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latibvles · 1 year ago

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when i'm all over your mouth.

part two of the priest x vampire au that nobody asked for. read part one here. Rated M for Mature, toeing that line of being rated E for Explicit because hey maybe no clothes come off but we certainly are toeing some lines over here, aren't we. this really got away from me. I may or may not also be throwing this on AO3 because great Googly Moogly this got long. Gore and blood warnings apply yada yada yada also not proofread again we die like men

She remembers the last time she fed off a person. She wishes that she was older — so that the memory might fade into a life she doesn’t remember living. But if she’s learned anything, it’s that getting what she wants isn’t very likely. She’ll live a dozen lives and likely never forget a thing. If things went her way, she might’ve been able to avoid this journey of coming to terms with her own existence. Her being wouldn’t have taken new meaning at all.

She remembers her mother’s eyes, cold and lifeless, and she remembers how every part of her was so terribly pale. The mangled state of her throat — the creature, no, soldier, with that same blood on the front of his white shirt, staining the lower half of his face and dripping from his beard.

He’d turned her into what she is now and all she saw was red. She hardly remembers the details, but she’ll never forget the taste of his blood — so dark it was near black. It clung to her throat, burned, made her retch and vomit long after she’d torn his windpipe from him, long after she’d hacked his head off with the ax they used for chopping wood to ensure he wouldn’t rise again. It was bitter. It burned. It stank. She’d screamed and cried and cursed him for allowing her to live as she does now. And she hadn’t had a drop of blood from another person in the eighty-four years since.

Until Ron, which wasn’t her plan. But she knows if she were to tell him it was never going to happen again, he’d call her bluff.

He was good at that — reading things, reading her, and it’s frightening in its own way. The only thing to truly frighten her since that day. More than the wars she’d served in, more than the sun in winter.

Twice more, she drinks from his wrist, because he offers, and they argue until they can’t anymore. He’s good at that. Arguing. It’s frustrating, because his logic is always infuriatingly sound. It’s annoying, because yes, he’s right, black burns that would’ve taken weeks to heal are healing quicker now and it is because of his blood.

She doesn’t know how to tell him the taste of him undoes the foul taste she always wished to forget. The very thought makes her feel as though she’s teetering on the edge of a ledge that crumbles a bit more with every brush of her mouth against his wrist, every time his pulse hammers against her awaiting lips and he stares straight through her.

He’s the sickness. He can’t also be the cure. That isn’t how anything works.

Ron draws her closer each time she sinks her teeth into his wrist — the third time, what she hoped to be the last time, his fingers dug into her hip, tight enough to leave an indent on her skin, leaned up against her countertop and she couldn’t help but hold his stare.

The air between them was tense afterward. Or maybe tense wasn’t the right word. Electric felt more apt, he stared at her lips in a way she recognized.

Daisy was no stranger to the look of desire on his face — the look on any man’s face. What was foreign to her was the fact that if he kissed her breathless right then and there, she wouldn’t have minded. She might’ve turned to putty in his hands. But if she had, would that make her any better than the invasive bloodsucking myth her existence stemmed from? She didn’t think she had it in her to take from him when he’d already given to her — more than she’d ask of any person.

Just a drop of him, from his wrist no less, and she swears she might be hooked. Her curiosity is piqued — something she has to beat back now for the sake of herself and his personal safety.

One of the few things she prided herself on was her dedication to learning more about her condition — the science of it, not relenting despite the scarcity of reliable source material. She knows through personal experience that all blood tastes… different. Depending on the creature, depending on where it comes from. She knows that his wrist would be different from his neck, knows that to many, there’s an implication behind it that she won’t inflict him with. He isn’t hers to keep and being hers would likely be forsaking the principles of his line of work. It wasn’t fair.

There are other traditions she’s learned about that aren’t nearly as damning, even treading the line of sentimental.

“You’re good at that.” He observes, watching with a curious eye as she dices carrots on the cutting board. It’s a compliment, she knows it is, but she can’t help but snort at the boyish way he watches.

