#brace yourselves soldiers

[lavender-lady-777]

On Louis de Pointe du Lac in love . . .

[nonoqy]

My tummy hurts

Like it's over for us.

[the-acid-pear]

Btw only today I remembered the time a Baki character crawled thru and out a man's asshole.and his only explanation was I could do that because I'm very small (he's 160cm).

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: Juggernaut

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The Batch seek out an unlikely ally to get you and Omega back. Meanwhile, you and Omega find out what's in store for you on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, me making up an SP number, humour used as a deflection tactic, Hunter losing it a bit, brief injury descriptions, threats, implications of torture, mentions of scars, Rampart, Hemlock being a creep, lotta angst,

Word Count: 5.7K

Author's notes: Had a bit of creative fun doing this episode but it should also hopefully feel like an angsty one lol

You braced yourself against the weather as you exited the ship.

The gusts of wind on Tantiss swept the steady drizzle of rain in a diagonal against your face.

You and Omega stopped just before Hemlock as he came to meet you both.

Then, a move occurred that genuinely surprised you.

In quick succession, the operative took Omega’s cuffs off and then did the same to yours before he took to his ship and left.

You and Omega massaged your wrists as you regarded the man ahead of you with suspicious curiosity.

“I trust we won’t have any issues with you and your… talents. Unless you want Omega to suffer the punishment for your disobedience?” Hemlock directed the question to you.

You knew that would be the card he would play, and it was a fucking effective one. “No issue.” You said tightly.

Hemlock nodded before he addressed both of you. “Turning yourselves over was a wise decision. Come with me.”

Omega glanced up at you, but you gave her a nod and the two of you slowly followed Hemlock inside.

--

The route to the lab had not left Omega’s memory and she recognised the familiar corridors that Hemlock led you both through, although the heightened stormtrooper presence was new.

“Bring the Jedi to the cell we arranged below but keep her away from the vault. She and Omega are not to be together.” Hemlock directed the group of troopers that approached as you all came to a halt outside the lab doors.

Your head snapped over to Hemlock as you heard that.

Omega frantically looked between you and Hemlock. “No!” She shouted.

You saw the group of troopers moving in on you. You called on the Force and pushed them further down the corridor and smacked them into the wall, but you couldn’t do anything more than that. You couldn’t risk Hemlock punishing Omega.

You saw another squad closing in.

You had to let them take you.

Omega looked up at you, tears in her eyes. “They can’t take you! I won’t let them!” Omega turned to Hemlock but all she saw on his face was a cruel sneer. “Please-”

You wouldn’t have her begging that man for anything. You bent down and hugged Omega tight to your chest. Do what you need to do to get outta here. I’ll see you again. You don’t worry about me. You said hurriedly as you felt numerous hands grab you and yank you away from her.

The butt of a blaster smacked against your temple, making you lightheaded and your body more compliant with the soldiers as they pulled you down the corridor.  

“No!” Omega fought against the strong grip a trooper took of her shoulder and she couldn’t free herself. But they couldn’t stop her words.

“Bring her back!”

“No! We stay together!”

“Let me go!”

“Stop!” That was the last thing she was able to say before she was dragged into the lab.

--

Omega’s fading cries were all that echoed through your head as the troopers dragged you away and through another maze of levels and hallways.

--

Emerie had heard the commotion outside, and she saw the fear and sadness on Omega’s face as she entered but she had to hide her lingering discomfort as Hemlock brought her over. The small smirk that graced Hemlock’s face did not escape her though.  

“Begin testing her at one. I want confirmation.” Hemlock ordered but he saw hesitance demonstrated by Emerie at the order. “Is there a problem, Dr. Karr?”

“No.” Emerie replied swiftly. “I’ll handle it.”

“Where’s Nala Se?” Omega asked as she looked around the lab but found no sign of the Kaminoan.

“In a cell. I’m afraid the Kaminoan won’t be aiding you in another escape.” He said to Omega before addressing Emerie, “I’ll return later for the results.” He walked out the lab. He had other preparations to oversee.

Omega walked over to her sister, “Emerie, you don’t have to do this.”

Emerie sighed as part of her wished the words didn’t affect her as much as they did but what else was she supposed to do? This is where she wanted to be… didn’t she? “I’m sorry, but I do.” She prepared the syringe and approached the young girl. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” Emerie took the sample.

“Am I?” Omega questioned uncertainly. “And why did he take her from me? What is he going to do her? Will she be okay?”

And the reassurance Emerie once might’ve been prepared to offer couldn’t be said anymore.

--

Pabu was a ghost town.

The people of the island were recovering and hiding in their homes.

All that remained were the signs of destruction the soldiers had left behind.

But there were no more troopers.

No more gunships.

And he knew what that meant.

He couldn’t deny it to himself anymore.

It had happened again.

They’d taken his home.

They’d taken Omega.

They’d taken you. The love of his life.

Gone.

Your time spent together had been so rushed, so interrupted and there had been too little time for him to express how important you were to him since you’d returned.

The life that the two of you were preparing to have together had been snatched away. And now you were gone. You were gone before he’d had the chance to-

And both of you would be subjected to whatever torment Hemlock wished to inflict. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.

If only he’d been quicker, stealthier. If only he’d handled that gunship pilot better. If only-

He stopped short and clawed at his chest as he felt the guilt constrict around his heart. His knees buckled as the entire weight of his failure crashed into him and he had to brace himself against one of the ransacked stalls to keep from collapsing but he forced himself to calm down.

He couldn’t allow himself to lose himself in it. Not anymore.

He’d done that before but that was then.

Now, he let clarity overcome him.

Now he would not lose focus.

He would not falter.

He would not be dissuaded.

Everything he had was going to go into getting you two back.

Hemlock would die.

Nothing was going to stop him from achieving that.

He felt wet nose nuzzle against his palm and he glanced down to see Batcher looking up at him with concerned eyes.

He straightened up and carried onto Archium.

--

Hunter took his helmet off as he approached his brothers, and he was glad to see Wrecker awake and back on his feet. “The troopers have pulled out, but the cruiser’s still jamming our comms.”

“I still can’t believe you let them turn themselves in.” Wrecker said reproachfully to Crosshair.

“The Empire would have destroyed this whole town. They stopped them.” Crosshair responded, his frustration at the whole situation seeping into his tone. He was more surprised however that the admonishment had come from Wrecker and not Hunter but then again, there was still time.

“Yeah, and they’ve got them again.” Wrecker replied dejectedly. “And we’re stuck here without a ship.”

“Even if we get our hands on a ship, we still have no way of finding Tantiss base.” Hunter said.

The trembling from his hand was an instant reaction. “That’s not exactly true.” Crosshair said cagily as he held his hand.

Hunter stared at his brother carefully and made himself wait for further explanation before he said anything he might regret.

“Wait. You’ve known where Tantiss is this whole time?” Wrecker questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t say I know. There’s someone who might have the coordinates.”

“Who?” Hunter asked urgently.

“Admiral Rampart. He sent Nala Se there when we decommissioned Tipoca City.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Hunter took a few aggressive steps towards Crosshair but checked himself as he caught the way his brother kept massaging his shaking hand. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if he jumped down Crosshair’s throat, he didn’t deserve that.

“Because Tantiss isn’t a place I ever wanted to go back to.” Crosshair admitted. “And Rampart’s not particularly trustworthy. He is a last resort, but he’s our only option.”

“Where’s Rampart now?”

“I was still in the Empire when they arrested him. He was sent to-”

Batcher growling and the sound of a platform opening interrupted him and the three of them turned to see a hatch in the middle of the Archium floor opening up.

“Do not shoot!” AZ yelled as he and Phee came into the room.

“I second that.” Phee agreed as she saw the three clones with blasters pointing in their direction.

The three of them holstered their weapons.

“I saw the Imperials on my approach. When I landed, Doc here briefed me on the situation.” Phee explained.

“How did you get in here unseen?” Hunter enquired.

“Used the hidden cavern access when I docked my ship.”

“We’re gonna need to borrow that.” Crosshair insisted by way of greeting.

Phee regarded the new face with a knowing smile, “You must be Crosshair. Tech told me all about your… sparkling personality.”

“Is that a no?” Crosshair replied, crossing his arms in his typical unimpressed fashion.

“Any friend of brown eyes is a friend of mine. Where are we heading?”

“An Imperial labour camp on Erebus.” Crosshair divulged with a heavy breath but if it meant a chance to get you and Omega back, he would face the demons of his past.

“Ooh, I like this already.” Phee said with a roguish grin. She led the way down, with Wrecker joining her first.

Crosshair faced his sibling and started nervously, “Hunter-”

Hunter just about managed a single, reassuring nod. “I know, Crosshair.”

“I wanted to- if there had been any other way- I’m-”

Hunter touched his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Crosshair. Not at all.” He exhaled a sharp sigh, “It was the right call. Besides, you couldn’t have stopped them, no matter how much you wanted to. All that matters is that I know we’re getting them back.”

Crosshair studied his brother. Of all the reactions he’d expected, this one had been low on the list. This was a different type of determination that gave him the impression that Hunter meant what he was saying, but there was more that he was not allowing himself to feel or express anymore.  

Hunter removed his hand before they both stepped onto the platform to follow the others down.

--

Being helpless to Phee’s plan of sending the ship into a vertical nosedive in order to get past the perimeter had emulated Tech’s crazy, yet somehow effective piloting, and it became very clear why the friendship between the two of them had been growing into something more.

With Phee being on standby for a retrieval after she’d dropped them in, they’d managed to infiltrate the system and find out what prison transport Rampart was on and taking the turbo-tank from the Imperials on-board had been a simple task in the end.

Hunter took control of the steering.

Wrecker and Crosshair took up position by the doorway to the prison hold.

Crosshair touched the walls, “It’s magnetically sealed. Wrecker, remember Plan 55?” Crosshair waited patiently as his brother worked on remembering the details of it.

“Oh. Yeah. 55. Waiting on you. Go.” Wrecker said in quick realisation as he prepared his blaster.

Crosshair opened the door, and they advanced down the corridor.

--

The door opened and Crosshair instantly ricocheted his blaster bolt around the walls, killing most of the troopers and Wrecker took care of the few stragglers that remained.

“Ct-9904?” Rampart said in disbelief as he recognised the uniformed clone.

“You remembered. How touching.” Crosshair sneered as he stared at the former admiral. The ill-fitting, dirty orange jumpsuit and raggedy beard and untidy hair gave a distinct worn and dishevelled appearance to the Imperial that Crosshair knew he would despise, and he found the whole thing rather satisfying. He tapped the side of his helmet to let Hunter know, “The target’s secured.”

“The target?” Rampart repeated with outrage. “What is this? Are you here to kill me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Wrecker cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion between them, “What about them?” He asked in reference to the other prisoners on board.

--

Hunter slowed the turbo-tank to a stop to let Wrecker and Crosshair release the remaining prisoners.

“All clear.”

Wrecker’s confirmation on the comms prompted Hunter to get the tank moving again.

--

“And what about me?” Rampart asked as the larger clone came back from freeing the others.

“You’re fine right where you are.” Crosshair replied tersely.

“If you’re not here to execute me, and you’re not letting me go, then you must need something from me.” Rampart deduced.

“Tantiss base. Where is it?” Crosshair asked briskly.

“Ah. Tantiss.” Rampart repeated as if the answer had been what he’d expected. “And how much is that information worth to you?”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.” Crosshair growled.

“Hmm. I disagree. I’ll talk after you get me off this planet.” Rampart negotiated smoothly, “You don’t get what you want if I don’t get what I want.”

“We’re approaching the bridge. Wrecker, man the cannon.”

Hunter’s voice on the comms interrupted the tension settling between the three men and Wrecker set off to do as instructed.

--

From the activation of the bridge gates and barricades and the tank that was approaching from the other side of the bridge, it had become pretty clear that the Imperials were onto them, but Hunter wasn’t about to let that stop him. It would take a lot more than that and probably not even then. He increased the speed of the vehicle and powered through them.

The enemy tank opened fire on them, but Wrecker was quick to respond however the blaster fire wasn’t making a dent in either transport.

There wasn’t time for a firefight, “Their armour’s too strong. Take out the wheels.” Hunter ordered Wrecker as he kept the speed of the tank on a steady increase.

Wrecker did just that and the tank came to a crashing halt as the front set of wheels exploded.

Hunter simply ramped up the power and sent their tank flying over the downed Imperial vehicle.

--

In the chaos of the tank righting itself, Crosshair and Rampart had gotten thrown to the ground.

Rampart attempted to use the opportunity to grab a free blaster, but the clone shot it out of his hands.

Crosshair got to his feet and trained his sniper on Rampart.

 “Oh please. You’re not going to kill me.” Rampart said confidently.

Crosshair set his rifle to stun. “Hmm. Not yet.” He replied simply before he knocked the man out and grab him by the collar.

--

He’d managed to get the tank through to the other side of the bridge, but the sight of approaching gunships caused Hunter to dramatically drop the speed and he drifted the tank onto an off-road path- the narrow cliffside wasn’t enough to deter him from the pace at which he was driving.

Crosshair opened the door to rejoin his two brothers and he dragged Rampart’s body inside.

Hunter tapped the side of his helmet, “Phee, we’re past the perimeter and need that pickup.” He said into his comm but all he heard was the fuzzy sound of static.

Wrecker was able to fire back and destroy one of the gunships on their tail, but he couldn’t stop the other one from making up ground. “Cannons are offline!” He shouted with an aggravated punch to the console as he saw the power go down. “We’ve got troopers up top.” He said as another sensor beeped. He and Crosshair both got ready to deal with it but the reaction from Hunter stopped them both.

Hunter, uncaring about the precarious path, merely weaved the tank in an aggressive pattern to toss the troopers off. This entire thing was getting old rather fast, he had more important things to be doing now. Most fell quickly but one soldier managed to tumble over the side that had a ladder he could cling onto, so Hunter smashed the lone trooper into the cliffside.

