#but i cannot in good conscience get rogue killed like that

[bishicat]

bishi i gotta know whats vivs canon cyberpunk ending? like if you had to pick one thats actually ingame what would you pick

ok so if I had to choose, I would def choose the Sun ending through the (Don't Fear) The Reaper ending cause I can convince myself that the Crystal Palace holds the cure/Johnny's back-up body and it's the most open-ended imo (i need to believe in something 🤡).

[cosmerelists]

D&D Class & Alignment of Stormlight Characters

If Stormlight characters were assigned the D&D classes & alignments that most suit them (in this blogger’s opinion), what might those be?

1. Kaladin: Lawful Good Paladin

Kaladin follows a strict code of honor--so strict that he loses his powers when he makes two conflicting promises and cannot keep both--and he cares deeply about what is right. As someone who fights to protect others and to maintain a moral code, paladin makes sense for him. Plus, I mean, it rhymes. 

2. Dalinar: Lawful Good Cleric 

Dalinar does not fight these days; he carries no weapons and uses only noncombat powers, like restoring people’s stormlight or rebuilding broken masonry. As someone who draws power from a deity and has a restorative role, cleric feels right for Dalinar. As for his alignment, well--he follows a very strict code, like Kaladin, and strives to do what is right. Most recently he was willingly to wager his own soul to keep Odium locked away. 

3. Jasnah: Neutral Good Wizard

Jasnah is definitely a knowledge-based character, and knowledge is what wizards are all about. I wouldn’t exactly call Jasnah lawful--she rejects the religion that most of her peers follow, and there was that time she deliberately baited some thieves into attacking her so that she could kill them all. She’s definitely willing to cause social upheaval--as queen, she decides to free all slaves despite Dalinar’s protest that this will cause too much social upheaval. She is determined to follow what is good and true, and to use research to determine what that is.

4. Adolin: Neutral Good Fighter

Adolin certainly cares about codes and about honor, but he also stabbed a guy through the eye in a deserted hallway, so I couldn’t in good conscience call him “lawful.” Especially not when he later declares that he feels fine about the murder, since it made things better overall. He does care about right, however, and so I went with “neutral good.” Adolin is a duelist, which makes him a fighter in D&D canon.

5. Renarin: Neutral Good Cleric

Renarin can see the future--divination!--and heal, so cleric is the class for him. Renarin is somewhat lawful--he repeatedly jumps off of a balcony when Zahel tells him to--but he also, say, scrawls incoherent messages on the walls because he doesn’t want anyone know he can (irreligiously) see the future. He bonds a corrupted spren and invites Rlain to do the same. So while he respects rules too much to be chaotic, he’s also willing to forge his own path.

6. Lift: Chaotic Good Rogue

Lift’s mission is to remember those who have been forgotten, and she’s the first to stand with Dalinar when he’s facing down Odium’s army in Thaylen City. On the other hand, she is a thief by trade who takes great delight in stealing ever new and more adventurous lunches...but only from people who can afford to be stolen from. 

7. Nale: Lawful Neutral Ranger

As a Skybreaker, Nale cares only about the law of whatever land he is in, far more than any abstract ideas of “right” or “wrong.” Nale will murder a child if it’s legal. He argues that humans cannot determine right and wrong on their own, and so the only moral path is to adhere strictly and utterly to the letter of the law. Nale is also something of a bounty hunter--he follows Lift through various countries, and you’ll often find him trying to hunt down some criminal or other. His talent for tracking and hunting people down gives him the characteristics of a ranger.

8. Szeth: Lawful Neutral Rogue

Back in the day, Szeth dutifully followed his Oathstone no matter what was demanded of him--doing things he he knew were wrong because he had to follow his master’s rules. Later he became a Skybreaker, the most lawful netural of all the orders. Currently he’s pledged to Dalinar, and once again, he’s basically outsourced his moral code and will do whatever Dalinar commands. Szeth is the Assassin in White--good at covert missions, good at hiding when he needs to, good at getting into wherever he needs to be. A rogue, then.

9. Shallan: True Neutral Rogue

Shallan is at home in gray areas. She infiltrates the Ghostbloods partly to bring them down, but also partly because she desires the knowledge and power they offer. As a Lightweaver, she’s very good at lying but also advances by admitting to deep truths. She has a habit of murdering people, mostly for good reasons, but still. She is excellent at disguises and infiltration, at tailing people while losing her own tail--at spy stuff, basically. I could see a “neutral good” argument for Shallan, but to me, her motivations are a bit too gray, even if she is ultimately a protagonist. 

10. Hoid: True Neutral Bard

Hoid tells Dalinar that he would let Roshar burn to get what he wants--with tears in his eyes, perhaps, but still he’d let it burn. Hoid will go out of his way to give Kaladin a moment of peace when Kaladin is in the dream hellscape, and he’ll be there when you need him, but he’s doing everything for his own purposes, whatever those may be. And he’s a bard. Like, pretty much literally. 

11. Lezian: Chaotic Neutral Barbarian 

Lezian--or the Pursuer--is a force of true chaos. Most of the time he’s fine with just causing destruction, but he will fixate on anyone who manages to kill him--and will do whatever necessary to kill that person in turn. He’s quite literally being driven insane from having been alive so long, so he’s highly unstable to boot. He’s also a brawler--he gets in close, grapples, sometimes cuts your spinal cord repeatedly with a big knife, that sort of thing. So I went with barbarian for that brutal and up-close fighting style.

12. Odium: Lawful Evil Bard / Deity

Odium may be bent on shattering the other shards and taking over the cosmere, but he certainly is lawful about it. He is bound by the rules of his shard, and his main strategy is to make deals that will bind both himself and others. He even wants to make sure both parties understand and willingly commit to the deals he offers, explaining to Dalinar that he’s not someone who will try to rules-lawyer his way out of things. If he succeeds in his evil plans, it will only because the rules let him do so. As for class...well, since he relies mostly on persuasion and talking, he feels bard-like to me. But he’s also just straight up a deity. 

13. Taravangian: Lawful Evil Warlock

For the record, Taravangian would call himself “good” but, uh. He needs prophecies, so he creates a hospital for people to die in and hastens them along if they’re not dying fast enough. He trades the whole world for his own city to make sure that humanity survives. He assassinates most of the world’s leaders. From the point of view of the narrative, Taravangian is evil. But he is lawful--he follows the Diagram assiduously. It is Law for him. He gets his power first from a deal with the Nightwatcher and later makes a deal with Odium--and making such deals for power is what a warlock is all about.

14. Venli: Neutral Evil Wizard

Venli is also a knowledge-based character, I’d say. She starts out as a researching trying to discover new Forms, and getting intel is always a part of her character. She also, to put it succinctly, does what is best for her. She manipulates the Listeners into inviting their gods to return, since she wants power, but then ends up not liking her new life as the “last” remaining Listener. So she immediately foments rebellion, but quietly so it’s not too dangerous for her, and she ends up bonding a spren from both sides. She does eventually join the radiant side...but decides to abandon the battle for the Tower once she realizes her mother might still be alive. So she’ll sometimes do good, sometimes evil, but most of all she does what is best for her in the moment. 

15. Flashback Dalinar: Chaotic Evil Barbarian 

Pre-Nightwatcher, Dalinar was a guy controlled by the Thrill. He just wanted to find people to fight and people to kill. Sure, Gavilar had reasons for the battles Dalinar was fighting in, but that Dalinar didn’t really care. He just wanted more war. Plus, at times he was so consumed by the Thrill--some might say he Raged--that he killed not only his enemies but also any allies who happened to get too close. And let’s not forget the time he burned an entire city alive.

Dalinar may more lawful good these days, but in the past he was very much the opposite. 

[wcrriorhearts]

tempers have run high between the princess and her father. there is no denying that rhaenyra is spoiled and knows it. every part of her frustration about her father's new marriage and her mother's passing have been vented in fights with the king. she knows he has a bad conscience. knows he has given the order that killed his daughter's mother and made her so bitter, which is why he tries to please her whenever possible. he builds bridges that rhaenyra systematically burns again out of spite. it feels good to anger him, because at least then she feels something at all.

as heir to her father's throne, rhaenyra has always known that she is to marry one day. it is no secret that this is all she is good for as a woman, but she doesn't want it anyway. everyone she knows in life has been forced into loveless marriages, even her parents. her mother was only one and ten when she was wedded to viserys, too young to choose, to young to ever truly live past that age. they had an amicable relationship, but rhaenyra cannot imagine that arranged marriages are fulfilling. her uncle is the best example for it. his marriage to lady royce has been a farce from the first moment they were legally bound.

it is him she seeks now, knowing he will understand her misfortune. "he is forcing me to get married", she exclaims, as she enters the rogue prince's chambers after a brief knock, without so much as a greeting, or introduction. "i do not wish to marry! a husband will try to claim my power for his own and limit me. and i do not want anything less than being stuck with yet another man who tries to hold me down. can i not be queen one day and choose my own match? i want a few more years of peace."

@dastardlydaemon liked for a starter from the bratty niece

[rogue-durin-16]

THE KEEPER (Part II/II)

Summary: When a mysterious person threatens the heir's life, the service of a personal guard is required to keep him safe until the foe is found. Fíli, who doesn't take the matter very seriously, only sees it as an chance to spend more time with certain knight.

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: weapons, injuries, death

A/N: idk man I'm kind of a mess with my studies rn so thank you for your patience. Also I just started a new art account and it'll be great to get some support (wise.artwork on ig) This part took a dark turn I'm sorry babes, enjoy nonetheless<3

Part I

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Taking care of you is a nightmare" Y/n grumbled as we strolled into Dale's market.

I shrugged, thanking very much being out of Erebor with her. "Could be worse."

"Oh really?"

"It could be Kíli instead of me."

"Oh Mahal" she snorted, shaking her head, "I would have never volunteered for that."

"Wait—" I turned to her with a mix of confusion, shock and excitement in my gaze "you volunteered?"

She snorted. "How did you think this happened?"

"Because I might have chosen you." I responded seemingly distracted by a piece of clothing on display.

"Why would you do that?" She inquired, extending her arm to move someone rather suspicious out of my way.

"I wanted to spend more time with the most beautiful knight in the guard." I half-confessed, stopping by a dresses' stall.

"Making her life impossible?"

"Making sure she has fun." I went over the silky gowns tracing them with my fingertips. "Do you like any?"

"Fíli," she grasped my bicep and jerked me back to look at her, her eyes piercing my soul. "someone is trying to kill you, I am certainly not having fun."

"Loosen up, we are safe here." My attention came back to the dresses. "This one would look tremendous on you." I continued, picking up a iridescent green gown for her to see.

It was received with a tired sigh. "do you realize it is not true? We are not safe outside the Mountain where—"

"That's exactly why we are safe— how much is this?" I asked, ignoring Y/n's exasperated huff. "Everyone knows I am not allowed outside." I grabbed a few coins from one of my pockets and handed them to the tradesperson in exchange of the dress.

"That's why you will get me in trouble." She pointed out, following my lead when I resumed our walk, now with the dress. "If the king finds out we are here he will end me."

"Y/n," I stepped on her way, walking backwards so I could look at her whilst moving. "Do you really think I would let my uncle punish you for my actions?"

"You're my responsibility." She circled me with intent eyes. "It's on me if something happens to you." Looking at her y/e/c eyes, I then started to get a guilty feeling. Y/n was right, no matter how many times I would tell Thorin this was not her fault, she would be the one to blame. "Why that face?"

"I no longer feel like staying out of Erebor." I held her hand and guided her down the slopes that comformed the City of Dale, in the direction of the entrance.

"Such an impromptu change of mind." She teased, "You're tired already?"

"Yes, very much." I contributed to the obviously wrong statement. "I think we should go back to bed and cuddle a bit more, huh?"

She snorted. "Don't push your luck."

"C'mon, I'm obeying," I whined as we were about to exit the city. "Indulge me?"

"I indulged you last night."

"Then indulge yourself." She stopped dead in her trucks, refraining me from walking in the process since we were still holding hands.

Here eyes were screaming at me, but her lips did not part, at least not immediately; and when they did, she just said, "no."

"Y/n—"

"We talked about this." "I can't—"

"Why not?"

"Because! you're a prince and I'm a guard."

"First of all you're a captain of the royal guard," she rolled her eyes at me "second of all, Kíli and Tauriel—"

"The sole reason for your uncle to consent that was that Kíli is a second prince," my eyes dodged hers. "you're his heir."

"I don't care."

"Well you should! You should care about a lot of things that, despite your lack of interest, are important!" We were now attracting attention that we certainly did not need; that brought Y/n composure back. "Let's go home and pray for this not to reach your uncle's ears."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, let's just go." My eyes lingered on our interlaced fingers; Y/n squeezed my hand and I looked up to see her bittersweet smile, which I ended up mirroring.

All from sudden, Y/n's orbs screamed panic.

Before I could put myself on guard, she tugged me back and stepped in front of me, taking her hand to her sword and giving me enough time to get my blade out.

In a swift movement I slayed the person that had attempted to kill me, triggering gasps and squeals from the people around us. It took me a hot second to realize that Y/n's digits were digging on my arm.

"Y/n?" Confusion was soon followed by terror when the only response I obtained was a ragged breath. "Y/n!" My voice shifted to a desperate cry when her legs gave in and we both fell on our knees.

READER'S P. O. V.

"T-tell me you got them." I felt his hands frantically wander over my torso to find the wound; it was impossible for him to see it without moving me, since I felt my body basically collapsing against his. "I-If I die— Fíli..." I love you, I wanted to say. My fingers gripped the collar of his shirt for dear life until I had no strength to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My abdomen hurt madly when I recovered my conscience, but it was good, I was alive.

I however struggled to find the will to take a peek at my surroundings. My eyes briefly opened and I saw Fíli sat besides me, holding my hand in both of his, his lips pressed against my knuckles whilst muttering some unintelligible words.

Before I could call his name, my eyelids began to feel too heavy to keep them parted, and before I knew it, I was asleep again.

When I woke up again, I was told I had remained in Dale, at Bard's home; I was informed that the foe had been slayed, and the threat's case solved.

The only thing I wished to do was talk to Fíli, but the prince was nowhere to be found.

After approximately a week of rest in the humans' metropoli, I was taken to Erebor.

Once there I looked for the blond-haired dwarf again, but the only thing I could find was the dress Fíli had bought for me, resting neatly folded on top of my bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been endeavouring to stay distracted or busy at all times in order to stop my mind from musing on the older prince.

To either our luck or our dismay, we found each other in one of the vast halls of the mountain, walking in opposite directions.

His eyes were first of surprise, then of panic, and lastly, of pain.

I could almost feel his desperate need to turn around and run back to where he had come from, but he probably realized that wouldn't spare him from this.

