#feels very old spy to new operator dude

[isagrimorie]

#I'M DOING GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING#wednesday night i was complaining that they don't mention emily being a spy enough and then i got this the next day BLESS#(now let her speak other languages!!! it's been years and i'm dying here)#sorry that i'm still this obsessed with the lauren storyline but i am and those eps look SO GOOD giffed (AND DIMPLESSSS)#(making the cm evolution gifs look even worse in comparison i am BEGGING you guys to shoot above pitch black)#ALSO it makes sense that tara (and luke i assume) doesn't know about her time in the task force#(it's not like emily would bring it up it's bad enough that the rest of her family knows about doyle)#but i am !!!! about her not and need tara finding out please 👀 (via @wistfulwatcher)

in a n o t h e r life

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x02: Shadow Hawk Takes Flight

These doctors seem very nonchalant about how close this dude just got to murdering Danny with a fork. No reassurance or apology - just pour drugs down his throat so they can hose him down. What a picture of The System.

Negative stereotype that has roots in truth - there ARE places like this and worse, but it's true that we very rarely see the good kind of facility represented in TV too. Sucks for them to always be portrayed as the bad guy, and probably harmful too if people really could benefit from them but are wary.

"Let's say [he IS Danny]. That would mean he somehow, miraculously, [1] survived a plane crash, [2] in the Himalayas, and that [3] for some unknown reason he waited fifteen years to come back, with [4] no shoes and a tendency toward violence." - Ward, reciting all the reasons he's been repeating to himself ever since the parking lot not to start thinking this might be Danny, frog and freezer stories or no.

"We're doing the right thing. We could have just had him arrested." Why DIDN'T you have him arrested, Ward? Oh right, HAROLD. ugh.

AU where Danny gets arrested instead. Unfortunately I THINK none of the other Defenders timelines work out so this would be a good time for them to meet him early, though... 🤔

Again with this bird. I completely forgot about this symbol theme.

Danny: "I was meditating." Doctor: "Oh!" Danny: "Yeah, I was trying to focus my chi so I could get out of here." Doctor: "Oh..."

Doctor's like: Oh, wow, this is an interesting level of specificity for a made up story...

I forgot how much I like this doctor. He's legit trying to help. I forget what happened to him...

Colleen is putting so much effort into insulting her students LOL. Also: Darryl's shoes are too big. Bc Colleen runs a struggling dojo in an underprivileged part of city as a safe haven for these kids and to help "teach them how to perform in the real world"

Parts of this conversation that will weigh on Colleen: "You saw me being attacked; you KNOW there's something weird going on." "One of the richest families in New York have a problem with you." "No, I don't have anyone else I can ask for help: you're the only one."

Ward: Ok, good, I'm hearing reasons why this guy can't be telling the truth and therefore cannot be Danny. That's good. I still feel kind of off though... but that's probably just the thing where Harold put cameras in the hospital. Yeah.

Poor Kyle.

Ward: "We can lobotomize him!" Me: "asdfghjkl WARD."

This shot of Harold's "smile" when he tells Ward  "You ARE one of my guys! One of my most trusted guys!" is SO CREEPY

You can see Colleen FREEZE when Ward introduces himself. Harold and Ward shooting themselves in the foot with this: they're lending credence to Danny's story from the phone convo.

Ward, one of the richest people in the city: "Lie to the authorities about that homeless dude being violent for my own personal benefit. Here's a blatant bribe."

Harold yelling at the spy footage like he's throwing popcorn at a movie.

POOR KYLE.

This is deeply uncomfortable for me on a personal level.

Joy: Hmmmmm. What possible reason... could "Danny's" doctor have... for asking that very specific question.... unless.........?

Ok but "tiny Danny wanted to be an acrobat and was always jumping around on things" makes it SO MUCH EASIER for canon-divergent AUs where Danny isn't in the plane crash to still include ninja warrior Danny I-

Harold, a known dead man, looming ominously in the shadows of Danny's mental hospital room: "Here's a message about how you have to come find me and help me. It's not very subtle so you'll probably get it." Danny: "Oh shit, maybe I am crazy...?"

Danny: "I was a warrior. Only in the middle of a fight did I fully come alive. The harder someone hit me, the more everything came into focus." Harold: "Hm. Note taken." Me: *crying emoji*

Show: "oooh, ominous, Harold's under the Hand's thumb. Maybe there's more to him, maybe he's sympathetic...?" Fans: "lol, nice try. We all clocked that creep-o the moment we saw him."

I've talked about Colleen's first impressions of the Meachums in general and Ward in specific before but. Dude. Dude.

Danny, thinking that his very last tentative hope (Colleen) has fallen through, receives a communication from Joy. ;____;

Had. Had Joy already opened the bag of m&ms. It was sealed when she pulled it out of her desk drawer so wh- OH. The hospital opened Danny's mail, including the candy bag, to inspect it before giving it to him. Hahaha *sob*

If Colleen hadn't come to see Danny here, their paths might have diverged. As far as he's concerned, Colleen has made it clear that she's not going to help him and that they're just two strangers in a big city. Turning the corner and seeing her come to visit him boosts that flame of hope that Joy's package rekindled even further. He thought he had no one, and now the amount of people he has is growing.

Ok but, in an AU where Colleen doesn't go see Danny / Danny doesn't know Colleen came to see him, that isn't necessarily the end of their relationship. On Colleen's side, she's still suspicious of this entire Meachum mess - it RADIATES corruption and Colleen is very much entrenched in the downworld of NYC, where the rich powerful elite hurt the most. Plus, Danny doesn't give up on people easily and honestly, he kind of sucks at taking a hint - if he went off to some Rand business with the in with Joy, he would still end up in all the Harold mess, and probably at some point be on the run (maybe with another person - oooh, would love to see that AU - Joy or Ward or both in tow with Danny on the streets, fleeing trouble, Danny saying "I know a place") and showing up at Colleen's door, like "I know you don't want any part of this, and I don't mean to bring trouble to your door, but there's nowhere else to go," and Colleen being like "get in, quick," with her windows already half shuttered and supplies on the table because she was already investigating herself - (it could turn into a whole thing, with Colleen having connections that she thinks she can trust to help them against the big bad Harold/Meachum conspiracy, but then it's the Hand, and-!)

Danny: "The Meachum family might think I'm a threat to them." Colleen: "And why would they think that?" Danny: "Because I'm Danny Rand and I own more than half the company." Me: "And also because you stalked Joy, broke into her house and their offices, terrified and almost killed Ward???"

But anyway this is only gonna fuel Colleen's narrative that this is all greedy corporate machinations and bloody rich people politics. (Literally bloody. Literally murder people in a "problem solving" way kind of bloody.)

GODDDD Colleen is so hot in this scene when she walks into Joy's office with her pushed up sleeves on her chinese bomber jacket and her shirt tucked into her rolled up pants and - her hands in her pockets and that black bracelet and the belt - !

This argument between Joy and Ward is so emotionally charged - Ward's now in a desperate position because Joy has no way of knowing that she has just become an obstacle to something that he can't allow to happen - because Harold can not allow it to happen, and he's pulling Ward's strings, and then - ! "What are you so afraid of, Ward?" It's Harold, he's afraid of Harold. "You should be more like Dad." Ugh. ugh! Shot through the heart! "Grow some balls." I'm crying. They've both learned such terrible things from their father.

GDI DANNY the doctor BELIEVED you and then you had to go start talking about alternate planes of existence and the Iron Fist UGH he thinks you're just trying to cope with the trauma I - UGH.

This doctor is honestly trying to help but he's confirming all of Danny's fears from what Simon told him about how this place operates.

Ward regularly has to come up with ways to convince an entire board to do weird things that Harold asks - like purchase some random warehouses in Brooklyn - without even knowing why

Ward: "'Danny' is a threat to us, to our family, to our business, and the smartest solution - the one YOU taught me - is to get rid of the problem as expediently as possible!" Harold: "No, protect him." Ward: "WHY?! I am asking you why. Explain it to me! Because from where I'm standing, protecting him is dangerous, and getting rid of him is safe!" Harold: "Because I said so, that's why. Now heel." Honestly, of COURSE Ward takes this into his own hands.

Ah, yes, our first glimpse at Ward's drug addiction.

What is their plan????? Just beat him to death!? Can't make it quick - why?? Are they trying to make it look like a simple altercation between inmates???

"Ward Meachum sends his regards." God, that's so heartbreaking. The idea that not only does Ward believe Danny is an imposter and a threat, enough to try to kill him and then to send him to a mental institution - but that once he's there, out of harm's way, if he IS a mentally unstable imposter - OR once proof is starting to trickle to the Meachums (in colorful chocolate form) that he actually IS their old friend Danny - that Big Brother Ward would go out of his way to strike a deal with some "low life mental hospital thugs" to beat Danny to death?? This moment, to Danny, must feel like a bigger betrayal to Danny by Ward than anything else so far.

Danny, on all fours, looks up at the full moon outside the window, at the hawk silhouette streaking across it, and smiles. Hawk as Danny's spirit guide AU cont., but ALSO: WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU

Danny. Danny. Please run. Busting a huge hole in the wall made a very loud noise, please stop just standing there and giving people time to catch up.

[chuckepisodes]

Chuck vs. The Alma Mater Part 1

It was another day at the Buy More and Chuck was busy on the phone when Morgan appeared beside him. "Chuck, we have an emergency. We need to talk." "I'm on the phone." Chuck said pointing to the phone. " Shh. Not here, not here. There are spies at the Buy More." Chuck stood up quickly. "Spies, really?" "Yeah. Yeah, Tang's minions, man. " Chuck then relaxed. "They're everywhere. He's like Sauron from Lord of the Rings. Only, he's taken control of the assistant managership." " Yeah, from me. Right, thanks for the reminder." "Got it, man. Listen, we need your help." "Help, what am I supposed to do? I'm- " "Just one small hobbit? So thought Frodo Baggins, my friend. So thought Frodo Baggins. "Morgan said shoving a paper in his face. ""Rules and regulations for the Buy More break room. From the desk of Harry Tang"?" "He doesn't even have a desk. This is an affront to human decency. " You then came walking in, seeing Chuck and Morgan at the Nerd Herd desk and walked over to them. "Hey guys!" "Hey Y/N. "They said at the same time in a monotone voice. "Whoa. What's going on?" "Harry Tang is what's going on." Morgan answered as Chuck was looking at the paper. "Oh God... I don't even work here and I can't stand him." Chuck began to read the rules out loud. ""No swearing. No expectorating. No fornicating. " Wait, have people been getting freaky in the breakroom?" "No, no. But I like to know that I have the option." You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Typical Morgan. "Okay, so it's a little strict." Chuck said. "It's torture, man. The no-drug policy includes Red Bull. " "Oh, ouch. I remember the last time you tried to detox." "Oh yeah... that was rough." you added. " How am I supposed to move electronics with the sweaty shakes?" "I'm sorry, fellas, but is this the Talk More?" Harry said coming out of nowhere. " No, sir. It's the Buy More." Morgan said in an annoyed tone. " So why don't you get back to helping these customers... buy more electronics, Mr. Grimes" Harry just stared at Chuck and Morgan than quickly over to you and then walked away, sippin on his coffee. "I'm sorry, but is Harry wearing a new assistant-manager polo shirt?" Chuck asked. "It's monogrammed." "He must be stopped." "Want help?" you asked. Morgan pointed at you, giving you a thumb's up while Chuck winked at you which made you blush.

Casey then appeared in the corner and you and Chuck saw him. He pointed over to the home theatre room and you both quickly walked in as Morgan went back to work.

"Wow. That new High-Def screen sure shows every wrinkle." Chuck said as you both walked in sitting on the couch. "They can hear you." Casey said. " What? Twinkle. Every twinkle in her eye. Eyes." Chuck said trying to fix himself but failing. "We have a situation. A CIA asset has gone missing. We've had no communication from him for two days." General Beckman said and then showed a photo of a man. " No way." Chuck said leaning forward. You looked over at him. "What is it Chuck?" "Did you flash?" Sarah asked. " No, I don't have to. That guy was my professor at Stanford." "Seriously?" you asked. " Wait. Asset, he's CIA? My professor was a spy?" "The CIA recruits on campuses across the country. Professor Fleming is a company scientist, not an operative." Sarah said. "Wait were there any at UCLA?" you asked, curious now. "Oh yeah." Casey said. Your eyes widened. "This is our last communication from him." Director Graham said as he began to play the recording. "This is Glass Castle reporting hostile contact. I made a mistake, Black Coat. I copied intel for myself onto a disc. They're after it. I know I shouldn't have."  Professor Fleming's voice was cut off by a big bang and that was the end of the recording. "Do we know what intel he copied?" Sarah asked. " We don't. " Beckman said. "He's handled many sensitive projects for us. Any leak could prove devastating." Graham added. "How can we help?" Casey asked. "Fleming has contacts in L.A. If we find him, you can extract him." Graham said. "We'd like your help on this, Chuck." Beckman asked. Chuck eyes went wide as did yours as you turned to look at Chuck. " Look, I don't think I'm your go-to guy on this one." Chuck said honestly. " Your knowledge of Fleming and Stanford is key here." Beckman argued. "We only have his official reports. You have a personal connection." "Yeah, I do have a personal connection. Very bad personal connection. You guys have the file. You know all about Fleming and what happened to me. The guy kicked me out of school." "Please don't make him do this Beckman." you said stepping helping Chuck. "You still have me and I can flash on stuff. I know I didn't go to Stanford but who cares. Let Chuck stay out of this one please." you pleaded now. Chuck looked over at you, feeling super grateful for you. You looked back at him and gave him a soft smile as you reached over, grabbing his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Professor Fleming is one of us." Sarah said looking at you both. "We know Sarah...But please... Either just me or find someone else." you said. "Just this once." Chuck added.

You went with Chuck back to his place when you saw Devon and a bunch of other guys playing football in the courtyard. Ellie was doing some barbeque and you walked over to her. "Who invited the UCLA brain trust? " Chuck asked. "Those are Devon's fraternity brothers. We are all caravanning up to Stanford for the UCLA game this weekend." "Hey, Chuck. Go deep, bro." Chuck turned around only to be hit with a football in his lower area. "Ooh!" You made a pained face seeing that. "Right in the pills." one of Devon's friends said approaching you guys. "Don't touch, don't. Please don't touch me." Chuck said when Devon tried to help him up. "Come on, man. Let me make it up to you, bro. " Devon said helping him up anyways. "Get up. I got you and Y/N a ticket for the game. I know you went to UCLA Y/N so I figured you would like to join." " Wow. Thanks. But, uh, Y/N and I already have plans along with Sarah." "It's your alma mater, dude. And your school Y/N." "Look, no offense, but I'd rather get hit... in the produce section again than go back to that place." "Yeah and I mean I loved my school but...still some bad memories for me and seeing anything of that school may bring it back up." "Ha, ha. Suit yourself. Let's go. " Devon walked away along with his friends. Ellie turned back to look at Chuck. "Uh, listen, I know that Stanford doesn't hold a lot of good memories for you-" "Look, Ellie, Ellie. They kicked me out for something I didn't do. Okay? So that's it. Me and Stanford? We're officially done." Chuck said walking away, putting his hand on your back as you walked into his house. You were now chilling in his room, when Chuck decided to grab his box with some of his old college things. "You still have some of this stuff?" you asked. "Yeah..." "Why?" you said standing beside him as Chuck sat down on his chair. "I don't know." He then pulled out a photo of him with Bryce and his old friends.

FLASHBACK Chuck was walking down the stairs, leaving his college home. Bryce just looked at him. "I don't get it, Bryce. Why are you doing this?" Chuck asked hurt. "You did this to yourself."

Back to present time

Chuck sighed and got up taking the box with him. "Chuck?" you called for him, wondering what he was doing. You followed him outside and watched him throw the box in the trash. His old college student card fell on the ground and Chuck bent down to pick it up and looked at it. Then something happened. You knew Chuck just flashed and you quickly went up to him. "Chuck? Did you just flash on your student ID?" Chuck looked up at you so confused. "Yeah.... I did." You both quickly walked over to Casey's place, knocking on his door. "What?" Casey asked, opening the door. "I just flashed on myself." Chuck said holding up his card. " Why am I in the Intersect?"

[thedeaditeslayer]

The Cool Side of My Pillow Interview: A Trip Inside the Mind of Bruce Campbell.

When you mention the name Bruce Campbell, the first thing that readily springs to most people’s minds is the boomstick toting, chainsaw-wielding final guy of the Evil Dead franchise, Ash Williams. However, for some of his fans, he will be forever linked with the Harvard educated, resourceful bounty hunter, Brisco County, Jr. Then, of course, there will be those devotees of Burn Notice that will be quick to let you know that Sam Axe, the ex-Navy Seal with a love of Mojitos and Tommy Bahama shirts is their guy because we all know, “Chuck Finley is forever.” For those of you that have never had the pleasure of watching the inventive spy show, Chuck was Sam’s alias that he would use as a cover on certain operations. The mere fact that Bruce Campbell is a part of three vastly different fandoms says quite a bit about his ability as an actor as well as his likeability quotient.

A headliner on the convention circuit for years, the minute he is announced as a guest, tickets go flying out the door and venues sell out. Campbell understands what the people want and he is more than willing to give it to them which is why most promoters clamor to book him. His Q & A sessions are legendary and audiences love the way he sarcastically banters with them. In addition to being an accomplished actor, director and producer, Bruce is also a New York Times bestselling author with four books under his belt. If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B-Movie Actor, Hail to the Chin: Further Confessions of a B-Movie Actor, Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way and his soon to be released, The Cool Side of My Pillow.

His latest book is a collection of essays or as he would say, “rants.” This venture is unlike any of the previous mentioned titles and perhaps his most personal effort to date. In a sense, you get to take a trip inside Campbell’s mind. He expresses his feelings and opinions on a variety of topics from current events and social media to his code of ethics. I was fortunate enough to chat with Bruce about The Cool Side of My Pillow, and his future projects. After reading his book, you come away with the knowledge of how genuine and thoughtful he is which is refreshing in this day and age.

Diabolique: What I like so much about The Cool Side of My Pillow is your honesty. Your writing style makes the reader feel as if they are having an intimate conversation with you. You don’t hold anything back. There are certain aspects in the book which made me feel a tad uncomfortable because you shared some information that was deeply personal, in my mind. I don’t know if I would have included some of the things that you did.

BC: Oh, sure. You always have to decide where you stop. Where is the line? For me, it depends on the type of book. It depends on the type of subject matter. Every project is different.

Diabolique: Were some of the subjects you tackled cathartic for you?

BC: I don’t normally do that sort of stuff. I’m happy to share if I feel something is useful. In the chapter, “What Are You On?” I’m not ragging on people who have habits. I have habits that was the point. There are very few people that just go through their daily life without jacking themselves up, knocking themselves down, knocking themselves out, you know? So, its kind of amazing. The human condition fascinates me.

Diabolique: “A Little Effort Goes a Long Way” is one of my favorite segments. A tale of hard work, ingenuity and perseverance. Which is key to succeeding in the entertainment industry. Where does your drive come from? Some people can pinpoint it to relatives, a mentor…

BC: I do attribute some of it to the Detroit metro area. A lot of my buddies worked on the line, they worked in the factories, it was a great summer job that paid really good money. In Detroit, it was weird. There weren’t a lot of discussions about hopes and dreams. But I could see things happen incrementally that encouraged us. My grandfather worked for ALCOA Aluminum for over 40 years. Would he want to do that job? Was it his favorite job? He wouldn’t even know; it was his only job. He had that job for his whole adult life. My dad wanted to be a painter. I call him a “go betweener” because he didn’t do exactly what he wanted to do but he didn’t do what he didn’t want to do. He got into advertising because it was sort of creative but it wasn’t creative enough so he got into community theater which was more creative. That filled a very strong niche for him and so he kind of straddled the line and then I came along. He allowed me to pretty much do whatever the hell I wanted to do in whatever industry I wanted. He was the first investor in Evil Dead. So, I benefited from the transition of ONLY having drive. Meaning, you just go to work, it doesn’t matter what the job is. The next generation is, “Well, the job kinda matters.” My generation is, “The job matters a hundred percent,” because it determines what you’ve decided to do with your life. So, I am grateful for having enough drive but grateful for being injected with enough freedom of thought to then do my own thing. Partly the drive is the Midwest because you put a tie on, put your sport coat on and you go to work. Get your briefcase, shine your shoes and off you go.

Diabolique: Do you think it is important if you want to be in the arts to have a benefactor? Not necessarily monetarily but someone who encourages you like your dad?

BC: Well, my mom did sort of amateur writing so she was sympathetic at least to that side of the arts. She liked that creative side. My dad was way more interested in acting. So, I saw him in plays and stuff. I definitely benefitted because I had a sensibility that was similar to my dad. My two older brothers could give a shit about acting. They never touched it. I think my dad saw, “Hey, the young guy likes acting just like me.” That was probably an advantage.

Diabolique: Another thing about that particular section that is fascinating to note is your resourcefulness. The anecdote that you recount about having to come up with a way to deliver newspapers in a horrendous snowstorm and the lengths that you went to just to do your job is inspiring. I feel like that isn’t something that would be done by the younger generation, these days.

BC: We were pre-slackers and again, this isn’t to sound like a crabby, old guy on a hill shouting down about the great old days, at that time there were no other options. Our boss dropped off these papers at the top of a hill. That was as far as his van could go. He dumped the whole thing on me and my brother. We delivered them together (the resolution involved Bruce donning hockey skates and a toboggan). So, we thought okay. There was no option of saying, “Dude, I can’t do it. They’re just not going to get their papers today.” That would be the current response. You would wait until the roads were plowed, like that night, and then you would get your damn paper the next day and you’d end up getting two papers. It wasn’t an option. There was nothing in my upbringing that said, you can tell your boss, no. Now, if I thought it would have been very dangerous or life threatening, I probably would have said, no but short of that, there was a slightly different mentality in the air. You did what you were fucking told, for the most part which is a little bit different now.

Diabolique: “The Princess Di Factor” was a thought-provoking chapter because you talk about the click-baiting, disinformation and too much information that occurs on social media. Some of your peers have their PR reps handle their feeds but you are very present in yours. Do you think someone who is interested in getting into show business has to obtain “influencer” status?

BC: I think there is certainly pressure to do it. The old actors when they were doing a film could get away with telling the local studio, “By the way, I don’t do social media.” They say, “I’ve never done it. I don’t have a Twitter feed. I’m not starting now.” They can get away with it. But a younger thespian has a website and at least two or three social media platforms. I think its important to get a distinction of what are using them for? Facebook is all mercenary. Whenever I post, its just for a link to get tickets. I just do that to keep the account warm but I won’t add to it. That one is really inflammatory. They are finally starting to take the misinformation down. It should just be illegal. The stats are mind boggling. Something like 65% of the people who refuse to do social distancing and stuff like that get their information from YouTube. Its not news sources. Its like the Wild West. I think it needs to be settled. I would introduce journalistic standards and practices where by if you tell a little white lie, you get yanked and if you get fact checked and the facts say you’re wrong, that gets yanked.

Diabolique: At the beginning of your book, you discuss the toll of COVID-19 isolation and changes to the convention and motion picture industries. After presenting the Ashland Independent Film Festival awards virtually, do you think conventions might go that route in the future? San Diego Comic Con has gone entirely online which is surprising. Galaxy Con is another.

BC: If we don’t straighten this out, yeah. Sports are going to be weird for a while. Large venues are just going to be strange. How are you going to figure out the San Diego Comic Con? How are they going to make people feel comfortable jamming 125,000 people over a four-day period into that convention center which is already elbow to elbow and unhealthy? I don’t know. I’ve talked to promoters about a bunch of different things. I’m doing a Drive-In tour. Also, some theaters have opened up again so I am going to encourage and reward that so I have added five theater dates for later this summer: Austin, Dallas, Houston, Oklahoma City and San Antonio. I’m getting back out on the road. This is not a tour year at all but when I heard that drive-ins were making a comeback, I thought let me be part of that. Some of them are struggling to open and I want to help. I’m tired of being on the sidelines. I want to get back into it. Drive-ins are perfect. You’ve got your distance. I can go up to cars and hassle them and there’s no problem. I can shine my flashlight in the cars, see if people are having sex, there’s a lot of fun stuff we can do. I want to be the first guy they meet when they come into the place to park. I want to be the guy that parks everybody. It’s time. Everyone wants to feel normal again. Eat the meatloaf sandwich. Going to the drive-in is the oldest meatloaf sandwich you could ever eat. Bring the hooch. Hide it under the seat. Bring a cooler, bring your reefer…

Diabolique: In The Cool Side of My Pillow, you mentioned that you were going to attend San Diego Comic Con, New York Comic Con and the 2020 Electronics Expo which were all canceled due to the pandemic. Were you going to promote the Evil Dead game?

BC: That’s what I was going to do. That’s what I was going to those conventions for.

Diabolique: What’s the status on it?

BC: I have been looking at and approving a bunch of new stuff. They are full-fledged, full bore into it. I think they are talking 2021 for an actual release. Its rolling along, looking great. It got delayed because of the nightmare of video games. Platforms change and evolve. You look at somebody else’s games and go, “Shit! We have to change everything now.” We have to stay current. I have to finish doing the voice work.