Whilst that plan had worked, it hadn’t deterred the final gunship which landed a successful shop that disabled the steering. The controls went rigid in Hunter’s hands. “Controls are dead.” He voiced aloud. They could really use that pickup now.

“We’re running out of road!” Wrecker cried as he saw the end of the path rapidly approaching.

Then, the glorious sound of explosions sounded from the outside.

“Not exactly a stealth exit, boys.” Phee commed in as she took out the final gunship.

“Let’s move!” Hunter directed as they all made their way to the roof of the tank.

--

Wrecker watched as his brothers made the jump to Phee’s extended ramp. He tossed Rampart’s limp body on the stairs but the gap between the tank and Phee’s ship was increasing, and he couldn’t be confident that he’d make the jump. “Move closer!”

Hunter saw the end of the road was drawing nearer and there wasn’t more time to get the distance exactly right. “Hurry! Jump!” He urged.

Wrecker took a few steps back before he ran and leaped over. He slid down the last couple steps but fortunately, Hunter had a secure hold on his upper arm, so he was able to be pulled securely on board.

Phee got the ship out of any further harms way.

--

Crosshair, being the only one of the three of them to keep his helmet on, kicked Rampart’s leg to wake him up.

Rampart came around with a wince.

“We got you off the planet. Now tell us where Tantiss is.” Crosshair demanded.

Rampart released a reluctant groan, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Hunter asked snappishly.

“No one knows the coordinates to Tantiss. It was designed that way. But I might know how to get around that.” He said but he didn’t elaborate.

Crosshair was getting tired of his games. “Either you tell us now, or we drop you back in that Imperial prison.”

“Now, now. No need for threats.” Rampart tisked. “After all, we’re in this together. Retrieving the young girl will be no easy task, but the girl and a Jedi? You’ll need my expertise so best play nice.” Rampart smirked as he saw the way all three of them stiffened their posture. “Oh yes, word travels amongst the unsavoury characters I was forced to be in close quarters with and between the officers.”

He fixed his stare on Hunter whose jaw was clenched so tight; Rampart wondered if the act was causing him physical pain. “CT-9904 had some rather interesting information to share about the two of you. I didn’t think the protocol would’ve allowed for such… fraternisations.”

Crosshair recoiled slightly as he remembered the conversations. Rampart’s words felt like he may as well have just punched him in the gut, and Crosshair risked a glance to Hunter as he readied his own apologies, but Hunter wasn’t looking at him.

Hunter stalked around the table to stand over the seated form of Rampart who was already beginning to cower into the booth. “You’re here because we need your information but let me make something very clear to you…”

This particular demeanour Hunter was exhibiting was foreign territory to the two brothers. Crosshair and Wrecker watched the interaction closely in case they were needed to intervene, more for their brother’s sake than Rampart’s.

Hunter’s voice took on a tone that was so low and so threatening, it even put Wrecker and Crosshair on edge and made them stand up a little taller. “Mention her or Omega again and you’ll wish you were back on Erebus.”

And Rampart could tell by the intensity of his stare and the conviction behind his words that the clone wasn’t bluffing either. Rampart’s throat went dry, and he swallowed a few times to find his voice again, “P-” He cleared his throat. “Point- point taken.” He said shakily. He’d miscalculated his power in this situation rather badly. Despite the fact he was the one that had the information to offer, it would only be worth it if he got out of here in one piece and the clones kept to their end. Evidently, that would not happen if he pushed that particular button too much.  

Satisfied that his words had landed, Hunter turned to go back to the cockpit but jutted his head for Crosshair to follow him.

Wrecker offered a supportive pat on Crosshair’s shoulder as he left.

--

“Phee, can you go watch Rampart with Wrecker for a few minutes?” Hunter asked tightly as he felt his emotional control slipping.

“Uh, sure.” Phee said with a questioning look between the two clones but the tension in the air was palpable, so she didn’t linger.

Crosshair removed his helmet and waited nervously for his brother to speak.

“What did you tell him?” Hunter ground out as he pushed the rising wave of emotions back down.

Crosshair looked down at the floor in shame. “Nothing. I-”

The wave came back stronger this time, and he couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction to his brother’s evasiveness. “Crosshair!” Hunter interrupted heatedly.

Crosshair met Hunter’s stare.

Hunter started talking but his words came out short and sharp with his voice rising with each sentence. “Rampart can’t gain any leverage here. If he has anything about her, about me, about our relationship that he could use against us… against me then I have to know! I need to know what he knows!”

Crosshair kept his voice level; a shouting match would do no good here and Hunter had every right to be reacting the way he was. All Crosshair could do was hope Hunter would believe him. “He doesn’t know anything. Not really.” Crosshair took a breath. “I told him getting her in Imperial custody might be a good way to get you. It would be a way to get you to slip up and come out of hiding. And if you came, the rest of the squad would follow. Nothing specific, I swear.”

Hunter looked at Crosshair but everything on his face and everything he knew about his brother told him he was telling the trust. He didn’t sense any dishonesty and he wasn’t about to throw away the trust he’d built and regained with Crosshair over some stupid comment from Rampart. He relaxed his stance and his tone, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Hunter said as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the oncoming headache that had been brewing since leaving Pabu.

Crosshair dismissed the unnecessary apology. “I’d expected a lot worse.” He recognised the signs and knew his brother needed a moment to himself now, so he quietly left the cockpit.

Hunter exhaled deeply and reached under his clothes and clasped the leather chord as he pulled out the necklace. He fiddled with the Jedi symbol that decorated it and allowed himself the few seconds of ease and happy memories the action brought before he hid it once more.

Hunter shook off everything that had just transpired and put everything else that wasn’t involved in getting you and Omega back to the back of his mind before he rejoined the others.

--

Omega’s body was heavy with weariness. These tests had taken hours and after the night she’d already had, her body was struggling to fight against the urge to just slide of the stool and sink to the floor.

Her ears pricked up as she heard a cheering dinging, but she saw the curious yet slightly concerned look Emerie shot her way. Omega didn’t have any time to enquire more about that since Hemlock returned.

“Dr. Karr, what are Omega’s results?”

“Her blood sample yielded a favourable M-count replication.”

“As expected.” Hemlock said as he looked to the young girl.

“What does that mean?” Omega asked.

“I’ll show you.” Hemlock replied.

Omega was left with little choice but to follow Hemlock out and walk a route that was unfamiliar to her.

--

“Did you know an individual’s M-Count cannot be directly replicated?” Hemlock quizzed as he led the way to the vault. “Attempts have been made but each time, the levels degraded. And so we experimented.” He opened the doors to the corridor illuminated with red beams and gestured for Omega to carry on.

Omega didn’t move yet. “Where are you taking me?”

“The vault.”

Together, the two of them then carried on walking.

“We tried various methods, mixing samples from out other test subjects, yet nothing worked...” Hemlock continued to divulge, “until we combined your sample with one of our M-Count specimens.”

Together, the two of you would make a scientists dream so Omega couldn’t understand Hemlock’s command to separate the two of you. What did he have planned for you that was so different to anything else that would lie behind the doors ahead. “Then why couldn’t we stay with each other?”

Hemlock paid no attention to the broader meaning behind question. He kept his focus on her role here instead. “You are a vital piece to our work here, Omega.”

Omega stopped short as the doors opened and she was met with the sight of three children- they were a few years younger than her- and a baby. She recovered quickly and asked, “Who are they?”

“They are the rest of the puzzle. And this, this is your new home.” Hemlock turned around and walked out.

Omega heard the doors shut with a secure clash and she gulped as she took in the space.

She was confined. Again.

--

You felt a flicker of fear as the door opened and you saw the tiny cell you were to be put in.

The walls were blank and grey.

There wasn’t any type of bed.

All that was there was a thick silver chain with shackles attached to it that was weaved through a notch in the wall.

All of that added to the already freezing temperature of the cell.

One of the troopers shoved you hard in the back and you tripped into the room.

“SP-42, you need to wear this uniform now.”

You studied the face of the woman that gave you the drab, grey clothes and you saw traces of Omega in her face. Plus, it was obvious she was doing her best not to give away the fact that she knew who you were. “Emerie, isn’t it? Omega mentioned you.”

Emerie shifted uncomfortably but subtlety nodded. “She talked about you, too.” She said quietly before she addressed you at a louder volume with a more official stature. “But I really need you to follow my instructions, SP-42.”

“Please, SP-42 was my father. My first name will be fine. I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time together.” You quipped as you took off your armour, the rest of your clothes and changed into the uniform that was handed to you.

“Ah, the use of humour to distract one from the pain of their current situation.”

Your blood ran cold at the soft and quiet yet threatening voice, but you masked your discomfort quickly as Hemlock came into view. “Oh great, it’s SP-Fuckface.” You remarked crudely as you fixed him with an intense glare.

Emerie tensed up at the comment as she took your personal items from you and handed them to one of the troopers.

“Come now, I thought your people were above such vulgar words.” Hemlock fully came into the cell.

“My people and I tended to differ on a lot of things.” You responded icily.

“Indeed.” Hemlock mused.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes up and not look disgusted by the way he touched the half-skull insignia on your old top.

Hemlock nodded to the one of the troopers to take them away and he inhaled deeply before he gave you his full attention. “I must say, this has been a long-awaited reunion. I offer you my congratulations- the search for you always proved most troublesome, despite your rather public endeavours against the Empire. You were a hard one to predict. Even the information I’d been given ahead of time was not always relevant.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make my capture convenient for you.” You retorted as the troopers took your hands behind your back and secured the shackles to your wrists. You pulled against the chain to test it, but it was strong and only extended a short way, so the bitter metal of the shackles instantly dug into your skin.

Hemlock ignored you and kept to his train of thought, “So, imagine my surprise when I got word that you’d handed yourself in all those months ago.”

“What are-” The realisation that hit you brought with it an overwhelming nausea as you stared at him and the cruel smile on his face.

It had always been Hemlock.

From the moment he’d known what you were.

From the moment you escaped him and made the decision to stop hiding.

From the moment you handed yourself over to the Imperials on Christophsis.

It was never just any Imperial official that wanted you.

It all led back to him.

“The secure prison facility…” Your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper as you recalled the words of the Imperial’s that had been getting ready to transport you off Christophsis.

“Very good.” Hemlock complimented. “If it weren’t for the incompetence of those officers in charge of you, I would’ve had you here a lot sooner.”

You reminded yourself of your training as you felt your breathing quicken and the panic that flared in your gut. You got your emotions under control and made sure you presented yourself as if his words had no impact on you.

Hemlock nodded as he saw your reaction, or lack thereof. It only proved he was right to take this course of action with you. You were no mere specimen. “Do you know that little display of yours in the hallway caused several concussions and a few dislocated shoulders?”

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to find one here.” You snapped.

Hemlock simply gave you a cool smile, “You misunderstand. I know that was only a taste of what you are capable of and it’s that strength of yours will prove most useful to my operation here.”

The panic came back again. “Useful?” You repeated, determined to keep the quiver out your voice as he started to circle you. You kept your eyes firmly towards the door as you felt him pause by your side.

“You see, I have great plans for you.” Hemlock whispered into your ear.

His breath was cold against your skin, and you were fighting against every instinct that was telling you to flinch away.

“Why am I here?” Still managing to keep your voice steady.

“You are here because I wish to study you.” Hemlock let out a deep sigh as he breathed in the scent of your hair. “You are here because having someone with your talents will be most beneficial.” He stroked his hand down the back of your skull. “You are here because you are going to join my operatives. With you being a part of them, nothing will stop me from achieving my goal.”

You had to jerk away from him then, “No.” You breathed in horror. “Never.”

“The very fact that you think you will have a choice shows how little you understand your situation.”

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in around and you could feel your knees growing weak, but you pushed yourself to stay upright. “You can’t break me. Your fellow Imperials tried already.” But the low, mocking chuckle you got in reply deeply unnerved you.

“You will find my methods to be more… sophisticated than what you’re used to.”

You felt his gloved hand trace down your clothed back, following the exact pattern of the scars left behind after everything you endured on Christophsis. You forced down the bile that rose in your throat.

Hemlock traced the pinprick scar on your neck, enjoying the way you attempted to flinch away from him before your stubborn strength kicked in and you stood still. You would provide him a most stimulating challenge that he was yet to meet, even the other prisoner hadn’t resisted as much as he expected. “I focus far more on the mind than those imbeciles on Christophsis. Perhaps if they’d used their interrogation droid more wisely, I would’ve been reacquainted with you sooner.”

Your entire body went numb. His vile words were far more threatening than any of the Imperials and troopers you’d come across.

“They didn’t understand what they had in their possession, but I do. Your mind will become mine. You will be one of my operatives.”

“And if I don’t?” You would sooner die than join him and you knew he had to know that too.

Hemlock came round to stand in front of you once more. “Then your time here will be short-lived. But I hope we can avoid such an unpleasant outcome. After all, Omega’s fate could depend on it.”

You lunged forward but the chain tugged you backwards immediately.

“Take her vitals and return to the vault.” Hemlock ordered as he placed his hands behind his back and walked out.

It took everything in you to keep standing as Emerie drew a sample of your blood.

Emerie avoided eye contact with you. That entire interaction had her struggling not to bolt. She just kept her sights firmly on the vial as she stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“Emerie.”

Emerie paused but kept her back to you.

“Look out for her, okay? She might not need it but it’s looking like I can’t be the one to be there for her if she does.”

Emerie nearly turned to face you, but she stopped herself and said nothing as she exited.

Only when Emerie left did you collapse to your knees on the stone ground and let the emotions leave you in frantic, terrified breaths.

You allowed yourself a moment to lose yourself in your situation before you regained your composure.

You adjusted yourself into as comfortable as a position you could manage.

You closed your eyes and allowed the Force to wrap you in its calming and secure presence.

He wouldn’t break you.

No matter what he thought he could do.

He wouldn’t get to you.