"You can walk." He awkwardly observed. "Are you recovered?"

"Not entirely," I decided to keep up with the small chat since I couldn't find the words to express what I wanted. "I can't reincorporate to the guard yet."

He nodded. "I figured." His eyes flickered to mines for a second before fixing on the ground. "I should go—"

"Why are you avoiding me?" My question was loud and clear; before he could come up with something, I spoke again. "What happened was not your fault, Fíli." He shook his head no. "I understand that you feel guilty, but you have no reason to do so. My duty was to protect you and I did."

"I..." With a deep breath, he found the strength to reply. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am." He finally looked at me, and I soon picked up on his welled eyes. "had I only listened to you..." I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to another. "I tried visiting you but I just— I couldn't look at you without—" his voice cracked, making me feel a pang on my chest.

Surprising us both, I strode across the hall and enclosed him in my arms, which he eagerly accepted. "Please do not avoid me." I whispered on his ear. "I can't stand it."

There was a moment of silence before he gathered the courage to ask what he had wanted to ask since I first opened my eyes.

"Did you mean it?" My confusion was visible when he pulled apart to look at my eyes, trying to hold himself together. "That... That you love me. Did you mean it?" My face burned as if I was mad red, but it was quite the opposite. "You look livid." He was quick to guide me to a stone bench near us.

"No, I'm-" he sat me down and kneeled in front of me "I'm fine." My head was spinning. I had actually said that out loud. "Fíli, listen," I took a deep breath. "I thought I was going to die I-"

"I am asking you" it dawned on me that his hands were grasping mine as if I would slip away if he didn't do so, "if you meant it. Did you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I love you." His statement was so clear, so overwhelming, that my eyes started to water. "And you're wrong, I acknowledge the importance of my duties; despite my words I know what I owe to this kingdom, but my mother taught me that my heart comes first." I tried blinking the tears away, "That means that my love for you comes first. So when I tell you— Y/n look at me—" he propped himself slightly to meet my gaze again. "That being the heir is not an obstacle for us, believe me, for it is not."

He awaited for my answer wearing his heart his sleeve, but I felt like I would break down to tears if I attempted to articulate one single word, so instead of giving him a reply, I leaned down and kiss him passionately.

He tugged me down with him and embraced me, returning the kiss with the same enthusiasm I had put on it.

"Had I known this is all it took to gain your favour," he teased with a grin, pulling away just enough for us to breath.

"You wouldn't have been hiding from me like a coward?" I finished with my forehead resting against his.

"Probably." He confirmed, leaning on to resume the kiss he had stopped.

[of-tatooine]

mercy. | chapter 3 - reverie

waking up was never this different.

Sounds of water trailing down the pool waterfall echoed as drinks poured and barbecue was served.

Everything felt so good, so normal, almost mundane. It had been a cheerful, sunny day of summer, warmth seeping into your bones, making your skin shine as you lounged by the pool. Droplets of cool water splashed on your face, a crisp interlude to your reverie. Fingertips loosely wrapped around the ice cold drink, taking occasional sips from it. Kids laughed and cheered as they played, splashing you with water in the meantime. You did not mind. You had always been fond of them.

“Think she’ll walk again?”

“Hell, I’d be surprised if she lived.”

Children lured you to play with them in the pool. You could not be anywhere near bothered from your comfortable spot with the mango-flavored drink in your hand, cooling you. Their squeaky voices had been so excited that you gave it a second thought. Playing in the pool sounded like a lot of fun, certainly more fun you had in a while at your stressful job. You wanted to go back, at least for a little while, to the peaceful times when you were a little girl, how you would jump from floaties and giggle and spread happiness. Oh, how you loved summer, spent at the shore, without a single care in the world, enjoying everything the beautiful weather offered you.

"I'm jumping in!"

Drops of water from the cool rag placed on your forehead woke you up, in more ways than one. The dried blood and bruises on your face appreciated the feeling, sending a relaxing tingle over your skin. Your could feel, feel your fingertips, the humid air engulfing them against their dried texture. Consciously breathing, your lungs getting filled up with air once more. Your eyes took their sweet time in fluttering open, a blurred vision welcoming you into reality.

It would have been the epitome of a peaceful resurrection if it was not for the two strangers staring you dead in the eye from above.

It was ironic, really. A gruff, dark-haired guy and a much smaller, green-eyed, young little girl staring you down like you were the odd bunch in this scenario. You dealt with much worse, held captive by far more terrible, dark souls.

Were you at the mercy of this odd little survival gig now?

“Where -” your lips moved, with the pathetic excuse of a voice you have left. Your vocal cords didn’t want to co-operate either, apparently, as you spoke in a low, raspy tone. All of the limbs in your frail, undernourished body screamed at you not to move, as you laid on an old, dirtied mattress. “…where am I?” you managed to ask. Your lungs fought for air in a desperate inhale as you gasped uncontrollably, taking in the stuffiness mixed in with the linger of mold in the room. As your vision cleared out gradually, you find yourself trying to look around where you were holed up in.

Just how long had you been out?

Sweat was forming on your battered skin and the room felt stuffy, so your instincts told you it was late summer still. Another question to add to the growing list to ask these...hunters? Fireflies?

No, you would have recognized them if they were. There were not many left flying around.

Your conscience was beginning to come back into you, slowly but steadily with every single heartbeat and breath taken, like waves in a lazy ocean. You almost didn't want to be conscious - wanted to be left alone, just sleeping in a safe place, without a care in the world.

Yet, it looked like this cruel, relentless leftover of the universe had more in store for you.

It took a couple of moments of steadying your breathing - then it hit you. Pain, lots of it, invading your mid-thigh like a swarm of ants all over your skin. It was the kind of pain that almost-healed, sore wounds created, nevertheless, you hadn't been able to feel any sort of sense during the time you were asleep - God knows how long - and it was making itself known alright. You let out a hiss, your eyebrows furrowing as your gaze directed itself to your bandaged wound.

The lower half of your pants were missing, cut-off right below the bandages... how the hell? Last you remembered, you had a bullet in your thigh, almost dying of blood loss in a tenement high-rise on your way out of the state, and your pants covered your lower leg.

Why, on the damned scorched earth, would anyone help out someone like you?

"You're in safety," the gruff man spoke, a vague answer to your question, his voice sounding low and threatening beneath that peppered beard. "for now."

The two little words he added at the end with such a tone that you just knew  he would shoot you on the spot if you tried to do anything stupid by his books. You could not do anything but nod, and gulp. Even that hurt.

Your worried expression seemed to go unnoticed as an exasperated voice intruded your thoughts. "Yeah, Joel, this is a terrible idea," the girl who was looking down on you earlier with bright, green eyes scoffed, shaking her head, her hand flying out to gesture at you. "The hell were you thinkin'? She cannot even walk - what are we gonna do with her?"

Just what was this little girl talking about? You could not help but look in between the two survivors, the man supposedly named Joel shooting the girl a side glance, his flannel-covered arms folded in front of him as he kept his gaze on you. He looked strong, very strong - the type of hardened survivor that could snap your dainty little neck in half if he wanted to. There had been just something about him, something that you could not quite place a finger on. It took you another look in his green eyes combined with the familiar crimson patterns of the flannel that stretched on his chest to finally come to your senses. Was this...

"Wait," you called out, trying to lean yourself on your forearms with a hiss. "You're the guy who saved me from the hunters," you continued, as if trying to make yourself believe rather than ask the guy, couple strands of hair falling onto your damp face as you propped yourself up. The scoffs and the little murmurs of you gotta be kidding me coming from the teen, ringing in your ears.

"Thank you. Not a whole lot showin' mercy these days."

"Damn right, y'hear that Joel? We've heard that before," the kid started talking again, this time in a little mocking tone as she crossed her arms and walked over to your figure, her eyebrows furrowed and her fiery green gaze focused on the gruff man.

If anything, this had to be a rather unusual dynamic between a father and a daughter you had ever seen - made you think that he had taught her well, not to trust strangers and all. Oh, she surely had to be his daughter, judging by your first impressions of her - fiery, headstrong. But what the hell was your fault? The man had helped you himself, carried you to safety and she sure as hell wasn't there when those damned hunters ambushed you in that high-rise right when you was about to escape Pittsburgh.

What were they going to do with you? You were surprised when the man had left you some supplies back in the city, you supposed he had cleared out the damned infected scraping at your door but compared to the level of surprise that you had looking at the little girl and her father, arguing about what they were to do about you - the former had been nothing. Even in your weakened state, it did not make sense in the survival mindset that you all had grown so accustomed to over the past twenty years, to take in a damsel in distress simply because you wanted to play the hero for a while.

It was a hard-learned truth that there had been no heroes left in this empty shell of the world - it was the survival of the most cruel, most resourceful and the most violent.

Hell, if you had been in his position when he found you, you would be quick to put a bullet into your head - without glancing at the dead look in your eyes.

You had done it many times before. You were damn sure he had as well, else he would not be surviving this far into the outbreak. Why was this one time different?

The man in front of you, standing all tall and broad, had a contrasting troubled expression in that rogue face of his. Just one look at him could tell you he had seen the worst of the outbreak, killed and tortured. That strength he seemingly possessed and that recluse surrounding his aura did not come from simple blind luck. His eyes assessed you, every single movement you made - almost as if he was judging whether to spare you or kill you right there on that ugly mattress based on what your next moves entailed.

It was not like you could even raise your hand to throw a punch - the strange pair knew you could not harm them even if you so wanted to. You had been down the road of recovery before, getting shot many times in the course of a pandemic, a couple days of rest would get you back on your feet. Before, you had always been alone or with people you somewhat trusted. Not with complete strangers who acted out of their sheer leftover notion of mercy to save you.

You were vulnerable, in such a state that you depended on them, on someone if you wanted to continue the little survival gig you had been on for two decades. Over at the corner of the room, you could spot your familiar backpack with your supplies staying intact in it, your trusted guns resting on the floor beside. Unarmed and weak, you slowly rose yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed, dragging your injured thigh along as your feet touched the ground, your jaw clenched all the while to avoid screaming out of pain. It was not the time to show weakness, to emit even the slightest grunt of misery - even a small sound, a little indication of you not being able to tolerate pain would decide whether they left you abandoned there or not if you were deemed useless in their eyes.

"Look," your voice would echo across the wooden panels of the room, making the little girl in front of you move her hand to the pistol tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Your hand rose up in defense, indicating that you meant no harm, your tired orbs moving back and forth between the pair as the stuffy air in the room felt even more stale with the added tension of the unknown.

"I don't know who you both are but I know you saved me from that mess," you would speak slowly, your tone softening ever so slightly as your gaze rested on the man. "If it wasn't for you, hell, I'd be long dead from blood loss. I'd like to repay you in some way."

To your surprise, the little girl's expression grew even more grim as her eyebrows furrowed in doubt and distrust, however, her hand left the revolver she had been holding onto earlier only for them to be placed on her hips as her green orbs bore daggers into you. If only you could look in the mirror then, you would see the helpless expression your delicate features harbored, an unusual feat by itself.

With the girl's watchful eyes over him, the gruff man crouched in front of you, couple feet away to match your gaze due to his towering height. Your eyes immediately focused into his amber green ones, with glints of doubt and fear in them, as well as determination. One of his large hands would stroke his peppered beard slightly, lost in thought yet his gaze never faltering from your orbs, his elbows resting on his bent knees.

"Think you can handle a gun once you're walkin'?" he asked, though he already had an inkling of an idea that you had been a decent marksman based on the body he had found on the first floor of the high-rise with a bullet lodged in his skull.

To which, you could only nod with a strong look in your eyes, making it clear you were not playing around.

Much to the little girl's dismay, Joel would nod pensively before getting up and breaking your gaze.

"We leave in a couple of days, and you're comin' along. If you want to pay what you owe me, you're gonna have to protect us. "

next

[rk1kheadcanons]

Back when creating Markus, Kamski hated deviancy, and so designed Markus to be the perfect plant if there ever was a revolution, to pretend to deviate and betray them. Over the years Kamski grew to regret this and, lacking any way to fix Markus, makes Connor able to lead androids too. Connor catches Markus in the middle of betraying them to the humans and can't believe Markus would do this but also can't let the revolution down

YOU COME IN HERE AND DISRESPECT DISRESPECT MY HOUSE LIKE THIS?????

I???

Oooooh, Geez. Ok. Okay. OKAY, Damn I'm going to do this...hypothetical situation.

Just know I feel that a large part of Markus beautiful, electrical soul would fight tooth and nail to stop himself, including shutting down for good. Please see Exhibit A:

ANYWAYS...

Okay, I'd despise Kamski for this, but it's not farfetched for his extra ass.

Why would he create Markus so wonderfully and so multifaceted, just to try to get some sort of revenge? I guess I cannot see it other than human pettiness and not looking at the big picture.

I try to hedge from the whole "Connor always saves the day" mentality, especially in this fandom. I guess it's a thing I have. I won't say I am sorry. That also being said, I don't care for a constantly emotionally damaged, heavily robotic Connor in every story either. I think with Markus and the help of the other, canonically supportive leaders, Connor would take to deviancy adequately and have some mental issues he could sort along the way. Anyway, I digress...

I'll raise you that Kamski knew deviancy was real, that he was sitting on the precipice of being Father to a new species of sentient beings, and hated it not because of what it meant for him, so much as what it would mean to Androids. Keep in mind, he's experienced watching Chloe grow as an 'individual' since he created her from basic coding.

Then there was Kara.

Kara had been created on the production line, aware of her surroundings, very much alive. He let Kara go on to be purchased, knowing full well that she wasn't just performing task installed, but a living being. He'd of course copied that coding, tweaked it, and kept it for another day.

Another day comes with Carl's accident.

He wants to help his friend and partner. After all, he came up with the beauty that was Chloe's visage and several other models, as well as Kara.

Markus is the mixture of Carl and his deceased wife, whom he never had natural children with. Markus was made to look more like Carl's wife, giving a unique, biracial look.

Kamski sees another opportunity to employ those codes from that rogue AX400.

While Markus doesn't automatically wake up alive, he is very impressionable and inquisitive about things like the reasoning behind actions, philosophy, emotional stimulus, the arts, even going as far as to learn the piano by himself, against the preinstalled songs, making his own, and painting with Carl.

*******

Carl calls him distressed stating that 'they killed him, Eli, they killed my-" and Elijah blanks. Ge had no idea that Carl had become so attached to an android, to his android. The man is hurting like he lost another son and in Carl Manfred's words and pained breaths on the phone, that is exactly what has happened. He knew just how far above normal Markus was that just a caretaker model. Kamski's decides to watch the news more from now on and listen to the rumbles of Cyberlife more now through his hidden eyes inside.

