man back. Bakugou hits the wall, and with nowhere else to go he flattens himself against the unyielding stone. 

Todoroki’s eyes are hard and unmoving from Bakugou’s own, his hand ever-steady, but Bakugou sees the tick in his jaw before it tenses, sees the hesitation. Todoroki could still kill him. A quick slide of the sword at the right spot and Bakugou will bleed out in less than a minute.  

“Don’t show me mercy, you little shit,” Bakugou hisses, pressing the flesh of his throat further into the blade. “I wouldn’t do the same for you.”

Todoroki’s brows furrow, lips narrow. This close, Bakugou doesn’t know whether to look at his grey eye or the blue, they have both always captivated him with equal measure. But he makes sure not to look away, because his words aren’t just provoking - they’re prophetic. If Todoroki lets him live, he can be sure that their next fight won’t end so graciously.

“Drop your weapon, Katsuki.”

The hilt of Bakugou’s weapon is still clutched tight in his hand - his arm extended outward at his side, the tip of the sword almost touching the floor. His fingers clench around it and Bakugou is ready to defy him, but Todoroki’s blade cuts into his throat, shallow, but the sword is sharp and he can feel the rivulets of blood creeping down his neck. 

“Drop it,” Todoroki tells him again. 

He does then, drops his sword to the ground with a metallic clang. Without lowering his gaze from Bakugou’s eyes, Todoroki places his foot on the hilt and kicks it away, sending it skittering across the ancient tile floor and far enough away that Bakugou wouldn’t have time to retrieve it if Todoroki decided to make an escape. 

It takes a moment after, but Todoroki removes the blade from Bakugou’s throat, rolls his wrist around and back to sheathe the sword effortlessly over his shoulder. Its partner is still missing, lost somewhere in the darkness of the armory, but Bakugou will be damned if he lets Todoroki leave with it. 

Once the sword is put away, Bakugou relaxes, but not by much. He drew his weapon because Todoroki was beating him hand-to-hand, and he won’t make the mistake of thinking Todoroki’s fists aren’t as deadly as his swords. 

He can finally breathe, though, drawing in a shuddering breath. But to a man as apprehensive as Todoroki is at this moment, even that is taken as a threat. Before the exhale, Todoroki’s hand is on Bakugou’s throat, keeping him still and flush against the wall. The salty sweat of his palm is seeping into Bakugou’s cut, making it sting, smearing the blood on his skin.

They’re close. Pressed up against each other, Bakugou can feel the harsh ebb and flow of Todoroki’s chest as he breathes, the heat of his body through layers of fabric. He can feel Todoroki’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest. Still, Bakugou doesn’t move. 

Todoroki leans forward and presses his forehead against Bakugou’s. He slides his hand up from Bakugou’s throat to cup his cheek in a rough palm, thumb rubbing against the man’s bottom lip. He closes his eyes and breathes, and then Bakugou feels him retreating, the space between their bodies growing. 

Bakugou grabs him by the front of his shirt before he can get too far and pulls him forward, pressing his mouth against the other man’s in a hard kiss. Todoroki gasps, caught off guard, but quickly recovers. His lips begin to move against Bakugou’s with little hesitation, a practiced familiarity laced into every movement. 

For Bakugou, the kiss is more desperate than anything. Inelegant. But Bakugou doesn’t care about it feeling good. He just wants Todoroki to feel something. And he must, because his hands move to Bakugou’s hair, gripping the strands tight in his fist, as he deepens the kiss. 

Bakugou keeps his hands clenched in the front of the man’s shirt, holding him closely, confident enough now to touch his tongue to Todoroki’s lips. When Todoroki returns in kind, Bakugou makes a sound - small and pitiful - miserable enough to startle him.

“Katsuki --”

He moves to take Todoroki’s jaw in his palms, brings him forward again and doesn’t let him go. He bites the man’s lips, his chin, his throat. Todoroki, barely taller, pulls Bakugou’s hair to tilt his head back, sucks a bruise into the side of his neck as he slots a thigh between Bakugou’s legs.

Bakugou squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his jaw to keep from calling out. He arches his back, presses his shoulder blades against the wall to tilt his hips forward and put more pressure on Todoroki’s thigh. 

Todoroki grinds against him for good measure, and only moves away to get his fingers on the ties of Bakugou’s pants and slide them down his legs. When they’re out of his way, Todoroki grabs Bakugou by his bare hips, fingernails digging into the warm and sweat-slick skin. He closes the distance again, molding himself against Bakugou’s half-nude body. 

“Shouto –” Bakugou breathes, and he’s shaking his head, willing him to stay after all of this. He would forget about this night, if Todoroki would turn back, if he would forget about the sword. They could pretend like it was just a bad dream and awake the next morning in a world where Todoroki didn’t betray him and his entire clan. They could – 

“WHO’S IN THERE?”

A voice outside the armory startles them both, and Todoroki jumps back before Bakugou has the chance to grab him. Bakugou moves forward to stop the other man’s retreat but is caught up in the pants wrapped up around his ankles. He stumbles and falters, giving Todoroki enough time to claim the Sword of Destiny and disappear into the night.

x picture credit: ig @shirogane_sama x