You would get out of here somehow.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @notgonnaedit , @allthingsimagines @nightmonkeysstuff, @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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(A/N: This update took a lot longer than expected, because I really wanted to flesh out Darius Carter's character here. As we discovered in the latest chapter, he is the avatar of Anubis and the past life of our moon boys (Marc, Steven and Jake). I can't wait for you to finally meet him and discover how he first met our beloved Mira (you) and became an avatar. Sooooooo, I will no longer keep you waiting. Enjoy!)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - LIEUTENANT DARIUS CARTER

The year was 1914, and the world was on the brink of an inferno. The scent of gunpowder and the sound of marching boots echoed through the continent, war slowly rising on the precipice as the entirety of mankind braced itself for a conflict of an unprecedented scale. As the avatar of Mayari, the goddess of the moon, your immortality has not shielded you from countless conflicts that you have witnessed over centuries. But something about this one felt different.

As the majority of Europe has been set ablaze with the flames of war, you found yourself walking on foreign soil, far from the shores of your own homeland. Leaving the tranquil halls of Harvard University where you had just earned your medical degree being a pensionada, you have answered the call of duty in the first world war as you were dispatched to the epicenter of battle.

Not as a warrior, but as a healer.

It was a time of uncertainty, and your only duty was to save lives and alleviate the suffering caused by the horrors of war. It was a daunting task, but you were determined to do your part.

It was in a military outpost in France where you crossed paths for the first time. The air in the barracks was thick with anticipation and a hint of apprehension as fresh soldier recruits started to fill the encampment, their faces a mix of youthful enthusiasm and the dawning realization of what lay ahead. 

You stood among the medical personnel sent by the American Red Cross, observing the nervous yet determined faces of your comrades as you were being introduced to one another and your regiment officer. Your crisp, white medical uniform felt heavy with responsibility, yet you bore it with the quiet strength of someone who had seen far more than her youthful appearance suggested.

It was here that you saw him for the first time.

His towering stature caught your eyes immediately, standing tall and proud among your peers as his striking hazel brown eyes seemed to pierce through the haze of bodies and chatter. He stood out, not just for his imposing presence but for the way he carried himself—confident, yet with an air of humility.

His olive brown skin was littered with nervous sweat as he saluted, his military uniform crisp and new.

"Lieutenant Darius Carter, reporting for duty," he said, his voice steady and confident.

“At ease, Lieutenant”, the regiment officer said, patting the young soldier’s back encouragingly before his eyes fell on you and your colleagues. “You will be in charge of this unit, together with our friends and allies from the American Red Cross. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

It was there, amidst the sea of young, eager faces, that your eyes met for the first time. Darius found himself tongue tied as you stepped forward, his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he witnessed you raising your right hand to salute before introducing yourself to your superiors and your fellow army recruits altogether. 

“Myrna Katigbak, reporting for duty,” you spoke, managing a polite smile despite yourself as you felt a hundred pairs of eyes on you. And yet, Darius's gaze stood out from the rest of your comrades, his eyes sparkling with bold admiration as he felt a strong connection in that moment, an inexplicable pull towards you that he couldn’t possibly ignore. 

Something about your enigmatic presence drew him in. Having grown up in a family with a deep connection to Egyptology, you were like an undiscovered pharaoh’s tomb to the young lieutenant waiting to be unravelled. And like any archaeologist and Egyptologists he has known his whole life, he has made it his first mission to seek you out and fulfill his quiet curiosity.

The next time you saw Darius Carter, it was in the makeshift soup kitchen. The scent of broth and bread filled the air as you ladled portions into bowls, your hands moving with practiced efficiency. Your fellow medics and soldiers, both weary and hungry after their intensive training, lined up at the long table with gratitude etched on their faces as you started to distribute lunch.

The young lieutenant was but a few steps away from the long table as the line progressed, almost chickening out as he neared. As he slowly approached, you looked up and met his gaze fully for the first time. Handing him his bowl of soup and a half loaf of bread, you noticed him trying to linger, his eyes bright with a mixture of hope and shyness as he struggled to find the words to speak.

“You can come back for seconds later, Lieutenant Carter”, you smiled, amused by his poor attempt at small talk which you find endearing.

“Right, thank you, Miss Katigbak”, he stammered as he ended up butchering the last name of your latest alias.

“You can just call me Myrna”, you corrected with an amused smile, bidding him goodbye as your attention shifted to the next man in need of sustenance. “I don’t expect everyone to get my last name right”

Darius internally groaned as he mildly shook his head, managing a soft chuckle despite himself as he continued moving forward and out of the lunch line. He found himself sitting at a nearby table, still gazing longingly at the long table where you were as he started to eat. As the hours slowly progressed and the early afternoon finally made its way, the number of people in the soup kitchen slowly dwindled until the only ones left were him and you.

This time around, Darius no longer allowed his nerves to get the best of him. With careful steps, he approached you once again, his eyes emanating the same spark from when he first laid eyes on you. 

“Excuse me, Miss Katigbak”, he asked, finally pronouncing your last name correctly with his rich, baritone voice that resonated pleasantly in the empty vicinity. “May I help you with anything?”

“You got it right this time,” you nodded in his direction as you started preparing your workspace for your upcoming chore. “And yes, you can help by carrying those empty bowls from the lunch tables and I’ll wash them here.”

He eagerly obliged, his movements careful as he balanced multiple trays of empty bowls on his hands. As soon as they piled up, he worked alongside you and shared your dishwashing workload. It was a mundane task for a soldier like him, but it didn’t matter as he had you to keep him company.

Besides, observing you from afar was becoming his favorite pastime. Your smooth and flawless skin was the first thing he noticed, a warm, sun-kissed brown with golden undertones that radiated health and vitality. Your hair, ebony-black and rich, fell in long, soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. Your facade possessed a delicate heart-shaped contour that added a touch of youthful charm, along with high cheekbones and small, slightly upturned nose that accentuated your femininity. Your lips, full and naturally mauve, curved into a smile that reflected the warmth of your spirit, a genuine expression that made him feel at ease.

But it was your eyes that truly captivated him. Almond-shaped and chestnut brown, they glistened with warmth and mystery, capable of conveying joy, sorrow, and strength in a single glance. Framed by long, thick lashes, your gaze had an intensity that made those who met it feel uniquely seen. Your naturally arched brows added depth to your expression, giving you a look of quiet confidence.

“You never did go back for seconds, Lieutenant Carter” you spoke out loud, slightly startling Darius from his own reverie.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, his voice warm and earnest as you ended up laughing at his amusing response. 

“I meant you could go back in line earlier after finishing your meal to get a second serving of soup and bread”, you ended up explaining in which Darius sighed with pure relief. “I was waiting for you”

“Oh, right”, he seemed to relax at your friendly tone. “I’m too shy, unfortunately, so I will most likely die of hunger before I ask you for seconds, Miss Katigbak”

“You can just call me Myrna”, your amusement grew as you observed his quiet awkwardness which you find endearing. “Miss Katigbak is too formal and besides, it’s only the two of us here”

“Myrna it is”, Darius nodded, testing your name in his lips. “And please call me Darius, Lieutenant Carter is also too formal”

“Sure, Darius”, you obliged, prompting a warm smile from the lieutenant. “And now that introductions and our collective nerves are out of the way, care to tell me why you’re really here?”

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping to engage you in a conversation since we’ve first met”, Darius scratched the back of his head, his gaze locked onto yours. “I've heard that you're a medical graduate, and I thought I might pick your brain about a few things."

"I'm happy to help, but I have to warn you that I'm not the most exciting conversationalist”, you laughed softly. “I spend most of my time tending to wounds and doling out soup."

“That’s quite all right”, Darius's eyes sparkled with interest. "In fact, I have a penchant for Egyptology. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians were pioneers in the field of medicine?"

“Egyptology, you say?” you couldn't hide your surprise. "That's an unexpected interest for a soldier. But I must admit, it's a topic I find intriguing as well."

“I could spend all day talking about it if you’re interested”, Darius started, his positive energy overflowing at finding an outlet to share his interests. “I came from a family of archaeologists and Egyptologist, hence my knowledge”

As he started going on about his recent discoveries in the history of Egyptian medicine, you slowly fulfilled his curiosity by answering his questions in correlation to your current expertise, marking your longer interactions with the young lieutenant. He didn’t keep the conversation one-sided and challenged your insights, asking about your journey from America, your studies at Harvard, and your impressions of the war. You answered every question with polite brevity, finding his earnestness both charming and amusing as the two of you find companionship amidst the harsh reality of the ongoing war.

Your paths crossed once again in the crucible of battle. The frontlines were chaotic and brutal, the air filled with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions, serving as a constant backdrop to your work as a medic. You and Darius found yourselves deployed and stationed together with him as the commanding officer of your sector. As a medic, you worked tirelessly to fulfill your duty to save as many lives as possible and tended to the wounded from your unit, often under fire. 

It was during one of these intense battles that you truly began to see the depth of his character.

Darius was brave, almost to the point of recklessness, always throwing himself into the fray to protect his comrades. It was after one such skirmish that he found himself injured, and you were the one to tend to his wounds. As you worked, he watched you with a mixture of pain and admiration.

"You have a steady hand," he remarked, his voice strained but appreciative.

"Years of practice," you replied, focused on your task. "Hold still, this might hurt."

He winced but remained silent as you cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When you were finished, he looked at you with gratitude. "Thank you, Myrna. I don't know what I'd do without you here."

You smiled softly. "It's my duty, Darius. Just as it's yours to fight."

In the days that followed, your interactions grew more frequent and meaningful. You shared stories, hopes, and fears, finding solace in each other's company amidst the horrors of war. Your connection deepened, and it became clear that Darius's feelings for you were more than just admiration.

One fateful day, your barracks were under siege, almost overrun by enemy forces. The chaos was overwhelming as German soldiers started to storm the base. Recognizing the dire situation, Darius Carter ordered your unit as its commanding officer to evacuate.

“Myrna, take the others and head to the trucks”, he said, handing you a slip of paper with coordinates. “You and the rest of the surviving sector will be taken to the rendezvous point.”

“Understood, Lieutenant”, you nodded, saluting Darius as you started to help your fellow medics and other soldiers escape first, ensuring they reached the safety of the military trucks stationed on the outskirts. As the alarm sounded, signaling the order to retreat, you urged the remaining few of your comrades to make haste, barking orders left and right as you refused to leave anyone behind.

“Darius, you need to go”, you shouted amidst the chaos around you, seeing the lieutenant fought bravely as he clutched his rifle close, firing shot after shot at the advancing German soldiers merely a few feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Myrna”, he declared, his voice firm with resolve.

“I’ll be right behind you”, you insisted and started to push him away to safety, but he held his ground unwavering. 

“No, I’m not leaving you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours with pure determination as his tone left for no argument. “We’re in this together”

You sighed in defeat, allowing him to stay by your side knowing there was no time to debate. The situation grew more perilous by the minute as it became clearer that the enemy was closing in on the barracks. But you and Darius continued to stand your ground, determined to aid your fellow comrades and guide them to safety.

Together, you fought your way through the turmoil as the chaos and destruction intensified, dodging bullets and explosions while glancing left and right to ensure each other’s safety. The moment of truth came when the last of the military trucks departed, and the two of you finally decided to make your escape. 

The barracks were in shambles, and you could hear the sounds of enemy soldiers drawing nearer. The two of you made a run for it, racing toward the outskirts where an abandoned motorbike was stationed.

But fate had other plans. Just as you were about to reach the vehicle, a group of German soldiers appeared on the scene, hot on your heels. They spotted your position, and before the two of you could react, shots rang out followed by a sharp crack that rang out. Darius staggered as he cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder where a bullet had struck. You watched in horror as he fell to the ground, the world seeming to slow down around you.

Panic coursed through you as you knelt beside him, trying to assess the situation. The German soldiers closed in, their weapons trained on you both. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you let your own instinct take over. There’s no way in hell that you will let him die on your watch.

Without hesitation, you drew upon the ancient powers bestowed on you by your patron goddess Mayari, summoning her very essence that lay dormant within you all these long years until this precise moment. In a blinding flash, your form shifted as the ceremonial armor slowly materialized in a shimmer of moonlight, replacing the former medical uniform enveloping your body.

You, Myrna Katigbak, a simple medic, began to change before Darius’s wide eyes. The initial shock and disbelief he felt witnessing your transformation slowly turned into awe, marking the beginning of your intertwined fates being woven together.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

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[3v0ny]

okay okay okay-

this is gonna be a pretty long post with how much I’m gonna ramble so prepare yourselves

hear me out-

…

you listening?

…

okay okay

ready?

…

…I made my own rise designs…-

(INDIVIDUAL DESIGNS + SRUFF BELOW CUT) Eeeeeee!! (YES, LEO IS TALLER- buuuut the order is oldest to youngest so, Donnie is the slightly older twin (Leo denies this))

For all of them I mostly took inspiration from both pre- and post-shredder designs from the show.

Individual ramblings now!!

Raph:

For the big guy, not a whole lot changed! There’s a lot of common design choices: big spiky tail, damage to one eye, etc.

I did however want to bring back the white bandages from pre-shredder, since he was the only brother to have them. I also thought he needed more red in his design, so I sprinkled a bit extra in there.

I moved the X bandage on his plastron down to his knee since the crack took up a decent amount of space.

The scar on his leg I imagine is from an incident from when they were still pretty young, like someone accidentally playing somewhere not safe, and something falls so he jumped in and got sliced. Raph will always protect his little brothers <3 Big body for a big heart.