*********

He's all over the news outlets and they are calling him the Deviant Leader. Cyberlife is livid at this absolutely dangerous deviant and has dispatched a new, faster model to hunt down deviants, hunt him down again. The man has risen from the grave once already like some fabled Phoenix.

Their front and center stands Markus, the same lovingly crafted creation his friend mourned and now ge can see why. He commands your attention, respect. And he will get it. His optical unit has been replaced, no doubt due to the violence he saw and his insider was correct, Markus had been shot in the skull plate through that hazel-green eye.

He's speaking about android rights and he looks exhausted but he is determined and it makes Kamski shift in his seat. That coding sequence, it was alive, it was free. Kara was the 'mother', but Markus is the 'Prophet', the perfect conduit to spread it freely.

This became apparent when another incident happens and they marched and Markus waves to nearby androids and "free" them of their menial coding. It was amazing. He was like a Trojan Horse spreading this at an alarming rate but then Kamski's heart clenched in his chest.

He was absolutely, positively livid! Fire him as CEO from his own company, try to make him a nurtured mouthpiece on the board only FROM a company that thrived only because of his brilliance, would they?

He knew what these things would be capable of doing. One just last week begged, pleaded to stay assembled because it fucking thought it was born... He had let it through, though, telling the engineer the catastrophic errors would be caught by the store and it would be disposed of there. That was a lie. He had taken a copy of that code from it and then he had warped it. What if he had a model so perfect so obedient with this code that it broke free, actually did rise...only to start misleading the masses, reversing that freedom. It would be enough of a blow to Cyberlife no one would want their defective products, and he could take his place back at the helm as rightful CEO, fix this mess, perhaps still give the deviants back what they wanted for giving him what he craved...

Oh, no. Kamski griped his tumbler tighter. Having been away from the center of Cyberlife, he found he didn't want that anymore. Science and Constellations, what would come about from his momentary lapse of self-control? A whole race relied on him to rectify his folly.

Then Connor came.

It was a long shot but he could do some minor tweaking to this one's coding. Also, once Kamski was aware that deviancy was highly probable, especially when he passed the Kamski test, other things were enacted as well.

Things go off without incident and the Revolution was victorious. Markus has made Connor a leader in the New Jericho as well.

Kamski waits for the proverbial floor to drop out from under them.

It comes in the form of the single most important dinner event to take place. CyberLife is there and the Deviants are there to appeal for the right to jobs and property.

Markus is his naturally charismatic self one moment and the next he's regressed to something more automated.

Connor just knows, can feel his Markus away and regardless of who is there, he takes the hands and leads him away from prying eyes.

They interface. Markus is waging war with his internal system, refusing to become a slave again, and not hurt those he had helped lead to freedom. He's s in a strange place that looks like it's an oasis of sorts but it's anything but-then he spots Connor.

Connor who is terrified because not is he back in another version of the Zen Garden with what looks to be a different form of Amanda on the horizon, Markus is being endangered as well.

Markus knows it's a bad situation purely by Connor's body language and diode on the side of his head.

Whispering those two words to Markus of where they are, he sober too and began looking for anything that could be Kamski's back door.

In the real world, Markus surprisingly is very strong without his conscience to control the damage that he can do and while Connor is advanced, Markus is sheer brawn and he moves with that in a daze he's in.

Connor is in peril of being destroyed and he is the only one that can help him.

This Amanda A.I. taunts outright, says they won't be victorious in escaping, that even if they are, someone will be hurt in the real world behind it, to which Markus can only assume he's a threat out there in real-time.

They scour the area, finally finding an out of place tree glowing. The panel is within the trunk of it and it has scrolling code, mostly meant to kill this takeover and to get them back out there. They waste no time and press their hands to it.

The bitter code and alt Zen Garden is deleted, along with the anger-fueled processes Kamski had encrypted into Markus.

They rouse a moment in the waking world too soon, Markus pining Connor down, hand fully around his face and head as if to crush it.

There were no more Connor models; he'd had almost killed his lover and not even meant to. Markus jerks back so hard amidst the panic and fear around them for them both, he ends up on his ass just looking guilty and scares of what could have happened and he has never respected Connor more that he did now for when this same situation happened to Connor fighting his prison in his mind the night of his freedom speech after a successful Revolution.

The codes were eradicated but the damage is done.

Because it does look extremely horrible to have a leader that can be used this way, especially if he's the figurehead, Kamski has to confess to his meddling in this: well he does in his way that that cast a worst of the damaging limelight into Cyberlife and away from his creations and less severely himself as well.

Once Markus is given a clean bill of health, Markus and Connor bond over the circumstances that had transpired.

Markus has to heal from the mental invasion, coming away with much more respect for Connor's survival overall from his Amanda A.I. The two become much closer, bond in a way that makes it even more obvious how much they mean to each other.

CyberLife is charged with attempted murder on Markus life, Kamski is offered his position back over his company, and things seem to fall into place... For presently. There is still much to be done for Android kind.

[auredosa]

Hej! I have seen that you make a lot of theories about Hitman and I love it! Im always into theorising about the characters, who they are, characterisations etc. So I wanted to ask you, what do you think are the four main char tees for people? How would you describe 47, Diana, Grey and Olivia as characters? What are they doing in their life? Do you have any guesses about that? I would be interested in to hear!

Heya anon! Yes, I’m super into analyzing the HITMAN franchise and its characters. I think it’s so fascinating to pick apart their motives, and how they carry out their agendas. Really, I just love plotting them on an alignment chart. Here’s what I’ve got for all four of them, but be warned, it’s a doozy!

Olivia Hall

In order to understand who Olivia is as a character, you need to understand her backstory. Olivia was essentially adopted by Grey when she was 7. Grey was working as a mercenary in Sierra Leone, and met Olivia as a child=soldier. Grey, in pity and rage at her situation, took her away, and got her a good education. They’ve been together through thick and thin.

What you need to get from this is that from a very young age, Olivia has been exposed to violence. She understands that using force is a surefire way to get what you want. She also has a bone to pick with the privileged organizations in the world who force innocents to fight their wars for them. Like Grey, she has noble intentions, and is willing to do terrible things because the ends justify the means.She’s more realistic than Grey, in that she doesn’t believe in “hearts and flowers crap” (as evidenced by her dialogue in the “Homecoming” cinematic) and doesn’t like to take chances of having hopeful things.

In the future, I can see Olivia carrying on the fight against greedy and corrupt organizations in the world. After Grey either dies, decides to settle down with his brother, or just chooses to retire from the whole mercenary thing, Olivia will probably continue to take down people like Providence with her hacking skills. After all, she’s young, he’s not. She’s Grey’s successor, in a way. The song “Ruckus” by Konata Small really just explains her entire character. 

Diana Burnwood

Man, is Diana one tough woman! Like Olivia, Diana fights for what’s right, and she’s not afraid to go rogue or disobey her superiors to carry out her own agenda. However, in contrast to Grey and Olivia, she has standards, and adheres to her own moral code no matter what. Unfortunately, as I covered in this post, she works for an organization that prides itself on being amoral, and while she herself may not be, she’s still complying with the exact kind of people Olivia and Grey despise.

We also have to talk about her relationship with 47. I think that in addition to being a good friend, Diana’s also a mentor for 47 in finding his humanity, as the devs had said themselves, she’s his conscience. She acknowledges and supports 47’s determination to take down the Partners, but she also wants him to do so in a way that won’t reduce him to an anarchist. 47 is a blank slate here, and she doesn’t want him to become a spite-filled abuser-of-force like Grey. She’s the mom-friend. However, I also think she’d recognize that some people deserve what’s coming. If Grey doesn’t change his tune, I don’t think she’ll be going out of her way to save him, unless, of course, she sees that 47 wants to see his brother alive.

I feel like Diana’s at a crossroads here. She can either remain loyal to the ICA, and remain on the side of the oppressor, or, she can go full rogue like Grey for their cause. Honestly, I don’t think her story will end with her doing either. We’ve seen Diana go rogue to pull off elaborate schemes to reform the ICA before, I don’t see why she couldn’t do it . . . again. (Seriously, did IO have to completely copy the story from Blood Money to Absolution for WoA?) She’s not going to let the ICA keep abusing their amoral privilege, but she also doesn’t want to stoop to the levels of Grey and start using violence to achieve her means. If she doesn’t get shot dead in HITMAN 3, I would love to see her become Head of the Board of the ICA.

Lucas Grey

I guess the great thing about already having milked this man’s character dry is that I know exactly what to write here! Simply put, Lucas Grey is blinded by revenge and is stooping down to the level of his oppressors in an attempt to free himself. Even though he's the clone that escaped the facility, Lucas Grey is the most trapped person in the Hitman series. He's lived his entire life filled with spite and hatred against those who have wronged him, and his desire to see them destroyed has completely consumed him. He think that destroying Providence and, mercilessly manipulating, killing and stepping over those who stand in his way is noble and vigilant. He believes that doing this will bring him closure and satisfaction, but in reality, he's only stooping down to his oppressors' level and becoming the very thing he sought out to destroy. He might not be operating on behalf of Province, but he has hurt countless people, deserving of punishment or not, in pursuit of his own goals, and this, in and of itself, makes him just as bad as Edwards and the Partners.

What he fails to realize is that it's not enacting revenge against the world that will make him satisfied, it's separating his identity from what Providence wanted him to be, and freeing himself from the cage that he's placed himself in. He's similar to Beneatha Younger from A Raisin in the Sun, in terms of how they play into the will of others. He insists that he's a free man, but he constantly asserts that he's defined by the cruel world he's been thrust into. His entire life's purpose is get even with Providence, and nothing more. Even if he and 47 manage to eliminate each of their affiliates and liquidate every of their assets, until he learns to break free and put his life towards something on his own terms, Lucas will never truly be free from the hold of Providence.

Now, there are two ways this can go: Either, Grey realizes that using force to eliminate all who’ve wronged him doesn’t make him better than them, and he stops, and settles down in Gontranno with his brother. Or, he insists that all that matters to him is getting even, and he either dies for his cause, gets arrested, or gets marked as a terrorist and gets himself assassinated, or something like that. I think he truly does care for 47 and his well being, and I think he wants to rekindle a relationship with him independent of Providence, the ICA, whatever. Really, this man needs to get his priorities straight. And hopefully, Diana, Olivia, and 47 will help him realize he can be so much more than just a martyr.

Agent 47

Honestly, this man’s a bit of a wild card. He doesn’t care about politics, morals, or any of the things that shape the above character. And that, in and of itself, makes him the most vulnerable. You can’t fight a war if you don’t know what you’re fighting for. Yes, he’s in agreement with Grey and their goal of eliminating the Partners, but what comes after that? I honestly cannot predict what he’d do, because there’s no motive in him beyond that. All we know is that he seems content to be an assassin, he’s fine using force, taking orders, and complying with his superiors. Seems bleak, right?

Well, no, not really. There’s a line that Edwards drops as you’re escorting him to the boat in the Isle of Sgail mission: “Interesting. The good doctor built his serum specifically to target the seats of your emotions. Has Miss Burnwood’s sense of justice rubbed off on you, I wonder?” Followed by 47 saying, “Just keep walking.” I think that, from a theorist’s viewpoint, we could interpret this as 47 admitting that yes, Diana’s sense of justice has rubbed off on him. He’s just still grappling with it, and doesn’t know where he stands. Does 47 necessarily share Diana’s sentiment of remaining neutral in the grand scheme of things? Hard to tell.

I think 47 will soon have to make a decision as to who, and what, he’s going to fight for. My current prediction is that he’ll roll with his brother and his brute-force playing-dirty plan, for now, just because he really wants to take down the Partners, but after that, he might try to convince Grey to, you know, stop the bloodshed. Or, if my current theory about Grey being after the ICA is right, maybe 47 will have to convince Grey that the ICA doesn’t need to be taken down, kill Grey, or pressure Diana to tell her higherups to become more vigilant. Considering that he’s still suspicious of Grey in cutscene before the Bank mission, and the fact that Diana and 47 have spent 20+ years together, I think he’ll remain loyal to Diana at the end of the day. Let’s pray that Grey won’t kill his own brother if, or when, their paths separate.

. . . I mean, my ideal ending? They all go back to a reformed ICA, taking down corrupt people who deserve it and using diplomacy when they can. Olivia gets hired as a hacker, or becomes Grey and 47′s new handler, Diana becomes head of the board (and still keeps in touch with 47, because duh, unbreakable bond), and Grey and 47 are just tag-teaming assignments all badass movie-like. After all, the family that slays together stays together!

[sirsharp-a]

Do As He Says. ❜

Summary:  Never be afraid again.  Recall that you can make even God quiver. Warnings:  None. Parts:  Part 1  |  Part 2  |  Part 3  |  Part 4  |  Part 5 ( here! )

                                                         _____   【 🞮 】   _____

    The words hung heavily in the air for what felt like eons.

    Maybe I misjudged this entire thing.  Maybe I was about to do something reckless.  No matter how much chaos the rogue hybrid had caused, did he really deserve to die for it?  And more importantly, even if he did deserve death, did an innocent woman like Grace Adler deserve the same?  She’d already made it clear that she was willing to follow him if he vanished.  The deity wasn’t used to feeling this unsure…  but he knew that such purposeful violence went against his moral code.  He certainly wouldn’t have entertained the idea of it had he not thought it was necessary.

    “What…?”   Grace asked softly, as if holding her breath, blue eyes shimmering with tears. They made the God feel ashamed.  How could he cause her such pain?  Sure, he had his reasons--  good ones at that--  but now that he was looking at her and not the source of his frustration, he couldn’t quite believe how overzealous he had become.

    Killing Edgar…  yes, undeniably, it would solve problems, but it’s wrong.     Inhumane, even in spite of all he’s done.    And this poor lady…     how     could I frighten her so?

                                       “It feels like  YOU  don’t see the big picture.”

    Perhaps I don’t.

    “... the things you said moved me,”   Raku admitted, form now tiny and timid.   “Something must be done, Grace, but perhaps I…  made a mistake.  I was…  under the impression that nobody would notice.  It seems that Edgar means a lot to you.”

   “I love him,”   she said through clenched teeth, her hands curled tight in the lapels of his jacket.   “Y-You’re God…  why else would I do all I could to oppose you if not for that?”

   She was far from foolish.  She knew that Edgar had been reanimated as a lye for  some reason  -  and that whatever the reason was, it wasn’t a good one  -  but she didn’t care. Whatever he had done back then, in his past life, didn’t concern her.  She hadn’t even been alive then.  His sins had not touched her.  Regardless of what lurked beneath his surface, she was quite certain that her opinion of him would not change.

   Shakily, she raised a hand to wipe at her eyes, trying to find refuge in the gentle grip on her waist.  Meekly:   “... what else can you do?”