Diabolique: I know you are aware of all the rumors surrounding potential work in the future. You even mentioned in your book that you had a few offers. Is there a possibility that you might show up in Doctor Strange 2 and Mall Rats 2?

BC: The Kevin Smith thing could happen if it all winds up together but we haven’t had serious conversations about it. For Dr. Strange, everyone is at the mercy of what Marvel is going to do and this backlog of movies they’re going to do now. So, I think it won’t be until 2021. Marvel has to figure this all out. They have to figure out what movies they are going to do next, what movies they are going to delay, what movies they are going to shit can, what movies they are going to advance and speed up…the marketplace is ever fluid.

Diabolique: Do you have a release date in mind for The Cool Side of My Pillow?

BC: I have to say summer. We’re blasting away. We’re finishing graphics and photos and all that. We’re doing some legal crap. I’m starting a publishing company too. Tartan Media is going to release it. It will be my Campbell clan logo. It will be just to put things out. Movies, TV shows, whatever. That’s the new shingle.

Diabolique: Is there anything else on the horizon?

BC: Because the book isn’t going through Simon & Schuster, they’ll kind of have to find it where they find it. I’ll tweet about it. It will hopefully be available later this summer through Audible. I am going to do the audio book myself within the next two weeks because I want the e-book and the audiobook to come out at the same time. That way it gives you a choice. I want this to be a summer read.

Diabolique: Any updates on Bruce vs Frankenstein?

BC:  With Bruce vs Frankenstein, I talked with Mike Richardson, who is my partner on this and we’re going to start with a graphic novel. So, I am going to adapt the screenplay. We’re going to put that out first so people in the industry can get a better sense of it. Mike has been selling a lot of projects to Netflix and he said that’s kind of the way to go with his material and fantasy stuff so he suggested we do that first. We’ll get a great artist, sell it in comic book form, people can totally see it and as a director, its kind of like doing storyboards. It’s a tremendous amount of extra prep that I can do just by going through it because I actually have to think about pages, panels and descriptions. It’s a format that’s not my normal format. Screenplay format, I can fart, I got that down. This is different with the way it looks on the page so it will be a very interesting translation process.

Diabolique: Are you doing any projects outside of Tartan Media?

BC: There’s this movie, 18 ½. It’s directed by Dan Mirvish. He’s with Slamdance. The story is about the missing minutes of the Nixon tapes and what happened to those minutes. Originally, I got hired to play a character in the movie and I couldn’t do it for a number of reasons and then the guy came back and asked if I would play Nixon.

Diabolique: So, the audience will just hear you?

BC: Yes. Apparently, it’s this 18-minute-long fight scene where you will hear Nixon in the background. Ted Raimi comes into play Alexander Haig and Jon Cryer is playing Haldeman. We did all these sessions over Zoom and we each recorded them separately (saying this in Nixon’s voice) having our conversations. They will put it all together and put it in the background.

Diabolique: Anything new to report on Evil Dead?  

BC: The official name is Evil Dead Rise. We’re getting a new draft in. I don’t think anything will happen until 2021. Full bore ahead, we’re very excited about it. A whole, new ballgame. No more cabin in the woods.

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 4

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Rated M If you’re not over 18, this ain’t the place to be, mah dude. Mentions of sex and sex toys, teasing, a little bit of jealousy, meddling and revenge. Kinda’ dom/sub themes going on, but very little. 

Author’s Note: Wasn’t really expecting to write this part, but I’m throwing it in here... Jeepers, I’m really enjoying writing this. Hope you enjoy, and let me know of any thoughts <3 Thank youu ^^

Here are the links to the other parts of this series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

Dating was fun at first, and then it became like a house cleaning chore, but worse; it was like there was a particular spot that had stained the carpet and, however hard you try, it just wouldn’t come off.

Because of an active dating life, your sex life followed along the same pattern. Dates that went well, that both you and the other enjoyed, ended in either you at their place, or vice versa. There would be laughs as clothes were removed, they’d quieten down the moment your skin met theirs. You’d feel muscles, sometimes not, and orgasms were a hit or miss, but when it came down to it, the night would end fun.

As usual, Loki hardly saw you, but he could hear you through the walls. He was too proud to confront you on it and preferred to ignore your guests when they were still in the apartment the morning after.

You’d frequently come out in their shirts, which Loki thought was childish.

“Had fun?” He would ask once you appeared the first time during the day.

“Yes.” Was all you would say, as you grab a snack before going back into your room.

As it got to your tenth sleepover at some other random person’s place again, Loki had finalized to himself that tormenting you as he pleased was becoming impossible. He had an idea as to why you were becoming more outgoing and sociable than usual, but he didn’t think it would resort to extreme cases like sleeping with a new person every or so day… You seemed eager than ever to overlook the Prince of Asgard.

He was in slight disbelief that a little teasing had caused you to react this way. Okay, he had to admit, some of his teasing went a bit too far, but how can he help it when he knows how you would be?

You were fascinating, and somehow predictable, and it was so enjoyable to watch.

When you hadn’t returned in the morning, Loki had left to his coffee shop to sit in the Sun. He thought he’d be alone for the day, until Thor stood in front of him.

“What are you doing, Loki?” He questions, almost threatening.

But Loki is used to his authoritative voice. He closes his book to speak to the God of Thunder. “Just enjoying the sun, brother, of which you’re rudely blocking.”

He narrows his eyes in disappointment as he finds Thor sitting next to him. “How are you finding life on Earth?”

“Surprisingly,” Loki begins, not taking long to make his judgement, “better than expected.”

“Are you sure?”

“If I was lying, don’t you think that spy would be trailing me right this second?”

Thor looks behind him, searching for Nick Fury. Loki frowns at him, finding the action unnecessary.

“So, Lady Y/N has actually turned you to a decent civilian here. I haven’t been hearing of any shenanigans from the wizard nor Fury.”

Loki scoffs, eyes never leaving the book. “I assure you, Brother, it’s not her. I can choose to be co-operative.”

“But that’s not really in your façade, is it?”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to confirm one more thing,” Thor says, leaning towards Loki over the table, “why are you here, and not with her now?”

“She’s probably somewhere else, with someone else.” Loki nonchalantly reads to the next line within his book. “I don’t know where, but I’m sure she’s alive.”

“Funny,” Thor says, a matter-of-factly tone lingering in the air, “I thought you took an interest in her. Well, the wizard has told me.”

“It’s true. Without her around, I think I’d be bored here, and thus said shenanigans would be frequent.” Loki places the book down again. “I understand she’s somewhat my ‘keeper’, and I don’t think she even knows that’s what she’s doing living with me – but I don’t need to be glued to her hip constantly.”

“So,” Thor’s tone had not changed. “If she were to, let’s say, have an interest in you, would this be a concern?”

Loki finally caught eye contact with Thor. “No.”

A bright beam spread across Thor’s face. “Ah, very good.”

Loki had continued scanning Thor, watching him dial a number on his phone. Before Loki could make a snarky comment on his incompetence with Midgardian technology, he saw your name on the screen.

Hastily, and with a short sigh, Loki finally took his book into his hands, trying to read the page over Thor’s giggles and his phone alert going off every so often. From the corner of his eye, he saw Thor put his phone away.

“Well,” Thor slaps his back, “thank you for letting me know. Don’t cause too much trouble.” And with that, Thor took his leave.

Loki blinked, a stone planting itself in his stomach.

Shutting the book, he bolts to his feet. All of a sudden Loki’s suspicion of Thor dating you was making him move to the apartment. Loki didn’t like these new feelings; he needed to fix it. Maybe he needed to meddle more.

He treads up the stairs, finding his keys to open the apartment. As he locks the door, he notices something; a large cardboard box in front of your room, which as well was open and vacant.

Loki isn’t one to pry, but the placement and the idle of it all was odd. He strides towards the box, crouching to read the label. The package was addressed to you, and a letter with the words “With compliments” was attached but not sealed. With curiosity thinking that Thor had mailed you something, he couldn’t help but read the letter.

“Congratulations, and welcome to the team.” He read, acknowledging you got a new job.

He wondered for a split second if you had used any of his techniques and smirked at the prospect.

He takes in the rest of the letter wordlessly, learning the marketing purpose for the items in the package, the actual description of the contents was vague yet still hinted on appealing intentions.

Putting the letter back into its envelope, and quickly scanning the area before doing so, he carefully uses his Seidr to peel the tape off the box with no tears or mark. Once the tape had been removed, he places a thumb underneath an opening flap and lifts the box, revealing the items inside.

It only takes a second for Loki to clock in what the objects actually are. They were convenient for your ever increasing libido, yet convenient for the God of Mischief to find. As a cunning strategy quickly forms into his head, he seals the box back up as if untouched.

After a couple of hours or so, you had returned. But something was off about you. You had spent the day with the person you just fooled around with and, although it never led to anything serious, over time there was a gradual looming aura. The person was adorably nice; you had been invited to a candle lit meal in the richer part of the city, conversations flowed, and you had found common interests more than other people you’ve dated, and they were kind, thoughtful yet so attractive, and their laugh was amazing… But you didn’t go through with sex.

You pause and sigh halfway through slotting the key into the keyhole. After a second of ruminating your life choices, you turn the key and open the door to your apartment. You pass Loki’s door; it was shut, meaning he was either out, or just keeping to himself for the evening.

Your first search, as you come into your bedroom, were the toys you relied on after every date, after every early ejaculation, after every fake orgasm, and just basically every sexual frustration you were put through for the evening. You latch your bedroom door shut, beginning to take off your clothes. You scour the usual place where you place your special items. You frown in puzzlement; you check the boxes next to shoes and old belts, under the bed where old books were stored in their own decorative boxes, you also comb through the mess of your underwear through your drawers…

“What the…” You acknowledge the box that’s hidden in the corner of your room. You recognize the logo; it was a lingerie and sex shop that you had been interviewed at. They had given you a job as a sales assistant, and you were expecting a package from them of some of the products they sell.

In delight, you rip the box open. “…What?”

You were met with one thing; a vibrator. You pick it up, feeling your cheeks felt heat; all, but one, of your sex toys were missing.

A knock on your bedroom door shook you, and you get to your feet. You keep your nude body behind the door as you unlatch and pull it open.

“You’ve been pacing up and down in there.” It was Loki.

“Did you do something?” You immediately put the clues together. There were too many coincidences. “Where did you hide them?”

“Hide what?” He smirks.

You glare at him. “Give them back.”

“Give what back?”

You open your mouth but seal it with your teeth gritting behind your lips. Your need to be satisfied, and the fact that you had to go through Loki to succeed it, was making you grip the side of the door harder. “My sex toys. Give them back.”

He chuckles; a deep hum with a glint of trouble behind it. “Would you like to ask nicely?”

There was a lapse of silence; you were starting to get chilly.

After a second passes, you slam the door on his face. Loki waits on the other side, hearing some nearby shuffling. With the door opening again, you appear in a robe.

“Please, can I have my sex toys back?” You say, almost in a pleading whisper.

Loki was loving this; he was the only person who knew where they were. All he needed to do was wave his hand and your toys will return to your bedside. But he wasn’t just going to give them up that easily.

He lets himself in the room sitting at the end of the bed.

It was much more amusing watching you quiver. “No – Much nicer than that.”

You were set in silence, not knowing whether to be angry and slap him, or to just shut the door and let yourself blush your way out of existence.

You exhale “Nicer?”

“Do you need them?”

“Well, y-yes-“

“Are you going to use them now?”

“That’s really none of your business-”

“I don’t understand why Midgardians need that much to simply pleasure themselves-“

Your voice was rising louder in anger. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve had your fair share of Midgardian women, but when you do, you’ll understand why-“

“Odin’s beard, why are you so desperate in achieving sexual climax? What is it with humans and the difficulty of having that satisfaction? To go to such lengths is… Juvenile.” He pauses. “Unless the people you have been seeing haven’t-“

“Are you gonna’ give them, or not?”

He dips his head low to you, a small mischievous simper on his lips, “Ask. Nicely.”

You weren’t sexually frustrated anymore; you were just annoyed. He wanted you to beg for your sex toys back, and you were trying to decipher whether you were annoyed about the situation, or his smug face more. You couldn’t just let him have them; they are expensive, and the freebies from the company you were going to work for you get to keep but you still needed to test them.

And it wasn’t just for the pleasure at all… That was a plus, if it succeeded in such.

“Well, Y/N?” Loki brought you back to reality. “Or have I-“

His remark was cut-off with your strides. Your legs not wavering as you climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. Loki braces himself by leaning back and propping himself by his arms, his smug expression turning into a curious one. Your hands roam up his chest. He awaits your hands as they reach his collarbone, then gently landing on his neck, cupping his face slightly.

Your eyes were inviting, captivating with your supple, slightly parted, lips. You were sitting on his lap with small movements, his cock beginning to itch, giving Loki nothing for his imagination to miss. His mind was reeling, and when the shoulders of you robe began to slide off of you, displaying more of your gorgeous complexion, Loki was in the midst of breaking completely.

“Loki.” You begin under your breath, brushing a thumb over his jawline as you let the words flow out of you in a clear tone. “I would like to have your honorable permission to have the vibrators, and all the other sex toys that I own, back into my possession. Please.”

He looks up at you. “What would you do for them, my love?”

The pet name makes you stumble in your thoughts, but you recover. “Anything, My King.”

The Prince stills at his address.

With a wave of his hand, and you see your intimate toys returned, laying rest on your bedside table.

You lean close to him, your stare raking him up and down. Your wordless gratitude spoken in a thousand actions within Loki’s thoughts.

What were you doing?

Loki was about to take you under him before a small giggle leaves you, growing into a louder laugh. Your hands clutch your stomach, your hair falls back, and you lean away as you continue to let all the laughter out of your body. Loki froze once more, aroused and starting to get confused. His mind, once racing, was quickly calming down. His heartbeat was slowing, and his breathing was getting back to its regular pace.

What the Hel were you doing?

“You’re blushing.” You smile. “I’ve never seen you blush before.”

“What?” Was all Loki could muster.

You laugh some more, some tears falling from the corner of your creased eyes. You breathe a sigh of elation, looking at him with, what Loki could only describe as, pity.

“It’s revenge, Loki.” You get off him.

He frowns.

You roll your eyes, getting off of him and leave the room. “And, honestly, I just wanted to see your reaction if you were in the same situation.”

He hears the faint sound of the shower raining against the tiles of the bathroom, and another door lock shut.

The God of Mischief collected all the composure that he could, he got to his feet and his infamous cool façade took place on his visage. He couldn’t say he was disappointed, nor could he say he would admit to such emotions; was he that gullible, yet desperate, for someone to submit to him? Had he just been manipulated by a mere mortal? What was meant to happen was for you to beg him for no humiliation, and then appeal to have your sex toys back. It was going to be another event that was going to cause’ you to go red in the face, and scurry or stomp away in a silent huff. Instead, you had left him speechless.

Why did you do that to him? After obediently following his requests, you simply just let the moment go? Instead, he was blocked from receiving any vindication or relief from any of your actions, and for once he needed to be sated.

Nevertheless, the god was impressed. He didn’t know you would be willing to go that far, or that you could be that dominant…

He had to admit; “My King” rolled off your tongue gloriously.

[an-american-teen-against-crime]

SPY: blogging as I go pt. 2

heard it here folks, Joe is “an extremely proficient tactician” 

lol Frank only gets “strong connection to Kestrel” 

I wonder which graphic design artist revenant hired to make their fancy logo

the colony operation was just a trial run. Revenant wants to find a way to “regime change” without a military. That would be super freaky because it would completely change the way wars were fought. 

who writes these files wow it’s like they grab a dictionary every single time

OKAY WOWWWW when they said non-lethal I thought they meant not kill anyone which makes no sense because then why would people be worried but then it says casualties are okay as long as there isn’t too many

I remember that the formula would affect the really young and the really old, along with those who weren’t stable health wise which is. so similar to now whaaaaat

they also wanted an off switch so that new problems would come up and people wouldn’t develop a “herd immunity” because if that happened they wouldn’t be able to use it again . whAT

yo. they PLANNED THIS OUT

Nancy’s file says “she is not a professional. Do not expect professional decision making skills.” lol get roasted Nance

seriously tho maybe that’s good sometimes tho

Based off of the updates in her file, Revenant tried to get to Nancy before SAW. 

also this means that what started it up again was Nancy coming to Scotland. yikes

because of SAW they realized she’d do just about anything to get information on her mom 

THIS GAME IS SO FREAKING GOOD

so I don’t think I’ve ever found Michael’s file?!?! Did not know he was an agent and that he DIED DURING MOIRA’S MISSION WTH

Also there’s a file on Hannah that I never found before

 According to Ewan (which this is true in his case) cathedral believes that Revenant is people that work in secret service. That makes so much sense but also makes this seem even scarier

 so if I understand this correctly let’s just say Colony happened, and then they’d come in and be like we can help ! and then be like for now, we should be in change to bad huh :( and then NEVER GIVE CONTROL BACK TO EM

ohhhhh. Now I know why it’s called Colony. “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country”. 

also. this may or may not be referencing the colonists who came to America, spread their diseases to native tribes severely debilitating them and then taking control bit by bit of the country (colonists becoming the colonizers) 

oop sorry was that being to political

the structure of this game’s plot is so weird but I kinda dig it 

because essentially. Nancy tracking down information about her Mom and what’s causing this may lead to catching Ewan, but it also helps put Ewan’s plan into motion O.o

I actually really do like talking talking to Ewan. He really has good insight for obvious reasons on what’s going on plus I love a good Scottish accent

he says Revenant wants to rewrite society . Which I get but they’d probably do a crap job, and no matter how you rewrite social structures it’s always going to be flawed, and one group is always going to be hurt by another. 

which is depressing, but that’s why you’ve gotta do your little part to be a better person and not give into society ! *trumpet music*

I seriously don’t get Ewan’s motivation tho

love how Zoe insults Nancy even as Bridget loool (well, not a very GOOD spy)

Revenant: go cut the trash compactor 

Me: *goes and eats haggis and makes a heck ton of cookies*

stuff from Nancy’s notes:

“as much as I love reading Mom’s emails... I guess it’s selfish, but I wish she would have been writing about me or Dad.”

“My code name is Kestrel! Cool.”

she wonders why there were so few people involved in the colony operation, and that she only is seeing the “tip of the iceberg”

Nancy is worried they are using her...sorry hon they are

“seeing bagpipes” is fun to nancy lol

HOW HAVE I NEVER GOTTEN THIS CONVO WITH CARSON

NANCY WONDERS IF SHE LEFT BECAUSE OF HER NANCY NOOOOOOOOOO D’:

all this talk about a long-term plan makes me think HeR was DEF planning to have a sequel to this game

I ship Nedcy for this game only 

but then I think about how Frank would act in these times....Imagine if she asked the boys to break into her house lolllllll

okay but this game is so freaky and you don’t know who to trust having Ned around is actually really nice

hey. So do you think Cathedral kidnapped Moira? 

Im sorry but Ned and Nancy’s whole convo about Bridget just makes it sound like Nancy doesn’t realize Bridget is hitting on her

“I don’t know.” “me either.” I CANNOT EXPLAIN TO YOU HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME THAT NED DOESNT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT TO DO

sooooo what’s up with the weird fonts on the note in Alec’s seat loool

ha. I remember my mind being BLOWN by the change in Bridget’s voice the first time

Ned knows he can’t stop Nancy so he’ll do what he can to help

“She called me because she knows my faith in her is stronger than my fear for her”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“sure thing Mr. Drew. Sorry I burgled your house.”

I REALLY wanna know how Carson caught him looool

the reason Ewan doesn’t find anything on Alec or Zoe is not because he’s dumb but because he’s lying

Penny saw them AR glasses of Zoe’s and had an idea

Ewan: “you may want to ease up on the stealing.”

Dude. We’ve been trying to tell her this for YEARS. It’s a problem

hey at least Zoe cares enough to tell you

I bet Nancy feels a lot like Harry Potter rn

so I never got the convo with Zoe and Nancy where Nancy wants to help and shes like nO

basically Zoe says “Two reasons I work in the field- one, I work alone. two, no one would miss me if I would go off the grid. That’s not the same for you”

I mean one that is true but it makes me sad about Zoe :((((((

so this may be a similar problem to Nedcy, but what about Ned and Zoe O.o

I also saw some people shipping Joe and Zoe

send me your Zoe ships I am here for them

HA zoe just called Nancy a tool

Okay I’m stopping for now cuz I have a headache haha. I need blue light glasses

Plus my computer needs charged so 

[delilahsfm]

⌠ MARGARET QUALLEY, 24, DEMI-FEMALE, SHE/HER/THEY/THEM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, DELILAH JONES! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (smudged mascara, howling laughter, a lopsided smile, fingernails filed into claws, a light dusting of glitter as far as the eye can see). when it’s the (gemini)’s birthday on 6/08/95, they always request their TIRAMISU from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

this will be shorter than some of my other intros because i’m trying Not to write a novel today !  but say hello to my chaotic bby delilah :

delilah and her twin sister were left at a hungarian orphanage only a few weeks after birth, with no records of where they came from -- or more importantly, who is older. it’s a fact the two constantly bicker about, despite having none of the facts.

when they were around four years old they were adopted by a man named istvan and taken to live with him in budapest. he was an odd dude, and hadn’t been looking for daughters -- no, he was more interested in raising a set of WEAPONS. he didn’t even bother giving them names, merely calling them alpha and beta. from day one they were raised to become assassins, first going on jobs with istvan and then becoming employees of him themselves.

when they weren’t working they were sheltered in istvan’s big house, with no company but each other’s. the twins were  ( and are )  completely codependent ;  sometimes he’d have to use the safety of one to get the other to do his bidding. it was a cruel  “ home “  they grew up in, but the two girls always tried to make it as fun and exciting as possible. alpha was blessed with a completely overactive imagination, one that never seemed to lose its childlike quality despite getting older. 

istvan never gave either of the girls details on who he worked for or what he did, and to be fair she never asked. it wasn’t until istvan was finally tracked down and killed by his enemies, leading MI6 to finding the twins. they were quarantined some time, trying to decide if they were a threat or not, but eventually they’d come to the conclusion that they were prisoners in their own home. so they were sent to gallagher, to shape their training and use their powers for good instead of evil.

when the girls moved to america, they were able to choose names for themselves. she chose delilah partly based on the biblical story, and partly because she had been binging american music that week and hey there delilah was a bop.

at first delilah was VERY against the strangers changing everything in their home, but she agreed to gallagher both because her sister  ( now persephone )  agreed as well, and because it was the easiest way to get overseas and out of hungary. she hoped to run away her first year at the school, but it was unfortunately hard to do so :/  

but somewhere down the line gallagher stopped being the PRISON she viewed it as and instead became a fun adventure. and delilah is all about having fun.  she took to partying  ( as much partying as gallagher has, of course )  and sleeping around, all the things she wasn’t able to do growing up.

she’s a bit... unhinged is the word i want to use, but she’s getting better.  two years ago she would’ve slit a girl’s throat without blinking an eye if they were in an argument, but she’s comfortable in gallagher and knows better than to do anything to fuck it up.  still, she WILL do the Most she possibly can to terrify anyone that she believes needs to hear it. 

otherwise y’know, she’s really friendly !!   genuinely likes meeting new people -- she finds any life outside of the one she grew up in fascinating. just don’t expect her to start caring about you :   that’s not really her nature. 

she’s more into having a good time and making up for lost time than anything else. she doesn’t even know if she wants to go back into the business after gallagher  ( that’ll depend on what percy wants to do tbh )

delilah is UNPREDICTABLE at most, a hurricane of a girl that when colliding with her sister persephone is a force to be reckoned with. percy is the only person she cares about.

has an eastern european account of course, and can speak a whole bunch of different languages and master accents

well this got longer than i expected, per usual. but connection ideas ??? 

2-3 close gal pals

hookups / ex-hookups  ( bonus points if it’s someone who was her first time in any aspect ?? )

classmates / study buddies / people she can challenge on the mats

PARTY PEOPLE who will indulge in her erratic behavior 

enemies / rivals  ( people who hate her for xyz or people who she loves to get under their skin )

someone that for whatever reason delilah gets really territorial over 

someone Smol and Pure that she would kill for and likes to dote over  

a crush ( except delilah doesn’t do romantic feelings she does full on Obsessions and will suddenly appear everywhere in that persons life ) 

[wuffzilla]

Happy 2020!!!

My 1st dream of the New Year involved me tracking down a gang that kidnapped and ate little girls then turning into a werewolf and slaughtering every one of them! It had parts that I found funny + creepy + VERY COOL + interesting, so I feel like saving it here where I can find it again.

I was searching for a missing roommate with several Dream NPCs, who were also my roommates. A girl who was either... in high school or college... or grade school? IDK the dream was kinda vague about her age????? BUT she looked really super young, like a grade schooler. She was also kind of a snooty bitch, super vain and proud of her looks and all her talent/smarts/pageant trophies. But abandoning someone to a unknown fate just cause theyre an asshole wasnt the kind of karma we wanted against her.

The area we were in, a college town I think, had been having trouble with grade school age girls going missing. So my Dream roomies and I just KNEW this chick had gotten taken by the same people. AND WE WERE RIGHT!! Somehow we found out that there was a local Mafia type gang who kidnapped lil girls and cooked them to eat?? Like into bacon and jerky and such???