Also instead of Leo becoming the full leader after Raph, I think they do best in a co-leadership (ofc with input from both Donnie and Mikey, they all listen to each other). Stepping in when the other needs it and both of them being able to be more silly at times.(they both deserve it)

Donnie:

He probably has the most changes/design features-

It might be a tad uncommon, but I made Donnie a lot bulkier than Leo. Personally, I think his battle shell would be REALLY HEAVY and since they’re bioengineered super-soldiers, he put on some muscle. It wouldn’t just be his battle shell either- this version is very into mechanical engineering and builds big stuff, lifting heavy metal all day. The mechanical engineering is also why his hands are ALWAYS DIRTY. he wouldn’t be bothered by it since he’s just used to it by now, but his hands are practically permanently stained with oil and grease. (He has a bad habit of wiping his face while working- which makes his mask always dirty too)

he got the scars on his forearms from a little lab accident when he was fairly young- there was a failure in some wiring and it caused some components of what he was working on to explode, so his hands + lower arms are lighter in color from the scarring.

now his markings were fun to come up with. OF COURSE the iconic chin stripe had to be there, but I ended up making all of his markings symmetrical, as well as more continuous lines. (The markings on the sides of his face continue until about his eyebrows and originate from the shoulders)

as a trade-off for making Don short and stockier, I made him the older twin :) He’s also more of a heavy hitter like Raph, with the ability to summon an entire artillery and all that.

Leo:

Leo is pretty lanky! I wanted him to be built more for speed and chaos (it’s what he’s best known for imo). Along with being the fastest, he’s also the family medic- as many others have done (wow so original)

one thing I don’t really see super often is him wearing a leg/knee brace, and I mean for pretty much forever. Along with the shell scuff wiping away the patterns on it, I think he’d need some kind of permanent ’crutch’ to be at 100% again. (Both injuries from Kraang) (if he’s having an off-day where his leg is flaring up, he just relies on his portals more)

even if he had his shell markings scraped off, he got some new stripes! (Again the iconic chin stripes) new ones have appeared and some of the older yellow ones now have a hint of red. (Now 3 per arm and 2 per leg)

Also traded his single cross-body strap for a full X, for dual wielding his katanas. (It’s just more secure- especially with how quickly he moves around and all of the flashy tricks along the way)

He most definitely runs it Donnie’s face that he’s taller (and Donnie always responds with how he’s stronger) (then Leo goes to speed- etc. etc.)

Mikey:

so, obviously, Mikey has scars from opening the portal to save Leo. (He and Donnie match <3) but now his plastron stickers ALSO mimic scars from his other brothers! Red crack for raph and blue stripes where the worst of Leo’s scuff is on his shell. Why? Because Mikey is the one that holds the family together, and it makes him feel further connected to his brothers.

speaking of connection- his ninpo is now so intense that his markings ignite in flames. Thus, his mask(s) are always charred. The eye-holes are larger (freckles are what ignite it) and the tails have sudden jagged cutoffs + holes.

for his gear, he wanted some nice leather instead of black or orange straps. (Donnie fire-proofed it, but when he asked if Mikey wanted to do the same for his masks he refused- he enjoys the new style) he now has a cross-body strap (like Leo used to) and leg straps for his nunchucks.

also like Leo, he’s more lanky for his gymnastics and wild fighting-style. They’ve both got the agile build, as Mikey is 2nd fastest. I also gave him a short and stubby tail- it’s too cute!

okay I’m finally done I think- thanks for letting me word vomit <3

[is-today-tomorrow-in-nz]

Why Nikolai fails as a leader

I made a post about why I cannot accept Alina as a protagonist here. I wanted to continue the trend and do the same with the other members of the Righteous Gang. I will start with Nikolai this time.

This is a long read so, brace yourselves.

Nikolai Lanstov is a character I enjoyed reading very much and he is the only member of the Righteous Gang that I find likeable. He is shown as an inventor, visionary, a lawless pirate and a prince who threw away his cushy life to support his country. LB proposes him as an alternative- the 'good' leader opposed to the 'evil' Darkling. However, as the story progresses, we cannot help but see several parallels between them. Both are clever, have a thirst for power(not for themselves), are patriotic and posses an opportunistic nature.

So what differentiates our 'Good' King from the Dark Lord? The short answer is LB and her plot armour.

In other words, the 'goodness' in Nikolai that is supposed to make him better than the Darkling is never put under trial. Even though, Nikolai as a character has enough traits in him to make him swing easily towards the 'evil side', LB restricts his character to his goodness and devices a plot armour in such way that his morals and ideals are rarely threatened.

Let me point out a few key instances where LB restricts Nikolai's character growth to keep up his clean image:

Nikolai's bid for the throne: Ever since Sturmhond's true identity as Nikolai is revealed, we are shown of his ambition to take over the throne of Ravka. We also see the ground work he had laid since his days as a soldier in the First Army but his plans just stops there. After re-entering Ravka, his only plan is to solely rely on Alina(a fickle person at best) accepting his hand in marriage, kickstarting his campaign for the throne. With the Darkling on the run and the country in shambles, we see no tangible efforts from him even when the situation calls for it He neither strong arms Vasily(or the King) nor does he march in and seize the throne. He does nothing but attend meetings and act as an underling to Vasily. For someone who loves Ravka enough to give up his princehood and live his days as a pirate in the sea, we don't see him doing much to aid the said country when it is in literal chaos.

So how does Nikolai secure the throne?

Answer: The Darkling does it for him.

LB had already established Nikolai as a morally grey character. So why didn't she let Nikolai blackmail his father or brother to position himself in the throne? The country is in shambles and the entire population is looking for a miracle. Marching in with the Sun Summoner, his First Army supporters and seizing the throne is obviously the correct step here and yet we don't see Nikolai doing that or rather LB doesn't let him do that because if she did, then how can she differentiate her hero from the villain?

Nikolai's when faced with the truth about his parents: For once, we are given an excellent opportunity to see how good and righteous Nikolai is. He learns the truth about his dear father, aka the rapist King. He also learns how his mother had been turning a blind eye to his crimes for years. And he, their only remaining son, is placed is in a position to dole out judgement for their crimes.

How does Nikolai punish his family?

Answer: He doesn't.

He shamelessly uses the opportunity to establish himself as the King and sends his parents on a nice, luxury retirement to the colonies. So where did his sense of justice go? How is he the 'good' King when his first instinct is to pardon his kin and not hold them accountable? Isn't that what self-righteous, non-Darklings supposed to do? And the way LB later twists this on the Darkling is laughable. Nikolai literally denies Genya her justice and yet the Darkling is blamed for it. Instead of Nikolai shouldering the responsibility for his actions(by extension his family's), the entire fault is solely placed on the Darkling. What is one more evil deed to his list of crimes, eh Miss LB?

Nikolai on Mal's insubordination. Why does he allow Mal(much later we see it with Zoya too), a literal nobody, to talk and treat him the way he does? He was well within his rights as a prince to demand Mal's blood and yet time and time again he lets Mal walk scot-free? Why? Because he is different? Because he wants Alina to see him in a positive light? To present himself as a better prospect? Because he is a good person at heart that doesn't want to force Alina into something and 'win' her over? So kissing Alina without her consent, in a public event no less, was an act of chivalry?

Answer: Because if he acted, it would make him look as 'bad' as the Darkling. The Darkling would have never accepted insubordination from anyone let alone a nobody tracker from the First Army. He demands respect as any good leader should. Punishment for insubordination is not as 'evil' act as LB perceives it to be. It has been existing since the dawn of time and it exists even in today's modern society. You cannot mouth off figures of authority without consequences. And yet LB cannot have that because Nikolai is not the Darkling. He is different, he is 'good'.

*****

Throughout the trilogy and duology, through several mouth-pieces, LB keeps telling us how much of a good person Nikolai is and yet when presented with an actual moral dilemma, she does not allow him to make a decision that would sully his 'goodness'. So how can we, as readers, call him 'good' when he is never presented with a trolley problem?

LB keeps shooting Nikolai in the knee to keep him from growing. Because if he did, then we would see how he was no different from the Darkling. The 'evilness' of the Darkling stems from the fact that he had to make hard choices since the day he was born. He had taken up an cause that no one before him did and so being 'good' was never an option for him because the only choices he had were preserving his soul or preserving his community. And he chose the latter and this is where Nikolai fails as a leader. Nikolai never had to make a choice of sacrificing a few for the goodness of many. LB swathes him in plot armour after plot armour that by the end of the duology he is almost as virtuous as Virgin Mary.

It's a shame that LB's views of the world are restricted to black and white. Had she understood the nuances of morality, she would not have maimed one of her strong characters.

A good King shows strength, courage and fights for his country. He commands respect from his subordinates and strives to improve the lives of his subjects. A good leader does not hesitate to use any tools at his disposal to get results he needs- diplomacy, violence, threats, warfare etc. A good leader will always puts his people first before his morals and more importantly does not give up his crown to Daenerys Targaryen knock-offs. By making Nikolai's character cling to his cloak of morality, LB makes him look like a people-pleasing child rather than a formidable leader he has the potential to be.

In conclusion, as much as I like Nikolai as a character, I would say Uther Pendragon made a better King to Camelot than Nikolai did to Ravka.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Interrogation

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 21

You walked forward quietly, the two of you in tow behind the Major, and Leon wondered if he would have to mourn another future with someone. If he would have to accept an ending to something before it really began.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

It was perhaps one of the longest walks Leon had ever taken in his life. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but as far as Leon was concerned, it was a lifetime long. 

Even without your warning glance, Leon knew in his heart what the Major wanted to speak about. Because what else was there? Your nightly practices? He’d always approved of them. The reactions to the lesson yesterday? He would have spoken to you then and there, Leon felt. No, there was only one thing that Leon could imagine this talk being about. He knew it in his gut, because it was rolling enough that he felt like he was going to be sick. He would have known Krauser wanted to talk about the two of you even before you had pointed out Valeria. Even before, when he faced the grinning soldier down in training that night, she’d whispered a joke to him when he’d been locked in a struggle with her. 

“Didn’t realize you were into this,” she’d murmured, soft enough that only he could hear. Her knife glinted not half as bright as her smirk. “But if it’s fighting that turns you on, guess no one’s better than our Sergeant.” 

He’d been angry. 

He’d been furious because of course he couldn’t have one night of happiness. Just one. 

That anger helped him win the sparring match, knocking her leg out from under her and ending the fight with his knife against her chest. 

“You’re right. There is no one better.”

It was a stupid thing to say. He all but confirmed that he’d been with you, but he’d been so caught off guard.

Now, he could only wonder if it was his smart mouth that had gotten the two of you here. If Krauser had overheard the exchange. Or if Valeria had told him what she knew even before then. Or maybe the Major didn’t need to be told at all.

Whatever the case, Leon supposed it didn’t matter, now. 

Krauser led the two of you towards the officer’s barracks, never once looking back at either of you. And you . . . you wouldn’t look at him, either. Your eyes were focused ahead, on the ground in front of you. He knew that expression. Bracing for the inevitable. Ready to hurt. 

He wished you would look at him. He wished you would let him show that you were in this together, whatever was to come. 

But he also knew you. He knew that you so often needed to face things alone. 

That made it all the more difficult to bear when, finally, before you both entered the barracks, you glanced sideways at him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that he saw in your eyes. Resignation, yes, but something else. Guilt? Regret? Fear? Whatever it was, it sent a shock of pain right through his heart. 

But then you offered him a different look - an attempt at something soothing, he thought - and Leon’s heart well and truly ached. 

God, he wanted to reach for you. To tell you that, somehow, this was all going to be alright. But that would likely be a lie. And you didn’t need his comfort. Right now, what the two of you needed was to keep yourselves together, and Leon knew it. You needed to be calm, on the off chance that this was about something else. If there was a chance you could avoid suspicion altogether.

So you walked forward quietly, the two of you in tow behind the Major, and Leon wondered if he would have to mourn another future with someone. If he would have to accept an ending to something before it really began. 

Best case scenario, the way he saw it, Krauser would tell the two of you to stop. Let you both off with a warning. At worst, though . . . would you be discharged? Leon had no choice but to be here. You, though . . . he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure and all he could imagine was a future where he couldn’t share hidden smiles with you. Where there would be no more stolen kisses. Where he lost you right as he started to truly know you. 

It had happened with Ada. 

It wouldn't happen with you, too. Not when you were the only good thing he had here in this hellhole. 

That was what he resolved as Krauser let you into an office and closed the door behind the two of you. Three chairs sat around a desk, one across from the other two. Pens, a computer. A radio. The Major took the lone seat on the far side, settling in like the weight of the world was pushing him down. Like he wasn’t looking forward to whatever this was about anymore than you two were. 

“Take a seat.” 

Leon didn’t move. Some part of him thought that if he didn’t do as the Major asked, the conversation wouldn’t begin. That he could avoid the pain of whatever was to come. But that wasn’t how the world worked. If it could take, it would take. All he could do was try to hold on to everything he could. 

You obeyed the command the Major gave, nodding silently and settling down across the table from the Major. Leon followed, keeping his eyes forward, his head held high. 

“Don’t mean to make you miss dinner, but we’ve got some things we need to discuss,” he started, and Leon’s brow twitched. His jaw tightened. “It’s not going to be a conversation either of you enjoy, but it needs to happen.” 

This was it, then. 

Leon knew well how to brace himself by now. 

He knew how to brace himself for pain, at least. He didn’t know, even after all he’d been through, how to brace himself for losing someone.

So he held his breath as Krauser started to speak in earnest . . .

“I need you both to tell me everything you know about the bioweapons you fought in Raccoon City and in Finland.” 

. . . and then Leon found himself speechless for another reason. 

He blinked, his mouth opening but no words came out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you do the same. 

Because this was not what he had called the two of you in to talk about, surely. 

Surely. 

“. . . I thought you’d read the reports, sir.” You spoke first, cautious as a person walking on fresh winter ice. Wondering if you were going to get lucky, or if it was going to give way beneath you. 

That storm that brewed behind Krauser’s eyes darkened. “I have. And they were just vague enough to not be helpful.” 

There was silence. Leon looking at you, you looking at him, both of you looking at Krauser. 

Had you really been that lucky? 

Had the two of you just dodged that bullet? 