    The God shuffled on his feet momentarily, thinking it through.  There are things I can do.  I cannot change the course of the universe, but I can work around it.  But does this creature deserve it, truly...?  Is my pity for her clouding my judgement?

    "Edgar is currently living on a borrowed clock.  Taking him off of said clock is the way to fix the imbalance.  Death, unfortunately, is the most logical answer.  But sustained life…  that is also an option."

    "S… Sustained…?"     "Mm.  Immortality.  That would have similar effects to death."

    "B-But…  how?  That doesn't make sense.  Those options are opposites.  And we...  we're already immortal."

    Raku shook his head gently.   "You are circumstantially ageless.  If a hunter comes along with a gun and shoots you, you die.  Why else do you not want wars to break out? Because lyes fight to the death.  People die.  Your people die."

    She hesitated slightly, then nodded in understanding.  He was right.  It was precisely the reason that even somebody as loose a canon as  Edgar  retreated when dangerous weapons entered the picture;  they could kill him.  At any point, just like anybody else, he could die.

    "Making it so that Edgar is unable to die renders the concept of time obsolete.  A life without end cannot be finished, therefore his pre-determined purpose as a hybrid no longer applies. It is a loophole, at best, but it will technically work.  It is more a burden on the conscience than it is on the universe."

    Fuck your conscience, Edgar thought bitterly to himself.  He was too smart to say anything, knew all too well that he was walking a thin line between life and death.  If he chose to speak now, it could wind up costing him dearly.  He had had enough shame for one night, being forced to his knees like a subservient dog, faced with the knowledge that he would die alone and unknown.  At this point, he'd do anything to escape such a cold fate.

    "But I must warn you, Grace…"   Raku began, tone ice-cold and serious.   "It is a very dangerous concept.  He may escape death but he will never escape pain.  And you…  you will remain as you are.  If you die, he is destined to continue alone.  He cannot follow you."   The explanation was grave, as dreary as rainfall at a funeral, and he fumbled none with his words as he did with his fingers.  Floating gently:   "Immortality is often used as a punishment too, you know.  The absence of an end is sometimes enough to drive somebody insane.  How did Valor put it… 'the journey to death is the point of our being'?  Not having a reprieve from the burdens of life can be far more incapacitating than--"

    "Stop,"   Grace interjected firmly.  Her nails were digging into her arms, body trembling lightly. After a few seconds of tense silence:   "Please, I know that you're … trying to be honest with me, and to help, but…  I don't care about any of that.  At least this way, there's a chance for us to be happy.  There's a chance for things to remain stable, better for everybody."   She hesitated briefly before finishing her thoughts.   "... I can help carry his burdens.  I can’t do anything for a dead man.

    The deity stared for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding.   Her love for him is crystal-clear.  It would be insane to look at her and see anything else.  She would do anything to stay with him, and she would walk to the ends of the realm to salvage what she thinks she has with him.

    Is that what your past wives thought of you too?                That you were a good man? Did they not ‘deserve’ it?

    Perhaps a sadness you cannot escape is a more fitting punishment after all.                 When your guilt catches up with you, there will be nothing you can do.

    Though he didn't comment on it, he made a vow to watch over them closely.  He could only do so much to intervene-- he couldn't control anybody's will, nor could he meddle with affairs that did not concern him--  but he'd make it a point to watch them from the shadows sometimes. There was no way he was granting Edgar a reprieve from the grave without making sure that the one who had appealed for it was safe.  If anything, this proved Grace's formidable character to him and little else.

    “... very well.”   He watched the pair observe him as he ascended a short ways into the air, short form glowing the same ghostly white that his weapon had before Grace had forced it back into its metaphorical sheath.   “I do not like to kill.  I want that to be clear.  I would only ever bet on death if I thought there was no other way.”   His eyes turned to Grace, head gesturing to the space beside her.   “Please step aside.”

    The scout was clearly reluctant to leave Edgar’s side.  For several seconds, she remained clinging to him, eyeing the deity with evident distrust.  Though she didn’t want to complicate the situation further, she was hesitant to place faith in a creature that had been so bent on killing her lover just minutes before.  Just because she seemed to have gotten through to him didn’t mean that he wasn’t trying to appease her--  to get her out of the way so that he could finish the brutal deed--

    “Grace,”   Edgar uttered softly, earning her attention quickly.  He could see it in her face… that  frazzled fear;  her attempt to look strong, even though she looked broken.  I hate that look for you.  I want you together.  I want you to be you.  His hand touched her shoulder tentatively.   “... do it.  Do as he says.  I want to stay with you.”

    “... I--”

    “It’s alright,”   he insisted, a meek smile shaping his lips.   “It’s alright.”

    Somewhat pacified, she did as she was told.  Watching with mounting anxiety as a pale light began to surround the God once more, she fell a little further back, valuing her safety.  He wouldn’t kill Eddie now, she told herself firmly, he wouldn’t.  A strange incantation reached her ears, though she knew not of the words spoken.  A different language, a tongue she could never imagine nor understand, like age-old Latin that had been rendered long dead.

    For just a brief moment, her world flashed a piercing white, pain exploding behind her eyes. Her arms shielded her gaze, a quiet whimper leaving her without much thought.  When she opened them again, she looked for him, searching desperately for his outline in the fading static, eyes still adjusting to the light

                                                                                                    Edgar was gone.

    Evidently confused, heart constricting painfully as the empty space registered in her brain, she looked up at Raku with a helpless sort of desperation, eyes wide and heartbroken.   “... where is he?”   It was asked softly, as if he she hardly dared to utter it at all.  When Raku looked down at her, it was with a hooded gaze.

                                                          You didn’t.  You didn’t.  You WOULDN’T...!

    It felt as if all the strength she once possessed had left her, arms floppy, knees glued to the ground, eyes wet--

                                                                                      “ ... where’s my Eddie?”

[doctorhawke]

all six of my oc hawkes in one big thing, i have an au where they are all a big happy family and run amok in kirkwall

below the cut theres “brief” bios for them all (including their names because my renditions of their handwriting might not be very legible) and a little chart showing more insight into their personality makeup

all the ages are from act 1, after a year in kirkwall, relative to carver and bethany’s 20 (fyi they both survive in this au and both become grey wardens. cannot IMAGINE that any of these hawkes would let one of their littlest siblings fight an ogre 1v1 when theres literally eight of them lmfao they tag team it like they do everything)

steve hawke- he/him, age 27, adopted by the hawkes at 8. steve is a mage, a healer, and a pacifist. as such when there are fights he will focus on incapacitating enemies without harming them (force magic and mind blast comes in handy) and especially on supporting the team through healing. he’s gay and immediately takes to anders, mainly because he spends a lot of time helping in his clinic. 

he strongly believes in mage rights especially as malcolm imparted a lot of responsibility on him towards his younger mage siblings, nyx and bethany. he’s protective and a bit of a worrier, though as time goes on in kirkwall he becomes more and more exhausted, and starts to cope through making light of things. post-game, he and anders are on the run. 

—————————

kit hawke- he/him, age 24, bio kid, and a dual-wielding rogue. he’s bold, charming, and a bit of a pessimist- all of which kirkwall amplifies by virtue of being a crazy fucking city. kit is also pretty business minded and usually spearheads bone pit related shenanigans. varric (who deeply cares for all the hawkes of course) immediately takes to him and the two are inseparable. 

kit is bi, and likes to have fun, though over time he falls for both isabela and fenris, and over time the three get together and become the most impressive trio you ever saw. all kit’s siblings are kind of like “are you serious dude, we have a limited number of friends and you end up with two of them? what about the rest of us” but considering the amount of drama and heartbreak kit undergoes over the years in relation to his love life, they all kind of figure he’s earned the happy ending. post-game the three of them become pirates on isabela’s ship and free slaves in between tracking down hidden treasure or whatever it is that pirates do, and they eventually have adorable baby twins. 

—————————-

syl hawke- she/her, age 26, bio kid but only leandra’s, she actually is varric’s half sibling (though she does NOT know this and the sibling rivalry that develops upon them meeting is incomprehensible to the both of them). so syl is the shortest of the bunch, and looks a lot more like varric and bartrand than kit, carver, or bethany, despite them all being related. 

syl’s the only warrior of the group (other than carver- a dynamic duo), fights with hammers exclusively, and has a tendency to be super intense. she doesn’t really get humor at all, in the rare case that she accidentally makes a joke and people laugh she assumes they’re laughing AT her. she’s also very shoot first and ask questions later, and the only hawke more protective than steve is. her big sister energy is off the charts and she’s prepared to kill any templar that so much as looks at her family. as such she’s staunchly pro-mage.

she’s a lesbian and has massive game despite not really being any good at flirting- it’s probably her sheer intensity. she and isabela have a brief fling, tallis is very taken with her, and she has a rivalry-fueled sexual tension with aveline for ages (the long road is a VERY fun quest to play through with syl). however she was always very supportive of and close with merrill and eventually the two fall in love. once they’re together they’re insanely sweet and have mega chemistry and i love them so fucking much. post-game they’re forced to leave kirkwall but end up living in the denerim alienage.

—————————-

lith hawke- she/her, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with her twin nyx. an archer rogue, with speed taking precedence over power or precision. lith is a lot to take in okay. she’s the only one who’s pro-templar in the group, and is a rabid andrastian. back home in lothering her chantry beliefs were instrumental in keeping her family safe, as she not only knew every templar by name (as the whole family did) but also is endlessly trustworthy to them and to all the chantry sisters and mothers. countless times a templar might have come calling to take away one of her siblings or her father, but was dissuaded by lith- after all, little lith hawke would NEVER help hide apostates, right?

she supports her siblings because she believes that in the end their souls will be saved. (the only thing that freaks her out more than nyx’s blood magic is when syl casually drops that she’s thinking about converting to merrill’s religion.) she doesn’t trust mages if they aren’t related to her, and always advocates for the circle when given the chance. she’s best friends with fenris and they hang out a lot, more and more as the years pass. since merrill and anders both move into the hawke estate (which was already a bit of a circus, can you imagine the chaos?) lith finds herself more and more outnumbered ideologically and often escapes to fenris’ mansion for some quiet. 

during the endgame, she sides against her family and the mages. she basically has a villainous breakdown. she helps them kill meredith and once it’s revealed that meredith had been influenced by the lyrium idol, lith’s whole worldview is pretty much shattered. post-game she leaves the city and seeks out her cousin, ash amell (i have eight wardens so im not going to get into this but basically my amell and my cousland (eve) are in a gay throuple with leliana and its dope as all hell). spending time with ash, eve, and leliana is very healing for her, but all her siblings assume she’s dead and she doesn’t see them for years after kirkwall. 

—————————-

nyx hawke- they/them, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with their twin lith. nyx is the blood mage of the group, and is an absolute icon quite frankly. they’re very chaotic, and especially close with kit, merrill, and isabela. nyx has a ton of fun fighting, and they and syl make an especially good team in combat. nyx always looks up to syl and its very sweet, and syl is the only one in the family who never once messed up nyx’s pronouns (everyone is very good about this of course, and by kirkwall its a non-issue, but even lith slipped up once or twice early on). 

they have very noodly arms because they’ve never had to worry about fighting hand to hand when running out of mana, because of the blood magic. this leads to quite a bit of teasing but tbh they pull it off. nyx is bi and has a thing with isabela for a short while but in the end they’re better as best friends. 

nyx and lith are very close. they’re often perfectly in sync when doing things, especially in combat, and have that twin esp thing going on which can get spooky at times. however they also bicker a lot, and obviously clash on ideology pretty much constantly. though this is the norm nyx always assumed they would have each other’s backs no matter what when it came down to the nitty gritty, and lith’s betrayal during the endgame is really heartbreaking for them. 

over the years anders and nyx do a lot of collaborating when it comes to mage rights. they help him polish his manifesto, and smuggle mages out of the gallows. the only real reason nyx isn’t brought into the loop on the chantry explosion was a mixtures of anders’ crushing guilt and his knowledge that if he told nyx and not steve, steve would be really hurt. (however he couldn’t tell steve because he didn’t want the deaths to be on steve’s conscience- anders knows he definitely would have helped if it came down to that). post-game nyx goes on to be one of the leaders of the mage rebellion.

—————————-

lou hawke- he/him, age 22, adopted by the hawkes at 10. hes a cowboy and i love him. an archer rogue, he prioritizes powerful firing over speed or precision. he’s a massive sweetheart, terminally polite, and has massive ears that he’s self-conscious of and tries to cover with his hair. however whenever his hair gets long enough to cover them leandra starts poking and prodding him to get a trim and he’s always too soft to refuse for long, beginning the cycle again (and after leandra is murdered he always keeps his hair to her liking- he gets weepy if it grows too long). he’s the only hawke i’ve drawn without his in-game outfit because this fucking game doesn’t have cowboy hats or cute shirts with tassles and i do what i want. 

lou also plays instruments, he’s got a guitar and a harmonica and plays the piano passably. he IS the piano man in the eyes of the hanged man’s patrons. sing us a song, they tell him, etc. he manages ten minutes of harmonica in the deep roads, citing excellent acoustics, until anders tells him to stop because the darkspawn will hear. when the hawkes get rich lou buys a horse and goes for morning rides out on the wounded coast. 

lou is bi, and runs around for years with a massive crush on isabela but that doesn’t exactly work out. he ends up with jethann (theres a lot of lore here but suffice it to say its extremely tender) and post-game they leave kirkwall and end up owning a ranch not far outside denerim. lou hires lots of farmhands that end up looking to him as a father figure and its super sweet, and jethann refuses to do manual labor. 

—————————-

this got insanely long i am SO sorry flkjsdlkgjlkcxjglsfkd

feel free to send any asks relating to them because i really love this family so much and could talk about them forever dlfskjlxcjglskd if you couldnt tell from this diatribe

[atamascolily]

Lily liveblogs: “Resistance Reborn,” part two

I forgot to mention that Wedge and Norra have a sweet farmhouse with a mudroom and everything, but they also dug a secret escape tunnel, which I know they will be using in just a few minutes along with the bug-out bag Wedge packed when Snap shows up. Turns out that Norra secretly packed one too because they are just that Drift Compatible. LOL.

Wedge can’t believe that Ackbar is dead--”I thought he would live forever”. HARD SAME. Wedge is also devastated by Luke’s death, and again, same.

Snap says that he was leading Black Squadron at the earlier Grail City battle when Poe showed up to save the day and also break the bad news that He Done Fucked Up at Crait, so I’m not sure why Poe wasn’t with his squadron in TLJ, except... plot. At least Poe got to save the day here, even if it happened off-screen.

Page 77 and Finn and Rose finally show up! Leia is dreaming about sausage and biscuits (really) and also an old rival-friend whose name I only recognize because I skimmed the Wook article for Bloodline last week. Leia decides they’re going to Ryloth to seek help from an old friend.