Now that Im awake I think it was inspired by that Lion Yakuza gang in Beastars! (SPOILERS?) Their reasoning was even similar, something along the lines of being gourmets and only eating the most tender and perfect of meats. But these Dream guys where just a buncha humans.

Their Front was that they operated a farm where they raised, butchered, & sold sheep meat. It was very well known locally and praised for its high quality products at affordable prices. NPCs and I even saw a commercial for it on DreamTV, I think thats what made us realize where that girl was? SOMEHOW?? But the sheep were about the same size as the girls that went missing so they had all the equipment they needed to hide bodies of that size.

ANYWAY half of us went to the cops, the other half snuck onto the property to do reconnaissance work. While spying, we ran into my mom and several of my aunts who were also there for the same purpose!!!  Apparently they were in a group that had been trying to find the ones responsible for the missing girls for ages and had just now narrowed it down to these guys!!!

So now theres this huge group of people hiding behind a rickety old fence, and somehow none of the workers notice us. They were too focused on work I guess?  BUT THEN WE ALL SAW SOMETHING idk what THAT PROVED WE WERE RIGHT!!! And everyone but me whipped out their phones to take vids/pics for evidence and contact the authorities to GTF over here!

I was the only one who didnt take out my phone because I turned into a Werewolf and went BALLISTIC on all those bastards. Just fucking smashing through walls of the warehouse and ripping everyone in my path to BLOODY SHREDS!!!! The morons didnt even try to escape, they just kept trying more and more ways to stop me, that all failed.

Guns didnt hurt me, nor machetes, nor bombs. One guy threw a dog toy that DID admittedly distract me for a minute, Im ashamed to say. Bouncing squeaky balls are apparently my one weakness as a berserk monstrosity???? But when I realized what had happened I immediately turned on the dude and ripped his entire face and chest off.

Off in the distance I could tell that Dream Roomies, Mom n Aunts, & Cops were doing what they needed to do to get the surviving girls to safety.  And they just let me continue mangling all the gang members.  Apparently no one cares when kidnapping cannibals meet a painful and terrifying end? I think they had enough evidence to show this was justified too.

But it was still kinda funny cause they were ofc very seriously worried about checking the girls to see what help they needed, and it showed on their faces. But theyd glance my way to watch me literally bite someones head off, and be like huh ok no biggie with a casual expression, and turn back to the girls and immediately look worried as hell.

[the-coolest-mallard]

Stealth Operation | Team Sabotage

@urchinxowens @justkeepdancing-nemo @oliversaluki

The boys sneak into the Hunted Deer and make a mess.

URCHIN

The light had faded and night was upon Swynlake. Everyone was asleep in order to build up energy to go back to work the next day. Everyone except Urchin - because he had summer holiday - and hopefully Louie, who Urchin was actually waiting for at their rendez-vous point a block away from Main Street.

Urchin sported his best spy gear which… well, consisted of a black turtle neck sweater, balck jeans and a black beanie that worked very little because his curls were overpowering it more and more by the minute, cascading out of the headgear.

With him also came a large cardboard box with air holes punctured on top. The boy sat next to said box and checked his phone, waiting for his partner in crime to arrive!

LOUIE

Ordinarily, Louie never got rid of his signature green. However, the plan they had was going to require stealthiness. So he also had dressed in all black. Black skinny jeans, black t-shirt, black leather jacket he found around the house. And of course a beanie as well, pushing down his own fantastic hair.

Louie had only one hand free to use (the other in a cast thanks to his genius moped moment), but he utilized his hand as best he could. He brought along with him some spray paint that he’d found at home, as well as some eggs both sort of put together in a bag. He’d feel a little bad about wasting the eggs but…there were a ton of things to toss at Gaston and he was gonna use all of them.

He made his way over with a grin, glad that he managed to find friends who were up for taking matters into their own hands. “Hey Urchin. Listen, I invited Ollie along too. He had some fun ideas for sabotage and stuff which is great and you know…I’ve only got one functioning hand so. Go team.”

OLLIE

Ollie kind of knew this was a bad idea but at the same time why not mess with someone who deserved it. Besides a little egg never hurt anyone and if he was there he could probably try and keep everyone from getting into too much shit.

So he had printed out harmless things, well not that werewolves were harmless but it was a prank that was harmless and his of choice.

Plus it was good to pull his leather jacket back on, pull the dark beanie on, and get out of the house from the crying baby.

It wasn’t hard to find the two other boys. 

“What’s up?” Ollie stated softly dropping to curb beside Urchin. 

URCHIN

“Woah, what happened to you?” Urchin couldn’t help but ask, gesturing at Louie’s arm. He didn’t look like that the last time Urchin had seen him, now did he? In any case, Ollie rolled up soon enough.

“Oh, hello! So it looks like we’re ready, huh? I’m honestly glad we’re not on our own, because I didn’t manage to get any raccoons,” he admitted, patting the cardboard box. The pat made the animal within wake up, though, because it had begun moving. 

“I… got the next best thing. This is Felicia. She’s the cat who always tries to get into our kitchen,” the boy explained. “She’s ferocious. Should give our big dumb friend a headache when he tries to take her out of his business tomorrow.”

NEMO

Nemo had never snuck out of the Hollow before. 

In the end– it had been kind of easy. He just waited for his father’s light snoring, put on one of his black dance hoodies, flipped up the hood, and then, quick and quiet as the wind itself, flit from outside his bedroom window.

He had to stop first at the Raccoon Hole to see if he could round up reinforcements. Course, he was no animal fairy and his Beast was seriously lacking, but as soon as he flashed the gold of his pixie dust, they were in. Raccoons loved all things shiny��� kinda like magpies in that way. With his new comrades in tow, Nemo flitted fast as he could and tried not to think about how he had used up more than half his dust by the time he finally got to town. 

He walked the rest of the way, hood up, skirting from shadow to shadow until he saw what he thought were the three boys he had never met before. His steps slowed, hands going into his pockets, heart rapid-fire, though from his flying or nerves he didn’t know. He swallowed and put on a big grin, sauntering forward. 

“Um– hey! Are you erm, Louie, and Ollie and…?” he blinked. He didn’t know the other bloke. “Um. I brought Blueberry and Denise!” He blurted and pointed at his raccoon mates. 

They chattered and lifted their paws in a friendly wave.

LOUIE

What had started as an awful day had quickly turned into something incredible. He had gathered three other boys to do something important: sabotage the old geezer Gaston. It was the perfect union, with every one pitching in the best of plans (and one fantastic fairy delivering the raccoons of destiny). He almost forgot about the wrist, though he held it up with a sheepish grin. “Crashed my moped. It happens. Won’t get in the way of awesome though.”

And this was truly awesome. Ollie was there, Urchin brought a CAT! And then finally, the other hero of the night Nemo there with the raccoons! Who needed brothers for mischief when you could make friends like these? “Mwahaha,” Louie cackled quietly, rubbing his hands together because this was better than he could have imagined. “Team Sabotage…we’ve come together this dark night to take down an old man’s ego.” He glanced over at the cat and the raccoons. “I welcome Felicia, Blueberry and Denise to our super good cause.” 

He turned toward his fellow conspirators, the smile only growing on his face. “Urchin, Ollie, Nemo…you guys are the best of the best of the best with the coolest ideas. And I’m excited to pull off this mission with you. But first…we should probably have a sort of escape plan. My moped’s trashed so we can’t take that quick exit.”

OLLIE

Ollie really wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into at this rate. There was a cat and two raccoons? They couldn’t be too much damage? Or too dangerous. Either way Ollie was going to make sure they didn’t get into shit. Or try to.

He just lifted a hand in a greeting.

“I can double back and get my car? It’s kind of noticeable for the small town so I don’t know how much of a good idea that is for stealth.” Ollie mused with a shrug. “We gotta worry about cameras too and what not. I’ve never been so I don’t know what’s there but he’d be even more stupid not to have some sort of security.” Leaning forward Ollie rested on his knees trying to think of all the necessary things.

URCHIN

“Urchin,” the boy quickly said when the stranger asked for his name. Eventually, he managed to associate each person with their names, and smiled at the small collective of revenge-getters.

“Uh, we should probably try to stay out of very visible areas as much as possible, then,” the curly-haired boy pointed out after Ollie’s statement. “We can also ask the raccoons or the cat to disconnect anything we can find, if that’s even possible… and if anyone can talk to them.”

He stood up from his sitting place and grinned. “In any case, he’s getting what he deserves! So destiny will probably thank us for it or whatever. We will probably not even get grounded because of how much everyone probably dislikes this guy.”

NEMO

Nemo’s eyes flicked imperceptibly to his pocket. Tucked inside was his pixie dust pouch-- and in another world, Nemo would pull it out, grin bright, and show them all how to use it. Why need a moped when you could fly anyway, right? 

But if he ran out of pixie dust, he’d never get home, and his dad would wake up and see he was gone, and he’d totally flip and Nemo would be grounded (literally) for the next forever. 

He felt guilty, but he kept his hands in his pockets, fingers around that pouch, all to himself. 

“Erm, I can’t-- explain electronics to them,” he said, rolling from the balls of his feet to his toes and back again. “My beast’s not that good and they’d definitely not listen. But um, I can fly in before hand and maybe turn ‘em off?” 

LOUIE

“You can fly?!” Louie blurted first, instantly putting Nemo up there on the list of coolest people he’d ever met. That was awesome! He’d met this other guy who could fly once (Peter) but they hadn’t really spoken much since the incident at the ice cream shop. Nemo though, Nemo seemed like a super cool dude. So did Urchin and Ollie really. Immediately in for the world’s best sabotage team.

“Good idea on the security front too...hmm. If the car’s not the best option and the raccoons can’t tell...yeah okay. Here’s the plan,” Louie started, and honestly he wasn’t one hundred percent sure they’d just listen to him on this but what the hell. Act confident and like you’re the best option and eventually others will believe you.

“Nemo will fly in and turn off the security. From there he’ll call in the racoon pals to trash the place and the cat too. Phase two’ll be us swinging in there to egg the place and spray painting it. The werewolf pics will have to be more carefully put so they’re phase three. Ollie, you seem pretty like...responsible and shit, are you up for keeping watch? Make sure that the cost is clear?” 

OLLIE

Well if Ollie had to have a title of being responsible, you know what he was okay with that. The more he thought about it the more he worried about it he was. This wasn’t New York where you could get away with shit because no one paid attention to you. This was Swynlake where anything that could go wrong would go wrong.

Call him boring. He was not getting tossed into jail for this though even if he could bail himself out. 

“Honestly yeah I’m good with just keeping watch.” Ollie stated simply. “You guys can do all the trouble and we can make a simple signal that someone is on their way. Three knocks in quick sucession or something like that. So you know don’t be too loud in there.”

URCHIN

Urchin was disappointed they couldn’t tell the animals to do everything for them, mostly because it’d have been so cool, but the plan seemed solid either way. He listened intently to Louie’s words and tried to picture it in his mind - it’d probably involve a fun montage of crudely-drawn caricatures of the boys doing all the things if it were a TV show.

“Great! I think we’re all set, then,” he announced, picking up the box Felicia the cat was in, which shook almost uncontrollably as it was picked up. “Evidently, Felicia’s ready to move, too.”

NEMO 

Right-- that meant he actually had to fly. 

Instantly, Nemo got self-conscious, his hands fisting deep in his hoodie pockets. So dumb-- it wasn’t like they were gonna see his wing or anything. It just kinda felt like...well, his pixie life was in the forest and his human life was here in Swynlake. He’d never been in his pixie form here.

But Louie beamed at him. Nemo wanted to help. He didn’t have any other choice. 

“Er, okay. Yeah-- okay then, I’ll um-- do that!” said Nemo. His eyes flicked back to Louie and his smile dropped as fast as it jumped onto his face in the first time. “Uh, now right? I should do that now?” 

LOUIE

“Hmmm….the knock’ll work once we’re all in there, but I think Nemo you’ve gotta give us a bit more of a cue.” They’d be close by, but not too close, obviously. They couldn’t exactly be spotted by the cameras or anything. What would work better for that? “How about...Nemo you can do like an owl call or something. Hoot or something once you’ve got the cameras out of the way.”

He glanced around the group of misfits, a smile slowly lighting up his entire face. This was the kind of thing he lived for. Bringing together some cool kids to cause trouble for a man who absolutely deserved everything they threw his way. This was going to be the best. “Yeah okay. Nemo first uh huh. But maybe demo your call or whatever so we know what we’re listening for. But then yeah. Fly like an eagle or something.”

OLLIE

Ollie nodded, more than fine taking a step back. He wasn’t ever the leader type. It just wasn’t in his bones. So he listened to the plan. What an interesting group he had found himself in. Pushing himself into a standing position Ollie stepped back from the box with a potentially unruly cat. 

“Are we gonna make code names at his rate?” Ollie joked. “Eagle one, Eagle Two. If I had to pick a dude and what not.”

URCHIN

Urchin frankly loved the idea of getting code names, but he wondered if he’d start confusing them. “Okay, okay,” he said. “But I want memorable code names. Otherwise, I’m gonna confuse everyone, honestly.”

He looked around and at the rest. They all seemed ready and eager to start. The box shaking in his hands seemed to imitate his own anxiousness to get started. “Not to hurry us up or anything, but if this cat manages to escape the box there’s no way we’re getting her back in. So, let’s make sure she does it once she’s inside, and pronto.”

NEMO

The idea of code names distracted Nemo from his erratic, buggy jitters firing off in his belly. He brightened up-- especially at Eagle one, Eagle two.

His hand shot up into the air. “Dibs on Eagle One!” he preened. He grinned wide, shooting the grin from one boy to the next. 

He’d always wanted to be like an eagle-- strong, intense, fierce. Fast. 

He then cleared his throat. “Erm, okay how about somethin’ like--” and he whistled sharp and loud, the sort of call he had mimicked before from the animal fairies. 

It made Blueberry and Denise startle, then perk up on their hindlegs and wiggle their noses in the air. 

LOUIE

“Alright great. Nemo’s Eagle One. That’s good. Hmm… Ollie can be Hawkeye or something you know, cause he’s keeping watch.” Louie probably wasn’t any better at this code name thing, but he could sure try. “Urchin you’ll be 007. You’ve got the whole look down. Leaving me with…” he hummed, debating for a long minute. “Rebel Leader.”

He jumped a little at the whistle, knocking into Urchin a bit and patting his shoulder as his form of sort of apology. “Okayyyy. Yeah. Good. That’s good. Eagle One...you’re clear for take off,” he added, grinning like an idiot and giving them all the thumbs up. This would be amazing. Team Sabotage was ready to go. “The rest of us, we gotta chill, till we hear Nemo. Alright?”

OLLIE

Ollie couldn’t help the snort of laughter as all the code names. He had been teasing but he was glad they took him seriously. It made him feel more like they were part of a group than he had in a long time. Sure he couldn’t be sure everyone had each others backs but it felt like they did.

Blinking at the animal call Ollie nodded. “Hard to miss but it should blend in.” Ollie mused with a nod. “Have any of you guys pulled off anything like this before?” Ollie questioned already starting to glance around and make sure he took his task seriously during the whole time.

URCHIN

Urchin grinned at his code name. It was probably the best one out of all of them, so he certainly didn’t complain. He did jump a bit when Louie knocked into him, but was quick to regain his balance and smile as a silent way to tell him not to worry.

“And chill we shall,” the boy declared. He put down the box for a few seconds and made sure his cap was on correctly, and then shrugged at Ollie. “I mean… You know what they say, there’s a first time for everything, right?” he said, grinning.

NEMO 

First time for everything. 

Wasn’t that the truth? 

And Nemo-- Nemo was excited, especially as he glanced around at these other boys’ grins. It gave him the jolt of confidence he needed. He dug his hand back into his pocket and this time he pulled out the pixie dust pouch. “Okay! Okay okay, I’m um, I’m goin’!” he said as he skipped back, gathering a little bit of air on his heel that helped him glide. “Oi, Denise, Blueberry, follow me!” He took out a pinch of pixie dust, tossed it in the air, and leaped into the golden cloud-- 

In an instant, he was a small blur of orange and gold, zooming sharp as a rocket toward the Deer. The raccoons chattered and followed after him, their black and gray hides disappearing into the shadow. 

It didn’t take long for Nemo to fly all the way up to the Deer’s thatched roof. He skittered around the panels then found the chimney and dived down into it.  The raccoons, meanwhile, took the long way round and clambered up the gutters. Their claws scratched against the pipe work and the roof tiles. 

Nemo emerged into a dark, dim, silent pub. It was actually a bit creepy how quiet it was-- Nemo used to humming cicada and whistling crickets and the wind, always there, murmuring into his ear. There was no wind here. The air was still, so still it felt-- dead. Dusty. Nemo didn’t like it and he scrunched up his nose before zooming on. 

He found the cameras and scrambled on top of one, where he had to stop and rest. His little wind fluttered weakly and his lungs burned from all the effort of it. Breathing heavily, he drew his hands through his hair once before resecuring the hood over his orange hair. And then, squinting through the dark, he yanked hard on the tiny switch below the flashing red button. It didn’t budge. Nemo grimaced. This was the downside of being so small sometimes. He yanked again and again and the plastic rubbed against this tiny hands. And then one more time--

Nemo yelped as the switch gave way and he nearly toppled off the camera. His wings fluttered frantically and righted him again. 

This was way harder than it looked. 

It took him another five minutes to get the other three cameras all turned off, and then Nemo landed in a tired heap on the ground where he pinched out some pixie dust to help him return to his human-form. Nemo put his hands around made his call then and skipped over to the door to open it up for the boys when they arrived. 

He poked his head out. “Coast all clear!” he announced. Something smashed behind him and Nemo giggled. “I think that was Denise.”

LOUIE 

The mission was going off without a hitch. Nemo went for it, and the rest of the boys had a little while before they could be called in. “You know, I pull stuff like this with my brothers...but they’re usually too them to want to go for something really interesting.” Well, Huey more than Dewey, but it took some nudging to get them to want to cause some serious trouble.

But soon he heard the call, and he gestured for Ollie and Urchin to follow him as he rushed over to the entrance of the Hunted Deer. “Nice one Nemo. Your heroics will be remembered forever.” He carefully stepped into the building, holding onto a can of spray paint. It was time to mess up this newly prettied up place. Yesss. “Okay. Ollie, stick by the door yeah?” This teamwork was seriously going to rule. He’d never have a shot at something this good without them.

Louie moved toward the nearest wall, shaking the spray paint he had and considered it carefully. This would be his artistic masterpiece. “I know we should probably be beyond the immature dick art, but Gaston is one...so is it really so bad?” He considered the wall carefully. “Guys? Ideas on what we should put on the walls? It’s gotta be good.” He started ‘Gaston is a dick’ on one part, figuring it was both true and fun to write. The rest...well. He could probably paint something fun.

OLLIE

That wasnt that reassuring. People having only done this for the first time could be dangerous. Sure ollie hadnt spray painted or edges someone's place but he liked to think his own excursions in New York would count for it. 

He didn't technically have a criminal record at least. (Not that he hadn't ever been caught but because people took pity on him as a kid)

But that's almost why he was starting to feel responsible for the group of boys. He didn't want any of them to get in trouble for this. At least trouble they couldn't get themselves out of. 

Crossing over to the door Ollie nodded his head giving Nemo a heads up. "Okay you guys do your thing. I'll let you know if someone is coming. Stay as quiet as you can with you know Denise and everyone breaking things so you can hear if I have to give you guys a signal." 

URCHIN

Loud meowing followed Ollie’s instructions, totally being louder than intended, as Felicia finally found her freedom when Urchin unsecured the box and let her out. Immediately, the cat started running and hopping around the place, uncertain of her location, and had already knocked down a pair of bottles from behind the bar. That’s what Urchin would call a resounding success!

“Uh - Draw him!” Urchin suggested. “Except make his nose a dick,” he added, because hey, dick drawings were in like 50% of graffiti, right? It felt like a crime not to do it.

NEMO 

Nemo started giggling.

He’d never done anything like this before. It was like somethin’ outta a TV show, y’know, something he might watch at Roo’s house during one of his rare sleepovers. He didn’t realize this sort of thing happened in real life. That kids really did go out and-- and teepee places, and mess up houses, and use spray paint and markers and all sorts of things. 

He felt a little guilty, but it was a feeling as fast as a blink. Mostly he thought about how pissed his dad would be if he knew. Not only was Nemo breaking a whole handful of Marlin’s rules, but he was doing that in Gaston’s pub. 

He made a grab for a can of spray paint. “I’ll draw dicks on all the booths!” he announced and then scurried off to do so. 

Meanwhile, there was more glass-smashing as Denise and Blueberry had their way with the storage room. 

LOUIE

Never was there a better group of boys than now. He was sure of it. “Dicks on the booths yesssssss. Great idea Nemo!�� Louie was delighted by the whole thing. And Urchin coming out with a dope drawing idea. Oh yeah. Louie would make Gaston as ugly as possible.

He smirked, taking one of the spray paint cans (a wonderful green) and studied the wall before him. “Good call good call. Alright, while I do my masterful art of Gaston….Urchin, put up those werewolf pics. Scare the pants off of him when he goes anywhere!” 

He started spraying a sort of rendition of Gaston. If Gaston were more of a blob person with a dick nose. What? He was still working on improving his art. Maybe he’d bother Lou Bonfamille for more lessons. For now? Well he added some extras like a fart cloud by his ass and a speech bubble by his mouth saying ‘no one farts like Gaston’

Then he took a step back to admire his work. “What do you guys think? Pretty good right?”

URCHIN

Urchin nodded and saluted before heading off to do as ordered. He gathered the expertly-crafted werewolves and began making rounds about the place to find locations for optimal scare factor. 

He decided to place the first one under the bar, hiding so that you’d only be able to see it if you were on the bartender’s side of it. The next one hung right by the bathroom doors, so you’d round that corner and piss your pants off on your way into the bathroom. That, of course, meant that he had to also set one up within the bathroom in place.

After setting up the rest in the general vicinity of the bar, the boy returned just in time to admire the drawing on the walls. “Perfect,” he commended. “I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

NEMO 

Nemo got to work on the drawings, giving the spray cans a good shake. It took him a few seconds to get a handle on the paint-stream, but once he’d got it down, the dicks were pretty easy. He went booth to booth and spray painted them big across the seat, though he made sure to switch it up a few times, y’know, vary the size and direction and all-- artistic license. He knew it was all a bit silly but, well, he couldn’t get Louie’s compliment outta his head. 

He thought Nemo was cool. And brilliant. And that he had great ideas. 

And sooo… Nemo wanted to show off. 

He jogged back over to Louie and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Louie, I ah-- I got an idea. Wanna see somethin’ cool?” he said. 

And then Nemo drew his hands together, palms flat. And then, in one quick motion, he folded his fingers in one after another after another, then back again, until he had gathered a swirling ball of wind in his hands. 

And then Nemo shoved the heel of his hand across the palm of his other one, pushing the blast of wind out--! 

It blew out the napkins outta the napkin dispensers on several of the tables. “Nice, right!” He said, jumping up and down again. “I can do a windmill and probably knock everything over!” 

LOUIE

Louie was easily distracted from drawing something else spectacular (maybe Gaston cowering before a werewolf or something) by his new friend Nemo. He twisted around, watching the guy carefully as he gathered wind into his hands and knocked napkins out of this dispensers.

“Holy shit, you’re the avatar!” Louie blurted and then grinned. “Sorry. It just looks like something out of a cartoon.” He glanced around to see that Ollie was still properly keeping a look out, and that Urchin was placing the werewolf stuff. And wow he picked great spots.

“Nice move by the bathroom mate. Hilarious.” This was the best bunch of guys he’d ever met. They’d be bound together by a common bound of mischief with this. Maybe he’d get them to make some sort of pact. Or something. “Okay. I’m gonna draw one more thing. Nemo...definitely knock shit over. That’s fantastic. Everyone do one last ridiculous thing and then we’ll get the fuck outta here. Ollie...you do something ridiculous too. Come on. It’ll be worth it.”

OLLIE

Ollie was perfectly fine chilling by the door. It wasn't like there was anything to scare him out here. The only thing that worried him was that some random adult would see them wasn't he an adult too. Was he supposed to be turning people in for their hijinks. 

"You guys look to be doing perfectly fine." Ollie mused with a small laugh stepping back for a moment. "Plus I'm more musically inclined then I am artistically." Even with Gaston being a douche ollie doubted himself. Not that either one of his parents would care if he had to guess what they would think. 

"Wait this place has a kitchen right? What about saran wrapping most of the stools together or something?" 

URCHIN

Urchin was happy to be complimented for his ideas. Everyone else was doing pretty great too, which made him even more satisfied! After Ollie’s suggestion, though, the boy’s eyes seemed to outright gleam in delight.

“Ooooh, yes! He’d probably use that wrap to attack some deers and hang them on his wall or something evil like that anyway,” Urchin said, and immediately bolted into the kitchen. He took a while but trashed the place while he looked around, and Felicia even helped unintentionally by walking in and finding some leftovers on a counter.

Eventually, Urchin found a roll of something that people would likely use to wrap up take-out. “Here we go!” he proclaimed, tossing the few rolls he’d found out onto the main sitting area of the bar for the others to pick up.