That very much seemed to be the reality of things, as the Major went on. Leon realized he might be mistaking your hesitance for pain rather than confusion. “I’m not asking you to retell the whole night,” he said, impatient, “just the details of what you saw. What you fought. How you killed them.” Then, a look between the two of you, and something in that authoritative mask slipped. “I know what I’m asking. I know you both went through hell,” he said, and his voice was steady. Understanding, even. “But for your sakes and the sakes of everyone you train with, you need to push through and tell me.” 

Leon couldn’t help but blink again, his head still reeling from it all. 

“I gave them everything in my report,” he said after a moment, but the word “report” wasn’t exactly a truthful one. He’d been interrogated. Questioned thoroughly and completely about what he knew. What he’d seen. “Why wouldn’t they give you the details?”

Krauser’s demeanor shifted again, his mouth tightening. “That’s an excellent fucking question, rookie,” he growled, his hand clenched tight in a fist on the desk in front of him. “But I’ve got a pile of papers with redacted information and they’ve been giving me the run around when I ask for more. CIA bullshit.” Leon had never seen the Major so genuinely angry. So honestly and completely furious. 

And it wasn’t because of him or you or the night you’d shared. 

“I know there were bioweapons,” he went on, and Leon listened, his demeanor suddenly changed, “and I know the infection that they sanitized Raccoon City for was making people violent and difficult to kill, same as what you reported in Finland. I know that you faced something else, Kennedy,” that steely blue gaze lasered in on Leon, “but no one’s telling me much about what that something is.” 

“That’s because they were involved.” Leon blurted it before he could stop himself, his own frustrations, long-buried, rising to the surface. 

Krauser didn’t even look surprised, but Leon saw your eyes narrow as you looked over at him, listening now intently. 

“Before you run your mouth more,” Krauser said, his tone grave. He reached for the little radio that sat on the desk and turned it on, the volume low. Bon Jovi.

You’d been right about Krauser and his music. 

The music was to drown out the discussion. So no one outside the office would hear. “What you say will not leave this room. Because, if it did, you would be in a world of hurt.” 

Leon knew what he meant. He’d been told not to speak of many things that happened in Raccoon City. He’d broken those rules for you, to share the common pain that the two of you had gone through. 

Leon didn’t like Krauser, but he respected him for the most part. The Major was training them to survive against what you and Leon had seen. His job was to make sure that the bioweapons and the people who made them were brought down and buried. And he hadn’t been given all the information he needed to succeed in that task. Leon knew why. So, regardless of how he felt about the man sitting across from him, he would do what he could to give him a full picture. 

“So . . .” Krauser leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him. “Mind telling me just how our government was involved with that shitshow?” 

Leon looked at the Major. Then over to you. Your expression . . . he’d told you this part of his story. But that didn’t seem like it was going to make it easier for you to hear again now. 

 “There was a doctor at Umbrella. Birkin. The one who created the virus that broke out. He was in contact with the Army. They wanted the virus. To use it as a weapon. Umbrella sent people to kill him to stop it, and that’s what caused the outbreak.”

And Leon knew what no one else should have. He knew what had gotten that man killed. He knew the bioweapons that the government had been trying to get ahold of. 

That was why he was here. That was the knowledge that he had unknowingly traded for his autonomy. Knowledge he hadn’t even wanted. 

And now Krauser had that knowledge, too. It was dangerous giving it to him, but he'd done it anyway.

Leon briefly considered that this might be a test too. Maybe Krauser wanted to see if Leon was willing to break his oath of silence so easily. 

The way the Major sat forward in his chair, his brow creased in contemplation, though, told Leon otherwise. “Son of a bitch,” the older man eventually said, shaking his head. “Figured it would be something like that.” He sounded vaguely, darkly amused. “Must’ve had their interest piqued by what happened in Finland.” Krauser looked over at you, and Leon saw you nod. Your eyes were dark, your muscles stiff. 

Leon had thought about the timeline of it all before. You had fought BOW’s over a year ago. Raccoon City was only a few months in the past, now. 

You’d given your report of an entire base wiped out by monsters. How could the government not be interested in whatever could accomplish that? 

“If they’d been there-” your voice was harsh and cold steel, “-then they’d know better than to want to fuck around with that shit.” They were the words of someone who knew all too well what damage could be done when the laws of nature were cast aside. The same way Leon spoke of the monsters he’d fought. 

Krauser, though, didn’t seem fazed by your declaration. “Uncle Sam has never been shy about using whatever weapons are available,” he said, and Leon wanted to protest alongside you. The Major went on before he could get a chance. “But if we know how those weapons work, we have a better chance of fighting them. I can teach you how to take down people. But unless I know what else I’m sending you out against, none of this training is going to mean a goddamn thing.” It sounded like Krauser had spoken those words before. Like he had practice with that sentiment. And Leon found himself agreeing with the man, even if it would mean him thinking about the things that had nearly killed him. The monsters that he’d seen crush bones and tear bodies in two. He would relive it all if it meant sparing someone else from that fate. If it meant sparing you from it. 

“If the government won’t give me the full picture,” Krauser went on, “then you two have to. So, assume I know nothing, and tell me everything you can remember.” 

Leon looked at you first, meeting your eyes. You didn’t want to talk about it, he could see it. Neither did he. He didn’t want to think about the terrors that haunted his nights. 

But he would. 

And by the look in your eye, resolute and righteously angry, Leon could tell that you were willing to do the same. 

Besides - and Leon could scarcely believe he was thinking this way - better Krauser want to talk about monsters than the night you and Leon had shared together. What a strange world the two of you had found yourselves in. 

“Okay,” you said first, looking back at Krauser. And then you began. 

⧫⧫⧫

“It spread through bites,” you said, and you tried to think of it like a mission debrief. That was how you’d gotten through it the first time. Clinically. Facts and nothing more than facts. Krauser wasn’t asking you for the finer details of who you were with, or how the night had progressed. He wasn’t asking you to tell him every second of your pain, or to relive those moments that came to you at night. He was asking for tactical advice, and you could give him that. 

He was asking for advice, and you and Leon had gotten lucky. So unbelievably, incredibly lucky. Even if it brought back unpleasant memories, you would gladly tell the Major everything you knew about the monsters you faced. 

But thinking of those things . . . 

“Bites or scratches, even.” 

Krauser didn’t say anything yet, and Leon nodded his head in agreement, solemn and silent. 

“It affected some people faster than others. Minutes or hours, but then after that . . .” 

Eyes that had been wise and warm were now empty, his skin paled by death. His fatigues were covered in blood, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Krauser had questions to distract you from those memories. “How did they move? Were they stronger than people?” 

And you answered. Every question the Major had, you answered. You told him how the bodies that had once been your comrades had shambled, moving like mindless drones towards some base goal. You told him that shots to the chest did nothing to slow them. That even once you blasted out knees and crippled legs, the bodies still moved, clawing their way across the floor towards their prey. You told him that calling them animals was too generous. That their mindlessness was only superseded by their hunger. That the most dangerous thing about them wasn't their teeth or their sudden bursts of energy when blood was close, but the fact that they wore the faces of people. People one might have been friends with. Cared for. Loved. 

And hesitation would get you killed.

The Major listened, and you could see some sympathy in his eyes. The same look he'd given you when he found you out that morning in the snow. When he met you in the hospital to take you to your debriefing. But he also had a job to do, just as he did then. 

"So," he began, "we're dealing with things that only go down with headshots or complete dismemberment." He sounded like he was planning already. Making strategies. Creating training exercises to simulate what you'd described. "That sound in line with what you saw in Raccoon City, Kennedy?" The two of you turned to Leon, and you were always floored that he could look at you with such care. 

His eyes, so soft and blue, were fixed on you, full of sympathy. Empathy. 

But then, as Krauser asked him that question, his gaze hardened. It was like you could see those rotting, broken hands reaching for him, pulling him back in time. "That was most of it, but there . . ." he glanced back at you, then at the ground. "Umbrella made more than just zombies." 

And, as he spoke, you realized that Leon hadn't told you much of what he'd faced. He'd told you about the outbreak. About people turning. 

"Did you fight anything other than them? The zombies?" He'd asked you that one day, in those weeks before his assessment. 

"Yeah," you'd answered, thinking of the gas mask with red lenses. You hadn't been ready to speak to him about that man. You still weren't. So, when he asked his next question, your answer had been simple.

"Like what?" 

"Pass."

And then you'd wondered about his own time in Raccoon City. 

"Did you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Like what?"

"Pass."

Now, as you listened to him talk, you realized just how much he hadn't told you. And you couldn't blame him. You couldn't blame him for not wanting to think of the things he described. The dogs that had been infected. The skinless, sightless monsters with claws like knives and exposed brains. The giant alligator that had mutated in the sewers. The plants with teeth and arms and legs, that only fire could kill. 

The pale, tall man - if it could be called that - that had pursued Leon through it all. That Leon had faced down, unable to kill it with anything short of a rocket launcher. 

A goddamn rocket launcher. 

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Your skin crawled as he told Krauser of what became of Birkin. How he'd sprouted extra arms and eyes and his flesh had spilled out past itself. How, in the end, he'd been little more than a rolling mass of skin and eyes and muscle and warped bones. 

And as Leon described what he'd seen, you could only sit back and listen in horror, wondering how he was still sane. How he had survived. 

And then you felt the urge to take him in your arms and hold him close, because no one should have to have seen what he had seen. 

But you couldn't. You couldn't hold him, or tell him that it was going to be alright. You could only look at him and try to be there for him in some small way. You could listen to his words and learn how to fight these monsters. How to kill them. So he would never have to face them alone again. Even if it seemed an impossible task. 

Krauser was doing the same - his fingers laced together in front of his mouth, his brow heavy set over his eyes. 

Once Leon was done, once he had run through all of the horrors he had seen that night - all of that in one night - there was a long moment of silence. Then, finally, Krauser huffed. Nodded. "Alright. This conversation didn't happen. You're both dismissed."

That was it. 

There was nothing more.

At the beginning of this, when he'd first asked you both about what you faced, you had thought you had been lucky. Now, you had been reminded that nothing about the two of you was lucky. The world had cursed you with something terrible, and it had done even worse to Leon. 

And now the two of you had to live in a world where you knew such horrors were real. 

So, the two of you stood, sparing each other a glance before you began to head towards the door. 

"Get yourselves some dinner," Krauser said, stopping you both just before you could leave. "Tell the boys in the mess hall I sent you." 

Major Krauser didn't seem the kind to say thank you in the traditional way, but you liked to imagine this was his alternative. Even if that were the case, though, you still felt utterly drained as you led Leon out of the office, the door closing and muffling the rock music Krauser had put on inside. 

You and Leon stood just outside the door, then, sitting in silence borne of too much to be said. 

Then, after a moment, Leon looked over at you, his expression unreadable. "So, are you hungry?" 

Your answer was simple. "Nope." 

He almost smiled, shaking his head. "Me neither." 

But you both made your way towards the mess hall anyway. And there the two of you sat in relative silence, the rest of your fellow cadets long since gone. Side by side with food that you should eat in front of you. You let your leg touch Leon's, waiting to see if he wanted to talk about everything you both had just unveiled. 

Trying to decide if you yourself wanted to talk about it. 

 "You okay?" You looked over at him, taking your eyes off the untouched food in front of you. 

Leon grimaced, but tried to give you a smile anyway. "Well, we're not dead or discharged," he grinned, still a terrible liar, "so I guess I'm alright." 

You had almost forgotten all about your fears of Krauser knowing about the two of you. 

"Low bar." 

Leon chuckled, not quite with his full chest. "Yeah, well, I'll take what I can get." 

You wished you had his strength. You wished you could make light of what you'd just heard. As it was, all you could think of was Leon having to face down horrors you'd never even imagined. You thought that you'd seen the worst of the world, but now you knew that even your painstakingly won wisdom would not prepare you for what was out there. For what Leon had already survived.  

There were more monsters than you were prepared for. 

Your instructor wasn't being given important information.

Even if she hadn't told Krauser, Valeria knew about you and Leon. 

"We're fucked, aren't we?" You looked over at him, your expression full of resignation.

Everything seemed impossible now. This fight you were training for, the relationship that you and Leon had just begun to explore . . . it felt like the whole world was set against you. 

But Leon still found it in himself to smile. To shake his head. "Maybe," he said, and you felt his hand on your thigh beneath the table. "But . . . we made it this far, right?" 

It made you laugh, even if it was a dry and humorless thing. "That luck can't last forever." 

"No luck then," Leon insisted, and you could almost believe him when he spoke with that much conviction. "We'll be careful. We'll train. We'll find a way." 

He was looking at you with such intensity, and you couldn't tell if it was certainty or desperation. Either way, despite your worries, you found yourself smiling a little. You wanted to kiss him, but even alone in the mess hall, you wouldn't take that risk. Not now. So, you settled for a little smile. 

You knew how this ended. It wouldn't be happy.

But the world could wait a while before it took that happiness from either of you. There may be more monsters, more horrors, but now, for the first time in months, you had something worth fighting for other than vengeance. 

And he was smiling at you, even if he had every reason not to be. 

"Think you might be too optimistic there, Kennedy."

"One of us has to be." 

Us.

It didn't matter if Valeria knew. It didn't matter what monsters Umbrella threw at you. You would burn the world for this man. 

And of all the realizations that day, that was the most staggering.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: The way I adore these two so much.

[ouroboros-hideout]

Night City memories.

@barghestapologist came up with this cool little idea and tagged me for it. Thank you again! Really love it and went around town with my blorbo girl. And decided to write something to every pic in her point of view. Brace yourselves - it's long, like always.

Rules: Snap some shots! Places (or people) near and dear to your ocs across NC! Filters and photo frames are optional ofc, it’s all up to you!

And since it's a tag game I´d like to give other's the opportunity as well who might not have seen it yet, but no pressure as always and everyone can try if they want!