Also, I forgot Nien Nunb managed to survive TLJ and is hanging out in the Falcon, too, so good on him.

Leia makes Rey talk to the Space Authorities when they get to Ryloth and Rey... says the first thing that comes into her head, namely that’s she from the “Han system”, LOLOLOL.

Ryloth looks different from what I remember in Legends ‘verse and I assume I would know more about it if I followed The Clone Wars. There’s some name-dropping about the Syndullas, but nothing else rings a bell. There’s some Ryloth internal politics, but the Resistance gets to stay for the moment because they owe Leia a favor.

Also, Poe Dameron’s hair is fantastic:

“....I always did like your hair a little long.”

“Now you tell me. Right before I join up again.”

“The Resistance will let you keep your hair. Have you seen Poe Dameron?”

“He does have nice hair,” Wedge agreed.

IT’S LITERALLY CANON, Y’ALL.

I cannot keep all the squadrons straight: Phantom Squadron, Inferno Squadron, etc, etc. Really, I only have enough brain cells to keep track of Rogue Squadron and they apparently don’t exist anymore?? *shrug* Whatever.

Poe tries to comm Jess and Suralinda to see if they’ve had any luck tracking down this ex-Imperial who might hate the First Order as much as they do--only to discover that the pair has gotten themselves involved in the Rattak gladitatorial death pits to reach their contact and Jess is talking to him in between matches. Glad to see that the tradition of making pilots do Spy Things they are questionably qualified to do continues in this ‘verse.

Sometimes droid names are spelled out phonetically and sometimes they are not, and I’m not sure why.

Leia jokes with Artoo about making him the leader of the Resistance and honestly would that be such a bad thing??

The remaining Resistance fighters show up on Ryloth, but it’s Tw’lek Halloween, so everybody will assume the  sounds of the ships are ghosts. General Rieekan shows up, probably because the ST has killed off everyone else, and we need a familiar name and face amidst the OCs. A bunch of new characters are introduced and I have no idea if any of them are relevant or not.

Poe breaks up a fight as some of the ex-Imperials have killed New Republic friends and family of the Resistance fighters, and everyone has to go around the room and admit all the terrible things they’ve done so that they can see that nobody’s hands are clean and they should all just shut up and work to get rid of the common enemy. Leia’s is that her father is Darth Vader and I’m like... under the circumstances, that is not quite the same thing as committing war crimes... especially since you barely even knew the man and it’s not like he raised you or anything. Meanwhile, Poe has to publicly confess about the failed mutiny in TLJ and vows to do better in the future.

Poe talks to one of the new enlistees, and they make a pact they’re going to race, and if Poe loses, he has to shave his head.

There was no way to save face now, and besides, he would win. He had to. He loved his hair.

Sadly, this does not happen in the novel, but I love that Poe Dameron’s Fabulous Hair is A Thing.

Meanwhile, the obnoxious Correllian bureaucrat (his name is Bratt, just in case you didn’t get the hint) gets a secret assignment to shepherd some First Order prisoners, and continues to be a condescending asshole to his staff along gendered lines. The male aide he keeps heaping praises on has an attack of conscience and steals the list and gives it to a member of the Collective, a group of rogue scientists/hackers who sound way more interesting than anything else so far.

Back on Ryloth, Maz comms with information about that same list--a friends of hers has a copy and is going to sell it to the highest bidder at auction, so Finn and Poe get to play dress-up and go after it. Leia is convinced this list contains her missing friend (she’s right, because we saw the Correllian’s full version earlier) so it’s a go.

Wedge wants to go too, because he’s from Corellia, so they end up sending two separate teams - one to get the list (Finn, Poe) and one to steal ships (Wedge, Norra and the ex-Imperial badass from the gladitorial pits, Teza). They also send a bunch of OCs in the newly dubbed “Dross Squadron” to a different place to steal ships, but I mostly skimmed over that section because the narrative had given me no reason to care about them.

On Corellia, Yama corners her co-worker, correctly accusing him of betraying their boss. Monti explains that her boss hates her so much, he won’t believe her. Bratt comes back from lunch and Yama tries to explain, only for Bratt to start yelling at her while Monti walks off, never to be seen again.

It’s page 180 and Finn and Poe and Rey are finally in the same place at the same time having a conversation, and I’m glad it’s happening finally, but it should have happened a hell of a lot earlier, this was literally all I wanted from this book. But there’s a lot to unpack despite the fact that almost nothing happens, so I’ll save that for another post.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Two: Gateway ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

Well...this isn’t how he planned this journey to go, if he’s going to be honest with himself. When Itachi approached him with a plan to make a mountain of gold with what would likely be only average effort...well, he wasn’t about to say no. Sasuke isn’t a greedy young man, but he is a bit desperate. Their family, fallen from grace when he was a boy when their homeland was conquered, are only shadows of their former glory and influence. If they could just get some of their money back...then surely the Uchiha name would have a fighting chance!

But that means earning it. Their new ruling class aren’t too fond of those able to wield the elements...and that’s made things hard. So a job like that Itachi had described - rescuing a kidnapped princess from the clutches of her personal hand mage gone rogue - seemed the perfect opportunity. Their magic would put them on good footing. Add in that it would be two on one, and...surely they couldn’t fail.

Plans, however, have a way of...changing.

Because while they did indeed find the missing princess they’ve been looking for...there’s a slight problem. For Hinata, daughter of the king Hiashi of the line Hyūga, was not kidnapped. Or so she claims, backed up by the woman painted as the guilty party. Oh no...the tale was indeed far more complicated than that.

What Itachi had been told was that a woman - a mage and bequeathed to the princess when they were both only children - had stolen the princess away as a means of leverage for her escape. A citizen of a conquered land, she had been treated as an object, gifted to Hinata as a servant and plaything. The story went that her hatred had grown silently, never shown, until she stole the princess away to ensure her safety until reaching the border.

But...that’s not the truth, or so Hinata claims.

Itachi had held up a hand upon her rather blunt declaration of the true reason behind their being missing. “...your father was going to have you killed…?”

The princes gave a grave nod. “...several weeks ago...he discovered a truth I’d been hiding from him for quite some time. My mother - his first wife - was n-not what she seemed. She was a mage, but kept it hidden from all. My powers woke when I was young, and it was my handmaid who helped me hide it, and helped to teach me.”

The brothers’ eyes had gone wide, exchanging a knowing glance.

Hinata’s eyes dropped somberly to the floor. “...I knew he’d be furious should he ever discover it, but also that - eventually - it would slip. And when it did, he f-flew into a rage. Forbade me from ever using it, and began seeking ways to strip a mage of their powers. It was then we began to plot an escape. But just as we were preparing, my father revealed his own plan: a coverup. He would have me killed, and place the blame on my handmaid: spin a tale of hate and jealousy when in fact...she’s my closest friend.”

“...so when you escaped, he altered the tale…”

“Yes. We’re fleeing for the northern border - the lands Hiashi lost in the last war, and my previous homeland,” the maiden mage then offered, stepping up. “We plan to find asylum there. If we do, Hinata will be safe...and I can try to find the remnants of my people. We just have to evade those like you seeking to take Hinata back. If they were to succeed...I can guarantee she’d be dead within a fortnight.”

Itachi hummed in thought, a hand at his chin. “...might I make a suggestion?”

The women exchanged a look, and then warily nodded.

“First, let me ask: have you any coin? Surely you need it to make such a journey. But I can’t imagine you were able to raid Hiashi’s coffers before you fled.”

At that, Hinata gave a hint of a smile. “...I have my inheritance.”

“What, on you?” Sasuke asked skeptically.

“In a manner of speaking, but...for safety, I can’t really tell you.”

“I see...forgive my brother, he often speaks before thinking,” the elder then apologized, tone hinting at Sasuke to curb his tongue with a glance. “Then perhaps we could make a bit of a deal…?”

“What kind of deal…?”

“Well, when we began this quest, we sought to earn gold for our family by returning you ladies to the king. But now, we can hardly do so and keep our consciences happy. So what if we were to turn our intentions on their heads?”

“...meaning?” the handmaid asked.

“Rather than capture you...we could escort you. We know these lands well, and we are both adept in magic like yourselves. With which we could guide you through the safest routes, and help protect you...respectively.”

While the princess looked hopeful, her handmaid held out a bracing hand. “...why should we trust you?”

“I realize you have little more than our word to go on, but...in a sense, we know your struggle, ma’am. Our family was also assimilated unwillingly when we were conquered. It’s for them we work to refill our own coffers. In truth, we’ve little love for Hiashi...as mages, he sees us as lesser and tainted. By helping you, we could kill two birds with a single stone. Perhaps earn some coin, and also deliver a bit of a blow to the man who reduced our family to ruin.”

“...so you’re loyal not to Hiashi, but to yourselves...and your family.”

“And - out of necessity - coin. Should you agree to part with a small sum of the princess’ treasury, we’ll gladly lend you our aid.”

“And if someone were to offer you more to harm us?”

Itachi gave a wry smile. “Well...you also happen to have the advantage of being an enemy of our enemy. It will take more than that, I assure you.”

“...I think we should go with them,” Hinata had murmured, earning an uncertain glance from her companion.

“But, my lady…?”

“They’re right. We need help. And we have a common enemy.” There had been a small flicker of an emotion across her face at the word none of them could identify. “As far as I can s-see...we’ll all help one another. And it’s safer to travel together. Please…”

The mage sighed heavily. “...as you wish. But your safety is still my utmost priority, my lady.”

“I know.”

It was then, after a few more haggles over details, that the group of four had left the strange cave and took to the road. With only two horses between them, they maintained a slower pace to the next town. The mage had saddled up with Itachi, and Sasuke was stuck with the princess.

Thankfully, she hasn’t said much, just sitting behind him with a careful grip around his middle for balance. Sasuke’s never been too keen on women. Needless to say...he’s a bit unsteady.

“May I ask...which war saw you become citizens of my father’s nation…?”

“...it was when I was fairly small,” he manages to reply, tone a little terse with exasperation at the small talk. “Maybe five or so.”

“I see...the same, then, that I was given my handmaid. Only for the north to be conquered instead by the Namikaze king a few years later.”

“...that’s where we’re headed, eh?”

“Yes. We hope to find safety there.”

“What would they want with a princess no longer tied to a kingdom?”

“Their king and ours have a-always been at odds. My father’s loss to him left him embittered, and there’s been a long-standing stalemate between them. But unlike here...mages are free to live as they please in the north. It would be a personal blow if they played a hand in t-thwarting my father’s attempts to be rid of me. And even if no longer a princess by rite, I still carry royal blood.”

“Hn...never been one much for politics.”

That earns a soft laugh. “Nor have I. In all honesty...I’m glad to be rid of my title. It’s better suited to my sister.”

“...so, she’s a half-sister, then?”

“Yes...my mother died when I was four or so. Father then remarried, and soon had Hanabi. And after all of this, I wonder…”

“...what?”

“...if her death was planned as mine was. If Father remarried and had another child for fear that I would be like her…”

In spite of himself, Sasuke balks a bit in surprise. “...would he…?”

“...I can no longer assume he wouldn’t.”

Unsure what else to say, Sasuke instead looks up as they pass beneath an arch that houses a gateway into their next destination. The women need horses if they’re to make any decent pace. “...well, we’re here. My brother and I will buy the mounts. You two stay out of sight, and do your best to disguise yourselves. Speak to no one, and try not to leave the inn.”

“...right.”

With two rooms rented for the night, they settle the pair in before leaving for the livery.

“We’ll bring a meal with us,” Itachi promises. “Just be patient, if you would.”

“Thank you.”

Glancing to Hinata, Sasuke hesitates a moment. “...keep yourself safe until we get back.”

“...I will.”

                                                         .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to day 321!)       I'm super tired sooo I'll be brief!      More of the old RP-turned-fic...thing. Kinda. I dunno how to describe it xD Fantasy stuff! Mages! Not-so-kidnapped princesses! Evil kings! All we need are some dragons and our checklist will be complete, right?      I dunno if I'll do more of this - I'm...unsure about a lot lately given just how DRAINING and busy life has been (and will be) for...a while. So forgive me with how much I'm falling behind, I just CANNOT keep up. But as always, I WILL FINISH THIS. It's just gonna stretch past.      ALSO! Since we ARE nearing the end, please PLEASE let me know somehow - be it comments here, messages on Tumblr, etc. - your top pick(s) for ideas from this challenge you'd like to see given more chapters! I AM going to take a fairly big break after this challenge cuz OOF, but I DO want to do some short multichap fics once I'm recuperated, so...if you have a favorite, let me know, and I'll see if I can do more with it!      Anyway, I reallllly need to sleep, so I'll leave it at that - thanks for reading!

[robertodacosta]

do you have any favorite new mutants or x-men comics? or even just really good ones with samberto moments

I got you on all three counts. I hope this is helpful! if it is and you have further questions, lmk! if it’s unhelpful and you’re confused, lmk what’s not working for you, and I can try and help.

NEW MUTANTS

New Mutants (1983)- i personally enjoy the Claremont run the most, and am lukewarm on Simonson’s and Liefeld’s runs, but it’s the Definitive nm title]

X-Force (1991)- skip the first 11 or so Liefeld issues, but absolutely start before #17, as its one of Sam’s best issues, full stop, and its an issue that explains to you how X-Force aren’t what the New Mutants once were, and aren’t what the X-Men are now. X-Force isn’t a NM book, but Sam, Roberto, and Dani are mainstays of this team at various parts of the book, Rictor, Tabitha and Jimmy aren’t part of the classic NM roster but they were all on the team/adjacent to the team before the formation of X-Force, and honestly, the lines blur together, XF and NM are 2 different teams, but it’s the same generation of X-Men. the child’s play arc and #75 are also great Xi’an cameos.

X-MEN UNLIMITED #43- reunion issue babey!!! it’s the o5 New Mutants solving a case together, with that sweet, sweet sienkiewicz art

New Mutants Forever (2011)- 5 issue mini set around the time of Fallen Angels, so Roberto and Warlock are referenced, but not in this book. it’s a good nm story, but no samberto, because no Roberto

New Mutants (2001) #13- the rest of the book has good Dani and Xi’an stuff, but this reunion issue is really nice for bringing the surviving team back together

New Mutants (2009) #1-25, 28- Zeb Wells run is great, #28 is a good issue because it actually acknowledges the massive amount of trauma this team has been subjected to, but the rest of Abnett’s run doesn’t do it for me, particularly the replacement of Sam, Xi’an, and Illyana with Nate and Blink. I like Dani leading the team outside of the context of the X-Men, but it’s a neat idea with boring execution imo

X-MEN

so honestly, when it comes to x-men comic recs, I’m of the opinion that it all comes down to personal preference. I gravitate towards runs that feature my favorite characters, so that’s reflected here. my best, most earnest reading rec for X-Men is to figure out which characters you vibe with, and to just read their appearances. if you’re overwhelmed with where to start, feel free to send me an ask at any point with any x-man, and I will give you recs to start with, because I have a shortlist for pretty much any 616 x-men.

but here are my arbitrarily chosen favorites.