NEMO

While they waited for Urchin to appear, Nemo did his fairy best too. He could feel the slight draft from the chimney where he’d flown down as well as the slightly open door where Ollie was standing guard. It was always much easier to play with already-moving air and so he splayed his fingers wide and gathered it in his hands. Once he’d rolled it all into a ball, he pushed it toward the booths and the mini wind-funnel skirted over the tables, skittering one after the other. Napkins blew from the dispensers and the salt and pepper turned over and got all over the table and seats. 

Then Urchin came back and Nemo’s smile leaped back onto his face. He jumped up and caught it. “Nice!” he crowed and then went to work saran-wrapping everything together.

He forgot all about the guilt he’d felt earlier-- the slight panic, that stray thought whispering what would happen if he got caught? Now, all he was thinkin’ about was how fun this was. 

Soon they finished, all the saran wrapped up. “Are we done?” Nemo said as he popped up, going back to Louie’s side since he seemed-- well. He was in charge, wasn’t he? He bounced a little on his toes, ready to perform a few more wind-tricks if he needed to. 

LOUIE

Louie glanced around the room, looking at all the chaos around them. They had done a spectacular job on sabotaging the place. He was honestly impressed by everyone’s initiative. He needed to keep a note of this. From this day forward, if there ever was a guy that wronged one of them, Louie felt they had the perfect solution.

“I’d say so. We’ve definitely made a mess of the place. Suck it Gaston,” Louie added, as if the man was around to hear it. Well...maybe he’d just write it. No. They’d done a good job without that. “Time to make a hasty exit. Ollie, look and see if the coast’s clear? From there we get the hell outta here. We’ve done important work lads. I’ll never forget it.”

OLLIE

Ollie let out a laugh, so many of his ideas had been thrown to the literally as everyone took it and ran with it. A part of him felt bad until he remembered it was Gaston and he didn’t feel bad anymore. Ducking his head out Ollie listened to everything around the place.

“We’re good to go. Remember what happens at the Deer stays at the Deer.” Ollie teased ushering the guys out. “Let’s get out of here.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @aqua-ref!

Read on AO3

******

Give Me To A Ramblin' Fae

In the middle of winter, when the moon is heavy in the sky, dripping with milky light and offering, whole and raw, its' power, the Hale Pack gathers around the Nemeton, they dance and they sing, and they shift into their animal skeins to frolic, to chase each other with yipping howls and laughing barks.

Derek has Laura's throat held gently between his maw, and she whines at him to let go, but rumbles approvingly, because he doesn't often win these games of theirs; it is not a matter of low power, more of the target he chooses. The Alpha's heir will, after all, be more difficult to beat than the others. She nips at his ear playfully, urges him along, and they weave through the barren, wind-beaten trees, their paws soaked with snow-melt, muddying the crunchy ivory-fluff that chills the ground beneath them.

There's an undulating, calling, rejoicing howl from their mother that has them leaving a chestnut hare to its' frightened peace in order to return to her, to the Pack.

Through the branches, they can see the sky, all adorned in twilight, hosting, now, a parade of riders, their pandemonium an awe and a terror. Spectral beings ride black mares and stallions, ominous dogs of bared teeth and frothing spit and hideously haunting eyes are careening, entwining and twisting around toned legs and pristine hooves as the steeds gallop forward, heedless. Blackbucks and stags dash, their riders luminescent smoke and vicious intent. Creatures with starlight-encrusted, stained-glass wings, and horns which they blow to hail their passing, fly gracefully around the nocturnal horde, singing or shrieking, cavorting and cackling.

It's a dreadful, terrific sight, that streaks through the night sky, and when the Pack's howl breaks out, full-force, hopeful and evocative, every wolf lifting their song to the ghastly, ghostly peoples as they pass, some of those dragonfly, stardust folk descend, screaming and giggling, a gaggle of raucous temerity, as they gather the wolves in their airborne festivities, and launch them toward the procession.

The whimsical, urgent needs, and maddening power that surround The Hunt quickly seeps into the Pack, makes them drunk and giddy, all of them running with ancient spirits, wildlings, Fair Folk of every type.

Derek's lungs are stung by the rush, his blood electric with the adrenaline when an ephemeral, fey, svelte-lithe boy with bull's horns, skin like cream sprinkled with cinnamon, and mosaic wings that inspire the feeling of fertile soil and fields of growing, healthy, rain-soaked things, comes to him. His oak-silk curls are plaited with holly and mint, a leather-bound necklace hangs heavy around his long, dainty, breakable neck, a crescent moon-charm at the hollow of his throat, surrounded by crystal orbs and autumn leaf-charms, brass acorns and pine-cones, he wears nothing else, unashamed in his nudity.

"Hello," the boy says, bright and sweet, his voice like the delicate silk-dew mist of a cumulus cloud, and Derek feels himself tilt closer without even meaning to. "You're gorgeous. I wonder what you look like in your human form? Honestly, I wonder what everyone here looks like in their human forms. We all have one, you know?"

Honestly, no, he didn't, he was kind of caught up in the romanticism of it all.

All scents are clouded by the musk of wild, old magick, stained by an odd, dense-soil ecstasy, and a part of him, vivid and, for one, fanatic moment, overwhelming, wants to eviscerate the aroma The Wild Hunt carries, if only so he can learn what this boy might smell like.

"Everyone who sees us thinks we're malevolent or scary, but, honestly, dude, we're just escorting the spirits Grandmother Death didn't have the time or patience to get to to their respective homes. We've all still got day jobs—I mean, you have a day job, pretty wolfling that you are, don't you?"

Numbly, helplessly, and a little more sober, now, Derek nods.

The boy grins at him, crooked and terribly endearing, fire-light eyes sparkling in the dim, mist-fog, shadowed light.

"See?" He says, gesturing, "Even Odin's got one, Odin, the God of knowledge, inspiration, creative and intellectual pursuits, the dead, fucking road rage—that guy, the head honcho, the one at the head of this whole operation. Like, in this economy, where barely anyone has the Sight anymore, and the number of people left who believe are too few and far between, what else are we supposed to do? It's not like causing havoc and stealing things is going to garner us any good-will, man, so here we are, doing the good work, and then tomorrow we'll go home and agonize over our bills just like everybody else." The faerie heaves a sigh, before blinking and seeming to realize himself, his cheeks burn a vivid, enchanting crimson when a harassing, incredulous, exasperated wail sounds from above.

"Oops," he breathes, a nervous giggle edging in, "I am so not supposed to do that, and I've just been rambling at you, and—" the wail comes again, more pressing this time. The boy groans, eyelashes fluttering down in mortification. "Sorry, I'll see you later, maybe?" Fragile, paper-thin wings flutter, and bone-nimble fingers tangle in the fur at Derek's flank to help the faerie wade close enough to press a candied, chaste kiss to his wolven cheek.

He says, "I'm Stiles, by the way," and grins like he isn't aware of how dangerously beautiful that expression is, before he zooms away in a sweeping, upward glide.

Derek gets a small glimpse of another fae, donned in a flowing, powder-blue toga-dress, with moth-like wings and magma curls flowing down to her waist, admonishing Stiles exhaustively, before their speed, much more than the wolves and the steeds and the dogs, has them blurring out of sight, catching up to a cluster of swarming fae up ahead, too far to spy on any longer.

Derek tries to get his thundering heart to calm and wonders why he ever thought love at first sight was a superstitious, optimistic myth, if not an outright lie.

Days later, after all the Dead have been put to their proper rest, a few offerings of milk and cookies meant for 'Santa' were traded for faerie favors, and quite a few more rogue, feral creatures were stolen and re-sewn into ravens or crows or hunting dogs, of the ilk to sleep the whole year away, and only wake when The Wild Hunt, again, takes place—Stiles is trying, valiantly, to focus.

His mind keeps tracing back to eyes like stars winking to tenacious life, to obsidian fur and sinewy muscle, a warbling wolf-song that lilted like a lullaby, all hymn-hope, resounding howl, to the way sharp, ink-fluffy ears kept flickering to him, listening and curious and three shades shy of entranced. He doesn't know why he's so caught up on it, this is the sixth year he's been old enough to participate in The Hunt, and they have wolves with them every time, thousands of Packs from all of the world join them, so why was he so attracted, distracted, by this one?

What was so special about him?

Other than the, you know, sand-escaping-his-fingers, barely tangible, general everything.

Stiles sighs despondently, and Lydia, who's probably been talking about Important College Things, hits him upside the head promptly.

"A—ow!" Stiles rubs the back of his head, glaring balefully at her. Her hand retreats to flick her hair over her shoulder in one fluid, deflecting motion, as if to dissuade anyone who might've noticed her uncouth action from registering it as more than a figment of their imagination, nothing to see here, folks!

He loves her, he does, but some days he wants to strangle her.

Just a little.

"You were sighing again," she points out, lashes grazing her cheeks as she looks down at her book, flips the page flippantly, like studies on how mathematical algorithms affect neurology bore her. "It's starting to get annoying, Stiles."

"Shut up. It's not like I can even do anything about it," he laments, complaining even though he knows it'll only be a study in disappointment and masochism, at this point. "Who is he? where does he live? work? For all I know, I'm infatuated with some Turkish Lord who I won't even have the slightest chance of seeing again until next year."

Lydia snaps her book shut with a sound that manages to be both refined and abrupt enough to startle. "What on earth were you doing galavanting with the lower-tiers, anyway? We aren't supposed to talk to them, Stiles—"

"But, he was—"

"If he had been a ghost instead of a solid, you could've been lost to the spirit-tide, and you know The Hunt doesn't discern when it comes to a close—you could be on the other side of the Veil by now, instead of sitting here, fawning!"

She's heaving by the end of her rant, cheeks flushed, sea-glass eyes glittering angrily, and Stiles knows her fury is borne from worry, from a very real fear. He remembers his mother, how she was all love and sweet-tempered fire, how she gave coins to the more corporeal spirits, gleefully hugged and spun yarns and danced with all the riders, always careful of the spirit-tide, of getting caught in its' undertow, until she got sick, and couldn't remember to be.

Neither Stiles nor Lydia had been old enough to go, yet, and Stiles' dad was human. Lydia's grandmother, they think, tried to stop her, to save her, but ended up just as lost and mourned as she.

He feels guilt curdle in his chest and exhales heavily. "I'm sorry, Lyds, I am. I don't know why I did that, I'll—next year, I'll stay in the upper-tiers, like I'm supposed to," he inclines his head solemnly, reaches across the library table to hold both her hands in his, "I promise."

She squeezes his fingers, sniffs, her voice evaporated misty at the edges, "You damn well better, you idiot."

He offers her a sincere, sorrow-tinged smile, and tries to put the entire thing out of his mind.

It's New Year's Eve, and Stiles is exhausted, between studies and random research stints and trying to keep the Kelpies three doors down from killing and/or getting killed by the vampires that live in the apartment downstairs, he thinks he has every right to be. Still, though, Lydia put at least a quarter of her heart and soul into organizing this party, and if he hadn't come, he's sure she would've had him flayed.

So, here he is, sleep-deprived, delirious, eying the bar and wondering if getting drunk when all he's been living off of for the past three days is coffee, is at all a good idea. It isn't, it really fucking isn't, but...

But he's got nothing else to do, and tomorrow it'll be a new year, right? Might as well live a little.

Derek smiles briskly at the lady with a bird's nest of raven-black hair as he hands her her drink, and purposefully ignores the blonde at the end of the bar who's been whistling and snapping at him imperiously for the past fifteen minutes.

He's half tempted to text Cora and ask her what the hell she was thinking, pulling him behind the counter to fill in for her so she could go after the strawberry-blonde party hostess with a number and a cheap pickup line caught in her too-sharp teeth, because, yeah, he's got enough experience not to flounder (he'd found himself hiding from the rain in a drag bar while he was still in high school, and they let him hang out despite his age because he was a good enough cook that as long as he didn't touch the alcohol, they didn't care, and when you're in that sort of close-knit, street-smart gritty, overprotective Pack-like environment, it's impossible not to learn the tricks of the trade), but his customer service has always been shit.

With someone like Peter as an Uncle, he's capable of plastering on a smile and flirting a pretty lie with the best of them, he just doesn't fucking liketo. In fact, it's something he actively avoids unless lives are in danger.

Then a voice, one he remembers, all whispered silk-cotton dream-thread collecting raindrops in its' seams, starts murmuring a sugary melody in his periphery, and his eyes snap to its' source with a breathless, near frantic urgency.

And there he is.

Like Fate.

Like a fucking miracle.

He looks different, horns and wings gone, still with the wind-swept, earthy curls, though their holly-mint braids are nowhere to be found; dressed in a long-sleeved, charcoal gray shirt that cling to his lithe, agile-built muscles, an unzipped crimson hoodie layered over it, skin-tight jeans and ridiculous, neon-orange vans, but there's that leather-bound charm necklace, heavy around the length of his pretty throat, with a crescent-moon hanging just at the hollow, and it's him.

The rambling faerie he met on The Wild Hunt, absently humming a tune as he messes with his phone, patiently waiting for a bartender to notice him, at a college party on New Year's Eve.

The surreality of this is... not lost on him.

"Hello," Derek greets, sliding into the boy's- Stiles', if he remembers right- space.

"Oh, uh," he looks up from, and pockets, his phone, a little bashful, "I always thought you had to make eye contact to get, like, served, or whatever, but, um, hi?"

Derek tries to bite back a smile.

Fails.

"Hi," he repeats, and the boy blinks at him dumbly for a solid five seconds before just breathing:

"Wow. You're gorgeous."

And Derek can't help it, he barks out a laugh. "You said that last time."

"I did? Wait, I did? When?! I've met you?" he sounds outraged, on his own behalf, scandalized, even. "No," he denies, "no way, I would've remembered meeting someone like you and then doing something as stupid as calling you gorgeous to your face without any sort of filter—and, wow, smooth sailing, me. I am so sorry about that, by the way, color me extremely embarrassed, but. Yeah, no. No way in hell I've committed the same social faux-pas twice with the same person, I refuse to believe it."

Derek smirks, even as something warm and giddy and compelled sets up camp in his heart, with a kind of tenacity that says it'll be staying a long while.

"Well, I wasn't exactly a person at the time," he points out, "but I appreciated the compliment both times, Stiles, so you... really shouldn't worry about it."

"I—you—" Stiles sputters, freezes, mouth agape and molten-caramel doe-eyes very, very wide, before he seems to reboot. "You are kidding me," he says, feelingly, before pitching forward over the counter to grab Derek's face with his hands, searching his eyes intently.

Derek tries to be anything other than amused and endeared.

Fails, again.

"Wolfling," Stiles accuses, awed. "I didn't think I was ever going to see you again."

"Rambling fae," Derek muses, hushed, leaning further into Stiles' space even as he pushes the boy down into a bar-stool, because while he might not take offense, the other on-duty bartender, or, even, the party hostess, might. "Neither did I."

Stiles sucks in a very deep breath, and then spills out any number of tangential, spiraling questions, what's your name? Where do you live? Are you a bartender? can I have your number? I'd really like your number. Are you—

Derek crushes the rest in a kiss that tastes like sunlight and cherry-tart and ozone, Stiles melts into it with a helpless, keening whine, his spine curving up, shoulders opening, head tilting, whole body blooming like a flower, begging to be plucked, held, kept, known.

He answers what his fleeting thoughts will let him, mutters the words into Stiles' warm, slick-wet, receptive mouth, his name, that his Pack lives in town, that he isn't, but his sister is, and he's covering for her. With a drawn-out sigh, he does force himself to pull away, eventually.

Probably not soon enough, honestly.

"Take me out," Stiles says immediately, dazed, lips kiss-bruised enchanting, and then flushes that same, deep, candied, lascivious red as before. "Or. I mean. I want to date you. Can we go on a date? Not right now, obviously, but—"

"Yes," Derek grins, overwhelmed, blood champagne-effervescent, "yeah, I'd really like that."

Stiles exhales heavily, laughs, a little incredulously, shakes his head at himself, and then smiles, soft and marshmallow-fluffy up at him, "Awesome."

Derek begins to think that, maybe, he needs to give Cora a fruit-basket. Or, possibly, Odin, and that's... well.

That may well be the cherry on top of an incredibly strange, unusual, wonderful meeting.

[dndeed]

Critical Role Miniature Rollout C2E51

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and review of the minis used on Critical Role.

This episode feels like when you’re playing a CRPG and you stumble into an area that’s too high a level for your character. Maybe the Mighty Nein should just go back through the underground load screen and return in a few levels. 

Try not to get upstaged when you move upstage, it’s time for Critical Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 2 Episode 51!

The List

Dungeons and Dragons Condition Markers by thelukec

Dwarven Forge Stone Ruins Add-On Pack

Dwarven Forge Mountain Cliff Pack

Dwarven Forge Mountain Mountain Floor Pack

Dwarven Forge Caverns Stalagmite Pack

Dwarven Forge Mountain Peak Pack

SteamForged Games Log

Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

Prototype Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

HeroForge Jester Duplicity Miniature

Archfiends #52 Gnoll Archer

Modified Reaper Miniatures Red Mantis Assassin

Elemental Evil #022 Gnoll Fighter

Blood War #46 Demonic Gnoll Priestess

Rage of Demons #023 Drow Archmage

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 5 Adowyn, Human Hunter

Desert of Desolation #44 Bar-Lgur

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #016b Spy

Archfiends #02 Dalelands Militia

Tomb of Annihilation #022 Artus Cimber

Dragoneye #28 Baaz Draconian

Human Ranger Epic Level Starter Set

Rusty Dragon Inn #009 Cutpurse

Invisible Lightfoot Halfling Rogue Epic Level Starter Set

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #002 Darkling

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 2 Harsk, Iconic Ranger

Archfiends #16 Graycloak Ranger

Guildmasters' Guide to Ravnica #015 Duskmantle Assassin

Dungeons & Dragons Spell Effects: Wall of Fire & Wall of Ice

Tomb of Annihilation #040i Minsc & Boo (Invisible)

Tomb of Annihilation #018i Valindra Shadowmantle (Invisible)

Axe N Shield Single Flyer Risers - Clear Mithril

Desert of Desolation #32 Rot Scarab Swarm

Custom Lollipop Spiritual Weapon

Suspected Aquarium Decorations

Leafless Model Train Style Trees

Possible Model Train Boulders

The NPCs

The Mudmen Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 5 Adowyn, Human Hunter,  Waterdeep Dragon Heist #016b Spy,  Dragoneye #28 Baaz Draconian, Human Ranger Epic Level Starter Set, Guildmasters' Guide to Ravnica #015 Duskmantle Assassin, Archfiends #16 Graycloak Ranger, and Rusty Dragon Inn #009 Cutpurse

A handful of Mudfolk are represented by previously discussed minis. But there are quite a few new figures here, so let us get through them in a timely fashion. Start the clock.

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 5 Adowyn, Human Hunter

This ranger looks like she dressed by tripping into a pile of discount shag carpet samples. I like this mini, it’s a well executed classic archer pose.

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #016b Spy

This guy looks like a henchman from an alternate history martial arts film in which Chuck Norris fights pilgrim ninjas. Reasonably nice miniature, but the alternate sculpt is a practically indistinguishable waste of time (the knife is facing the other direction).

Dragoneye #28 Baaz Draconian

This figure looks like a bladesmith who loves violating the Geneva Convention and hates pants. Solid detail and wins the award for best value dragonborn mini.

Human Ranger Epic Level Starter Set

This character looks like an adventurer who doesn’t realize you need to use both hands to operation a bow and arrow. Good figure with a dramatic standing pose.

Guildmasters' Guide to Ravnica #015 Duskmantle Assassin

This Magic the Gathering miniature looks like the cloak has gained sentience and is trying to fly away, taking the person’s head with it. Neat animated pose, but the head is too high up and the mini looks weird in-person.

Archfiends #16 Graycloak Ranger

This archer looks like he’s recoiling at the thought of being part of a terribly named group like “The Muck Men.” An unfortunately simple paint job on a crisp sculpt.

Rusty Dragon Inn #009 Cutpurse

This miniature looks like a rogue posing in the mirror unable to decide which sword to bring to work. Weird proportions, the arms are too long, still a good rogue though.

The Villains

Kryn Caster Rage of Demons #023 Drow Archmage

In my post last week I was hoping to see some drow. But I was looking forward to some old Hasbro prepainted drow, not the current Wizkids produced drow. There are only a handful of them and they range from unremarkable to kinda crummy. 

This is likely the best of the Wizkids drow figures, so I was prepared to write a fairly positive review. But after taking a closer look I found a lot to dislike about the Drow Archmage. From across a game table this mini is fine, it just doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny. 

Drow are known for having some killer fashion. This dude is rocking a neato spider staff, underdark stompin’ boots, and a sorta armored fanny pack thing. He has drow looking attire on most everywhere say for some place. All he has on his torso is a detail-less generic garment. It looks like he’s wearing a stuffy dad sweater. It’s as if he was on his way out the door clad in typical drow armor and his partner stopped him to give a reminder of the schlubby sweater his kid gave him for drow father’s day. Compounding these clothing troubles is an uncomfortable pose, craned neck posture, and strange torso proportions. This mini looks good on the CR stream, just don’t zoom in too far.

Oh also his ears are literally painted on! They aren’t part of the sculpt at all.

Kryn Warrior Modified Reaper Miniatures Red Mantis Assassin

A smart modification to make this miniature look unique. The classic Pathfinder Red Mantis color is red. Giving this Kryn Warrior the stygian black treatment makes it hardly recognizable, almost looks like a wholly unique design. There are a good number of Red Mantis Pathfinder figures at this point, I look forward to seeing more of them in upcoming episodes. I like this miniature, bonus points for looking like one of Gengi’s alt skins. 

The Monsters

Gnolls Archfiends #52 Gnoll Archer and Blood War #46 Demonic Gnoll Priestess

Two great minis that show both ends of the gnoll spectrum. The wiry ranged scavenger in the Gnoll Archer and the melee muscled brute in the Demonic Gnoll.

Gnoll Archer is an early Hasbro D&D Miniatures Game figure with pretty simple but effective paint. There is enough detail in the scupt’s fur that a simple two level effect of brown atop black looks quite good for how basic the paint is. The model resolution is high enough that you can make out the individual buckles on the archer’s fairly stylized gear. 

Demonic Gnoll Priestess is a serious business gnoll. This sculpt is legitimately intimidating. It is awesome in the old testament sense of the word. It’s a shame that it appears so briefly. The two gnolls using this mini basically get killed off immediately. 

Going back to the Gnoll Archer quickly, this character has a series of ponytails running along their head and back. I had previously commented on miniatures in Episode 34 and 35 with very specific haircuts. I have jokingly begun to theorize that this ponytail plus shaved sides of head hairdo is a current hair trend in Tal'dorei canon. So I’m wondering if this gnoll is sporting the Xhorhas gnoll version. Check it out:

Closing Remarks and Predictions

I’m thinking we’ll see some more drow and the introduction of Pathfinder Battles series Red Mantis figures. And I would appreciate the reuse of some Demonic Gnoll Priestesses.

It feels like the campaign has taken a difficulty escalation turn. I fear for the character’s lives. Let us collectively beseech the Traveler for favorable rolls.

#criticalroleminiaturerollout

[ganymedesclock]

I think one of my biggest issues with a certain amount of fanon around Lotor is that even if you count Lotor as an antagonist- which you can make a good argument for- he’s clearly measured with a different standard than other antagonists.

For example people really like to use the term “murderer” when they’re trying to shut down any insinuation that Lotor could be a good person. In my experience this often involves ascribing kills to Lotor that he didn’t actually do or that are very shaky.

For example? Zethrid’s comment that they tried to send ships into the rift, and the vessels exploded, which was “fun for me, not fun for your pilots.” I’ve seen this interpreted as “Lotor sent people into the rift to their deaths.”

We have to consider with very rare exceptions, the smaller fighter ships that both the empire and Lotor uses? Are piloted by robots. And what we see of Lotor’s subordinates in s4e3 shows us mostly drones- maybe a handful of actual flesh-and-blood galra. And it’s fair to assume it’s not those galra who are being sent out in fighter ships by Lotor- otherwise in s3e2 the paladins committed a massacre and they are our Y7 show heroes so that’s not a thing.

And even if I was a fan of your conclusion, you have to recognize that “these ships that we have a single line of reference to definitely contained real people when it’s very likely in this setting they didn’t, and Lotor definitely sent a large number of those people to their death when he’s not known to attempt the same thing futilely over and over and he doesn’t appear to have that many followers to sacrifice.”

You could make a much better argument for the two fleets that Acxa called in at the end of s3e3 to cover Lotor’s escape, which we know were manned by living people, but even then, given Voltron was the killing weapon, I’d hesitate to make that your triumphant stand of “this proves that Acxa’s a rotten person and by connection, Lotor”.

Yes, Lotor has killed. Raht, Narti, and Zarkon. (it’s also possible that he killed his first opponent in the gladiatorial ring in s3e1) All three individuals, to his understanding, posed an immediate threat to his own life.

The most ambiguous and nasty case in this one is definitely Narti- there are other ways Lotor could have handled that situation. Narti was not a willing spy- Haggar set her up and Lotor cut her down. S5e6 analyzes this thinking, however, and frames it as:

Lotor tends to self-sabotage...

...Via his incredible difficulty trusting others and tendency to assume that anything opposing him at the moment must hate him and want him to die...

...Which is almost definitely rooted in the trauma he disclosed to Allura that would mean he doesn’t have healthy emotional connections to draw from the idea that people don’t all inevitably hate him.