@blackrevell @sofia-in-nc @cybervesna @chevvy-yates @kdval

To get the obvious out of the way: Of course I like the workshop. Kurt has invested a lot of time, money and energy to build a modern workspace with plenty of facilities for decent weapon production. I'd always prefer my own place in Russia, that's not up for debate and if his people think they know more than me and boss me around, I'd be happy to throw a few punches, but on the whole, working here is a chance to get something really big off the ground and I enjoy being a part of it.

When I need some fresh air, as fresh as it can get in Dogtown, I like to spend a few minutes in the stands of the stadium, the less busy part of the black market. My favorite thing is watching Kurt's little tin soldiers trying to salvage anything of value from the aerozep their lord and master has shot out of the sky - he’s just pure chaos.

To put it bluntly: I hate his damn parties. I hate everyone he invites, I hate that he always persuades me to come along. But the first time I saw the “finished” casino I was impressed. It’s his little playground, I don’t judge him for it, if this is his way of conducting business. After all, it seems to work. And of course you have to offer the rich and famous something to attract them to Dogtown in the first place. From that point of view, he's done a good job here. I like to come around if there’s no one else there. I am a sucker for impressive views and I doubt you would get anything better than up here. And the bar is a big bonus.

The small balcony on the left is the best place in my opinion. I've often seen Kurt standing there too, smoking a cigarette and looking down on the city. Even though I know he's actually looking somewhere else. So far, I've always turned round and let him have his moment - I think he really needs that. And maybe some more time before he will open up to me about it.

The wannabe military camp at the entrance to the Sapphire is a good place to familiarise yourself with Kurt's people. Many of them, and this surprised me, actually have brains, and it's nice to chat to them and listen to some of their stories, throw a few punches in the little boxing ring they've set up (or take a few, yes, I have to admit) or finish off the evening with a beer at the dingy little bar. One evening, a newbie came up to me, looked at me with big dreamy eyes and asked me in a trembling voice what it was like to work so closely with THE Kurt Hansen. I really had to pull myself together not to lose my composure. His name was Pablo or something like that, I think. I still have to laugh at the fact that this buffoon has fans like he's a rock star or something.

The Longshore Stacks always gave me the impression that it was the most civilized place in Dogtown, if there is any. Sure, it's pretty much impossible not to bump into some junkie or otherwise mentally deranged person when walking the streets, but this is where I still feel like it's the most enjoyable place to be. A small community of people trying to live their lives in this surreal place. The ‘Tree of the Lost’ as the locals call it really moved me when I saw it for the first time. Of course, I have no idea who the people here or what their fates are. I just pick up conversations in passing whenever I go there. And I don't feel connected enough to the people there to ask serious questions. It's not my business, to put it bluntly. But I think it's a beautiful and at the same time heartbreaking idea. The bartender at ‘The Moth’ is pretty cool. I've had a few interesting conversations with her already.

There's this completely run down cinema in the center of Dogtown. Like everything else, I assumed that it must have been taken over by some gang or homeless people, so I never really paid much attention to it. Kurt asked me to meet him there one evening after work. As it turned out, the cinema was unoccupied. And the inside of it was actually still in good condition. Not gonna lie, it really could have been opened. But the clientele in this junkyard would probably have completely looted the place within a day or razed it to the ground if you didn't protect it with a few Barghest puppies. And unfortunately ‘pure entertainment’ isn't important enough for that, I don't blame Kurt for that opinion. But I'd like to punch him every time he has such exaggeratedly cheesy date ideas. Or rather, I'd like to slap myself because I think it's *sigh* cute how much effort he puts in. He actually invited me to the stupid cinema to watch a Tarantino with him, which he had specially organized. Reservoir Dogs from 1992. Of course he had no idea what it was about and just went for it because it had the word ‘Dog’ in it. 

Before I head into the workshop or afterwards I like to drive around in the badlands. To get a clear mind for the tasks ahead or to deflate myself from a long tiring day. In any case, at a time when the heat in this shitty state is halfway bearable. There’s a really nice view not far out off the city on Dogtown I like to head from time to time. I showed it Kurt already too, because that donkey can’t set a foot outside his little empire without me kickin’ his ass to do so.

I encountered a family of Nomads one day while exploring those dry dusty desserts around Night City. They are part of the Aldecaldos I at least heard of before. They were quite suspicious when I first got there. But after a quick exchange of words and telling them I used to ride with a clan too, they got quite curious and invited me for a stay. The friendliness they approached me with after just a short time really warmed my heart and brought back some fond memories. And we had so much to talk about. I really hope they will stay for a little longer in the city so I can head out again to meet with them.

On my way around the badlands, I one day came across this lake. I need to ask Kurt about it, because I really doubt it’s natural and probably some sort of Corpo-disaster. But it’s a really peaceful and silent place, though I’d never set foot into the water. Probably will get a shitton of diseases within seconds. There’s also a small cabin not far off the road. So it seems like someone else is enjoying the views and calmness of this place as well from time to time.

Kurt: You forgot about one place you like in Dogtown. 

Aon: Enlighten me. 

Kurt: Right by my side.

Aon: *sigh* Should have seen that coming. 

Aon: But you’re right. 

Kurt: Told ya’. 

[fanficfanattic]

Will you share your Jamie Tartt playlist? 👀

Buckle up boys! Hold on to your butts! Other ways to say brace yourselves!

To Build a Home (feat. Patrick Watson) by The Cinematic Orchestra

I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young

Sorrow by Bad Religion

The Greatest by Sia

Love I'm Given by Ellie Goulding

Runaway by AURORA

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Move by Oliver Tree

High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco

Outrunning Karma by Alec Benjamin

Home by Cavetown

The Perfect Space by The Avett Brothers

A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

False Confidence by Noah Kahan

Legend by The Score

The Competition by Kimya Dawson

In the Blood by John Mayer

Winner by Walgrove

Icarus by Bastille

Sympathy by The Goo Goo Dolls

Take Yours, I’ll Take Mine by Matthew Mole

People Help the People by Birdy

Daylight by David Kushner

Cough it Out by The Front Bottoms

Sober by P!nk

The Cave by Mumford & Sons

Tear It Up by Queen

Waves by Dean Lewis

Soldier by Ingrid Michaelson

We Don't Believe What's On TV by Twenty One Pilots

Blood In the Cut by K.Flay

Chameleon/Comedian by Kathleen Edwards

Water (feat. Rostam) by Ra Ra Riot

All is Soft Inside by AURORA

Pieces (feat. Noah Kahan) by Matoma

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + the Machine

Rise up With Fists!! by Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins

Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips

HandClap by Fitz and The Tantrums

Hi Ren by Ren

I Don't Belong In This Club by Why Don't We & Macklemore

Skinny Love by Birdy

Raising Hell (feat. Big Freedia) by Kesha

Go Places by The New Pornographers

The Night Starts Here by Stars

Ghost by Ella Henderson

Here We Go by WILD

If I Be Wrong by Wolf Larsen

Part of Me by Noah Kahan

We're Going to Be Friends

The White Stripes

Bitch by Meredith Brooks

Samson by Regina Spektor

Let's go to Hell by Tai Verdes

Raise Hell by Brandi Carlile

Power Over Me by Dermot Kennedy

Don't Tell the Boys by Petey

Sober Up (feat. Rivers Cuomo) by AJR

O.N.E. By Yeasayer

Locked Up by Ingrid Michaelson

Like a Stone by Audioslave

Leave the Light On by Overcoats

Tough (feat. Noah Kahan) by Quinn XCII

touch tank by quinnie

Warrior by AURORA

Too Sweet by Hozier

I'Il Think of You by Kurt Hugo Schneider

Into the Ocean by Blue October

Star Fire by Sleeping Wolf

Happier (Stripped) by Marshmello & Bastille

Knievel by Tommy Lefroy

Walk Me Home by P!nk

Brat (Humor Me) by Deore

Am I Wrong by Love Spit Love

Someday by One Republic

7 Years by Lukas Graham

Stick Season by Noah Kahan

Like a Prayer by Madonna

Little Bit by Lykke Li

Bruises by Lewis Capaldi

Don't Carry It All by The Decemberists

Freaking Out by The Wrecks

Will Do by TV on the Radio

The Dirt by Tor Miller

Hope of Morning by Icon for Hire

Smile by Mikky Ekko

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service

Blood Brothers by Ingrid Michaelson

All My Friends by The Revivalists

Fuck Authority by Pennywise

Crazier Things by Chelsea Cutler & Noah Kahan

Kiss With a Fist by Florence + the Machine

Unstoppable by Sia

Can't Go to Hell by Sin Shake Sin

World's Smallest Violin by AJR

All I Know So Far by P!nk

Knocking at the Door by Arkells

Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons

The Seed by AURORA

Wine, Women and Song by Harvey Danger

The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience

All You Wanted by Michelle Branch

Young Blood by The Naked and Famous

Truth No. 2 by The Chicks

Homesick by Noah Kahan

Family Line by Conan Gray

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

Heroes Never Die by NateWantsToBattle

My Number Tegan and Sara

Masterpiece by Big Thief

Til It Happens To You by Lady Gaga

I Don't Wanna Live Forever (Cups Version) by Kurt Hugo Schneider

Sit Down by James

Robots by Dan Mangan

Windowsill by Arcade Fire

Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson

Bite the Hand by boygenius

The Top (Bonus Track) by Primo the Alien

MEAN! (Remix) [feat. Noah Kahan] by Madeline The Person

Home We'll Go (Take My Hand) by Steve Aoki & Walk Off the Earth

From The Bottom Of My Heart by The Wallflowers

FourFiveSeconds by Rihanna and Kanye West and Paul McCartney

I Am the Resurrection by The Stone Roses

Chrome Plated Heart by Melissa Etheridge

Precious Love by James Morrison

Bones (feat. One Republic) by Galantis

Let's Go (feat. Icona Pop) by Tiesto

Unbelievers by Vampire Weekend

So What by P!nk

I Don't Feel Like Dancin' by Scissor Sisters

Creature Fear by Bon Iver

Brother by The Rural Alberta Advantage

Save Me by Noah Kahan

High and Dry by Radiohead

Power by Little Mix

Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men

The Boy Does Nothing by Alesha Dixon

Set You Free (Edit) by N-Trance

Stronger by Britney Spears

First Things First by Neon Trees

Kings & Queens by Ava Max

Welcome Home, Son by Radical Face

Capsize by FRENSHIP & Emily Warren

We Were Kings by Ryan Star

Come Undone by Duran Duran

Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John

Pride by Noah Kahan & mxmtoon

Everywhere by Michelle Branch

Blow Me (One Last Kiss) by P!nk

Dust Bowl Dance by Mumford & Sons

Bad Blood by Bastille

Blue Monday by New Order

Make Believe by The FAIM

Midnight Show by The Killers

Can't Fight the Moonlight by LeAnn Rimes

Ophelia by The Lumineers

Shaky Ground by Freedom Fry

Grounds for Divorce by Elbow

Heaven and Hell by Let's Play Dead

Survivor by The Score

Ready Now by dodie

Young Blood by Noah Kahan

Ain’t No Reason by Brett Dennen

King by Years & Years

Bulletproof by La Roux

Beating Heart Cadavers by Acollective

How to Rest by The Crane Wives

Santa Monica by Everclear

Beds Are Burning by Midnight Oil

Get Some by Lykke Li

Sky Full of Song by Florence + the Machine

Beautiful Trauma by P!nk

Parachute (Serban Ghenea Mix) by Ingrid Michaelson

Down to the Bottom by Dorothy

YES MOM by Tessa Violet

Numb Little Bug by Em Beihold

Rise Up by Andra Day

Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Hurt Somebody by Noah Kahan

[roseaesynstylae]

Star Wars: Republic Commando: Hard Contact, The Remaining Chapters

Okay, this is different. It's basically a speed-run, going over everything that I feel is interesting in the remainder of the book. Part of it is exhaustion, and part of it is that most of this book is actually pretty decent and I decided to just focus on the stuff that stood out to me.

Chapter 10

"'I meant I could help with martial skills. If you want to train with your lightsaber.'

'I'd probably end up slicing off something you'd miss later.'"

Okay, this little exchange is pretty funny.

Chapter 13

"Weequay didn't all look the same. She knew this one. He had chased her across a barq field. He was a rapist and a murderer, not that the descriptions set him apart from any other of Hokan's thugs. She reached for her lightsaber."

That was my reaction to the word rapist being used in Star Wars. Nothing much else to say, I just really wasn't expecting the word to actually be written out on page.

Chapter 14

"She was a Jedi. Skirata said they were fine people, but they didn't -- and couldn't -- care about anyone."

Okay!

Before I get to the meat of it, I'd like to say that that's a much nicer statement than I ever expected from Kal Skirata about the Jedi. I don't think Traviss had his personality down yet.

And now... "They didn't care about anyone?" "They couldn't care about anyone?" Uhhh...

*in a very fake nice way* Did you by any chance forget that Anakin -- Anakin -- said "Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So you might say, that we are encouraged to love." Did you not notice how much the various members of the Jedi Order clearly care for each other? Do you not remember that the Jedi help people and repeatedly show display compassion to those they help?

Jedi-Bashing: 18

Chapter 15

"So how do we justify what we are doing now? Breeding men without choice, and without freedom, to fight and die for us? When do the means justify the end? Where is our society heading? What are our ideals, and what are we without them? If we give in to expedience this way, where do we draw the line between ourselves and those we find unacceptably evil? I have no answer, Master. Do you?"

-- Jedi Padwan Bardan Jusik, addressing the Jedi Council

(I only wish I could communicate as much disdain as this one expression.)

I'll just leave you with a couple points.

The Jedi did not order the clone army. Sifo-Dyas did. Yes, he was a Jedi, but his order was explicitly unknown to the Council.

The Jedi did not want to enter the war, nor use soldiers like that, but they had no choice.

Basically all Jedi we see (aside from Pong Krell) care a lot about the troopers under their command. (For further information, see Koon, Plo.)