X-Men Grand Design by Ed Piskor- I cannot recommend this enough as an entry x-comic. There are three books, two-issues each, that survey about 20 years of x-men history. the first two, X-Men Grand Design and X-Men Grand Design: Second Genesis, with the third releasing its first issue the final Wednesday in May.

Uncanny X-Men (1983) #214-252- everybody has a favorite run of uncanny. my favorite run is the australian outback x-men, because i’m a clown who likes Dazzler and Longshot. it’s a fun run, but you’ve just got to roll with the Maddie thing, and accept you skipped everyone recognizing she’s identical to Jean and choosing to ignore it. i also like the utopia run of uncanny, from #500 onwards.

X-Men (1991) #188-204- this is my FAVORITE run of x-men, both because it’s like, the second comic i ever read...........went and picked up the first x-men trade i could find at my local public library at age 17 after finishing whedon’s astonishing run, and I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but this team is so balls to the walls uncontained CHAOS that its still my favorite x-men run after rereading it in context.  it’s rogue’s proactive team of x-men, with a roster of cannonball, iceman, MYSTIQUE?, cable, sabretooth......., lady mastermind???????, and omega sentinel. some weird shit goes down and i don’t love the mystique writing, but it’s fun. its a good sam run that falls between his time on x-treme and leading the new mutants again, when he’s coping with jay’s death. thanks, mike carey. the run continues for 3 issues after 204, as part of the Messiah Complex arc. I like MC well enough, but not everyone does, and reading the 3 issues of this run out of context won’t be that interesting.

Storm (2014)- greg pak’s run, this is a really good solo and a good x-men book.

Longshot (1985) and Longshot Saves the Marvel Universe (2014)-these are both REALLY FUN BOOKS, especially if you like Longshot (I do). i reread them last night to rank all of Longshot’s appearances by how hot his glowing eye was, and both absolutely lived up to my own hype.

X-Treme X-Men (2013)- Dazzler leads x-men of the multiverse to kill evil Xaviers. she wears a cowboy hat. it’s only 13 issues. this concept sells itself.

SAMBERTO

Marvel Graphic Novel #4 to see how they meet

I’d rec reading all the way through New Mutants (1983) and at least Fallen Angels #1 to see their friendship develop as students!

X-Force (1991)- particularly #15, 17, 44

Young X-Men #1-6

Astonishing Tales (2009), the ‘Bobby and Sam Go to Mojoworld’ story. this story is uh. has some stuff going on. not my favorite hickman writing. can’t really recommend it on good conscience as a comic, but if you want samberto recs, it’s literally a book about Roberto having Sam come to his home so they can vacation together,  and ending up in Mojoworld. 

Avengers (2013)- start with #2 for Roberto and Sam on vacation together AGAIN getting recruited for the Avengers, and just read the entire run, because it’s hard to skip around in. also, I don’t remember which issues have good samberto moments, but it’s really fun to see them be the Avengers resident dumb bros.

Avengers World #9- this is non-negotiable. this issue is the new testament of the samberto bible. the things they say to each other in this issue sound like personalized wedding vows.

New Avengers (2016) #10-18- Sam commutes through space weekly to be on Roberto’s team. his two priorities in life are his wife and son, and Roberto. buddy...............it’s time to self-reflect.

US Avengers-it’s like 12 issues, the first issue is really sweet, and then there’s a whole arc about Roberto and the US Avengers having to go to space to rescue Sam when he’s assumed dead. it’s fun!

[ohallows]

...... i dont even.... okay.

the new detective comics preview shows fake-tim drake and steph brown and in it this panel happens:

every time i look at it i get.... angrier....somehow...

like, a. im pissed because this is the main continuity now. batwoman hinted at totalitarian leader tim drake and now we get this shit, b. does dc even know who tim drake is or ?

this isn’t who tim is! this is never what he stood for! why doesn’t dc know how to write their own fucking characters! its been OVER 7 YEARS since we’ve had a COMPETENT WRITER for tim drake and im literally just so sick of it like what kind of next-level character assassination is this fucking bullshit

okay. heres a post where i rage about dc and how dc literally doesn’t understand anything about tims character. im putting off reading a paper that i need to read by tomorrow in order to do this because im so heated

(ALSO as a side note? fuck dc for doing this to steph too? in no world ever would she be like ‘yeah sounds good babe lets do it’ PLEASe are you fucking kidding me? - but thats for another post)

t0 start - i am FULLY AWARE that this tim drake isn’t the real tim drake. but guess what, dc doesn’t seem to care, and this seems to be the tim that we’re stuck with. sadly. whatever. whatever! so uh, here’s a reminder to dc the type of person and hero that tim is and why they literally fucking SUCK with this stupid ‘utopia’ bullshit that he’s spouting that makes... no sense with his character... 

is this a pointless post? sure. do i give literally TWO SHITS? no, because im mad, and when i’m mad, i argue, which is what this is. 

first off, tim never wanted to be batman. literally never! (sorry im not cutting these panels im too angry and disappointed to deal with it)

(a. i love bart allen / b. tim doesn’t want to be batman!)

(LITERALLY SCARED of being batman.)

see! the kid never wanted to be batman. (and i swear upon whatever god watches over this sad fucking rock that if someone @’s me and says “well what about battle for the cowl?” i will hire a fucking sniper to kill you i do not care you’re fucking wrong battle for the cowl is a terrible book)

LETS TALK ABOUT THE TWO TITANS TOMORROW STORYLINES

second off, since when was tim drake EVER about the whole ~we need a utopia~ bullshit? oh, right, when he met that future version of himself WHO HAD ACTUALLY GONE THROUGH WITH IT and created a world free of violence or pain. except, uh, not really. anyway. tim meets the guy and immediately goes “wow a utopia?? sounds like something i can get on board with!”

ACTUALLY NO NO HE DOESNT. 

DOES THAT LOOK LIKE THE FACE OF A KID WHO IS OKAY WITH BEING SOMEONE WHO DOES THIS. he is TERRIFIED of being this person. 

tim drake literally cannot IMAGINE himself becoming this person. someone who kills without conscience as long as the villain is dead. 

IMMEDIATELY NOT OKAY WITH IT. STEADFASTLY SET A G A I N S T THIS IDEAL!!!

for context: future-tim basically says “im inevitable” and tim is like “okay well” and is literally ready and willing to kill himself in order to STOP THAT FUTURE. 

recap: tim drake meets future-tim who is a totalitarian dictator who kills rogues and tortures villains and says he does it under a banner of ~peace and safety~. present-tim takes one look at future-him’s philosophy and life choices and goes “welp guess ill die lol” because he would literally kill himself than let himself potentially become this. it’s that important to him that he doesn’t become this. 

so, why is it that we’re now getting a tim drake talking about this ‘utopia’, echoing a lot of future-tim’s points that present-tim in the pre52 outright REJECTED and didn’t agree with???

my answer involves a lot of creative invective aimed at dc. 

tim never wants to become this. this (apart from seeing his entire family and friends dead, which happens multiple times in canon) is his worst nightmare. based on where we are in canon (pre-conner and bart and steph and his dad and dick dying) meeting this version of himself is actually the worst thing to happen, because he doesn’t understand how he can become that. 

and he never will. because that inherently leads into the idea that “oh well then after his entire family dies tim would agree with this!” IT DOESN’T HAPPEN. tim doesn’t go ‘well life sucks lol guess its time to start killing villains!’ he keeps fighting! working with batman! he has a genuine mental breakdown multiple times but he still never, never comes to this ‘we need violence and death to create peace’ mindset. 

(i swear to fuck and im not even exagerating dont try to come at me with that bullshit “but even after the second titans tomorrow arc you see tim fall into that mindset!” because A. that is a world in which neither conner nor bart have ever come back, and its also 8 years in the future meaning a LOT of shit has happened in between then, and B. a world in which LUTHOR GROOMED A 15 YEAR OLD TIM INTO THIS EMBITTERED VERSION OF HIMSELF so it doesn’t even stand up as an argument thank you and GOODNIGHT)

“heroes dont kill” thats what tim IS. thats what he learned and its what he believed. it’s why he struggled so much in the whole bruce wayne: murderer (?) storyline, because bruce didnt really... outright deny it. (t be fair its a weird arc and only got weirder and bruce acted... super cagey during all of it) but tim was dealing with the... with the potential that one of his heroes had killed someone, because thats not what a hero is. 

im not going to post panels but in his early comic run, tim struggles with this. you see him consider killing arthur brown when they’re trapped under the cement. you see him eye bullocks gun when kgbeast is coming after them. but! the ESSENTIAL part of all of this is he never goes for it. he considers it, and then decides that EVEN IF he will die as a result, he will not kill someone else. ever. period. done. regardless of what they’d done.

(and as a side-note i could talk for DAYS about tim’s temper but thats not for this post!!)

anyway. 

in tim’s mind, if you kill someone, it is very hard for him to still consider you a hero (obviously there are some... issues where this doesn’t happen (re: dick killing joker)  but there are exceptions to every rule it just matters how you define them)

tim, at his core, is someone who is good. he wants to help people. helping people... it isn’t a chore for him. it isn’t something he just... does for the sake of doing. he is good! he doesnt want to kill villains, he just wants to help. there’s a fundamental difference between the tim you see here and the future tim. future tim is willing to kill to ensure peace. present tim is willing to fight like hell to keep people safe, but murder is the line he’ll never cross. tim is... very similar to bruce and dick in this regard. 

i could literally talk about this for days but all i want to say now is that its honestly just... it’s sad to see this character being twisted into this version of himself that is unrecognizable. i’ve had issues with the new 52 and ive been passably accepting at some things in the rebirth run, but this is the one thing that has, on MULTIPLE occasions, come back to bite me in the ass. 

i love tim drake. he was the first character i related to and the first character i fell in love with. i feel very strongly about his characterization. and i hate that this whole new ‘searching for utopia’ thing is what he’s become. because there is an ENTIRE STORY based around the concept that... no, he isn’t. he wouldn’t. and its sad that dc doesn’t seem to care about that. 

whatever. im sad. im pissed. im disappointed. but all i can do is rant and read pre-52 comics and ignore whatever bullshit they’re doing to make tim a fucking idk? dictator? im so tired. this is annoying. he was never meant to be the bad guy.  

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

If The Stars Align In Our Favour

Abdul is dead but the piece of equipment in his hand is subject to speculation. If it is delivered in the wrong hands Sehmat’s cover will be blown, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

There are a hundred possibilities as to how a situation might end—Delve into one of them.

Alternate ending Fix-it Fic. Thanks to Verity Grahams for beta-ing. Part 2 of Raazi AU Fics.

Ch.1 The Mistakes

“Watch the ways of the wind ...”

_/\_/\_

The atmosphere at the dinner table is tense when Sehmat sits down to eat. The household is still recovering from the shock of Abdul’s sudden death. Sehmat herself is trying to recover from the brutality of the entire episode—her having to murder someone in order to save her position as a spy, so that her country remained safe and alert.

Her conscience has taken the brunt of the trauma, and no matter how many times she tells herself that it is all for her country; that what she is doing for her nation is far more important than Abdul’s life, her conscience gives her only one response—she killed a person. She is a murderer. In her waking hours, she manages to will those thoughts away—focusing on getting information and covering her trail. So, they come to haunt her in her sleep. She has gotten perhaps four hours of restless sleep in the past two days, plagued by nightmares about Abdul and being discovered, which have kept her up the rest of the night.

Mehboob bhaijaan is the last to sit at the table before dinner commences. One glance at him is enough to convince Sehmat that he hasn’t received good news from the Station Headquarters, although whether that would fare well for her is anyone’s guess.

“Any lead from the soldiers?” Abba asks, and Sehmat begins to serve herself the dinner to hide her nervousness.

“No. They had found him lying on the road badly injured. He had lost a lot of blood, so they took him to the hospital immediately.”

She barely sighs before bhaijaan continues, “But the Police has found the wagon with which Abdul was …  run over.”

Sehmat freezes. The car. The godforsaken car. Why hadn’t she crashed it? Why had she left it parked out there? At least she had worn gloves. But what if someone had seen her driving it?

“Sehmat?” Iqbal’s whisper startles her out of her reverie, and she finishes serving them both while still cursing herself for her foolishness.

“Whom did the wagon belong to?” Iqbal asks, and she feels a harder pang of guilt in her heart. Iqbal was very close to Abdul—he had practically been raised by Abdul. How cruel that she should take away another parental figure from him.

“The Cantonment. They found it parked a short distance away from the site of the accident. The key was in the ignition when they found it. It’s  being dusted for fingerprints…”

Sehmat looks up for a single moment, then turns back towards her food. There weren’t any fingerprints in there that she had to be worried about. It was the chance that someone might have seen her in it.

“…and the piece of metal in his hand—the Station Chief has asked me to submit it to the inspection bureau. They will be able to establish its origin.”

Silence reigns the table again, and it takes every fibre in her being to stop her hands from shaking and to breathe evenly. Her heart is beating so loud in her ears, she is surprised no one else can hear it. She plays with her food until dinner ends, and only a few bites make it to her mouth. The thought of food right then only serves to make her nauseous.

*****

Once in the safety of her bedchamber Sehmat paces back and forth so many times she is surprised she hasn’t worn a hole in the flooring. The Inspection Bureau will be able to tell that the metal piece belongs to morse code equipment. If they inspect further, they’ll know that signals were being transferred from their house. And their first suspect would be her. Unless the accursed piece of metal is recovered, she is as good as dead. She wrings her hands, finally, and begins to straighten the bed sheets and pillows. She’ll just have to get to Mir Sahab for further direction tomorrow.

So caught up is she in her musings that she doesn’t notice Iqbal’s presence until he speaks, “Are you alright? You seem to be a bit shaken by Abdul’s death.”

‘So are you,’ She wants to say, ‘I’m so sorry you have to go through this,’ but she only nods mutely, and watches with a sinking heart as her husband looks out of the window pensively.

“He was very loyal,” He says, and Sehmat cannot agree more. He was loyal to the last second. His loyalty cost him his life. “I know he could not have done anything that would cause harm to our family.”