As an audience, a certain amount of us do have a reflex of “C’mon dude, Narti is your friend. She wouldn’t do that to you. Can’t you see that she needs help, not your sword in her chest?” because we’re detached, we have more information than he does, and we have an emotional investment in seeing Narti get that help.

And the white lion is used narratively to show us that it’s not an isolated incident and it had nothing to do with Narti personally- it’s Lotor’s problem. When the point of the lion trial is you have to realize the attacking beast won’t hurt you and isn’t your enemy, Lotor literally can’t win because everything he has ever known has taught him that he doesn’t have friends. At best, he has people who he’s useful to, and as soon as he’s not useful, they will turn on him.

And I feel like this is about the point people’s eyes glaze over because “come on Clockie I don’t care about Lotor’s sad backstory I care about the fact that he killed someone” but my point is these things are relevant.

Because otherwise it sure looks weird and inconsistent how after Narti and Zarkon both, Lotor goes really quiet, nearly unresponsive, and in the case of Narti, spends a long time genuinely not planning for his future at all that we can tell.

For me, the entirety of s4e5 and s4e6 is a huge red flag that Lotor didn’t want to do that. He did it, yes, because see the three points that are clarified for us in s5e6- but there’s a lot of difference between Lotor killing Narti and the way that Zarkon has Prorok disposed of in s2e1.

Lotor versus Narti, the team is in danger, he has seconds to make up his mind because if he’s wrong they’ll never shake their pursuers and any safe haven they seek out is going to be compromised, they’re on a ship under attack and everybody is panicking.

Zarkon versus Prorok, nothing is going on, it’s an ordinary Tuesday at the office, there is no pressure besides the vague, if he doesn’t catch a spy it might happen again, and there’s also no misunderstanding- Prorok immediately and clearly protests, and by the time Haggar’s carrying out his execution in s2e3, they know that Prorok isn’t even the guilty party. And Haggar makes it clear she just really doesn’t care.

And I mean there’s also the fact that we can list three people that Lotor killed (or had killed, in Raht’s case, the torn edge on his severed prosthetic suggest to me that Zethrid was at least involved) by name.

It’s flat-out disingenuous to insist Lotor’s three-man kill count is directly comparable to, oh, say, the two different inhabited planets Zarkon has been attributed with razing and conducting genocide on the inhabitants of (Altea in s1e1, the unnamed colony in s5e6) and his policies of torture, imprisonment in awful conditions, extended slavery, and carelessly disposing of his subordinates for, again, crimes they didn’t commit, would tell us that there are a huge number of other deaths on Zarkon’s head.

When, surprise surprise, all of those systems are things that Lotor would either have no need of the way he operates, or is shown to actively dislike. Taking new planets? He’d rather talk to them and even if he’s taking what he wants at swordpoint, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt the Puigians any more than bare minimum necessary and his soldiers went in under orders to kill no one. They didn’t even cause any property damage.

The system imperialism which relies on the galra owning everybody else? Lotor wants to dismantle it by giving power back to the occupied people (s3e1 and s3e2). 

(I have. seen too many people call Lotor an unapologetic imperialist when the one time he confesses he was interested in keeping a colony, he was put in charge of it by Zarkon and did everything he could to familiarize himself with the local culture and create good diplomatic rapport and not hurt their planet for his own exploitation. 

And Zarkon said “no” and burnt it down and didn’t put Lotor in power again, in which case it doesn’t matter how sincere Lotor is, the reason why Lotor hasn’t made progress dismantling the empire in the last ten thousand years was because Zarkon was using his much greater influence and power to make sure Lotor had nothing to show for his work)

Even the racism at the heart of the empire’s destructive policies, a point is made time and time again that Lotor very strongly lives and perceives himself as a mixed-race galra first. Most of his public appearances to the empire’s elite (s3e1 and s5e4) come with people hurling slurs, racist rhetoric, and death threats at him.

Even Lotor’s interest in the rift has a very different context than Zarkon and Honerva’s fascination with it if you consider the latter were experimenting with it in the heart of a populated planet that withered and died because of their work, they not only left it wide open but worked to make it bigger, and ignored the dangerous creatures living in there as well as the averse effect that it was having on, again, the heartland of the galra empire.

Lotor’s interest in the rift is as a way to decisively break the imperial system once and for all by basically flooding the market with so much quintessence nobody will ever need to forcibly take it from other planets and Zarkon’s system will be financially worthless. Which might sound callous unless you consider Lotor is going to need a callous argument since you can’t take someone like Throk and sit them down through the annotated power point of “Today, I will explain to you why you should care if other people are suffering.”

And the first thing Lotor does with the rift is basically put such a dense mechanical lock on it that he can’t actually figure out how to get in there himself. He’s building countermeasures for things that he quite possibly doesn’t even know about (the rift creature) with this.

But not only does Zarkon have a massive kill count, if you look at Zarkon killing Alfor, Trigel, Gyrgan and Blaytz, and compare that to Lotor killing Narti...

Lotor struck Narti down quickly under duress, and when it became clear the other generals were also betraying him, Lotor specifically chose not to kill them as well even though that left him in a very bad place tactically- it ended up meaning that now Haggar has one of the two Sincline ships, the one that had tested and proven itself as able to hold off Voltron in single combat, and the generals know about the rift gate, and they’re all devastatingly powerful fighters.

Sure, Acxa and Ezor might have been able to fight him off, but Lotor could have at least shot Zethrid off the hull of the first Sincline ship and they wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop him. But Lotor even basically tells them to take care of themselves before he leaves and has shown no interest hunting them down afterwards.

Because “hunting them down” is exactly what Zarkon did to his old team. Even when the only threat Alfor posed to him was that if he insisted on continuing to selfishly chase the rift that he didn’t need (Honerva was alive again, so even his initial reason wasn’t there)- and Zarkon’s basic first act of reanimation was to declare war on Altea.

Which is contrasted by this shot, which would sure seem to suggest that the reason why his people were still alive and there to hear him was because Altea took them in as refugees after the destruction of Daibazaal.

Zarkon planned, carefully, and made up his mind and went and hunted down all four paladins and killed them. If there’s barely a handful of living Alteans left after the destruction of its home planet, even though they were advanced spacefaring people, it’d suggest that Zarkon deliberately hunted down the survivors, and both his attitudes towards Allura in s1e1 and the way he talks about being able to wipe Lotor out in s5e2 would sure line up with that.

So like... can we not suggest that the three people Lotor killed when two of the three of them he’s shown to be unhappy about are somehow analogous to Zarkon’s multiple counts of systematic genocide?

Even if you think Lotor’s an antagonist, he’s not as bad as Zarkon and he’s definitely not worse than Zarkon. And when most of our main antagonists in the setting are much closer to Zarkon’s level (Haggar’s also a planet-killer via the Komar and her plan at Naxzela would have wiped out a large number of inhabited planets, Sendak makes a comment about invading Earth specifically because of the paladins’ resistance against him) Lotor stands out as a guy who’s moral enough that the paladins, including Shiro- a man of very potent personal morals- find him palatable company.

[davidcarner]

Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don’t You Forget About Me

A/N: I've always loved music, and there have been some great fics centered around music. Let me tell you about a couple. The first is A Matter of Trust by MySongStory. It's a series of one-shots, and it's really good. (Full disclosure I've been helping the author a tiny bit with the newest chapter) The second, and one of my all time favorites is Permutations by uplink2. Chuck is a DJ at Stanford and Sarah is a student. It is so good. Okay, on to my fic, and I mean you guys are just seem to be enjoying this one… Dillwg, this Bryce is for you. I give you Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don't You Forget About Me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and we all know deep down Sarah will never forget about Chuck. (yes, persnickety mood today)

Chuck stood there looking at his old friend, nay, nemesis. His mind began to process what he was seeing, and it wasn't good. Bryce wasn't the physical specimen he used to be. Oh, sure, he still had his good looks, but something terrible had happened to him. He still had his good hair, and the eye patch did something in a Nick Fury kinda way. But something awful happened to the right side of his body.

"Actually scratch that drink, why don't we go to my place and I get you one, because you may need it."

Chuck studied Bryce. "How do I know you won't get me on some deserted highway and kick me out of the car?"

"Good one, Chuck." Bryce took a look down at himself and then back at Chuck. There was a self-depreciating smile on his face. "If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure you can kick my ass right now."

"What happened to you?"

"Long story, and part of why I'm here, hat in hand, needing your help. Chuck, you're my only hope."

Chuck stared at Bryce. "Dude, you are no Leia."

"Really, even if I did the buns in my hair?" Bryce glanced at his right hand, there was scaring there as well. "Yeah, I'd look like shit in a bikini."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh. "You promise this is legit?"

"Chuck, it's so legit. And, not only that, I made a mistake back then, back at Stanford. It was a terrible mistake, one that will haunt me until the day I die, but let me tell you why I did it before you kick my ass." Chuck nodded and started toward the door. "Wait." Chuck turned toward him. "Dude, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I screwed up your life then, and I'm so glad you overcame it."

"Apology accepted." Bryce stared at Chuck. Chuck shrugged. "You're right, I overcame it, you seem sincere and you say you're going to tell me everything, what else can I do?" Bryce opened his arms for a hug. "You're pushing it." Bryce laughed.

"I know you, Chuck, your saying you forgive me because you feel bad." Chuck started to say something but Bryce held up his hand. "Dude, I know you. Now, let me show you the rest of what's going on, you may want to retract the apology by the time I'm done." Chuck was confused but followed Bryce. The two walked out to his SUV. They climbed in and took off. Chuck noticed it was modified. Bryce didn't use the gas or break on the floor, everything was by hand. There were special modified leavers for it. He did see that the pedals were still in the vehicle. "It's so anyone can drive it." Chuck looked up at him. "Come on, the first time anyone sees it they have questions, and we both know you have all sorts of questions about everything."

"Are you in pain?"

Bryce looked over at him. "You're the second person who's ever asked me that." He shook his head. "No, I'm not. Thank you."

"Who was the first?"

Bryce grinned. "My ex-girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I ended it." Bryce shook his head. "She wasn't the one for me, and she was only with me at the end because…I need to explain a lot." Chuck nodded. Bryce pressed some buttons. "We can't be over heard now." Chuck gave him a look and Bryce grinned. "So, after 9/11 all the government clandestine agencies came together to try and stop anything like that from ever happening again. It was called, Project OMAHA. To save a lot of time, all the data was to "Intersect" into one place, and a program would be there, the Intersect, to combine it and look for possibilities."

Chuck gave a low whistle. "That's got to be some impressive computing power."

"It doesn't exist in the man made world," Bryce replied, smirking.

Chuck thought for a minute and then turned toward Bryce, his mouth opened. "That's straight out of science fiction." Bryce shrugged. "You can't be serious. Bryce, you can't use a brain as an operating system." Bryce shrugged again, and Chuck thought for a minute. "What does that have to do with you?"

"Chuck, I'm a Special Agent for the CIA and I have my own team." Chuck's mouth dropped again. "You were to be a possible recipient for that computer program."

Chuck studied Bryce and then his mind leapt to a conclusion. "Wait…Professor Flemming's class?"

"That's why they wanted you," Bryce replied, with a sad grin. "Your mind plus your ability to see subliminal images…they were gonna try and make you CIA." Bryce took a deep breath. "Dude, I was scared it would change who you were, change who you are, and I couldn't let them do that to you, but I did it wrong, and I know I did. I've hated myself ever since."

Chuck started to move his hand but stopped. "I was gonna pat your right shoulder or something but I didn't want to hurt you, you know if…you know what, I'm gonna shut up now." Chuck studied him for a minute. "Figures, you always were the James Bond type."

Bryce laughed. They pulled in front of the shut down Weinerlicious in the Buy More Plaza. "Miss it?"

"Like a wart," Chuck quipped. "So, what are we doing here?"

Bryce pointed toward the Orange Orange. "That's a store front for our base. Come on. I've got stuff to show you, and more to explain." They got out of the SUV and headed into the store. Bryce walked to the back, typed something into the keypad and then put his palm down to have it scanned. "You help us, you can have your palm print in here too."

Chuck was grinning hard. "Really?"

Bryce laughed. "God, I've missed you, Chuck. This job sucks the life out of me some days, but having you here just for a minute reminds me of why I do it." They went downstairs and lights started coming on. Chuck was staring at everything. "Hey, tour later, we only have so much time." Chuck nodded. Bryce took a deep breath. "I wouldn't come to you now, but there are two ways this is going to happen, with or without you. I can't do to you what happened at Stanford again, so I'm gonna tell you everything, but this is happening, and I know you, you can help us."

"What can I do, Bryce, you already pretty much said I'd be a lousy spy."

"No, Chuck, you'd be a great spy. It wouldn't be by the book, but you'd get it done. What I was worried about is it would take something away from you, but I'm here to protect you, and I have friends." Bryce hit a button and some pictures went on the screen. "Now, let me know when your lost, because this is a lot." Chuck nodded.

Bryce clicked the button. "This is Langston Graham, director of the CIA. He's the one that wanted you in the CIA. I didn't trust him and the more I found on him the more I began to question what he was doing." Bryce hit another slide. "Answer, he was about to sell the Intersect to Alexi Volkoff, International Arms Dealer. I followed the money, and all the clues, and it led me to find out some very suspicious stuff about the Director. He recruited people into the CIA illegally, a fact I found out from my….one of my friends."

"Your ex?" Chuck asked softly. Bryce shook his head, grinning. "I'm sorry, I did it again."

"Nope," Bryce said looking up and smiling at his friend. "You are Chuck, and you sense these kinds of things. Yeah, she's my ex. She wasn't in love with me. We were…convenient, and she deserved better, you know. Anyway, she is a part of my team, known as the CAT Squad. The Clandestine Attack Team."

"Wait, what, that's stupid!"

Bryce grinned at him. "Someone in DC thought the CAT name would be cute. Anyway, I went after the Intersect to make sure Graham couldn't get it, but he was already there. We were betrayed by one of the team members. A fight began, and I destroyed it. Graham died in the process, the Intersect is gone, and I'm…" he gestured to his body with his left hand. "I was pretty messed up for a while, but while I was laying in that hospital bed, it became evident that Alexi Volkoff thought I had the Intersect. I still had use to the CIA and the new Director promoted me to Special Agent. I can't go in the field but I lead the remaining CAT Squad."

"What about your ex?"

Bryce grinned. "She's a great person Chuck, but it isn't there. There's no love. We're attracted to each other, we understand this life, but she wants so much more, and I'm not the one to help her get there. After the accident, there was no way she'd break up with me. So, I did with her. It's funny, her teammates keep saying its a bad breakup because she's talking more and more about a life after the CIA. They think it's because of the breakup and she wants off the team, it's because she wants a real life. She's great at this, but…."

Chuck gently laid his hand on his buddy's left shoulder. "So, are you open to a bro hug?" Bryce caught him in the best bear hug he could give him, but it was obvious strength was lacking on one side. Bryce clapped him on the back when they released. "Okay, so what's all this have to do with me?"

Bryce turned and flicked the monitor. Chuck stared at it. "Bryce, why do you have a picture of Hartley Winterbottom on the screen." Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce, why is the owner of the club I manage on your screen?" Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce," Chuck said softly. "That is Hartley, right?"

"Chuck, meet Alexi Volkoff."

Chuck stared at the screen and then back to Bryce and then back to the screen.

"Shit."

Bryce had grabbed Chuck a water and they were sitting at the conference table. Chuck was positive by this point it was an elaborate hoax Bryce had pulled off.

"Don't believe me, do you?" Bryce asked. Chuck shook his head.

"I've known Hartley for years, he's no weapons dealer." Bryce gave a shrug. "So what did you mean we're doing this one way or another earlier?"

Bryce nodded. "You aren't going to like this."

"As compared to the rest of this?"

"Point." Bryce pushed a file towards Chuck. Chuck opened the file.

"These women were in the club last night."

"That's right, Chuck, meet Carina Miller, DEA, Zondra Rizzo, CIA, and Sarah Walker, CIA." Bryce quit talking because Chuck was staring at Sarah's picture. "She's amazing," he said softly.

Chuck jerked his head up. "Uh, yeah…I mean, I met them last night and uh…"

"Zondra and Carina both said you were smitten with Sarah."

"Bryce…"

Bryce held up his hand. "That's my ex." Chuck paled. "Dude, trust me, it's fine. I get it, she's amazing."

"I wouldn't.."

"Chuck, I have no say in it, but she's a CIA agent."

Chuck thought for a second. "I thought you said she wanted out."

Bryce picked up his bottle to take a drink, smirking. "She does, but she wants to take down Volkoff first. Besides, why do you care…aren't you seeing someone?"

Chuck's eyebrows went up. "Who?"

"Kayla."

Chuck had taken a drink of water just as Bryce answered and nearly spit it out. "Oh, that's funny. She's the biggest screw up I've ever met, and that's saying something considering I worked at the Buy More."

Bryce sat up, interested. "Okay, I'm confused, because Agent Walker overheard you saying, 'My ass is yours."

Chuck grinned. "Kayla gets a finders fee off of me. She gets 5% of the net profits off of the club."

Bryce grinned. "Huh, how interesting. You do know she's trouble, right?"

Chuck nodded and leaned forward. "Why was Agent Walker overhearing what I was saying?" Bryce grinned, leaned back and took a drink of his water.

"She was supposed to approach you, but this is better. I need the CAT Squad in the club, as employees."

Chuck thought. "I can find jobs for two, but the third…I really don't know."

"I have an idea," Bryce said with a grin Chuck recognized. This was gonna be bad. "So to be clear you're not seeing anyone?" Chuck shook his head no. "I think Agent Walker should be your cover girlfriend."

Chuck was positive he was being punked.

A/N: So a totally different take on Bryce but one I really like. I hope you do. More insanity to come. Please, reviews are like food, they are so good…take care, see you next time.

DC

[snarktheater]

Ready Player One — Level Two (Chapters 17-18)

“I’m not crazy about reality, but it’s still the only place to get a decent meal. —Groucho Marx”

Hey, at least the book isn’t quoting a fictional text that only exists in its own universe this time. That said, you know, when the quotes you give the biggest highlight to all have to do with how much the world sucks, it’s kind of killing my buzz about the whole “being alive” thing. Oh, and I guess it makes it look like you’re trying too hard to be edgy.

But I guess these are all shallow, surface problems. Let’s dig deeper as we enter Level Two and find out how much worse the infodumping gets. Because yes, it’s back in full force.

See, the book actually does justify splitting itself in multiple parts. At least for now. Specifically, it does so by way of a time skip. Well…sort of. More of a compressed time frame of a few months, which is mostly summarized to us through Wade and Artemis’s chatlogs.

Because, yeah, they’ve been chatting. Or, I should say, Wade has been harassing Artemis until she caved in and agreed to talk to him.

Parzival: Yes! Hey! I can’t believe you finally responded to one of my chat requests. Art3mis: Only to ask you to cut it out.

I will skip over the ensuing banter, because yes, of course they start bantering in spite of Artemis making it very clear she does not want to talk to him. Banter which pretty quickly takes a deep, hard dive into…questionable territory.

Parzival: So you’re telling me, definitively, that you are a female? IRL? […] After analyzing the available data, I’ve concluded that you must be a female. […] Because I don’t want to find out that I’ve got a crush on some 300 lb. dude named Chuck who lives in his mother’s basement in suburban Detroit.

I think there should be a ban on men using the word “female” as a noun. Preferably until the end of time. The correlation between that and misogyny is too high. Although, I don’t know, maybe it’s a useful alarm bell.

Artemis challenges that, and expresses suspicion that he wouldn’t care about her personality, and not “the package it comes in”. Parzival claims that he totally does, and…put a pin in that, we’ll get back to it in a short moment. But first, Artemis flat-out rejects the idea of engaging in romance with Wade, mostly on the grounds that he doesn’t really know her, only the side of her she lets him see. Which is fair, although I’m not sure if you can really act like that’s only true online (or even more true online, in their world at least).

But if you think rejection is going to deter Wade “I have stalked this girl for years on her blog” Watts, well…I mean, refusing to take no for an answer is how this chapter started, so you know that’s not happening.

So he insists. And insists. And insists some more. Oh, and did you know the Sixers tried to blow up Wade’s trailer?

Art3mis: You shouldn’t reveal stuff like that! I could be a Sixer spy trying to profile you. Parzival: The Sixers already profiled me, remember? They blew up my house. Well, it was a trailer. But they blew it up. Art3mis: I know. I’m still freaked out about that. I can only imagine how you feel. Parzival: Revenge is a dish best served cold.

You sure sound torn up about it, Wade.

Yeah, the book is basically going to flat-out ignore the ramifications of Wade’s house blowing up and him being forced to move to a new location and forge himself a new identity. No consequences—not practical ones nor emotional ones. It’s especially weird, because…moving to Columbus on the money he earns through his endorsement deals was already his plan to begin with. If the only purpose was to get Wade from point A to point B, the setup was already there. But since there’s no other consequences to IOI blowing up his home…what was the point of IOI blowing up his home? From a pure storytelling perspective, I mean? I’m just puzzled at this point.

Somehow, Artemis is still talking to Wade, so they start playing a game of one question each. We do learn that Artemis is 19 years old, studying poetry and creative writing in college. Not very important information, but it’s something. Assuming she’s telling the truth, but I’m sure she is.

And now, we get back to that “Wade doesn’t care about the package Artemis comes in, only her personality”. With bonus transphobia!

Parzival: […] Now, spill it. Are you a woman? And by that I mean are you a human female who has never had a sex-change operation? Art3mis: That’s pretty specific. Parzival: Answer the question, Claire. Art3mis: I am, and always have been, a human female.

I…hopefully don’t need to explain the problem with this, right? It’s basically transphobia 101: he states that trans women aren’t women, or at least not “really” women; he overfocuses on their body and specifically genitals (using some outdated and offensive terminology even by 2011 standards, I’m fairly certain); and they both equate genitals with gender, since Wade acts like you can only even be a woman post-transition, and Artemis’s response implies that pre-transition trans women aren’t women.

But it’s even worse in the light of that thing I told you to put a pin on. Because if Wade doesn’t care about her body, only her personality…shouldn’t it not matter that she’s trans? Hell, shouldn’t it not matter that she’s trans and pre-transition? And if he does care about her genitals, shouldn’t it still not matter that she’s trans if she’s post-transition?

I’ll stop this discussion here before I myself get too close to talking about trans people’s genitals. All I’ll say is this: if you think the transphobia is an isolated issue, you’re not thinking hard enough. With this statement, Wade doesn’t just prove he doesn’t consider trans women as real women, he also establishes that he does care about Artemis’s body.

It’s easy to make a grand statement about how you love women no matter how they look. It’s much harder to maintain that stance in how you actually talk to and about women. It’s a similar problem that plagued the Nerd Porn Auteur poem: it’s one thing to say you want all women and all body types to be viewed as attractive, but when the rest of your poem clearly establishes that you just want to enforce your own standard, it belies your thesis statement.

For the record, I knew this quote was coming, but it’s still awful to read, especially in the context of this guy harassing her into talking to him in the first place, and repeatedly making advances at her in spite of her constant rejection.

You’d think there would be some lull in the misogyny in this book, but apparently that’s a tall order.

Finally, Artemis says she has to go, and says they shouldn’t talk again until one of them finds the egg. Wade’s reaction?

Parzival: Can I at least keep e-mailing you? […] You can’t stop me from e-mailing you. Art3mis: Actually, I can. I can block you on my contact list. Parzival: You wouldn’t do that, though. Would you? Art3mis: Not if you don’t force me to. Parzival: Harsh. Unnecessarily harsh.

You’re literally saying you’ll harass her more, so…no, clearly it’s not “unnecessarily harsh”, it’s exactly the right response.

So of course, after a scene break…

I started e-mailing her.

Yup. He starts emailing her weekly, and Artemis, for some reason that’s totally unrelated to being written by a man who’s likely never experienced that kind of harassment and also has no empathy for the people who do, replies to him. Well, not just replies to him; she starts going back and forth and goes all the way to meeting him in private chatrooms.

We played vintage board games, watched movies, and listened to music. We talked for hours. Long, rambling conversations about everything under the sun. Spending time with her was intoxicating. We seemed to have everything in common. We shared the same interests. We were driven by the same goal. She got all of my jokes. She made me laugh. She made me think. She changed the way I saw the world. I’d never had such a powerful, immediate connection with another human being before. Not even with Aech.

For the record, while this is still pretty shallow character and relationship development, I feel like this might be the closest we’ll get to fleshing things out in this book. This is as good as it gets. Or…as good as it’s gotten so far, I should probably say. I have my expectations for what comes next, but it’s wrong to assume, kids.

Speaking of rushed relationship development, we’re now in full skimming mode, to the point where Wade and Artemis now share their research regarding the Hunt, even though that’s basically antithetical to both their established characters. Is this what love is for straight people, becoming the opposite of who you were before? No wonder they have so many hang-ups about marriage.

Wade also tells us about how he missed his graduation and got his diploma by email, and…you gotta wonder at which point the Sixers will catch on to him still being alive, you know. I mean, the endorsement ads with Parzival, I can get that these could go on with Wade dead. But school? Did nobody even bother to identify the corpses in the stack?

If you think I’m asking this for something utterly trivial, don’t worry, we’ll get back to that too. But enough about the plot; I guess we’re giving up on it now.