In conclusion, shut up and don't lecture the Council on things they definitely have been concerned about.

Jedi-Bashing: 26 (one for each sentence in that paragraph)

Di'kut Count: 6

So, in conclusion...

All I have to say about this book is two things. One, this is probably the RepComm novel I'm probably going to like the most. Two, I can't believe that the Jedi hate in this series is a case of unreliable narrators. Look at all the little jabs in this book, where there's no physical appearance from the notorious Kal Skirata, where there's no reason for anyone to really think of the Jedi negatively. But, it can still be ignored. That's not something I can say about the rest of the books.

Brace yourselves, people. Triple Zero is coming and with it, Republic Commando's most infamous character.

Main Post

[meadowsofmay]

what's interesting to me about legolas leaving his homeland behind and searching for a ranger on the north is something that actually fully explained their whole dynamic to me at this early morning hour.

big post ahead, brace yourselves.

legolas leaves the battle of the five armies, and essentially, mirkwood being a soldier. half of his life at least he spent training and fighting in a way that soldiers do, that means he knows discipline — he must follow orders, he must control what he is doing and he must control his emotions, he must asses the situation and he must give orders, he must plan, he must care for those under his command, he must make right decisions, he must, must, must...

that's a hard life to live but, given the situation mirkwood had, he made a decision to be a soldier and he served enough to rise in ranks. he had alot of responsibilities that started weighting him down for a reason.

see, he is young (and many headcanon him being one of the youngest among elves) but he didn't have different life and he wants to, he wants to know what's out there besides constant fighting with the same creatures every single day. he wants to learn more about the bigger world he is a part of — and maybe before the end to his little part of the world will eventually come.

he explored his little world enough without restrictions when he was a child, so he justifiably thinks it's time for him to explore what's beyond it. he just didn't have enough of a reason before the battle of the five armies and tauriel thing where he realized he doesn't want to come back to his previous life and wants to learn who he is besides a prince and a soldier.

legolas is conflicted and the only thing thranduil can do in this situation (obviously not being the one who denies his son) is to give him direction (for legolas to have a sense of knowing and for thranduil himself to at least know where in the world his son is). why he knows about aragorn is none of my concern but what is is thranduil knowing about a son of a great man that will probably become even a greater one and thinking that his own son will find a better company by his side.

and legolas does. we can assume that legolas finds strider and his rangers and joines them for a while. he learns how to live in a wild, and even though legolas lived in a woods before that — he lived in a controlled environment. with aragorn there is no control over him. there is companionship. no oaths and pledges, no allegiance. legolas learns to make decisions for his own self and he learns to chose whom he gives his trust. this made the same tasks, say, fighting and going on missions (same things he did as a soldier), appear under different light because they were done with and for different person and cause.

legolas follows aragorn because he develops a sense of trust. and it becomes only stronger over the years they spend on adventures together. aragorn doesn't make him do things, eventually, aragorn doesn't even need to ask. legolas does because he wants to. that's a rare thing among those in the army. you can't just do or not do.

in the wild — legolas has a choice. and he has time to learn.

he learns that aragorn indeed is a great man, the one whom he can rely on and whom he can trust.

he learns that he himself is enough for someone to trust him, that he is good enough, that he did enough. he learns that feelings can be mutual and he has this overflowing desire to be by the side of the person who opened his eyes to those things. he feels inspired.

that's how we get legolas that appeared in the lord of the rings. less stiff, less angsty, less angry, even. through travels with aragorn he finds joy for his soul to feed on, and even though he is still a soldier — he is his own (and maybe aragorn's, shall he ask). and that brings me to my main point that i'll quote myself on:

«...in the 'council of elrond' scene it already felt present. it being the familiarity between aragorn and legolas. the way legolas jumps eagerly to defend an honor of aragorn doesn't really seem to be just he's a king!, but more like he's a fucking king, you moron, how dare you disrespect my friend like that?!!. along with plain respect legolas clearly shows towards aragorn, there's also this genuine reverence/veneration (i'm not sure which word to choose as i'm not native to english language) that legolas has — such reverence that warriors have towards their trusted king whom they're ready to follow, protect and fight for as well as along side with because he trained and went through hardships with them. you don't just develop such an attitude towards a person who doesn't even adresses himself by his given name much. legolas knows who aragorn is and he will stick to it — even if aragorn himself doesn't want to accept the fact.

and from that, the decision legolas makes to follow aragorn on the quest and not much frodo makes sense. he trusts aragorn. he follows aragorn's emotional courage — the way he swears to protect frodo with his life and sword — and does the same.»

i have seen enough to think that legolas has all sorts of adoration towards aragorn. he's ready to follow him like a religiously-in-love general his king, he has a deep respect towards him as a comrade and he definitely trusts him as a friend/soul mate/any other form of intimate relations.

but legolas is still a soldier. he can't fully erase it and, something tell me, doesn't really want to — he is a proud warrior after all. and that only ensures me, that serving aragorn as a warrior is one of the ways for legolas to showcase his love and gratitude to him. that's his acts of service, as in love language, thing taken quite literally because that's what legolas knows best and he's going to utilize it to the fullest.

because he knows that aragorn relies on him, trusts him and not only just in battle. he knows that there's a big future ahead for aragorn and he doesn't urge him forward but walks side by side, waiting patiently when aragorn will be ready.

legolas, basically, found a mutual, meaningful connection and committed to it with a heart of a striving for love being and a soul of a warrior. and i think it's beautiful.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Trustworthy

Summary: Warriors doesn't want to do this. For Legend, he has to. (Trust Fall, from Warriors pov.)

Warnings: Contains description of a needle/medical procedure, please take care of yourselves <3

Word count: 1500

AO3

Reblogs > Likes!

Warriors paced restlessly around the military camp, trying to process the battle that had only just ended. Most of his brothers hadn’t been prepared for the massive monster hordes of his own era, and Warriors himself was one of the few spared from the medical tents.

A shout came from one of the tents down the line, prompting a few nearby soldiers to drop what they were doing and run over. Warriors decided to investigate as well, following behind his more eager brethren. He could hear sounds of struggle coming from within, and braced himself before entering.

He recognized one of their head medics, drawing up a dose of some sort of drug into a needle-tipped syringe. They were scowling and a bit out of breath, though their hands were steady on the plunger.

“What’s going on?” Warriors asked.

Without even looking up, the medic said, “Just a stubborn patient. He rendered my partner unconscious so it would be helpful if you could attend to them while I handle him.”

“No problem,” Warriors said, taking a step further into the tent. “I’m happy to help-” He stopped in his tracks as he finally saw just who the patient was.

He identified that small frame instantly, those red and green tunics with nothing but boots beneath them, the blond hair sporting a streak of pink. The patient was Legend, visibly wounded and painfully scared. The teen’s ears were nearly pressed flat against his head, his eyes wide as he stared at Warriors like he didn’t believe that the man was there in front of him. Just as notable were the soldiers from earlier, physically restraining Legend as they looked almost bored to do so.

White-hot rage flared through Warriors but he gained enough control to say in his best Captain Voice, “Release him. Now.”

The soldiers blinked in confusion and one of them dared to argue. “B-but sir, he’s highly dangerous and violent.”

Warriors practically growled, “So am I. Hands. Off.”

That scared the soldiers good and proper, and they couldn’t run out of the tent fast enough. Legend collapsed from the sudden lack of cruel hands forcing him upright, and Warriors was kneeling in front of him in a heartbeat.

Warriors didn’t want to think about what the medics could have done to Legend, but the vet seemed to only be emotionally affected (actual injury notwithstanding). Still, Warriors had to know. “Oh Hylia, Lege… they didn’t do anything, did they?”

Legend shook his head, which lead into a full-body shudder. “Th-they said it would be better if I’m sedated while they heal me, and I agreed. But I didn’t know it- would involve-” His words were interrupted by a broken sob, and Warriors didn’t hesitate to initiate a gentle hug. The captain’s discomfort regarding touch was trivial in this moment.

Legend continued, mumbling desperately into Warriors’ tunic. “I’m sorry. I thought I was getting better but I’m not fine. It just came over me, I’m sorry… I wasn’t ready…”

Farore save him, Warriors’ heart was breaking for this kid. He held Legend close, murmuring soothing words. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here now. Let’s try what we’ve worked on, yeah?”

Thankfully, Legend remembered the breathing exercise that Warriors had taught him. The captain felt the teen adjust his breathing to a calculated rhythm and deemed it safe enough to shift his focus for a moment.

The medic was standing a bit too close for comfort, still holding the syringe full of what Warriors now guessed to be a sedative. First things first, that had to be out of sight. Warriors gestured at the syringe, whispering, “Put that away.”

The medic tried to protest. “But he still needs-”

“Just wait.” Warriors had a plan, and he needed the medic to be cooperative for it.

Not without some complaining, the medic tucked the syringe into a nearby drawer. Warriors nodded his approval and turned back to Legend.

“We’ve got a truce, see? You’re in charge now,” he told Legend, hoping to help him relax.

The vet clung a little closer, and Warriors let him stay like that for a few minutes before realizing that Legend was stalling.

“Lege?” he asked, receiving no response.

I don’t want to do this either, bud, but it might as well happen now.

Resolved to doing this the not-as-easy way, Warriors carefully grabbed Legend’s hands. Legend’s head hung low as Warriors stood, pulling the teen up with him. “Come with me,” Warriors encouraged.

Slow but steady, Legend shuffled over to the lone cot placed in the center of the tent. Warriors made sure to not let go of Legend for even a second, holding his hand which transitioned into another hug as Legend wiggled into place on the thin mattress.

Before Warriors could check in on Legend, the medic spoke up. “Are you ready yet?” they snapped, causing Legend to flinch.

“Hey, Legend, remember to keep breathing,” Warriors prompted, feeling Legend save himself from the threat of hyperventilation. The vet’s composure cracked the tiniest bit more, giving no warning before he was pressing his face into Warriors’ shoulder.

Warriors glanced at the medic, who had retrieved the syringe and was clearly ready to begin. “They’re going to come over now, okay?” the captain said.

Legend finally spoke, his tone defensive. “No. They’re not touching me.”

Warriors sighed, hoping that he wasn’t about to start an argument. “They have to, so they can treat you-”

“They’re not. Touching me,” Legend said, a little louder. “I don’t trust them to get close anymore.”

“Alright then,” Warriors responded. “Do you trust me?”

Legend faltered. “’Course I do, what-”

“Lege. Do you trust me.”

Was he really about to do this? Their trust was so fragile and this could ruin everything they had been working on. It wasn’t like Warriors had another choice, though, other than ignoring Legend and letting the medic do this themself.

Legend knew, without Warriors having to explain his plan. “Y-yeah. I do.”

Warriors allowed himself a smile that Legend couldn’t see, bitter and nervous but confident all the same. “Good. Stay here and keep your eyes closed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Warriors slid down from the cot and walked over to the medic, talking in a hushed voice that Legend hopefully wouldn’t hear. “I’ll do it myself. Can you teach me how?”

The medic considered this uncharted protocol for a minute, then nodded and held out the syringe. They demonstrated the proper angle and technique before waving the captain back to the cot.

Warriors stood a few paces away, taking a deep breath to anchor himself, trying to not let his thoughts linger on what he was about to do. Legend was making himself appear so small, wrapped in a self-hug that did nothing to stop his constant shivering. His eyes were dutifully closed, but Warriors still held the syringe behind his back as he approached.

“Hey… I’m back,” Warriors said, sitting beside Legend again. He unclasped his scarf, admittedly a little clumsy with only one free hand. He settled the blue fabric over Legend’s shoulders, watching the teen slip his hands inside.

Silently, Warriors uncapped the needle. His voice threatened to tremble, but he managed to keep it even. “I’ll be fast. Just a few moments, then you can rest.”

He gently tugged on Legend’s sleeve, locating the position that the medic had described.

“Wars-” Legend started, practically choking on the word.

Goddess help him, Warriors needed to finish this before one or both of them lost their courage completely. He rubbed Legend’s arm, hoping that he could still comfort him. “You still trust me, right?”

He angled the needle over Legend’s arm, his thumb on the plunger. “Deep breath, bud.”

The vet’s tiny gasp would have to count.

“And let it out.”

He didn’t want to look, but forced himself to watch to ensure that the needle went in smoothly. The injection of the sedative felt like an eternity, but finally the syringe was empty and Warriors was able to pull the needle out. The syringe was tossed aside as though it burned, and Warriors gave Legend a relieved embrace. His scarf did most of the work, allowing Warriors to sit back and give Legend as much praise as he could think of. “Great job, bud, you did so well. You can relax now, I’ve got you.”

Legend’s face was still twisted up in fear and pain, and a final sob left him before he fell fully into unconsciousness. Warriors was tired as well, adrenaline and anger finally subsiding as he reluctantly stepped away so the medic could do their job. The captain heard a groan from the corner of the tent, suddenly remembering the medic who Legend had dispatched before Warriors had arrived. He went to monitor their recovery from what had apparently been a nasty punch, all the while sneaking frequent glances at Legend.

The veteran had put an incredible amount of trust in Warriors, and he really hoped that he had done enough. No matter what, Warriors was determined to make sure that Legend was never alone.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XL

various instances of Rembrandt rejecting the tradition of depicting rape in visually pleasing or erotic ways. clockwise from top: detail of Susannah and the Elders, sketch for the same work, and a sketch for the Rape of Ganymedes.

{ @counterwiddershins + @sainteverge }

brace yourselves bc there's A LOT i found interesting in this chapter, Lots of fascinating rhetorical choices by the king, who in this chapter is portrayed exclusively by how he talks. Deborah continues to be assertive and smart and attempting to fight back openly, instead of being a hypocrite or a pretender/diplomat. She is moraly incapable of using the strategies of the court for very long.