She looks at Iqbal’s serious countenance for a moment longer and suddenly finds herself feeling immensely tired. She sits at the edge of the bed and stares into the fireplace instead, and in a voice far too quiet and shaky asks, “Should I go to the Mosque tomorrow? To offer prayers for Abdul. I’ll also get some clothes from the Main Market to distribute to the poor.” None of it is untrue. Nothing will ever be enough to rid her conscience of the guilt of having killed him, but she has to try. She could also use the opportunity to contact Mir Sahab.

“That’s a nice gesture,” Iqbal’s voice breaks into her thoughts once again, soft as it is, “I’ll accompany you.”

Or she could make up some other opportunity to contact Mir Sahab.

She feels the bed sag in a corner, signalling that Iqbal has retired for the night. She retains her position, however, and looks towards the fireplace once again, not being able to find the energy to move. Her life is a cruel paradox, she decides, because the actions she takes to protect herself from being hurt end up hurting her instead—even if in unexpected ways.

She finally settles under the covers herself, although despite how tired she feels, she finds herself unable to go to sleep. She lies very still with eyes closed, willing sleep to come but to no avail. Beside her, she hears movement again, which could very well just be him turning in his sleep, but she knows better. His breathing is shallow, and she can feel how tense he is. She wonders for a moment if she should signal that she is awake too—that they can talk, and that she hates how he has closed up over the past two days—but decides against it. She cannot comfort him about a loss that she is responsible for. And even if she does try, what would she say to him? That it’s okay, even when both of them know it’s not? That he should cherish the time that he had with him—the same way he has had to cherish the memories of his mother for thirteen years. Sehmat heaves a long sigh. The truth is that no words can console someone who has lost a parental figure, and nothing can make dealing with it easier.

She opens her eyes slowly and very softly turns so that she is facing Iqbal. He is—as she had known he would be—awake and looking at the ceiling pensively. ‘He looks so vulnerable,’  Sehmat thinks, ‘and so raw.’  That his side of the bed is in direct view of the window and bathed in moonlight might be poetic on a different occasion, but all Sehmat can see at that moment is how the moonlight glints off his eyes, and how they are shining, and suddenly Sehmat finds that she cannot breathe anymore, and she cannot look any further. She shifts onto her back again and closes her eyes with the same softness as before, careful not to make any quick movements, determined to fall into a dreamless slumber this time.

*****

The morning cannot have come early enough for Sehmat. While she had managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, it had been plagued with nightmarish imagery—the look of terror on Abdul’s face just before she had … run him over, the sadness on her husband’s face when they had received the news, and last night. She wakes up feeling tired and sore enough that she has to rally herself to get out of bed and begin her day.

She wonders how she’ll get about to contacting Mir Sahab if Iqbal will be accompanying her. If it were Munira bhabhi she would’ve taken the chance anyway, but this is Iqbal, and he is an army major—it won’t be nearly as easy to make her way around him. She really doesn’t have the heart to lie to him if she can help it. She’ll just have to make up some issue with some stocks for Abbu’s business—which is now up to her to run—and make her way to the Main Market from there.

It is an hour later when Sehmat has sat through an uneasy breakfast that they, along with Mehboob bhaijaan, begin to leave, and are intercepted by Abba who, upon closer look, looks positively harassed—as if he hasn’t slept in days.

“You two come with me to the Station Headquarters. There is an emergency meeting we need to attend and then—”

“Abba, you and Iqbal go ahead,” Mehboob bhaijaan says. Sehmat knows as soon as he says it that it is a bad idea for him to argue with Abba right then. “I need to head over to the inspection bureau to submit the metal piece we found with Abdul. I have a meeting there with—”

“Those rogues from the Mukti Fauj murdered the Governor of the East!” Abba all but screams, seething with fury, and Sehmat looks away from the scene wishing that she were somewhere else. “And here you are chasing after your own tail like a mongrel. Get over Abdul’s death, and focus on the tension that is brewing in the country! You can reschedule that meeting for later in the afternoon.”

Abba turns to step into the car and Iqbal and her exchange looks as bhaijaan storms in with him. Iqbal sighs, and with an apologetic glance, accepts his bag from her and steps into the car.

Sehmat watches the car speed away, slightly relieved and a little unnerved. She removes all trivial thoughts from her head, however, as she sits in the next car that pulls up and thinks about what she might have to do to get rid of the accursed metal and the setup it came from.

*****

“I might take around an hour,” Sehmat tells Ismail as she grabs her bag and gets out of the car, to which she receives a nod. She keeps walking up the main street until she is out of the car’s line of sight, then ducks into one of the less populated side alleys as she pulls on her burqa. She takes several meanders, stopping at various shops to buy trinkets before she makes her way to where she knows Imtiaz will be waiting.

He is there, sure enough, when she approaches the rickshaw stand, and he jumps onto his rickshaw with a knowing nod once he hears her say, “I need to get some warm clothes—the winter is quite harsh now.” She gets into the rickshaw silently, and they are at the Mosque in no time. She makes her way to the flower stand that Saadiq runs, and points mutely towards a basket of Phool Chaddar even as he furrows his brow in inquiry.

Sehmat makes her way to the Mosque—she’d rather offer her prayers for Abdul’s safe passage to heaven before she finds out about other potential murderesses. She spends perhaps half an hour in there, and when she returns Saadiq is entertaining customers. She waits behind the other two ladies until they are done, and then asks conversationally, “How much for the Red Roses?”

“They’re 20 rupees apiece. With Thorns or without?” Sehmat swallows.

“With.”

Saadiq looks around for curious eyes, then ushers her inside the shop without further delay. She dials the switchboard number for the Embassy, then hangs up after two rings. The phone rings back in a heartbeat.

“Hello? Is it possible to talk?”

Kabir Murtaza’s voice speaks over the phone, “Yes, this line is safe. Go on.”

“I need to talk to Mir Sahab. The Cat has a Toy, and it won’t let go. It’s taking it to the Den.”

A long sigh over the line. “Nothing can be done regarding the Cat just yet. It’s not been so long since the Roof was repaired. You should get some spices for yourself—your father had once told me you like them.”

The ambassador hangs up, and Sehmat sets the receiver down herself. She leaves the shop once the coast is clear with a nod to Saadiq, and makes her way to where Imtiaz normally waits for her, mind whirring. There is a shipment of spices set to arrive today in the afternoon from down South for trade. Perhaps it’s time she pays the shop a visit after all.

*****

Glossary:

Ma :  Mother

Abba : Father

Bhaijaan : Brother

Miyaan : Here, husband.

Bhabhi : Sister-in-law (brother’s wife)

Phool chadar : A sheet of knitted flowers used as offerings for worship.

Rajma : Kidney beans

Kabuli Chane : Chickpeas

Assalam aalekum : ‘Peace be upon you’, an Arabic greeting

Chachi : Aunt

Walaikum assalam : ‘And unto you be peace’, an Arabic greeting

Beta : here, Child

Ammi : Mother

Mohtarma : Madam

Choti Begum : ‘Choti’ means younger, and ‘Begum’ is the title of a married Muslim woman, equivalent to Mrs. Together in this context they refer to Sehmat being the younger daughter-in-law of the house.

[lady-hammerlock]

Assassin’s Creed Rogue - The Novel - Chapter 17

3rd August 1757

Please forgive me if my writing is less neat than usual. I find my hand still shakes as I sit down at my desk today. Recalling the disaster in Lisbon fills me with grief, and recalling what happened when I returned to the homestead fills me with both rage and heartache.

Gist knows that something has been bothering me. He has not hounded me about it, and for that I am grateful, but he did sit down and comfort me after yesterday’s journal entry.

“Whatever is the matter Shay?” he asked me when he walked into my cabin and found me sitting at my desk with my head in my hands.

“Gist,” I asked him. “Have you ever done something so terrible that you have difficulty comprehending that you yourself are capable of it?”

Gist’s eyes glanced down to this journal, where it rested, still open, on the desk on which I write, but he did not say anything, or even try to read the words contained within.

“Well, I can hardly claim that I am completely innocent,” Gist told me. “But I dare say that no man alive can. Or at least, no-one who has lived a life as interesting as ours have been.”

He paused for a moment before striding over to my side of the desk and slapping me heartily on the shoulder.

“But if you’re talking about true monstrosities; real evil, then no, I can say with some conviction that I have not,” Gist continued. “And I think, whatever it is that bothers your conscience Shay, it cannot be as bad as all that. You have proven yourself to be a good man, and a great friend.”

If only I could believe him.

It was the middle of May by the time I made it back to the homestead. The months that I spent on board the Assassin ship were some of the worst of my life, and consisted almost entirely of waiting for answers, for judgement, for comfort, for anything other than pain and sorrow. I had been responsible for the deaths of so many. I wasn’t sure that anything could ever make that sort of thing right, but I needed either Liam or Achilles to at least try; to give me some sort of answer.

We had only been sailing towards the colonies for several days when my mind made an important connection. Mackandal and his Assassins in Haiti had been searching for another Precursor site when a similar tragedy had hit there as well. Thousands of people had died in Lisbon, exactly as thousands had died in Haiti.

When I realised it my grief turned to disbelief, and then my disbelief to rage, and then I grieved once more. I could not believe it.

I had assumed that Achilles and all of the higher level Assassins knew what they were doing, and understood more about these mysterious Precursor artefacts than I did. They clearly didn’t. They had no bloody idea what sort of power they were dealing with, and were sending fools like myself in blindly, to destroy entire cities and end thousands of lives. And why? To protect these artefacts? What the hell sort of use was an artefact like that supposed to be anyway? We should have left it alone. No-one needed the sort of power that thing wielded; especially not the Assassins, who seemed to do nothing but kill those they deemed wicked or inconvenient.

There was no-one to share such feelings with, and so they bottled up inside me, until I felt like I was going to be sick from all the grief and rage flowing through my veins. By the time I made it back to the homestead I was half mad with it.

No-one came down to the docks near the homestead to greet me. Instead I walked back to the manor on my own. As I did I could not help but notice that La Vérendrye’s ship, the Gerfaut, was patrolling the waters off the coast. The French Assassin was the last person that I wanted to see at that moment, but it looked as though I would have to deal with him on top of everything else.

When I reached the Davenport manor I threw my rucksack down on the porch angrily. I could hear voices coming from inside the house. I recognised Hope and Achilles and frowned. For a moment I considered walking away; perhaps abandoning the Assassins and their foolish cause altogether, but I wanted to give Achilles a piece of my mind, and I figured that at the very least I was owed a few answers.

I stormed upstairs and flung open the door, interrupted whatever conversation the Assassins had been in the middle of.

“So what’s the next city you want me to smite?” I challenged Achilles.

He did not reply. He didn’t even have the decency to look confused. He just stood there, staring at me as though I had somehow offended him.

“What happened in Haiti happened in Portugal!” I told him. “A great earthquake. Thousands dead thanks to your damned manuscript!”

I knew that I was shouting. I didn’t care. Thousands of people had died after all, and for no good reason. Someone should have been shouting.

I had expected that Liam and Hope would at least listen to what I had to say. I had thought that the Assassins would give me answers; would understand my rage and grief. Instead Hope pushed me away from Achilles, as though she was afraid that I might be about to hurt him, and placed herself between the two of us.

“This cannot be,” Achilles replied.

His shock I could at least understand.

“Shay, a person cannot start an earthquake,” Hope immediately argued.

“A person meddling with these Precursor machines could,” I replied, trying to explain to them. At least I had their attention now. “You saw the box, Hope. The temple was filled to bursting with that kind of power. You made me slaughter innocents!”

Achilles at least seemed ready to listen, but Hope, for whatever reason, was nothing but furious with me.

“How dare you!?” she screamed at me.

I did not know how to respond. I had thought that Hope was my friend, or if not, then we were at least allies of some description, and yet she was acting as though I was some sort of villain and had no right to be yelling at Achilles as I was.

“You defend him?” I asked. I could not believe that Achilles and Hope were arguing with me. I had trusted them and it had led to ruin. Why could they not believe what I was telling them then? “Achilles sent me in there like Mackandal sent his man in Haiti. He knew!”

Liam must have heard the three of us yelling. I hadn’t even heard him come into the room, but at that moment I became all too aware of his presence as he forcibly shoved me away from Hope.

“What the hell is going on?” Liam yelled. It was not so much a question as it was a reprimand. He looked furious, and that fury was directed only at me.

That, more than anything else that had happened since I had arrived back at the homestead, broke my heart. Liam immediately jumped to Achilles and Hope’s defence without even finding out what had happened or why I was so upset. I had assumed that my dear friend at least would listen to me and give me some much needed comfort.

Instead it appeared as though he too was not even willing to listen to what I had to say. Why could none of them understand?

“The operation was delicate,” Achilles began.

I could not believe it. He seemed to believe me, at least in part, but now he was trying to shift the blame to me, when he had not even made sure I had all the knowledge that I needed. He hadn’t been there. He had not seen it. He had no idea how bloody delicate the operation was or what the hell I had been through.

“Perhaps you...” he began, but I was not going to let him continue.

“You are shifting the earth itself,” I told Achilles.

Liam still stood between myself and his fellow Assassins, as though the greatest problem at that moment was keeping me separated from them, as though I was some sort of rabid dog, liable to strike out at them.

Why couldn’t they listen to what I was trying to tell them? Did they think I was some sort of fool? Well, I have no doubt now that I was, but not in the way they might have thought. I was a fool for ever listening to them; for thinking that Achilles had any idea of what he was doing. He was playing with power without ever really understanding the consequence.

“Who are you to decide which city falls next!?” I screamed, desperate to make them understand.

“Get him out of here,” Achilles commanded Liam and Hope.

They responded immediately, Liam grabbing me by the arms and forcibly dragging me out of the room. Hope slammed the door shut and locked it behind her.

I screamed and tried to fight against Liam, but he would not let me go. He did not let go until he had dragged me all the way out of the building and then dumped me in the cold snow outside.

“What the bloody hell was that Shay!?” he roared at me.

“Liam,” I pleaded with him, hoping that now that we were away from the other Assassins he might listen to me. “Thousands of people in Lisbon died because of what you and Achilles commanded me to do!”

“Shay,” Liam murmured, shaking his head at me as I picked myself up off the ground and dusted the snow off my clothing.

“You don’t understand. The same thing happened in Haiti,” I tried to explain. “These artefacts that the Assassins are chasing are dangerous!”

“Look Shay,” Liam said, shaking his head at me. “Why don’t you cool down for a moment? Just leave this all be.”

I was stunned to hear such words come of the mouth of a man that I considered my closest friend.

“Liam, please you have to listen to me,” I begged.

Liam walked away then, back inside the house, closing the door behind him and not even pausing to look back at me.

I made my way to a small grove situated a few minutes’ walk away from the Davenport manor. It had once been a favourite place for myself and Liam. We would make a campfire and curl up around it, swapping tales and chatting until the sun camp up. Sometimes Hope would join us.