When I finished school, I’d intended to devote all of my time to the Hunt. But all I really wanted to do was spend time with Art3mis.

Yeah. The girl’s what distracted you from the Hunt. Not the attempt against your life, though. That barely registered as a blip on the radar.

We also get a brief recap of Wade leveling up to 99, the maximum level in the OASIS. This includes a description of a quest where he and Artemis play as characters from the Goonies. And you might be wondering: wait, weren’t the flicksyncs supposed to be this revolutionary new feature? Well, apparently all the quests in the OASIS (or most of them, anyway) are also based on just…replaying the story of existing properties. In fact, it’s starting to look like the OASIS has two types of planets: the ones built by players, like IOI’s planets, and the ones that are built to match existing properties. Which begs the question: what was the OASIS’s launch content, when it had neither of these? Just the starting planet and Ludus?

Anyway, the book suddenly remembers about the Easter Egg, in the most random of fashions imaginable: by having Wade go on a rant about how there are no longer toys in cereal boxes.

It was a tragedy, in my opinion. Another sign that civilization was going straight down the tubes.

Yeah. Toys in cereals, the true canary in the civilization coal mine. Good job there.

But anyway. From this, Wade remembers a hacker from the ’70s (and…yeah, the 70s are fair game all of a sudden) who took on the moniker Captain Crunch, who used the toy whistle from the eponymous cereal to hack into analog phones. From this, wade decides that “the captain” and “the whistle” in the Quatrain are references to…the cereal. Not the hacker. Sure sounds to me like you’re stretching the guess a little far there, book.

I mean, even if he’d stuck to just making the connection, this is still just the character getting divine inspiration to solve the puzzle. Nothing of actual import causes this reveal. This passage is literally introduced as “Then, one morning” and him thinking of the connection. Because, you know, it’s not like giving your readers a riddle they’re able to solve along with the characters would keep them engaged or anything.

And with that random epiphany out of the way, we’re back to a whole lot of nothing, since Eureka moments are apparently the only way Wade solves any of the riddles. And by “nothing” I mean more obsessing over Artemis, and how he wants to meet her face to face, even though earlier this chapter he wouldn’t even send her a picture of himself.

I was certain she had strong feelings for me, but she also kept me at a distance. No matter how much I revealed about myself to her—and I wound up revealing just about everything, including my real name—she always adamantly refused to reveal any details about her own life. All I knew was that she was nineteen and that she lived somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. That was all she would tell me.

You know, the impression I’m getting from this is that you misread her completely and she’s not interested. I mean, she keeps rejecting your attempts at communication unless you pressure her so much that it’s easier to just talk to you, and she won’t give any personal detail. That does not strike me as someone who’s into you.

Wade also grows distant from Aech in this time, because fuck friendship now that he has a woman to stalk, I guess. I mean, of course, they barely qualified as friends in the first place, so…no big loss there.

Somehow, without my realizing it, my obsession with finding Halliday’s Easter egg was gradually being supplanted by my obsession with Art3mis.

I was informed that I used the “Big red flags” gif too soon last time, and…yeah, I’m seeing why now. This is just the worst case scenario. You’re romanticizing some really unhealthy behavior there, book.

And it keeps going. They go on dates now! In the OASIS of course. And they do so in spite of Artemis protesting that it’s not safe for Wade to make public appearances, since, again, IOI wants him dead. Plus, they’re afraid of tabloids.

But there was one exception. One night, she took me to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show in a huge stadium-sized movie theater on the planet Transsexual, where they held the most highly attended and longest-running weekly screening of the movie in the OASIS.

Oh dear. Let’s…let’s move on. I’m not touching the fact that the book dropped Rocky Horror in the same chapter as it featured an incredibly transphobic statement. Someone more qualified will have to take that one.

That night was easily the most fun I’d ever had in my life up to that point. I told Art3mis so afterward, and that was when she leaned over and kissed me for the first time. I couldn’t feel it, of course. But it still set my heart racing.

Yes, yes. I know. Obviously the book means for her to be into him and all my earlier ranting about her not being interested was wrong. Ha, ha. Except, you know, not. Of course she’ll fall for him—she’s designed to, as the love interest. The issue is with what the book chose to portray as her being interested. That is to say, her showing every sign of disinterest. Which is rape culture. No, I’m not mincing words—it is. Equating a woman’s constant rejection to her being into you is exactly what rape culture is about. If you look at what rapists say when on trial, the defense is almost always a variation on “I thought she wanted it”. So this book, providing a fantasy where she really is into it, deep down…yeah, it’s rape culture. And if that phrase sets off your triggers and you have a problem with that, big whoop, just re-read the paragraph and skip them this time. The message still stands.

Thankfully, we don’t have to deal with them being together for too long.

And then one night, like a complete idiot, I told her how I felt.

Well, mostly because the book probably couldn’t handle writing a romance where the characters actually are together for very long, what with its inability to write emotions. But sure, let’s go with “telling someone how you feel about them is an idiot move”. There’s no way that could feed into toxic masculinity or some bad relationship advice.

So, after this line, we get a chapter break, which I guess is supposed to act as a cliffhanger of sorts, since after that the book backtracks a little to set the stage. I’ll go over this quickly: remember Ogden Morrow, Halliday’s best friend? He hosts his birthday party in the OASIS every year, and it’s a big exclusive event, and of course the High Five are invited. Aech is busy, Daito and Shoto never enter a PvP area unless necessary, which leaves Artemis and Wade. Artemis wants to go, and Wade decides to as well to impress her or something.

She said she couldn’t pass up an invitation from Og himself, despite the obvious risks. So, naturally, I told her I would meet her there at the club. It was the only way I could avoid looking like a total wuss.

Wow. You big strong manly man. I’m sure she’ll swoon right into your arms and—oh wait, you ended the previous chapter by telling us you were gonna confess your feelings and it’d end badly. You kinda blew your load early there to be trying to milk some tension out of this there, buddy.

And I hear you. Back up, you say, a PvP zone? Yes! Ogden Morrow has his party in “the Distracted Globe, shortened to ”the Globe". No Shakespeare involved here, since he’s not from the 80s; instead, it’s a zero-gravity dance club. Except you can swim and dance in zero gravity, because this book for nerds didn’t think to research its physics properly. I mean, what are the odds that a bunch of nerds would criticize the science of your science fiction book, right?

And it’s also a PvP zone. I guess Ogden’s party runs on the honor system and hopes that no one is going to attack anyone here.

The book spends a massive paragraph describing Wade’s car to us. It’s a modified DeLorean crammed with references to other sci-fi movies, because apparently, the book doesn’t understand class. And yes, I’m forced to point out that Cline has a very real version of this car:

Which…okay, not the worst thing ever, I guess, but don’t you think it’s a little on the nose?

After this (and another paragraph telling us how everyone will want to steal his car, but it doesn’t matter, because he has a miniaturizing spell and keeps the car on his person, because MMORPGs letting you put your mounts in your inventory is not a concept that the author has heard of), it’s on to the party. In which Artemis and Wade name-drop a bunch of songs, and…dance. Kind of.

Her avatar lost its human form and dissolved into a pulsing amorphous blob that changed its size and color in synch with the music. I selected the mirror partner option on my dance software and began to do the same. My avatar’s limbs and torso began to flow and spin like taffy, encircling Art3mis, while strange color patterns flowed and shifted across my skin.

Is this someone’s kink? I’m extremely confused that this is the imagery you chose to go for, especially when the book tells us everyone else on the (spherical, zero-gravity) dance floor starts following suit and dancing as colored blobs.

After this, it’s time for the cliché slow dance, and Wade tells Artemis he’s in love with her.

“You aren’t in love with me, Z,” she said. “You don’t even know me.” […] “You only see what I want you to see.” She placed a hand on her chest. “This isn’t my real body, Wade. Or my real face.” “I don’t care! I’m in love with your mind—with the person you are. I couldn’t care less about the packaging.” “You’re just saying that,” she said. There was an unsteadiness in her voice. “Trust me. If I ever let you see me in person, you would be repulsed.”

Such foreshadowing. As for his statement…see my earlier rant about his transphobic statement.

Once again, Artemis keeps telling him no, Wade keeps insisting, and she decides they have to stop hanging out.

“Are you breaking up with me?” “No, Z,” she said firmly. “I am not breaking up with you. That would be impossible, because we are not together.” There was suddenly venom in her voice. “We’ve never even met!”

She’s right, of course. But before the book can linger on that detail for too long, let’s have the Sixers randomly attack the club! Which they do by sending troops inside, even though we established the game has nukes already and they could just make the whole place explode without wasting any avatars. Whatever. Fight scene time.

Then I realized that most of the Sixers’ incoming fire seemed to be directed at me and Art3mis. They were here to kill the two of us. […] I knew my own recklessness had brought them down on us. I cursed myself for being so foolish.

…Are you implying Artemis wouldn’t have been a valuable enough target? No, of course it’s all about you. Dick.

This scene, by the way, goes nowhere. It’s devoid of tension. Mostly because, before anything really major can happen, Ogden reveals that he apparently has god mode turned on, and fries all the Sixers in the club. Thus also making the attack entirely pointless. Well, unless Ogden does turn out to be the main villain and this is a showcase of the threat he is. Which I’m still somewhat convinced he might be. Or should be.

But anyway, when the dust settles, Artemis is gone, and Wade is sad, I guess. Boo hoo. Whatever shall he do, the object of his obsession is gone.

[emperor-uncarnate]

Old Ben: A Star Wars Story

Had some ideas for an Obi-Wan Kenobi movie I’d want to see... without Darth Maul in it. I’ve watched some Rebels and The Clone Wars but I’m gonna completely ignore them and most of the other expanded media (because let’s be real, Disney probably will too) and come up with a film synopsis that won’t end in just another lightsaber duel. I want a movie that’s gonna challenge Obi-Wan’s Jedi faith, and I think I came up with something that could be compelling. Read on and lemme know what you think: 

The film opens with the familiar sight of a Star Destroyer coming out of hyperspace above Tatooine. An Imperial shuttle descends from the capital ship’s hanger and makes its way down to Mos Eisley, flying over a bustling marketplace as it nears its landing site. Down in the streets we see an awestruck trio of human children watching the shuttle pass overhead: Luke, Biggs, and Camie. The kids are around nine or ten years old at this point and they’re enamored - albeit naively - with the Galactic Empire. Camie’s mother, who we’re going to tentatively name “Diane” (mostly because I imagine her played by Diane Lane and I don’t feel like coming up with Star-Warsy names for hypothetical characters), is looking after the children for the day while she shops. Luke and Biggs, who dream of someday becoming TIE Fighter pilots, decide to slip away from Diane’s supervision while she’s haggling with a trader and go check out the shuttle at the docks. The responsible Camie objects and threatens to tattle on them but best bros Luke and Biggs can’t be deterred. They sneak near the landed vessel and observe an Imperial officer trudging menacingly down its boarding ramp. The boys overhear the officer saying something about locating a fugitive of the Empire and something else about making a deal with some shady Tatooine locals.

As the officer departs, the boys try to get a better look at the shuttle and are caught by a few Stormtroopers. The soldiers mock them and push them around, intending to arrest or otherwise harm them, until Diane arrives. She puts herself at risk and tries to protect her daughter’s friends, frantically attempting to coax the Stormtroopers into looking the other way. She fails to sway the brutish Imperials, who care nothing for the innocence of curious children, and it seems like all of them are in deep trouble when a cloaked man arrives just in time. The not-so-mysterious figure drops his hood and we get our first look at a 47-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi. Dude’s looking grizzled with a little more than a touch of grayed hair. One Jedi mind trick later, the group is able to safely walk away and the Stormtroopers have no memory of the event. Diane thanks their rescuer and takes Camie and Biggs home while Obi-Wan, introducing himself with a smile as “Ben,” offers to take Luke home himself. Luke doesn’t know Ben very well but he knows him enough to trust him, and so they leave Mos Eisley together.

Luke is left pretty confused by the encounter. His first experience with the Empire leads him to conclude they’re not as great as he’d first thought, and Ben’s refusal to explain how he threw off the Stormtroopers left Luke with even more questions. Remember, Luke has no idea what the Force is until it’s explained to him in A New Hope. Ben delivers Luke to Owen and Beru Lars, who are grateful for Ben’s interference. At this point, Luke’s Uncle Owen has little reason to dislike Ben and is overjoyed that his nephew was returned safely. 

Luke goes to his room while the adults chat (it’d be cool if little Luke was playing with the same T-16 Skyhopper toy he has later) and Ben gets to telling Owen and Beru what happened at the spaceport. He explains that the Galactic Emperor suspected Tatooine might be a possible hiding place for a Jedi named Obi-Wan and that the Empire would send a battalion to their Mos Eisley checkpoint every now and then to scope things out. Ben recounts that Obi-Wan was killed around the same time Anakin was, and he warns that Luke shouldn’t be allowed near larger settlements when the Empire is visiting (and the Empire’s presence in town was why Ben decided to keep tabs on Luke that day in the first place). According to Ben, the Empire doesn’t know Obi-Wan is dead so they’re still circling the galaxy hunting for any sign of him. Owen and Beru heed his warning but they have no idea that Ben is in fact Obi-Wan himself, and this later mirrors the way Luke is told Anakin and Vader are two separate people. 

Ben goes on to offer to train Luke in the ways of the Force, stating the boy is at the ideal age to do so, but a protective Owen is hesitant to the proposal. Beru, who is much more open to the idea, convinces Owen to consider it. Owen agrees to think about it, and Ben leaves them both to ponder young Luke’s future. He mounts his eopie, a creature you might recall from the prequels, and rides off into the treacherous Jundland Wastes where he’s made his home. Unbeknownst to Ben, however, he has a follower...

Say what you will about the green milk scene in The Last Jedi but I really enjoyed the montage of self-exiled Luke’s daily routine. I’d want to see something similar here, showing us how Ben survives as a hermit in the harsh wilds of the Dune Sea. And while he’s rustling up some grub made from desert flora and fauna (maybe actual grubs?), he’s interrupted by an attractive human woman. She approaches him as a lost traveller, asking if she can take shelter in his dusty little hut for the night. She’s a little too nosy and flirtatious for Ben to trust, however, and his Jedi instincts lead him to concoct a plan. He invites her to join him in his home and share his meal before in some way calling on his classic Kenobi cleverness to reveal her true identity. Turns out she’s a Clawdite changeling, much like the one he and Anakin pursued in Attack of the Clones, and Ben’s trickery causes her to revert to her natural reptilian form. Maybe he dupes her into eating something spicy or sour and that causes her to lose concentration and shapeshift back to her real self. Something along those lines.

Ben interrogates her and tries to find out who she is and why she was trying to deceive him. The Clawdite woman explains that she was also there at the spaceport keeping an eye on the Imperials when she saw what Ben did to save Diane and the children. The changeling, who we’ll name... wait for it... “Changeling,” recognized his Jedi mind trick. Coupled with her intel that the Empire was looking for one such runaway force-user, Changeling suspected he was the one they were after. Ben is frustrated and perturbed that someone finally caught on to his true identity and asks if her intention was to turn him in to the authorities. Changeling denies this, claiming she’s in trouble with the Empire and he’s the only one who can help her (but she doesn’t say “you’re my only hope” because repeating little lines like that just feels shoehorned half the time). She only shapeshifted and lied about who she was so she could get to talk with him over dinner and confirm that he wasn’t some kind of lunatic. 

Changeling gathered a great deal of information thanks to her latent transformative abilities, allowing her to spy on the Imperial officer Luke and Biggs listened in on earlier. Apparently, members of the Empire’s leadership were growing tired of sending teams all the way to the Outer Rim to look for signs of Kenobi. The Imperial High Command or the Grand Moffs or whoever would be in charge of that disagreed with Emperor Palpatine’s decision to continue searching Tatooine. They believed they were wasting resources on this insignificant desert planet because of the “baseless” inklings and hunches of their monarch. Palpatine still suspected Obi-Wan’s presence there but the Moffs and Admirals weren’t big believers in the Force, so they decided to compromise instead. The Empire was going to give the job of monitoring Tatooine to a crime syndicate they were in talks with in (the Empire and the crime syndicate definitely have to meet at a cantina called “Club Mola Ram” as a reverse reference to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom). The crime syndicate, which would be comparable to the one run by the Hutts, would be able to more thoroughly keep an eye out for any Jedi activity while the Empire could spend its time and resources on efforts they considered more important. 

In exchange, the Empire agreed to construct a massive slave-processing facility for the crime syndicate. Slavery, which was outlawed by the Republic, was making a return in popularity thanks to the general shittiness of the Empire. And, wouldn’t you know it, the Empire was planning on seizing land from a number of moisture farmers in order to build it. You might be wondering why the Empire wouldn’t just pick a barren, unowned patch of land since Tatooine’s really just chock full of barren, unowned patches of land. They picked the part of the desert Changeling lives in because A, it’s within range of where the crime syndicate operates, B, it’s already equipped with the moisture farming infrastructure required to maintain it, and C, they can just turn the existing residents there into their first batch of slaves. The Empire and the crime syndicate wouldn’t lose a wink sleep over that, but Changeling and the moisture farmers in her community would suffer greatly.

Ben isn’t surprised that the Empire would stoop to that, but he does question why Changeling’s first impulse wasn’t to bring him in. If she captured Ben and handed him over, the Empire wouldn’t need to hire the crime syndicate and it wouldn’t need to build the “slave station” on her land. Ben is comforted to learn that Changeling, unlike most people at the time, is a supporter of the Jedi. She knows they’re the good guys, and she thought the right thing to do would be to tell Ben and at least try to work together with him. 

Ben reluctantly refuses. He can’t risk himself as one of the last Jedi and he certainly can’t risk Luke, and he assures Changeling that he absolutely cannot get involved. Still trying to protect himself and the Jedi legacy, Ben denies the allegation that he’s a Jedi and continues to pretend he’s just some aging vagabond. He apologizes to her and it’s clear that he has to resist his desire to help people because he thinks it’s for the greater good. Changeling states her disappointment that he wasn’t more willing to help, and it is at that moment Ben realizes the two of them aren’t alone. He steps outside his hut to find it is surrounded by armed moisture farmers. They’re kind of a pathetic band of desperate people, obviously unsuited to be threatening anyone. Maybe one of them isn’t even holding his blaster correctly. Ben can clearly see they’re not really fighters but after a short bout (not involving any lightsabers or Force abilities because Ben’s still denying he’s a Jedi at all) the scene ends with him being stunned and taken captive anyway. 

Ben awakens in an unfamiliar little house and slowly recognizes who was making sure he was alright while he was unconscious: Diane. Despite his grogginess, you can tell Ben’s happy to see her. He learns she and Camie also live on the endangered land before meeting a number of other farmers from their sector. So now we have Ben, Diane, Camie, Changeling, and room for a few other aliens or droids in their little crew. This is where the merchandise team has some real action figure opportunity. We’re going to name them “Huey, Dewey, and Louie” because Disney joke and also because they ultimately don’t matter much beyond comic relief or having cool/useful abilities. I’m not above throwing a few characters like this into a movie just to spice things up. Anyway, Ben learns that the half-dozen or so farmers he’s with are the only ones who know about him being there, although he still won’t admit he’s a Jedi. Changeling feels as if she isn’t left with much choice, so she finally sticks Ben with an ultimatum: help them stop the deal between the Empire and the syndicate or get knocked out again and be handed over to them against his will. Diane is a little taken aback by Changeling’s threat, protesting and claiming that the deal has already been struck and the Empire’s construction crews are already gathering in Mos Eisley. The way she says it, it seems like the slave facility is going to be built either way.

While Diane, Changeling, and the other farmers squabble, Ben quietly slips away and tries to escape them. But as he reaches his exit, he comes face to face with someone who had apparently been eavesdropping on the whole group. Ben is met with the violent screech-grunting of a Tusken Raider trying to assault him. Still avoiding the use of his fantastic Jedi abilities, Ben ducks and dodges as the enraged Sand Person swings wildly at him with his traditional gaderffii weapon. The other farmers hear all the commotion and run outside to meet them, trying to stop the fight, but Ben urges them to stay back for their own safety. He fights the Tusken Raider with his bare hands until he has no choice but to Force push his adversary away. The Tusken lands on his back while the onlooking farmers finally see proof Ben is indeed a Jedi, but the fight’s not over yet. “Tusk,” as I’m going to lazily name him, leaps to his feet and whips out a blaster, forcing Ben to finally ignite his blue lightsaber for the first time in the movie. He deflects the blaster bolts and Tusken, either in his native language or otherwise, reveals his motive:

Almost fifteen years earlier, Tusk’s people were murdered by a rampaging Jedi. He was just a Sand... Child (is “Sand Child” a thing? I don’t know how this works) at the time and was the only survivor. The one who murdered everyone else in his entire village, of course, was Anakin Skywalker during Attack of the Clones. The Tusken Raiders of other villages came to fear or worship Anakin as some kind of demon, but Tusk’s own village was wiped out and he subsequently grew up among the spacefarers and merchants of Anchorhead. The orphaned Sand Child grew into a Sand Man and eventually found a place as a farmhand on one of the threatened moisture farms, but his hatred for the Jedi who slaughtered his people never faded.

Tusk still had the image of a robed man with a blue lightsaber burned into his mind and suddenly there was one right in front of him. After he tells his tale in a little flashback, he angrily asks Ben if he was the one who did it all those years ago. Ben didn’t kill the Tusken Raiders, of course, but he knows Anakin did (somebody told him about it, but I’ll get to that). Still feeling guilty for failing Anakin ten years earlier, so to does Ben feel responsible for the deaths of Tusk’s people. And now here’s the kicker... Tusk senses Ben’s guilt with the Force. Tusk has no idea what the Force is and he thinks what he’s picking up is just his ancestors or something helping him seek the truth, but he can actually sense the shame Ben feels and that convinces him Ben is the murderer. Believing he’d found his chance at revenge, Tusk lashes out again with his gaderffii stick, forcing Ben to block with his lightsaber. That’s when we learn what Tusk has made his ceremonial weapon out of: cortosis. It hasn’t showed up in the films yet, but cortosis is a metal that can short out a lightsaber if it comes in contact with its energy blade. Ben’s lightsaber is extinguished and he can’t turn it back on right away, catching him by surprise and nearly costing him his life. But thanks to his Force powers and the help of Huey, Dewey, and/or Louie, Ben incapacitates Tusk and he’s locked up in some kind of storage unit as a makeshift jail cell. 

The jig is up for Ben, who is at last revealed to actually be the Jedi they thought he was. He assures the rest of the group that he didn’t kill all those Sand People, and they choose to believe him since he made no attempt to kill Tusk in the skirmish earlier. Ben learns from the farmers that Tusk is known to be hot-headed and aggressive at times but is also considered a decent member of their farming community. The other farmers seem to know he has a troubled past involving Jedi and they knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to have him meet Ben, so they excluded him from their meeting. They didn’t expect Tusk to show up at their door like that, and Ben wonders if it was Tusk’s Force-sensitivity that guided him there. The farmers thank Ben for refraining from utterly slicing and dicing Tusk and Ben finally agrees to help them with their Empire problem.

Ben is staying with the moisture farmers for the night but he just can’t manage to catch some sleep. Troubled and uncertain, Ben is visited by the ghost of his former master, Qui-Gon Jinn (and you know it’s gotta be Liam Neeson reprising the role). The spectral Jedi Master sought to console his doubtful former apprentice, who was reflecting on all the pain and destruction Anakin and Darth Vader had dealt to the galaxy (there would definitely be some echoes to Force ghost Yoda visiting Luke in The Last Jedi here). Even ten years later, Ben still wonders where he went so wrong with his padawan that Palpatine could so effectively turn him to the dark side. Also, were you wondering how Ben knew about what Anakin did to the Sand People? Anakin wouldn’t have told Obi-Wan about that, but it’s mentioned in this scene that Qui-Gon’s ghost told Ben what Anakin did before the events of the film. Continuity! Anyway, Qui-Gon tries to reassure Ben and give him some words of wisdom and encouragement just before Diane unexpectedly arrives. 

Qui-Gon’s spirit disappears and Diane says she came by because she saw the eerie glow of the ghost and wanted to investigate. She sees Ben can’t sleep and offers to make him some tea, or whatever they drink there, and the two stay up into the night talking. Diane eventually asks Ben about Luke and he momentarily lets his guard down to regale the story of his old friend Anakin Skywalker. Remember the story Ben tells nineteen-year-old Luke in A New Hope? She gets that same altered story but you can more obviously discern Ben’s censoring himself. He can barely keep the lie going but the subject of their conversation veers towards the celibacy of Jedi and how Luke came to be. During the conversation we learn that Camie’s father is no longer in Diane’s life and it leads Ben to question his sacred vows what with the Jedi Order as a thing of the past. Diane feels some type of way about Ben and they both know it, but he sees this as a test of his faith. Ben excuses himself before either one of them can make a move and says goodnight, finally getting a little sleep before he wakes up and learns...