-in the beginning the king pretends to be the baron of Gonesse. the false persona allows him to persuade Deborah that his power is limited. Deborah pretends to believe him for a while, even humors him with some moderate language of seduction (“I languished, I waited ardently for your arrival”) This doesn't last, as soon as The king enquires about her mourning arm ribbon, the memory of Patrick and the hope that the king is humane enough to be touched by her story, she speaks like the Deborah of old. She even calls her abduction an abduction to his face. No sugar coating or diplomacy from her. She accuses Villepastour and Pompadour openly, and expects the King to help her avenge herself. But the King is currently pretending to not be the King. Deborah's intrinsec belief that all people share her human decency + some idealizations of the role of the king as assigned by god, cloud her judgement. Not only the king knows the women are abducted, he doesn't care -to understand this classist mentality, Sade's letter are especially illustrative. Men of certain standing deserve to have women of lower status abducted for their fun, there is no solidarity because he doesn't even consider the women to be in the same species as he, the whole divine right idea ennables this mentality-

-the role the king plays as Gonesse is that of a busy diplomat -as opposed to his reality in this novel as a diletante-who is forced away from gallant affairs by diplomacy on the borders. He paints himself as a romantic soldier and politician, longing for love while busy defending the frontiers of his nation. He admits having abducted Deborah, and pretends to think abducting people is wrong and not something he does on a daily basis, but what was he to do, the love he felt was too strong, and he has his whole life to attone and make it up for her.

-the word abduction is thrown back at him by Deborah when asked about her mourning arm band.

-When “Gonesse”claims to not be an all powerful man, Deborah asks him to speak to the King, to which Gonesse answers with assorted cynic ideas on men and women and conquest, she lost a lover but earned two, and if that is bad, women should take better care of their lovers. In a rhetorical move worthy of Benvenutto Cellini's manipulations of the Pope, Deborah paints a more flattering picture of the king: He would never say those things to an abducted widow in mourning, because he hates crime and is a paldin of justice. To which the King can only say he is flattered, tries to brush it all off saying she will be “satisfied”only now it's not the right time to talk of those sad things, since Gonesse is a very susceptible to melancholy and fits of terror (we see slowly how the king's formidable appearance in his grand entry, that which drove deborah to her knees crumbles down. His performance of power is weak, when inflamed by desire he can only rely to two strategies, not more sofisticated than those of Villepastour, distracting Deborah with stories -remember Villepastour pulling out a porn pocket volume out of his Green redingote?- or, physical violence, something the woman is blamed for forcing the men to resource to. As we will see, these are the two paths the king will use in this whole Seduction Scene(tm). Fiction and story telling are a mirage, violence is what lies behind the embezzlement-even within it, we will see what kind of images the King's imagination summons.

-even in this initial verbal phase, violence cannot be separated from his royal sexuality. He cannot praise Deborah's beauty without saying how -if he were the King of France- he'd quickly annex Ireland and live there if all women were as beautiful as her. This is the kind of thing you can picture a king saying casually, as a joke, without batting an eyelash. Deborah being who she is, she cannot let this pass. And not diplomatically either, calling him a hammer, a yoke, an imposer of the law of the strongest.

-The king jokes that once she knows him better she would never call him any of that, nevertheless he is flattered and not insulted. The king's speech continues to be peppered with sexism, reifying Debby by asking her not to move once she asumes a facial expression and pose that turns him on-interestingly, a pose of sorrow and pain- he asks her to become a statue, because this pose highlights her white shoulders and her breats. He makes some veiled allusions to cannibalism -never shipwreck in Tovy-Poenammou- making his speech once again, etnocentric and colonial, and comments on his taste on women's clothes, the incresingly low necklines and wide decoletages can stay, but the neck ornaments and gauzes are annoying obstacles that women wear emmiting thusly a double signal of provocation and mock prudery. The word choice once again, is very, very interesting: women are shrouded in bandages, like an open sore, the image is vaginal and violent. Has this man ever pleased a woman or does he only know how to cause pain?

And the subject of gauzes makes the king wonder into his next piquant story to distract Deborah and get her in the mood for love. This is what the king meant when he inived her to talk of love for a while, sadism and colonialism. Even when thinking he's making pleasant small talk the violence of his role just drips through.

The story is about two women who seeked to satisfy both “reason and customs.”by riding a carriage through the Tuileries gardens, naked under white sheer dresses, people gazing at them like melons are savoured with the eyes through the glass bells containing them. The connection to Deborah is only through the gauze on her neck, revealing the king's no longer thinking much with the head between his shoulders. Indeed, he declares to be in a fight between reason and his education, whic is what keeps him at bay from devouring Deborah, like a cannibal. Through their dialogue only, we see how the king wants to get things in motion, and Deborah attempts to defend herself. The dialogue is really succesful here, Deborah accuses him of acting unworthily of the role that God has bestowed on him. But Gonesse is only a man! A man, yes, but he acts like a dog, retorts Deborah. The not-King protests, (i can imagine his surprise at being spoken like this, even while acting as Gonesse he's still playing the part of a noble) Deborah too wants to get her own plot in motion, admits she knows he is the king. In return, he claims she is dreaming, and his touch becomes forceful. Deborah replies:

““Is this the hospitality a foreign girl finds in your Kingdom! her husband is murdered, and then she is dragged in a nameless place, and she is fattened up for the King’s pleasures, and the King rapes her. (...)”

tr. @sainteverge

the rest is about the kind of good kings Patrick and Debby idealize, she asks him if he is not ashamed for acting in ways that would displease them (which is fun because these kings were as much colonial brutes as the more modern, supposedly decadent ones...)

{--Also, spanish speaker moment: the word engaissé in french, which Debby uses for fattening, has a double meaning in french that engrasado in spanish doesn't share, which made me check if french kept the “greased up”meaning, and it does, it means mainly fattened, but also greased, so it's an interesting if secondary allusion to lubrication --}

Anyways I strongly appreciate Borel not going for an euphemism for rape here. The book boldly dares to call the king a rapist, no excuses, no attempt to soften facts.

Deborah continues with her rhetorical mastery while trying to appease the previously loquacious king who is no longer verbal but exclusively physical now in her attempt to overpower her:

“You want pleasure: I am no more than bramble, than a thorny bush of which the leaves and flowers have fallen with the wind of misfortune. I am only a pleasure-less and awkward foreigner, sad, mournful, wilted, her heart full of poison and loathing and dejection, regretting her native mountains, weeping her mother whose grave is still freshly stirred, and her spouse whose blood is still steaming.—Mercy, mercy, Sire! let me go: you are asking pleasures from an urn, you are asking caresses from a cypress! Look! I am cold and icy like the dead!—Please! please! humanity, Sire! my womb is full: do not give the orphan whom I am bearing a prostitute for a mother!... ”

As the narrator had done before, Deborah likens her body with hostile botanical and geographical terms,her body is arid and spiky like thorny bushes of her motherland.

She is an urn, a cypress, the tree you can find in every cemetery, even her body is cold, she is partly dead because of the triple mourning of her husband, her mother and her motherland. (there is nothing appealing in this inactive/inert/dead nature, as opposed to other romantic texts)

Deborah also subverts nobility related rhetoric: his rape will render her a prostitute. The king corrects her, he is Zeus abducting Ganymedes. His touch ennobles, if any of them is abasing themselves, it is the king, by touching a lowly creature such as her.

The king truns to persuasive talk once more, making her believe she can be the next Pompadour. If she lets him rape her, she can rule his heart, she can have every luxury, yada yada, fame, even her revenge, even Cockermouth Castle can be moved to France if she misses it.

The king's description -paying her yielding with goods, social status and revenge-convinces Deborah further that she is being put into the role of a prostitute, and that is, according to her deeply religious and influenced by sexism beliefs, a dishonourable role. (while it should be enough for her to think, I don't want to have sex with you, I am so disgusted by you I cannot bring myself to do it even if I don't want to, because you kidnapped me and are unmoved by the fact that I don't want to have sex with you. The end) Her liberty is owed to her, she wants it back. The king insists, Deborah resists, she begs desperately on her knees, the king, we asume, pulls his dick out, Deborah's refusal of it and her insulting him as a king: (“King, you are infamous!”) has him accusing of being a Lucretia, who was brought up on analysis of book one, the allusion is perfect, because her fighting back after her rape by Tarquinius ended a monarchy and inaugurated the Roman republic.

The most memorable line of the book is uttered by Deborah, and with it ends book three. Recalling to the defeats that are covert victories Montaigne speaks of in his des Cannibales, we can say this desperate cry is not that of a beaten person, but a war cry of someone who will bounce back after the ordeal.

“Tarquin! someone shall avenge me!” “Who?” “God and the people.”

dieu et le peuple. We shall see how Borel shows this fated revenge on later chapters......

[innerchorus]

Arslan Senki Chapter 123

Edit: let me preface this by saying I'm an idiot and didn't realise the simulpub release is split into two parts that you have to buy separately... so I only bought part 2... therefore this post is all about the second half of the chapter and I'm about to go back and purchase the first half now!)

Official chapter title: The Lonely Throne (and just as I suspected this relates to Hilmes, so brace yourselves...)

SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SECOND HALF OF THE CHAPTER from here on...

Team Arslan content at the beginning is more light-hearted in tone (joking about making Azrael a general, what sort of reward he might like, how Kishward would have to be Eran so Azrael doesn't outrank him, it's amusing) and deals with Arslan outlining his next moves. Those match up with the novels, I won't bother outlining them here for now.

Then we change locations to Ecbatana and my heartrate just shot up instantly lmao

Hilmes, inside the city: 30,000 men, versus Andragoras, whose army of 100,000 is outside the walls

PUP SIGHTING

Sad that this is his only panel, my thoughts are still spinning having only just read the chapter but I'm a little concerned that some Team Hilmes scenes were cut, especially the scene between Zandeh and Hilmes and the whole confrontation in the underground waterways that led to what comes next...

There's not even a single panel of Sam this chapter. I want to trust Arakawa and hope that we backtrack a little in the next chapter and see those events, the scene involving Sam in particular because I just can't fathom why that wouldn't be included, I think it's a really important one for his character. I suppose the other option is that it's moved to a little later in the story, and that could work, too! So we'll see.

Anyway, Team Hilmes are facing the inevitable struggles of a closed city running out of food and water, where even loyal soldiers are now worrying about their fates if they lose (or even if they don't win soon enough... the citizens could well turn on them and they know it).

Hilmes... is not having the best of times right now.

And I realised where this was going at this point, and started thinking OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK because I am not ready to see him go through the bombshell that is about to be dropped on him and I didn't even expect to see it yet this chapter either although the title did make me wary

But first we get a little flashback to his interrupted conversation with Ghundi, the sorceror, in which we learn that Hilmes learned... nothing, because their talk was interrupted by word that Andragoras's forces have reached Ecbatana

OH NO OH NO OH NO

FUUUUUUUUUCK

In the end, I was only slightly more prepared for this moment than Hilmes. The chapter ends here. I'm feeling the weirdest mixture of dread and excitement about the next one.

(I haven't counted pages but it felt short? Let me see.)

Edit: okay yeah it was only 16 pages this month OKAY WAIT WAIT THIS IS HILARIOUS but I think I only bought half the chapter lmao, I don't know how KManga works but it looks like the chapter is split into two parts? I think this is the second half???)

[sichlitt]

So we all know this panel, right? Super iconic. When Griffith gets word of the assassination of Julius and Adonis, he makes this big evil grin that leads many to assume that Griffith is glad that Adonis is dead, enough to feel giddy at the revelation. Surely this is irrefutable evidence of Griffith's cold-hearted sociopathy and unforgivable evil, right?

Wrong.

For one, there is ZERO evidence that Griffith was smiling at the dead boy in particular. It's much more likely that he was simply ignoring the boy and focusing on Julius' death alone, doing so through COMPARTMENTALISATION and EMOTIONAL REPRESSION. 

We have lots of contextual evidence that this is what Griffith does when confronted with dead children. When the child soldier in Griffith's army is killed, he is emotionally distraught, but in the lake scene with Casca he assures her that he doesn't actually care. He justifies sleeping with Gennon as a purely logical move absent of emotion. We know that this apathetic persona is a lie because when Casca brings up this boy, Griffith immediately starts shaking and resorting to self harm to quell his deep-seated emotional anguish. His persona then breaks entirely and he goes on an unhinged rant about how he must atone for the sake of the dead and that he won't allow his men to needlessly die for him. 

There's no absence of care, it's just well-hidden. 

He then successfully represses this vulnerability by insisting to Casca that he is okay. We know from his previous behaviour and Casca's response that it's a lie. He isn't fine, but his expression does a good job of HIDING that pain.

This added context recontextualises the smile at the Primrose Hall by calling into question the reliability of his outward expression in revealing his inner thoughts and feelings, while showing how fucked up his coping mechanisms are with regards to dead children. 

Some people may claim that as the two scenes are years apart, he likely grew to genuinely become more apathetic over time as he became numb to so many of his soldiers' deaths, but this can't be true because the God Hand in the ECLIPSE show him visions of the dead child soldier from over half a decade ago to play on his empathetic guilt. This draws an emotional through-line throughout the entire arc proving that he has always cared about people that die for his dream. It's not at all unreasonable to apply it to the smile. The dream speech and the lake scene are 2 chapters apart for a reason. 

What's more, if you want to apply sociopathy to Griffith through the smile, you must do the same to Guts.

These next panels might shock you, so brace yourselves.

Yep, that's right. Guts also smiles at the death of a child he indirectly killed. Shocking, I know. This scene is conveniently forgotten by Guts stans whenever they try and fail to condemn Griffith. 

This isn't all, though. He even LAUGHS about her death when Puck asks him about it.

Now of course we know from context that Guts doesn't actually believe the words he's saying here and is merely using this philosophy as a coping mechanism to emotionally distance himself from the people who die around him, just as Griffith does in the dream speech.

Guts and Griffith do the EXACT SAME THING, so if you want to condemn one, you must also equally condemn the other.