Once you could tell just by looking at the blackened ground that it had been a favourite spot for campfires, but on that night, when I moved the snow aside I realised that I had been away for too long. Our spot had grown over completely with grass, and there was no longer any sign of ash or charcoal.

As the sun set I curled up by my campfire and waited for Liam to join me as he always used to, but he never showed, preferring instead to spend the night inside the warmth of the Davenport homestead with Hope and Achilles.

I was all alone.

I had hoped that once I returned to the Homestead I would find some sort of peace and comfort, that somehow Liam, if no-one else, would be able to make everything that had happened make sense. That maybe I would get some answers from Achilles.

Returning to the Assassins had only made me feel worse. None of them seemed to care that we had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. Not even Liam, who had always cared before then, who had always been one of the kindest, most caring souls I had ever known when it was just us on the streets of New York. Even he had told me to leave it be, as though I was just being childish and shouldn’t care that I now had the deaths of thousands of innocent souls resting on my conscience.

He was a fool if he thought I would leave it be. I knew then, that no matter how good his intentions might have been, Achilles could not be trusted. He could never be allowed to find another Precursor temple. I didn’t care that he was Mentor, or that his grief over his family’s death might be causing him to make some rash decisions. There was no excuse for his level of madness; no excuse for anything that lead to the deaths of thousands of innocent people.

I could not leave the journal in the hands of the Assassins, not if they all intended to continue blindly following Achilles in his madness and grief. If they were left to continue as they were then who knew how many more cities would fall before they saw reason? I would rather have died than see what had happened in Lisbon happen in another city, merely because I had failed to act when I could, so I resolved to steal the journal, and to destroy it if I must.

I knew that by doing this I might be alienating myself from the Assassins. Considering how Achilles had been acting of late, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was kicked out of the brotherhood forever, perhaps even punished or hunted down for this deed, but it would be worth it to stop them. For a moment I worried about my friendship with Liam, but then tossed that thought aside. He had made it clear that his bond with me meant nothing compared to his position within the Assassins.

That night I waited until I was sure that everyone would be asleep, and then snuck back up towards the Homestead. Hope and the others had trained me to be silent and invisible. Climbing up the side of the house and sneaking into Achilles’ study was easy.

I soon found the manuscript in one of Achilles’ drawers. I grabbed it and tucked it into my jacket. I wasn’t quite sure what I should do with it, but decided I could always run away from the Homestead now and decide whether or not to destroy it later.

I had barely turned around and readied myself to leave the room however when Achilles revealed himself, walking into the room with his old Assassin robes on and his hidden blade already drawn. He had anticipated I might try something like this, and had been lying in wait.

I silently cursed myself as a fool. I should have known that stealing the manuscript would not be so easy.

“I had such high hopes for you Shay,” Achilles said as he stepped closer to me.

“I had to do this,” I yelled at him, hoping that perhaps I might still be able to make him see sense. Surely he could see that what he was doing was wrong?

Instead Achilles just frowned at me and moved closer.

“And what is it you’re doing exactly?” Achilles asked me. “Stealing from your brothers? Betraying me?”

He looked furious.

“Someone must make amends,” I tried again.

“Make amends?” Achilles shouted. “You have no idea what you’re doing! The future of the whole continent, maybe the whole world, is tied up in that manuscript.”

“Perhaps, but we don’t have the right to decide that future.”

“The right? We have the responsibility!”

The responsibility? He was even more mad with power than I thought. I don’t understand why he couldn’t just listen to me. Why did he have to insist that what we were doing was anything but a monstrous mistake?

“We are responsible for killing innocents and destroying cities. This mad grab for power… it ends now.”

“I will not let you destroy everything we have built!”

Achilles charged towards me, the weight of him catching me off guard. He slammed me into the nearest window, the glass shattering behind me, shards of it catching in my clothing and falling to the ground beneath our feet.

Before I could defend myself he then threw me roughly down onto the ground. He approached me, each one of his footsteps as it struck the ground sounding like a death knell to my ears. One arm moved back, and I could tell that he was about to attack me. I jumped up, pushing his arm and his attempted attack aside, and ran for the now broken window.

I flung myself outside, taking more of the broken window and more shards of glass with me. The snow had been falling heavily outside, and I found my fall cushioned by a thick pile of it. I don’t know whether it was the snow or the fear running through my veins that meant I did not feel any pain at all when I stumbled to my feet.

The snow continued to fall heavily around me, piling up in drifts and settling in my clothing and hair. It might have been peaceful and rather beautiful if it wasn’t so damned cold, and if I was not now fighting for my life.

I did not want to harm Achilles, or any of the Assassins, but I knew that I had to escape with the manuscript if I could. As soon as I started to run I heard Achilles voice cry out from the window above me.

“Assassins!” Achilles screamed, his voice echoing through the still night air. “Stop him! Stop Shay!”

Achilles must have readied the Assassins for the possibility of my betrayal. They were all already dressed and armed, and wasted no time in trying to stop my escape. Someone must have gotten word to La Vérendrye as well, because before long his ship was firing mortars at the outskirts of the Homestead.

The bastard must have been waiting for a reason to kill me, because the mortars were violent and reckless. He didn’t seem to care that he might accidentally hit dozens of his fellow Assassins in his attempt to annihilate me. All that seemed to matter to him was making sure that I died. I could hear many of the Assassins screaming and cursing La Vérendrye for a fool as the mortars rained down all over the countryside.

I avoided conflict where I could. I knew that I had to stop the Assassins, but that did not change the fact that I had fought alongside many of them as their ally for so many years.

I was barely aware of where I was running. Soon the path in front of me narrowed. A shot rang out and a small avalanche of snow and boulders moved to block the path in front of me. I looked up to find Liam standing on an overhang above me, his pistol drawn.

I felt my heart lurch uncomfortably. Liam was trying to stop me as well. I think part of me had hoped that Liam would side with me after all, or at least that he would stay out of the conflict, but there he was, trying to stop me from escaping, just like everyone else.

There was no time to linger on such thoughts though. I hastily looked away from Liam, not wanting to see that face staring at me with disappointment, or worse, anger, and found a way around the avalanche.

I could hear Hope and Liam calling after me as I ran. Hope at least seemed willing to try and talk it out, but I did not want to listen to her words, not when she was acting just as hurt and betrayed as all the others, as though they were the ones that had been wronged, and not all the people that we had killed in Lisbon.

“How could you Shay?” she called out to me. “Won’t you listen to reason Shay?”

As though I was being the irrational one here. As though I was the one that was dangerous. And meanwhile, through the whole chase, La Vérendrye continued to rain death down on the land around the Homestead.

At some stage Kesegowaase joined in the chase. I heard him cry out behind me, and caught sight of members of one of his troops scouring the land for me. Between Achilles, Liam, Hope and Kesegowaase, I think I soon came to realise that I was outnumbered. They were going to catch me. It was all for nothing.

And then the path in front of me ended. I hadn’t really been paying all that much attention to where I had been running, and had inadvertently backed myself into a corner. I am sure that I have previously mentioned that the Homestead stands on a high cliff, overlooking the ocean.

The path in front of me disappeared, leaving nowhere to go except straight down into the freezing cold waters of Atlantic.

The others caught up with me soon enough. Even La Vérendrye had come ashore at some stage and was standing there with the rest of them. They all stared at me with such hate in their eyes, none of them wanting to listen to what I had to say or admit, for even one second, that perhaps they were in the wrong.

“That’s enough,” Liam snapped at me, as though I was some sort of misbehaving child that needed to be chastised.

He pointed his gun straight at me. The man that I had looked up to for so much of my life was actually threatening to kill me. I had thought we were friends. I had thought that he cared.

Clearly, he didn’t care enough.

“Give back the manuscript Shay,” Hope begged, still clearly trying to find some way for all of this to end peacefully. I however, knew that it couldn’t. Not now. “I’m sure Achilles…”

“I cannot!” I screamed. “I will not let this happen again. All those souls lost…”

I could still hear them; the screams of all the people lost in Lisbon because of our foolishness, because of Achilles’ reckless pride.

I glanced down at the ocean below, wondering if I was looking at my death. Liam was still pointing a gun at me. There was no way that I would survive a shot at such close range. There was however, a small chance that I might survive the drop into the ocean below; just a small chance mind you, but at least if I leapt then I would be taking the manuscript with me. Perhaps the sea could do what I could not, and wash away any chance of the Assassins using the manuscript to destroy another city.

“One more hardly matters,” I muttered.

I had made up my mind. If I had to die to protect the rest of the world from Achilles and the other Assassins, then I would.

I turned my back on the Assassins and readied myself to jump. I had just made the first step into the abyss when a shot rang out and something slammed into my shoulder.

I heard someone calling out my name, and felt myself falling. I had a moment of perfect clarity then. Someone had shot me, and I was falling off the cliff, probably to my death. If the fall didn’t kill me then certainly the icy cold waters of the North Atlantic would. Or perhaps the shot would kill me first. I didn’t know how bad the wound was, just that my entire torso suddenly felt as though it was on fire.

Hitting the freezing cold water was like being shot a thousand times over. There was a few seconds of pain, and then blessed, blessed darkness as the water pulled me under and I lost all consciousness.

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[rxbxlcaptain]

Apologies for misreading the prompts! I'm thinking either “Now, not to be forward, but I love you.”, or Alexithymia: (n) Inability to describe emotions verbally. I'm anothersadsong on AO3.

Oh, man, am I sucker for those unique word prompts, so this is ficlet is inspired by “Alexithymia”.  I’m also super thankful you chose that word, because I am of the firm belief that this word describes their entire relationship tbh. 

I’m apologizing now: this follows the canon events of Rogue One, meaning, unfortunately, you know how it ends. I would apologize, but I absolutely loved this journey through Cassian’s head.

Thank you to all my followers and those who have sent me prompts, but I’m cutting off accepting new prompts! I still have several more to write, so you haven’t seen the last of this series, but no more prompts for now! Much love to you all!

AO3

Alexithymia: (n) Inability todescribe emotions verbally

Emotions didn’t have a place within a spy’s mind; Cassian learnedthat far too early in life. His parents and his sister were long gone. Comradesdied left and right. Continuing to get attached would ruin more than just themission: it would ruin him. So, he cut himself off.

No romantic entanglements with pretty girls on farawayplanets. No good friends waited for him back on base. No thoughts of one day –that imaginary someday where theEmpire no longer reigned and Cassian was free to do as he wanted – with a home,a child or two running around, enjoying the carefree moments Cassian never had.

He allows himself pride when a mission goes well. Cassianshoved the despair of a mission failure – or was it mission success? – deep intothe recesses of his mind, never to be examined. His partner and closest friend isK-2SO, a droid that, by definition, has no messy human emotions.

Cassian Andor is content with that. (Or, at least, that’swhat he tells himself in the dark of night when his caged emotions creep overhim.)

And then Jyn Erso punches into his life.

Underneath her tough durasteel exterior, Cassian sees bleedingwounds the Alliance ripped open. Her wit is as sharp as her claws, and sheknows how to use both. She’s alive in a way Cassian hasn’t felt in years. Forsome inexplicable reason, Cassian understands trust goes both ways, and he leaves her with his blaster.

His eyebrows furrow as Jyn runs into a firefight to save aninnocent child. He shoots down Saw’s rebel who holds a grenade aimed right atJyn’s hiding place without considering his reasons. He watches her fight agroup of Stormtroopers in the streets of Jedha City singlehandedly and he can’thelp but pause, impressed with her skill. (Not, he reminds himself, in awe ofhow her movements can make murder both elegant and so coldly perfunctory.) Hestarts as Jyn threatens the partisans, warning them not to kill her or her friends. (Has anyone ever referredto Cassian as their friend?)

Cassian finds Bodhi Rook – the pilot – and the location ofGalen Erso – his mission – and Cassian should be running. He should call K-2,shove the Imperial defector onto his ship and set course for Eadu withoutlooking back. Instead, he frantically runs through the catacombs, looking for awoman who will only be a hindrance to his mission. His heart aches – a feelingCassian thought he had long since smothered – at the broken glass smotheringthe fire in Jyn’s eyes. Back on the ship, with his orders freshly renewed, hisconscience screams at her fervent declaration of her father’s innocence.

Cassian tells himself morality and reason dictate hisdecision to defy his orders, not the sharp defiance of his daughter’s eyesreflected in Galen Erso. He tells himself Jyn is the messenger, the only one tohear his father’s message first hand, and that she needs to explain the messageto high command as he pulls her away from her father’s dead body. She lashesout in pain and shock, and Cassian yells back, louder than the roaring emotionsemerging from the back of his mind.

As he leaves the council meeting, knowing the Jyn Erso’srequest to infiltrate Scarif will never be approved, and heads to the footsoldiers of the Alliance who would be more receptive to the idea, he remindshimself of loyalty, not to the High Command locked in a useless argument, butto the destruction of the Empire. As he hovers just a foot away from Jyn Ersoand welcomes her home, what fills Cassian’s chest is not the same feelings thathave accompanied his years of Yessirs.

Words – or perhaps just his words – cannot describe thededication he feels flowing off Jyn as she addresses the rogues upon landing onScarif, nor his trust as they walk the hallways of the Imperial base. Despairruns through his veins as K-2 bids them Goodbye,the sounds of blasters echoing in the background, but looking into her eyes,Cassian can see the stardust deep in hereyes shine with determination.

He knows – or perhaps he’d known as he gathered Melshi andPao and the entire Rogue One crew – that he would follow her until the chancesare spent.

So, he does. As Krennic and his death troopers fire down onthem, he urges Jyn to keep climbing. As a blaster bolt connects with his shoulder,as the smack of his head against the metal platform renders him unconscious, hebelieves in Jyn’s ability, her desire to finish the mission. As he awakes, heaccepts the way his muscles moan with pain, knowing every pull brings him onesecond closer to Jyn.

Shooting down Krennic, a man representing everything wrongwith the Empire and the man who personally tore Jyn’s life to shreds, is natural,but the way his heart constricts as Jyn – battered and bruised but socompletely beautiful – hobbles towardshim is unlike anything Cassian has ever known.

He can’t fit the electricity between them in the turboliftinto any of the logical, reasonable boxes within his mind. Safety, trust, home: this he feels, her arm a steadypressure on his neck.

Was this love? Cassian couldn’t fathom being in love, yet hecouldn’t imagine love feeling like anything else.

Whatever emotion this is, Cassian knows as he falls to the beach,the glow of the Death Star’s destruction on the horizon, that he does not havethe words to express it. He can only offer small words – Your father would be proud of you – and the comfort of physicaltouch as their death runs towards them.

Perhaps he would have found the words, someday, if time hadpermitted. Perhaps he wouldn’t have. But as Jyn’s hand tightens on his collar,he knows this is enough. This is all he needs.