...Tusk is gone. Guy somehow flew the coop in the middle of the night, hopping on his wooly Bantha steed and peacing the fuck out. The farmers kind of panic for a moment, realizing that he very well could’ve set off towards the Empire to report Ben. They figured Tusk would do that in an effort to simultaneously save their land and have his revenge, but perhaps Tusk overlooked the fact that the Imperials would kill them all for harboring a fugitive. They determine what time during the night Tusk must’ve left, and they realize that his slow-moving Bantha gave them a chance to head him off in time. Ben, Huey, and company board a landspeeder and go forth at blazing speeds across the desert with Dewey using his alien/droid abilities to track the Bantha (whatever those abilities may be). Take note - the farmers did have a ship at their disposal but Changeling said she had to stay behind and make repairs before they could fly it. Diane and Camie stay at the farm with her, leaving Ben and his inexperienced farmer companions to go out into the Dune Sea.

Unfortunately, a patrolling group of crime syndicate thugs catch them out in the open desert. A whole squadron of enemy speeders give chase, and I’m totally picturing Star War’s version of Mad Max: Fury Road. Imagine someone throwing Ben a blaster and asking “you ever use one of these before?” to which he casually replies “oh, once or twice.” Ben fights valiantly without using his Force powers until his landspeeder, driven expertly by Louie, is about to get wrecked. I’m imagining Ben would pull off some crazy maneuver with the Force, demonstrating the true mastery of his powers he’s refined over his years in solitude. He gets his lightsaber going too and it’d be quite the spectacle. I’d pay some seriously good money to see a scene like that, I dunno about you guys. I also wouldn’t say no to a scene where Ben hijacks one of the syndicate speeder bikes a la Luke in Return of the Jedi and I’m not going to pretend I don’t remember this awesome clip (I said I was gonna ignore Star Wars: The Clone Wars, never said anything about Star Wars: Clone Wars). Watch the clip, it’s great and Obi-Wan does the thing from Akira.

The chase scene ends with them entering a canyon, maybe even the same one from The Phantom Menace’s Boonta-Eve Classic if you want to throw in an extra easter egg. The criminals are killed or otherwise ejected from the chase one at a time until there are none left, you know how it goes. You see one of the syndicate thugs sending a signal to the Empire before it’s all over, letting them know Kenobi is located and is working with people from the farm. Ben on his stolen speeder bike and Huey, Dewey, and Louie in their landspeeder finally reach the wandering Bantha and are surprised to see it’s alone. Tusk’s not riding it, and that’s when Ben’s Jedi-sense gets tingling... Tusk’s not riding his Bantha because Tusk never left the farm. 

Tusk sent his Bantha off alone, which would normally be a pretty serious offense in Tusken Raider culture. Sand People are bonded to their faithful Banthas for life, but Tusk sent his away so he could avenge his village and exact what he believed to be justice. He waited until Changeling had repaired her ship and taken off so he could kidnap Diane and Camie, knowing he could only do so if the other people in their group were led elsewhere. It was never his intention to go to the Empire because he desires to kill Ben himself.

Ben freaks when he realizes this and turns his bike around, zooming back towards the farm. Our trio of aliens/droids/whatever tries to go with him in their landspeeder but, conveniently, it breaks down and they have to wait for Changeling to swoop in for pickup with their ship. Ben makes it back to the farm and finds it empty. He discovers Tusk left a small tracking device behind for Ben to use, and so he immediately hops back on his bike and follows it despite knowing it’ll most likely be a trap. After Ben has left the farm again, Changeling and everyone on their ship make it back there too but they’re only inside for a few minutes before they hear the howls of incoming TIE Fighters. Their airspace is surrounded by several TIEs while that Imperial officer from earlier flies in on his shuttle. A platoon of Stromtroopers march out with the officer, who commands Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi exit the farmhouse. Little do they know, the real Ben is closing in on Tusk somewhere else entirely. Changeling decides to do something heroic, shapeshifting into Ben and making a daring escape. Diane’s farmhouse sustains heavy damage in the process but Changeling narrowly makes it to her ship, making sure to be seen in her Ben form and provoking the Imperial forces into chasing her. She pilots her small freighter away from the planet, drawing the Empire off the farm. Changeling thinks she can string them along and somehow make it back alive but she’s outnumbered and cannot escape them. Her ship is blown to smithereens, close enough to the planet’s atmosphere that the onlooking Huey, Dewey, and Louie see the explosion in the distance and cry alien/droid/duck tears. Sad time, but it leads the Empire to at long last confirm the fatality of the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Meanwhile, the tracking device leads actual Ben to this craggy, desolate wasteland. He finds Tusk, who is waiting for him at the edge of a cave along with an ensnared Diane and Camie. Classic “you killed the people I love so now I’m gonna kill the people you love” situation. Ben tries to ease Tusk into standing down and giving up the innocent woman and her child, even offering up his own lightsaber for their safe return. The enraged Tusken Raider rejects the lightsaber before the desperate Jedi Master also offers to train him in the Force. Ben levitates his lightsaber into Tusk’s hands, promising he’d find peace in learning the ways of the Force, but Tusk is hell-bent on revenge and won’t give up. He goes against Tusken Raider culture yet again, this time removing his head coverings and baring his face (gross) and his dark side-tainted eyes. Now consumed by the dark side of the Force, Tusk roars into the cave and receives a roar in return from what sounds like a large creature. Ben suddenly regrets giving up his lightsaber just as a titanic Krayt Dragon, a monstrous reptilian behemoth native to Tatooine, emerges from the cave. The beast is about to chow down on Diane but Ben uses the Force to demand its attention. He keeps the ravenous dragon focused on him while he evades its many attacks (including its acidic venom) until he finally is able to use enough Force mojo to pacify it. 

Just when the hulking, hundred-meter lizard is calming down, a furious Tusk leaps into the fray, disrupting Ben’s attempt to placate it. This turns into a chaotic three-way battle between Ben, Tusk, and the overwhelmingly strong Krayt Dragon. Though already exhausted, Ben manages to get his lightsaber back but is careful not to let it connect with Tusk’s cortosis gaderffii stick. This proves to be challenging, pushing Ben’s middle-aged agility to its limits. The old Jedi Master eventually falters when his lightsaber is fizzled out by the brittle cortosis weapon and he drops it, leaving him open to be swatted away by the dragon’s whip-like tail. Then the monster disarms and pins Tusk down, ready to bite his fucking face off, when Ben uses the Force to lift the gaderffii and send the sharp end of it through the beast’s skull like a missile. The beast is instantly killed and collapses but an injured Ben can barely stand or defend himself anymore. 

Tusk picks up Ben’s lightsaber just as the cortosis’ disabling effect wears off and he turns it back on. Sure looks like Tusk is about to finish Ben with his own weapon, but instead he slashes at the Krayt Dragon’s side and makes a deep gash. Tusk reaches into the dead wyrm’s guts and retrieves a dazzling, almost luminous pearl. He hands it and the lightsaber back to Ben and expresses his newfound understanding. During the whole battle, there was no point at which Ben tried to kill Tusk, and Ben even saved Tusk from certain death in the end. It was then that the remorseful Tusken Raider could sense the truth, and that his opponent was innocent. Ben apologizes despite being vindicated, telling Tusk is was his failure as a mentor that led to the tragedy of his village. He kind of vents his guilt to Tusk, who turns around and reveals a glob of acid venom burning through his back, slowly killing him. With his dying breaths, Tusk forgives Ben and voices his regret for sending his Bantha away and for going against the traditions of his people. He urges Ben not to make that same mistake, not for anything, and he ultimately helps Ben reaffirm his faith in the Jedi. Quelling the dark side within Tusk makes Ben think of redeeming Vader and how possible or not that might be.

Everyone regroups and they mourn Changeling’s sacrifice. The Empire believes Obi-Wan has been eliminated so they pack up and leave Tatooine, forsaking their deal with the crime syndicate, which is left in shambles after losing so many thugs in the desert chase. Tusk’s Bantha, who was spiritually linked to Tusk, is found to have died right when his master did. Spooky. Ben gives the valuable Krayt Dragon pearl to Diane, Huey, Dewey, and Louie so they can sell it and use the profits for their farms. The farmers explain that slaying a Krayt Dragon and claiming its pearl are actual rites of passage for young Tusken men, so Ben and Tusk inadvertently completed that ritual in a sense. Anyway, the farmers consider hiring some enforcers of their own to stave off the remnants of the syndicate and decide to pay to rebuild Diane’s farmhouse. Owen Lars later comes to learn that Ben was responsible for the destruction of Diane’s property, not believing the explanation that it was actually Changeling posing as him (and it was really the TIE Fighters’ faults anyway). Owen refuses to allow such a dangerous individual around his nephew or the Lars family farm and so Luke doesn’t really see Ben again for another decade. And by the time they meet again in A New Hope, Ben’s perfected his Krayt Dragon call... I think?

At last, Ben is ready to say his goodbyes to Diane. She’s not upset with him about her farm, but she’s more upset that Tusk would so spontaneously give in to the dark side. Ben explains how quickly revenge can turn someone Force-sensitive to the path of violence, and it wasn’t so surprising someone who’d vowed revenge for all those years could succumb to it. “Revenge, anger, ...and attachment.” With that, she understands what Ben is having difficulty saying: they simply cannot be together. She agrees with him, expressing her newfound fear and misunderstanding of the Force and its vast influence. Diane says she can see how difficult it would’ve been to watch Anakin go through that, and she wishes one day Ben can do for Anakin what he did for Tusk. Diane kisses him... nothing intense, more of a “thank you” than anything else. I think she’d feel kind of sorry for him that she can see he’s such a noble person and he’s so devoted to his values but he won’t allow himself what would likely make him happy. With that somber gesture, Ben tells her his true name is Obi-Wan, gets back on his speeder bike, and goes back to his hut. The end! Can’t believe you made it this far. In my head this was gonna be one page tops but whoops I guess its nine. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Money

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongdae

Rating: 18+ (Explicit Sex, Cartel!AU)

Word Count: 8,126

Summary:  It’s 1970′s Florida and the Baekhyun’s cartel has just been broken up by the feds. Still at large is the ninth member of the cartel, known only to federal agents as the Money. Jongdae is the Money and he has one job: keep it safe. Keep it safe, and try to get them the hell out. Part of The Cartel, a multi-author collaboration. 

Contributors: the always wonderful - @baebae-goodnight​ LOOK AT THIS MOODBOARD. 

FBI AND DEA BUST MIAMI’S NUMBER ONE DRUG CARTEL

Publication: Miami Herald, The (FL) Author:  LUCINDA PAGE, Herald Staff Writer Date: September 10th, 1980 Section: LOCAL Page: 1B Word Count: 242

It was in the wee hours of the morning, Miami, FL when Byun Baekhyun, infamous leader of the South Beach Drug Cartel was led away in handcuffs. Taken from his penthouse apartment on Collins Avenue, the drug lord is currently being held in the Miami-Dade County Jail on multiple charges of drug trafficking and money laundering. This arrest comes as the result of a year-long investigation by a special anti-narcotics detective squad within the FBI and DEA. This arrest marks the first of many, necessary steps to reclaim the streets of Miami from the current state of drugs and violence.

Today’s arrest is due to the intel of one, male FBI agent operating undercover within the cartel for the past six months. The arrest of Byun Baekhyun was the final in a series of arrests which occurred over the past forty-eight hours. Also taken into custody were: Kim Junmyeon, ‘The Cleaner;’ Park Chanyeol, ‘The Bruiser;’ Oh Sehun, ‘The Greaser;’ Zhang Yixing, ‘The Eyes;’ Kim Jongin, ‘The Diversion;’ Kim Minseok, ‘The Pimp;’ and Federal Agent, Do Kyungsoo.

Over one billion U.S. dollars of cash and cocaine were found hidden throughout various hiding spots in the Miami area. Still at large is the ninth member of the cartel, known only to federal agents as The Money. Any civilians with information on this individual’s whereabouts should inform their local police immediately. Proceed with caution, as they are presumed to be armed and highly dangerous.

Sweating profusely, Jongdae folds his newspaper delicately in his lap. There’s an ink stain on his right hand and he wipes this casually, trying not to appear like he’s running. Which he is, Jongdae is running from the very article on the front page of that newspaper. At least it’s a relief to see that the Federal Bureau of Investigation still don’t know his name.

Kim Jongdae, the Money of the South Beach Drug Cartel. Jongdae used to be a no one, nobody before meeting Byun Baekhyun. He was one of many analysts on Wall Street, barely made enough to afford his monthly studio rent in New York City. When he met Baekhyun, it was pure coincidence. Jongdae was on vacation, visiting a friend from college who worked in a new bank sprung up along Brickell Avenue.

Jongdae joined his friend hopping from club to club, overwhelmed by the amount of booze, chicks and spending. It was sometime around the third nightclub that he ran into Baekhyun. Jongdae didn’t know it at the time, but Club Medallion was Baekhyun’s personal headquarters, in addition to home of the infamous South Beach Cartel. Jongdae wasn’t aware when he began to barter with the bartender, wasn’t aware when he managed to get him to drop the price for several expensive bottles. He never imagined anyone above him would care, never someone might be watching from above.

Yixing cared, of course and when he overheard this twenty-two year-old kid swindling the pants off half his club – he nearly wet himself laughing. “Baek,” Yixing’s voice cracked over the radio with static. “Get off your ass and go look downstairs. You know how we need a new finance guy?”

That was an understatement. They needed a new finance guy, since the last one attempted to sell out the entire organization. Baekhyun drove that lying, manipulative cunt out to the Everglades himself.  

“Little busy,” Baekhyun grunted. He was in the middle of fucking what was, at the time, just a burgeoning romance. “Call back later.”

Yixing rolled his eyes, waited another minute before Jongdae began scamming an entire Blackjack table. “Boss,” he chuckled, taking a bite from his apple. “Honestly. You’re going to want to see this.”

“For fuck’s sake, you disgruntled wombat,” Baekhyun abruptly pulled out his cock. This, despite the repeated threats he was receiving. “This better be good, or I’m going to stick your shit-poor excuse for a head on the Rickenbacker Causeway.”

“Not your best comeback,” Yixing chewed loudly. “That time you called me a cock-sucking, shit-faced, bastardized train-wreck who’s cum lit the flames of hell. THAT was creative. Anyways, there’s this guy,” Yixing grinned. He was the only one who got to talk to Baekhyun like this – they both knew he was necessary. “He just scammed both the bartender and a bunch of high rollers in what – an hour? Tops. How long do you think he’s been here, Kai?”

Silence from Kai’s radio.

“Kai?” Yixing repeated, then sighed. “Eh, he’s fucking someone – damn! Two someone’s. Anyways, this kid. You’ve got to talk to him.”

Baekhyun was already buttoning his pants, tossing an exaggerated kiss to the most dangerous woman in Miami. “Bye, babe!” he called cheerfully, ignoring the sounds of her heels hitting the door. “Alright,” he grumbled, sauntering down the staircase. “Time to go and make dreams come true.”

That was the first time Jongdae met Baekhyun. The first time they met, Jongdae thought he was going to die. Baekhyun had that look about him, a manic smile and dark eyes gleaming. Then there was the matter of the six-foot giant beside him, his expression unreadable and gaze tight.

“Let’s talk,” Baekhyun shrugged – and before Jongdae knew what was happening, he was being offered a job.

It was the job of a lifetime. An opportunity Jongdae couldn’t pass up – and he didn’t. Barely hesitated, before saying yes. Ever since graduating college, Jongdae had worked as an analyst on Wall Street. Putting in hundred-hour weeks, sleeping on office floors, barely able to pay the rent on an apartment he never saw. One Jongdae shared with three other dudes, all of them crazier than he was.

Most of the week Jongdae lived on cup ramen and apples, occasionally he didn’t eat at all. When Baekhyun dangled this dream before him, gave him the opportunity to escape and make money now – Jongdae jumped. Baekhyun just told him how high. Jongdae didn’t return to New York, just called his roommates from a pay phone and told them he’d wire the last month’s rent. The amount didn’t matter, Baekhyun offered him ten times that much as a signing bonus.

Things quickly spiraled. Within months, Jongdae was living in a penthouse on Brickell Avenue. He was smart with the cartel’s money, more than could be said of the others. This was the advantage of having Jongdae as your man – he understood money. He lived and breathed those large, corporate organizations. I mean hell, most legitimate businesses in New York were Ponzi schemes. What did it matter then, if Jongdae was paid by someone paying taxes or by Baekhyun? Not much. If anything, Baekhyun was the more generous employer. At least he cared about those working for him.

Most other cartels were hotheaded, only cared about the now – not about what happened next. Jongdae thought about everything. He spread out their assets, diversified their funds. Tied them to offshore accounts, random assets and real estate ventures. If the cartel ever got caught, at least their money would be safe.

Which is why it is safe. That’s why the feds are looking for Jongdae; they only found a portion of Baekhyun’s massive empire back in Miami. On the last seat of the bus now, on his way to Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama, Jongdae closes his eyes. This is Baekhyun’s brilliance, really. To keep Jongdae as far from the others as possible, with only Lay and Chanyeol knowing his face – only Yixing his name.

It’s for his own protection. If any other member got caught, they couldn’t out Jongdae. If they couldn’t explain Jongdae, then the money of the cartel would be safe. Baekhyun might’ve been one arrogant, son-of-a-bitch but he wasn’t dumb. He knew the risks of his operation, he knew he could get out of any jail sentence he was given, with so many people on the inside. What he didn’t have – what he needed Jongdae for – was the guarantee that his money would be waiting.

Jongdae’s fingers tap nervously against his seat. He feels as though he might throw up Or faint. It’s a wonder he hasn’t already, truly. All his friends, all the cartel – gone. When he opens his eyes shakily, Jongdae lets out an exhale.

It’s Kyungsoo’s fault. Jongdae grits his teeth. If he wasn’t such a fucking pussy, if he’d just trusted Baekhyun or maybe asked what the hell was going on – Jongdae rubs at his temples. Goddammit. It started with the mole. Junmyeon knew about the spy for months, knew there was someone within their operations who shouldn’t be trusted. Baekhyun knew it too, being well-versed in everything Junmyeon thought. They were trying to flush out the weasel themselves, though everything went to hell when they discovered the other shit going on below their belts. There was a rogue worker in Minnie’s organization, for one. A shady guy who bought girls and whored them out for profit. Minseok had two very strict rules in his establishments. Number one: everyone who worked for him, worked voluntarily. Second: his employees were extremely well-compensated. Minseok had dealt with enough shit in his life to know that unhappy people talk. Say what you will about Minseok, he wasn’t evil – or stupid. He knew most of his girls were illegals. Knew most wouldn’t get jobs elsewhere, so he offered them less-than-reputable work – but paid them well and treated them decent. It was a good opportunity, until they were able to get on their feet. Then Minseok let them go, usually with a fake ID and social security number. People who love you, are more willing to spy. That was the whole model of Minseok’s operation, so when a certain male worker began to engage in human trafficking – well, Baekhyun went ballistic.

Not even Chanyeol was able to talk him down from the rage. Baekhyun was seething, he grabbed two Uzi submachine guns and left, tires of his Lamborghini Miura screeching when he pulled out of the parking garage. Chanyeol wasn’t sure Baekhyun even made it to the Everglades before he killed the guy. Junmyeon received a terse phone call later on with specific instructions on where to clean his shit up.

The girl Kyungsoo was in love with was one of the ones Baekhyun liberated in his operation. Sure, Jongdae knows there was some sort of negotiation which went down – some front Minseok put up which made Kyungsoo think he owned her or something. Minseok typically only did that with outsiders though, guys he was suspicious of and didn’t want to let in. Better to be feared, than perceived as weak.

It was Kyungsoo’s words which made them suspect something strange going on in the first place. Not that they let him know this, of course. Kyungsoo never found out about any of it, since he never bothered to ask. Jongdae’s lip curls, remembering the way Kyungsoo turned a blind eye when he found out about Taewon. He knew the asshole was undercover in their cartel. Maybe not at first, but eventually he found out – and once he did, what did he do? Nothing.

Jongdae knows this now through bits and pieces, snippets of conversations he overhead on Yixing’s radio. A small laugh crosses his lips, thinking about Kyungsoo being trapped in that prison with the rest of them.

Taewon also worked for the FBI. Taewon was the once-partner of some woman in Kyungsoo’s department until he was sent to the field, undercover. Jongdae actually recognized the name, after the fact. Taewon was low-level in the cartel, someone whose car Sehun worked on. Someone who Junmyeon occasionally called in to help clean up messes. Apparently though, he was much more than that.

It was their own fault, really. Members of the cartel got arrogant. They got cocky, they thought a little roach like Taewon couldn’t wreck their entire operation. All it took was Taewon catching on to Lay and Kai. The shadow twins, the ones making sure all the transactions went smoothly. If any boat came in, Lay saw. If any police were on the roads, Kai circumvented. When Taewon realized who they were, everything went to shit. He broke into Lay’s apartment, stole the coordinates for their next drops.

Jongdae remembers the phone call vividly. Baekhyun was in his apartment at the time, drinking a glass of McKenna, neat. Jongdae’s land line rang – when didn’t Lay know where they were? – and to Jongdae’s surprise, the call was for Baekhyun.

The boss took it out on the balcony, overlooking the blue horizon while his lips tightened with displeasure. The longer Lay spoke, the colder his gaze grew and when Baekhyun finally turned to look at him, Jongdae shivered. The boss threw his glass at the wall, shattering it into a million, tiny pieces before hanging up the phone. “Got to go,” he barked, motioning for Chanyeol to follow. “Some little prick thinks he can mess with us.”

That was the last time Jongdae saw Baekhyun. Taewon took those coordinates he stole and began to stalk Baekhyun’s movements. Jondgae assumes it was sometime during this, he saw Baekhyun’s woman. The dragon, as Jongdae liked to call her, since her father’s cartel was el Monstruo. The monster. Baekhyun was dating the monster’s daughter – a woman who had fire all on her own.

Once Taewon found this out, he went straight to the head of el Monstruo. Taewon gave the man two things that day: photographs of his daughter with Baekhyun, and the coordinates he stole from Lay. Then it was the simple matter of sitting back and letting it happen. El Monstruo arranged a fake shipment, one to set Baekhyun’s people up.

Baekhyun wasn’t at the drop, but others were. Baekhyun’s head waitress from Club Medallion was there. His main distributor for the Miami area was. After several hours in custody, they gave up. It wasn’t long before the feds were knocking down Baekhyun’s door and dragging members out on their asses.

Everyone but Jongdae.

Jongdae still wonders if it was a mistake, the call he got from Chanyeol. All he said to him was, “Run,” but Chanyeol said it with such panic, Jongdae took him seriously. He now wonders if Chanyeol knew. If he got some heads up, a warning to get the hell out – but was too damn stubborn to leave himself. It seems like a very Chanyeol thing to do, if Jongdae is being honest. Go down with the ship because, though Chanyeol loved himself, he loved Baekhyun more. They were blood brothers, sworn to protect one another.

Once again, Jongdae lowers his face to his hands. He feels like a coward. He feels like a traitor, but he knows Chanyeol called him for a reason and that out of all of them, he’s the one who can’t be caught. Jongdae is the one with the money, which means he must be free.    

Baekhyun would happily slit Jongdae’s throat, if he appeared in prison. Thinking this, Jongdae swallows. He likes his throat. Would love to keep it whole and intact. This is why he’s sitting here now, on this bus. Getting the hell out of Dodge.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. Miami is much worse than Dodge City ever was.

The only thing is, once he reaches his destination – Jongdae isn’t sure he’ll be welcomed. It’s been years since he’s laid eyes you. Years, since the day Jongdae packed up and left. He didn’t want you involved in this, in his current lifestyle but now that it’s gone – you’re the only place he wants to be.

The Alabama air is hot, sultry and Jongdae is sweating within two minutes of getting off the bus. The scratchy vinyl of the seat sticks with him, its imprint an itch he can’t scratch while walking down main street. The last he heard, you lived over on Peach. This sounds so cliché, like a bad romantic comedy but then, you’ve always liked things like that. Quaint things, stability. It’s why Jongdae stayed away from you for so long.

The day is humid, though the sky is surprisingly clear. Nothing like Miami, choked with the smog of ships and cigars. Cuban, hand-rolled, nothing like the ones he’ll have to put up with here – Jongdae exhales thinking about it, long and slow. He pulls his glasses from his pocket, sliding them onto the bridge of his nose. In Miami, he usually went without. In Miami, Jongdae preferred not to see.

The walkway to your house is small, slightly off the beaten path. The door is bright blue, which makes Jongdae smile. A pop of color is so like you. The classic Colonial frame, a wrap-around porch with beige shutters – but then, an electric-blue door.

Chrysanthemums sit in buckets and Jongdae stares. First at these, then at the frame. He stands there like that, clenching and unclenching his fists. One second passes, then two. All the way up to sixty, before Jongdae starts over. Finally he exhales, lifting a hand.

Footsteps, the soft rise and fall of feet which sound like socks on wooden floors and when you fling open the door, Jongdae forgets what he had to say. The smile on your face fades.

Jongdae’s heartbeat drowns out everything else. “I – hi,” he breathes, well-aware this isn’t enough.

You don’t speak, only stare.

Jongdae rubs the back of his neck, wondering if he’s going to throw up. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” he asks, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh, fuck no,” you groan, then slam the door.

Jongdae drops his hands to his sides. “Ah, Y/N!” he yells, knocking on the door. “Y/N! Come on, don’t be like that! Please – just hear me out. Give me five minutes!”

You don’t respond, though Jongdae doesn’t hear you walk away.

“Please,” he groans, lowering his head to the door. “I know I was an ass. I know I am an ass! I’m sorry I left. Just please – please let me in,” he pleads. “Please, Y/N – you’ve always been the better person here!”

“Well, sure,” you call from the other side. “That’s not hard to do.”

Unwillingly, Jongdae smiles. “I know! Look,” he steps back, raising both hands overhead. Slowly, he sinks one knee towards the ground. “I’m here on bended knee, begging you to let me in.” When you don’t answer, Jongdae exhales. He looks down at the porch and adds softly, “Y/N. I have nowhere else to go.”

There’s a long pause. A moment where Jongdae thinks he’s really fucked up. Thinks he was wrong, that you won’t be able to forgive him but then – the door cracks open.

Jongdae slowly looks. “Was it the ‘please’ that did it?”

You stand framed in your doorway, arms crossed. “Don’t make me shut the door again,” you warn, tilting your head. “Actually, it’s still tempting. I wouldn’t push me, if I were you.”

When he moves to stand, you hold up a hand. “What?” Jongdae asks, wobbling slightly. “You want me to just kneel here?”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Maybe I do.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, stands anyways. “Can’t we at least pretend I have some pride?”

“No,” you say simply. Then you leave. “Door’s open,” you call, waving a hand over your shoulder.

Jongdae hovers, then follows. He steps into your foyer, dragging his suitcase behind him. The door is shut hastily, he doesn’t even notice the newspaper fluttering to the ground behind him. Jongdae pushes glasses up his nose. “So,” he clears his throat. “How long have you been here?’

“Don’t make small talk with me, dickwad,” you call back.

Jongdae winces, lowering his suitcase to the ground. He walks down the hallway and when he sees you standing in the kitchen, he freezes. It reminds him too much of an earlier time. A different morning, when you were still in college. You used to wake up early to make him toast, eggs – just that, since you couldn’t cook anything else. Jongdae would laugh when he saw the crisped toast or burnt butter – only you could burn butter – and then he’d wrap his arms around your waist.

Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he sees you looking his way.

Setting your spatula down, you wipe your palms on your jeans. “Why did you leave?” you ask quietly.

Jongdae is silent for a long moment. “Which time?”

Your gaze darkens, knowing he’s left more than once. “My apartment. Why did you leave my apartment and go to New York?”

Jongdae doesn’t have an answer.

The two of you dated on and off throughout college. There was always this cloud, though. Always this knowledge that the two of you wanted very different futures. Jongdae wanted more than what you had. He grew up in a shit household with an absentee father, drug addict mother. It’s why he never touched an ounce of the cocaine himself, working for Baekhyun. When Jongdae was little he didn’t receive care, love or attention – which saddled him well into his adult years with this awful urge to prove himself.

It’s what drove him to college. It’s what took him to Wall Street. It’s what ultimately, brought Jongdae to Miami. You never wanted that, you just wanted him. Which is why Jongdae left. He was trying to save you from himself, trying to protect you from a gaping hole you couldn’t possibly fill. Jongdae thought money might, thought prestige could.

What he learned though, was that this hole wasn’t something that could be fixed on the outside. Not by you. Not by money either, nor fancy cars or boats or apartment suites. It was something only Jongdae himself could do – and it’s something he’s been trying to work on, lately.

“I don’t know how to explain,” he says and even to his own ears, he sounds defeated. “I was bad for you.”

Slamming your frozen peas onto the counter, you turn to face him. “Bad for me?” you laugh, shaking your head. “What gives you the right to decide that?”

Jongdae’s mouth opens, then he closes it. “I wanted something different than what you did.”

“Oh, yeah?” your eyes narrow, opening the refrigerator. “How’s that worked? Are you happy,” you snort, “because you can buy a fancy suit and shiny suitcase?”

“No.” Jongdae says simply, without any fanfare. “I’m not happy.”

At this, something in your gaze softens and slowly, you shut the fridge. “What are you running from, Jongdae?”

He doesn’t say anything, just swallows.

“Why,” you ask him, expression curious. “Are you here now? Why is your newspaper,” you nod towards the front hall, where the black and white sticks out of his bag, “folded over and over, as though you want to break the contents?”

Jongdae exhales. “God,” he looks away, cracking a smile. “You always were smarter than I was.”

“Again, not hard,” you mutter, before brushing past. You stalk down the hall, feet loud on your wooden floorboards. When you reach his suitcase, you yank the paper free.

Jongdae groans as he follows. “Y/N, wait,” he declares, heart loud. “I can explain.”

You’re frozen though, eyes locked on the headline while slowly, your gaze moves from side to side. “Holy fuck,” you mutter.

Jongdae doesn’t know what to say then, twisting his hands before him. “This is – it’s not what it looks like,” he pleads.

Your eyes lift from the paper to his face. “No,” you whisper, lips pale. “No, no, no, no – Jongdae you are not involved in this.” Shaking the paper, your expression turns furious. “Do not tell me you’re involved in this!”

“Alright,” Jongdae shrugs, grabbing the paper away. “I won’t tell you.”

Letting out a noise of frustration, you punch him in the shoulder. “Fuck you, Jongdae,” you fire. “This isn’t funny.”

“Ow,” Jongdae winces, rubbing the spot. “You’re right – this isn’t funny and it’s why I’m here,” he explains, turning serious. “Listen. I asked for five minutes, right?”

Silently, you nod.

“Alright,” Jongdae continues to look at you. “Give me five minutes. I will explain to you and if you still want to throw me out – you can. Okay?”

After another long moment, you walk past. Sinking onto your couch and looking up at him. “What are you waiting for?” you declare, tapping your watch. “Four minutes, fifty seconds.”

Jongdae moves. Hastily lowering himself onto a chair and nearly falling in the process. “I don’t even know where to start. Ah, shit – don’t get up! Okay,” he grips the armrests tighter. “Baekhyun offered me a job. Finance,” he grins but upon noticing your frown, his smile disappears. “Sorry. I ran the financial operations for his cartel. Look,” Jongdae rubs his forehead. “I’m not saying it was morally sound. I was pulled in by the money, the power, the perks.”

“The women?” you demand, jabbing a finger at his paper. “One of the people arrested was called the pimp.”

“Oh, no,” Jongdae scoots hastily to the edge of the chair – then back, noticing your expression. “I mean, yeah. Minseok’s girls were prostitutes but they worked voluntarily, it – ah,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say, that has nothing to do with this. Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, though I’m not sorry I left.”

“No?” You stare at him, expression unchanging. “Maybe you should hear then, what happened when you left.”

“Does this count as part of my five minutes?”

“Choke on a dick, Jongdae. When you disappeared,” you continue, as though he hasn’t spoken. “I cried. For days, weeks – I lost track, somewhere along the way. I knew the breakup was coming because you’re right, we wanted completely different things. I grew up moving from house to house, I never really had a home. You grew up in a home, but had no power – that was all you wanted.”

Jongdae looks up, when you hit the nail on the head.

You exhale. “I wasn’t surprised that you left. I was surprised you didn’t even say goodbye,” you admit, cheeks flushed with anger. “You didn’t have the courage, the decency to tell me.”

Jongdae stares back, completely helpless. “I couldn’t.”

“Bullshit,” you scoff, turning away,

“I couldn’t,” Jongdae repeats, well aware he’s getting louder. He stands, pushing a hand angrily through his hair. “Do you know,” he insists, “how long I stood there? How long I watched, stared down at you and tried to convince myself to leave? I had to physically tear myself away, Y/N. Leaving you was the fucking hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

You narrow your eyes. “No,” you whisper. “I didn’t know any of that – because you never told me, Jongdae. You just left,” you exhale, standing abruptly. “You bailed, didn’t even leave a note. Tell me,” you insist, looking at him. “Did you even love me, Kim Jongdae?”

“Yes,” Jongdae whispers. His eyes are dark with things unsaid. “Too much.”

“Then why,“ you start to ask, but he interrupts.

“It was too damn hard,” Jongdae blurts. He pushes himself up, standing inches away from you. “It was too hard to look, too hard to wake you up and explain to your face. I had to go then, while you could still bear to look at me. I had to get out before this hole in me,” he chokes, pressing his hand to his heart, “became a hole in us.”

You’re still staring at him, chest gently rising and falling.

“And you know what,” Jongdae laughs, somewhat manic. “You know what I discovered? After years of trying to make myself happy, I realized the only time I was actually happy was being with you! How’s that for irony,” Jongdae chokes, turning around to face the wall. “I ran away trying to save you – only to realize you were the one saving me.”

There’s complete silence, a sign which Jongdae takes to continue.

“I’m not going to apologize for the Cartel,” he whispers. “Truthfully, I don’t regret that at all. It was the first time in my life I felt important. Baekhyun trusted me, believed in me – he protected me, when the rest of them got caught. What I’m sorry about is what happened before,” Jongdae admits, lowering his head.

He hears you shift behind him, take a half-step closer. “Why did you come here?”

You sound tired and Jongdae looks up, still not turning around. “Because I missed you. Because,” he falters, realizing the truth. “When I had nowhere to be – you were the one place I wanted to go.”

Jongdae listens to the sound of footsteps, the soft noise of you leaving the room. 

“You can stay,” you say simply, and then you’re gone.

The next few weeks pass by slowly. You barely look at Jongdae, barely speak to him if you can help it. Each morning you go to your bookshop. Each evening you return. Always late, always after sunset, having already eaten both lunch and dinner. You eschew the work of your intern in favor of doing inventory yourself, something you haven’t done for years but it’s more appealing than being with Jongdae.

Not because he’s unpleasant, exactly the opposite. The more time you spend with him, the more you remember. It’s true, things are not the same. Jongdae is different and so are you but what’s strange, what’s scary, is that he’s better than before.

Before, he’d have these moments. There were days, weeks at a time where Jongdae would withdraw. He’d stop speaking, grow taciturn and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. All you could do was leave him alone, watch him stand at the ledge and hope he’d step back.

Nothing like that happens now. You keep watching him. Keep waiting for the same, old insecurities to manifest but Jongdae is oddly solid. It’s strange, and you find you don’t understand the cause. Perhaps it’s just that he’s older. Perhaps it’s just that whatever he’s been through, it’s been enough for him to know what he wants.

It’s why it’s better for you to stay away. You can’t help but notice the way Jongdae’s eyes follow you, entering the room. Can’t help but notice the way he doesn’t touch, would never touch, but he looks. The way he catches himself looking and then blushes. Turning quickly so you can’t see – but not before you find yourself wanting to run to him. Wanting to turn to him. Wanting to look at him and face him and talk to him.

He says words which catch you off guard.

You’re walking out the door one day, swinging your purse up and over your shoulder when Jongdae looks up. “What happened to the green purse?” he asks, sounding curious.

“The what?” you ask, stopping at the door.

“You know,” Jongdae lowers his newspaper. It’s not the same one he came with – no, Jongdae hadn’t spoken about the cartel at all since his arrival. “The forest green purse. You wore it a lot with that suede jacket.”

You pause. “You remember that jacket?”

“Remember?” Jongdae ducks his head, sheepish. A strand of hair falls over his glasses. “That’s what I see when I close my eyes,” he admits hesitantly. “You in that jacket, the fall. Laughing at something stupid I’ve said – probably a pun, or worse.”

Looking over, your breath catches. “When… you close your eyes?” you repeat, unsure what else to say.

You think about Jongdae that way, too. You thought about him often, too much, these past years. You hate admitting this – even to yourself. When you close your eyes, you see him. You see Jongdae in that white turtleneck sweater he loved, those black framed glasses while he laughs. He had this brown leather jacket, and sometimes he’s wearing that, too. You can’t ignore this. Can’t ignore the fact that when you close your eyes, when you can choose whatever you want to think about – you think about Jongdae.

“When I close my eyes,” Jongdae explains, his voice hoarse. “I see you.”

You turn to leave, screen door slamming shut behind you.

One week after that, you look up from your breakfast table to find Jongdae readying himself to go. 

“What do you do all day?” you ask, curious.

Jongdae hesitates, one hand on the door. “To the library,” he says. “There’s a phone and I call people, make sure the funds are in order. I move them around often enough they aren’t traceable. I’m still the money guy,” he admits quietly, offering you a smile.

For some reason, you return the gesture. “I guess you are.”

Jongdae hesitates. Then he nods, and leaves.

Another week passes.

You’re making dinner, chopping tomatoes for a pasta sauce. That new Donna Summers song comes on the radio and you start to sing along – well, not really sing so much as hum beneath your breath and occasionally let out a word or two.

The song is nearly over when you realize he’s there. Jongdae’s soft tenor weaves in and out of the radio, and you fall silent. Your fingers close around the top of your spoon, breath slowly coming to a halt. Or maybe you’re still breathing, but time has stopped. Slowed for Jongdae, for the sound of his voice and the feel of his presence.

You don’t turn around. Can’t, since you’re inadvertently thinking about what Jongdae said that first day. He couldn’t say goodbye because waking you, speaking to you would have been impossible. Any gesture would have been enough to make him stay.

If you turn around and look at him now, you’ll let him to stay.

Instead, you just stand there. Facing the window and pretending you can’t hear. Pretending you don’t feel his fingertips, when they wrap around your wrist. When they set your knife gently down on the counter. You can’t hear, can’t hear the shaky inhale of breath he makes. Can’t feel his hands, when he turns you around to face his body.

His arms cage you against the counter, while you close your eyes. “Jongdae,” you breathe, shaking your head.

“Open your eyes,” he asks softly.

You do.

Jongdae kisses you, parting your lips with his. His tongue slides between your teeth, hips pressing forward and when he pulls away, you breathe him in. His hands slide up your body and cup your face, pulling you closer. The touch of his fingertips are light and eager, needy and controlled and when he pulls back from your body – he finds you breathless.

You stand there like that, just listening to him. Hearing the breath he takes, the sound of his heart. When you look up, you find him looking down. “Dae,” you manage, voice cracking.

He just shakes his head, nose brushing yours. “I’m going to bed,” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to take advantage of you and I know this is a shock, me being here. I know that I messed up when I left – even if it was the right thing to do.”

You say nothing, because this is true. He hurt you badly, hurt you for a long time. You’re stronger now, but it’s hard to forgive. Harder, to forget.

Jongdae sighs, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “Just tell me,” he asks quietly. “Tell me if there’s a chance because if there’s not – I’ll leave tomorrow. I don’t know where I’d go, but I’ll do it. I don’t want to hurt you any further.”

“I,” you pause, licking your lips. When your gaze lifts, the room seems to fade out of view. “Don’t go.”

Jongdae’s gaze softens. “Then I won’t.” He drops both hands from your face. “I’m going to sleep. When you forgive me, tell me. When you forgive me, I’m here – I never left, really,” he confesses, turning softly back around.

Jongdae walks away, doesn’t look back.

He wants to know when you’ll forgive him. The problem, you realize, is that you already have.

Three more weeks, and Jongdae doesn’t try to kiss you again.

He leaves every morning, goes into town and uses the phone. He comes back every night, never asks for food and you assume he’s eating somewhere during the day. At the end of that third week though, you make dinner for him too. Nothing difficult, since you’ve never been that much of a cook. Just enough for him not to starve.

“Thank you,” Jongdae says, when he first notices the plate.

You nod, don’t respond any further and Jongdae retires early to sleep.

Things continue like this until the first weekend of November. It’s unseasonably warm, enough for you not to wear jacket to work. Not many people come into the show that day so you end up closing early, telling your workers to go and get some rest. As you step onto the main street of town, you flip your shop sign from open to closed.

Farther along, Jongdae steps out of the library. You don’t know why, but you hang back. You should call out, should tell him you’re going the same way but somehow, the words stick in your throat. You can’t think of what to say to him, because you want to tell him everything.

Halfway home, the clouds open up. You weren’t looking at the sky, weren’t even paying attention to the weather so as soon as the thunder cracks amidst the rain, you swear. Jongdae hears this and turns, surprised to see you following. When you flush, beginning to run – he follows.

“Hey!” Jongdae calls out, shoes splashing through mud. “Y/N! Wait up!”

You run faster, laughing when the wind whips your face. You feel carefree, reckless and you turn around when you near the house – running backwards to face him. Jongdae’s footsteps are close, gaining on you with each step and when you reach the porch, he crashes into you. Arms wrapping quickly around your waist, pulling you close.

“Hey,” Jongdae whispers, before he opens your mouth with his.

The wood of the porch is coarse, panes of his body wet while you pull him to you. “I forgive you,” you whisper, sliding hands beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Jongdae groans in happiness. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing roughly down your neck.

You nod, head hitting the wood. “I want you,” you admit, hands fumbling with his belt.

“I never stopped wanting you,” Jongdae insists, loosening this to drop onto the ground. His glasses are next, you take these gently and set on the windowsill. Rain drums on the roof overhead, but when Jongdae moves to leave the porch, you shake your head.

“Here,” you murmur, pushing his jeans down. “I want you here.”

Jongdae’s pupils dilate and he nods, hands sliding gently up your thighs. He lifts your skirt above your waist. “My back pocket,” he mumbles, thumbs tracing over damp panties. “There’s a condom.”

You find it quickly, pull it out and rip open the package. Shoving both Jongdae’s pants and boxers to the ground and moaning when you see how hard he is. Jongdae inhales, pressing his lips to your jaw, neck while your hands roll the condom on.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” he murmurs, hand sliding between your legs. His finger slips inside, forcing a noise from the back of your throat. “Please Y/N, I just need to fuck you.”

You nod, chest rising and falling when Jongdae wraps both hands around your legs. Picking you up, bracing you against the wall and thrusting inside. His movement is slow, purposeful and you gasp as he fills you. “Faster, Dae,” you whimper, and he nods.

Jongdae pulls back out, sliding in while his hand braces against the wall. One hand wrapping your leg tighter, his hips thrusting forwards. You let out a soft moan, hitting the porch when he kisses your neck.

“God,” Jongdae mumbles, stilling inside you. “You’re so fucking tight. I forgot how tight you were.”

“Maybe it’s just how big you are,” you murmur, catching his ear between your teeth. “You’re so fucking hard, Dae. So big, you fill me right up.”

“Yeah?” he groans, tilting his hips. When he moves again, it’s the perfect angle. Jongdae fucks you harder, hips hitting the wall behind you with each thrust. “I promise later,” he pants, sliding into you with precise, even strokes. “I’ll eat you out and make you come hard – but right now, I just need to be inside you.”

“No,” you gasp, already losing yourself. “I’ll come, just keep doing that.”

Jongdae nods, kissing you again. His tongue tangles with yours as his hands open you further, pulling you higher. He fucks hard, fast while his body slides over your clit.

You’re saying words to him, mostly swears. This mixes with his dirty talk – Jongdae has always been vocal. He talks about your tight, little cunt, how pretty you look full of his cock and you start to lose it. He calls you baby, calls you bitch and then tells you that you fucking own him. That he can and will do anything to be inside you, to be yours. He moves harder, faster and when his hips start to bruise, you feel your walls tighten around him. It’s suddenly too much and you scream out his name, biting down on his shoulder when your orgasm shatters through you.

Afterwards you murmur your affirmation, burying your face in Jongdae’s shoulder and shuddering around him. His legs buckle when he lets go, arms just barely keeping you up. His chest rises and falls. Wet hair falling in your eyes, as he presses his lips to yours over and over again.

“You forgive me?” Jongdae repeats, hardly daring to believe.

You nod, as he slides out of your body. Jongdae ties the condom in a knot, pulls his pants up around his waist.

“I love you,” you whisper, and Jongdae freezes. 

He looks at you then, his gaze bright. “You’re home, for me.”

You don’t respond, just grab his hand and walk inside.

It’s over one year later, there’s a knock at your door.

Jongdae is awake. He makes the two of you breakfast, smiling when you wrap your arms around him. Soon after he became a permanent fixture, he insisted on doing all the cooking. You giggle when he sets your omelet down before you, noticing he’s picked out all the mushrooms.

“It’s not funny,” Jongdae grumbles, collapsing into the seat across from you. “I forgot you hate them.”

Grinning, you’re about to respond when – the knock.

Jongdae suddenly stills. “Were you expecting company?” he asks.

You shake your head no.

His gaze darkens. “Wait here,” Jongdae cautions, before standing.

Buttoning the front of his shirt, Jongdae walks away. He stops at the table, grabs his fully loaded M1911 pistol and sticks this in his belt. You ignore his warning, standing to follow him anyways. When he reaches the entryway and sees you beside him, Jongdae rolls his eyes and opens the door.

Jongdae stiffens. He freezes and though he doesn’t look scared, you can see he’s surprised. You look beyond.

Three women stand in a row on your porch. Women you don’t recognize, though you see immediately why Jongdae is wary. None seem like the kind of person you’d want to meet in a dark alley.

Jongdae leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “The dragon herself,” he smiles, thought the gesture doesn’t meet his eyes. “Come to my humble abode. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your eyes widen. 

Over the past year, Jongdae has told you pretty much everything about his former life. ‘The dragon,’ is his pet name for the woman Baekhyun was in love with. Her father was the one who arranged the fake drop which got Baekhyun and his entire cartel arrested. Every time you questioned whether this woman was involved, Jongdae just shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he’d sigh. “For all their faults – which were many – I think they were truly in love.”

The woman tilts her head now. “Dragon?” she laughs, the sound of it sweet. “I like it. Applicable, too – since I’m now the head of el Monstruo cartel.”

Jongdae sucks in his breath. “What about your father?”

She waves a hand, though her gaze is cold. “He betrayed me, I betrayed him. All’s fair in love and war,” she allows, smiling gently.

As you swallow, Jongdae moves in front of you. “What about them?” he asks, nodding at the other two women. “Who are they?”

The woman on the left smiles. “Ah, don’t you recognize me, Dae? I suppose that’s how Lay wanted it. I’m the behind the scenes,” she winks, walking through your front door. “The one who gets the equipment to save your ass.”

Jongdae frowns, following her with his eyes. “And that woman?” he asks, jerking his thumb sideways. “Was someone from the cartel fucking her, too?”

The woman doesn’t smile, gaze flicking up Jongdae’s body. “I don’t let men fuck me, I fuck them,” she arches a brow. “Also – you can call me Detective. I’m the reason you still have balls, Kim Jongdae. Don’t you like having balls? Who do you think tipped Chanyeol off in the first place?”

“Detective?’ Jongdae’s brow furrows. “Why would you tip Chanyeol off, if you’re with the FBI?”

“Reasons,” she folds her arms. “I liked Chanyeol. My former partner kidnapped me the morning after, thinking he was saving me. All of which I’m still kind of pissed about. Who’s the girl?” she asks, gaze sliding to your own. 

You bristle at this. “I’m the girl,” you roll your eyes, “who’s been keeping your money safe this past year.”

The dragon smiles. “Excellent,” she announces, walking inside. “Let’s not waste any more time – Jongdae, we need to talk numbers.”

“Numbers?” Jongdae repeats, allowing her past. “What do you mean?”

The dragon doesn’t respond, gliding into the room. Her gaze traces every surface and you get the feeling she’s cataloging. “Nocti,” the dragon allows, sounding almost bored. “Search for bugs, will you?”

“On it,” Nocti sniffs, wrinkling her nose at your ancient television set. Disappearing into the next room, the detective follows her.

Once they’re gone, the dragon looks at you and Jongdae. “We’re going to break my husband out of jail,” she nods, oddly serene about the whole thing.

When Jongdae gapes, you recognize her words’ significance. Husband. Gaze lowering, you spot the ring on her left hand. Jongdae notices this at the same time you do and his eyes widen, while the woman exhales.

“The wedding was held in secret,” she explains quietly. ‘A month before – well, before.”

Jongdae shakes his head, slightly dazed. “You want to break Baekhyun out of jail? That’s impossible.”

“Not impossible,” the detective re-enters the room.

“Improbable,” Nocti nods, right behind her.

“That’s right,” the dragon allows, looking from Jongdae to you. “We have a plan. I assume you’ve kept the money safe?”

Jongdae nods. “It’s all there.”

“Excellent,” she claps her hands, smile bright. “Let’s get started.”

9:42 AM, Friday, December 15th

A black, Pontiac Grand Prix rolls to a stop at the junction of some random, dusty lane and Everglades Highway. Beside a sign which reads, ‘careful – gators,’ stands Kim Jongdae. He’s wearing a pristine navy suit, hair styled carefully away from his face with your arm looped through his.  

The car comes to a stop, dust rolling from the wheels to settle on the ground. There’s a long moment while the driver scans the horizon and then – the back door opens.

“Thank the fucking lord,” Baekhyun groans stepping outside. He’s dressed immaculately, his suit more expensive-looking than Jongdae’s. “Fuck,” Baekhyun stretches both arms overhead. “Do you know how awful it was, being locked in that car with Chanyeol and the detective for over an hour? She practically de-pantsed him the second he got in.”

Jongdae stifles his grin, saying nothing when Baekhyun walks forward. You should feel nervous about this, should feel sacred to meet this notorious man – instead, all you feel is a vague sense of curiosity. The past month has taught you a newfound perspective on black and white. These people might be powerful, might be ruthless but they would do anything – anything, for the people they love.

This includes you, since you’re one of them now.

Baekhyun exhales. “So,” he whips off glasses, squinting up at the sun. “Who the hell do I have to fuck around here to get a mojito?”

When the second car door opens and a woman steps out, Baekhyun’s lips lift in a smile.

“Welcome home, baby.”

[The Cartel Master List]