“If I didn’t get good at this with eighty years of experience then there’d be a problem.” He shakes his head, trying to dissuade that twitch of the corner of his mouth at her attempt at a joke, which makes her smile in turn.

“And this is…”

“Well I could call it a thank you,” Daisy keeps her gaze trained on her hands now, in part not to cut her finger and in part because she can already feel Ron’s stare honing in on her. “Or me paying you back, but that makes things sound too… transactional. So we’ll just say it’s my turn to feed you for a change,” she continues, the only other noise being the sound of the cutting board hitting the wood. “Plus, it’s chilly out. That’s stew weather.”

She dares take a glance at him through her peripheral vision, at his messy hair and innately imposing stature. This morning, he was in the typical black shirt and white collar she’d seen on him so many times before. His hair was combed and he stood a fair distance from those who came to talk to the Father, his face straigh and stern, hardly shifting when she approached him.

It’s like he’s shed a layer in her personal space like this, hair tousled from the winter wind kicking up on his way over. Handsome would be the way to describe it, and that very fact has her face flushing, heart pounding in her ears — although not nearly as quick as she anticipates it to be. There’s something domestic about the whole thing in a way she always assumed would remain foreign to her. She’s about to take the carrots to the pot by the stove, but he takes them first.

“What’re you doing?” He shrugs, brings it over to the pot and slides it in.

“Helping.” Ron’s reply is so simple she could strangle him. Daisy scrunches her nose.

“You make it really hard to pay you back, you know that?” He’s crossing that small space to approach her again, lays the cutting board flat on the countertop with a small shrug and quirk of his lip. Daisy’s deciding he gets far too much amusement out of bewildering her in the way he does.

“So don’t pay me back,” Ron counters, with his hand curling around her own on the knife. “Cook us dinner, and let me help.”

“You told me you were no good in the kitchen.”

“I think I can handle a knife.”

“Your affection for pointy things mildly concerns me.” Ron grins at that again, and in their back and forth he’s gotten closer to her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him, identify those flecks of green in the hazel of his eyes. More importantly, she sees how his pupils almost dilate at what she’s just said — and Daisy’s now acutely aware the knife isn’t the only pointy thing in the room.

And not the only thing that holds his affection.

She can feel her heart begin to beat a little quicker, but the rhythm in her chest doesn’t match the one in her ears. She doesn’t even think he realizes she hasn’t quite moved until she tilts her head up to look at him. He’s not flushed like she is, holding her stare and looking her over with what she can only assume is relative ease. Still, the air feels vaguely like it did the last time she drank from him.

Electric.

Daisy leans a bit closer to him, despite that voice in her head screaming for separation. She wants to be closer. Impossibly so. Pressed flush against him and feel the warmth of him. Was it hunger? Or just plain desire. Daisy isn’t especially sure. She lets go of the knife and instead he takes a hold of her hand, squeezing as she tilts her head up and towards him. There’s that pulse beating through his wrist, his hand, as she approaches. Quickening, the only thing matching that pounding in her ears. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

She can hear his heartbeat.

Don’t.

It’s her teeth in his neck before she even realizes she’s gotten close enough to reach him.

That dark taste of his blood spills onto her tongue like spiced liquor, as though it were waiting for her bite. She can’t help the noise muffled by his skin, the whimper that escapes. Ron groans and Daisy thinks her knees might go weak. He’s not even pliant against her, he’s pulling her towards him with steady hands, lowering into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulling her into his lap. His entire body shudders against her and his pulse hammers against her lips once he settles. His fingers weave into her hair, like he’s trying to press her closer to that spot. Liquid fire, water in the desert, sweet and spiced and intoxicating and somehow so very Ron.

His being floods her senses. She lets him.

A ship in Boston Harbor. Girlish laughter. Warmth. Gunpowder. Snow. Dark alleys. Cigarettes. Men’s laughter. Shellings. Running, running, running. Kisses in a back alley. Hands fisting skirts. Whispered sighs. Nothing of the holy man he’s meant to be. His nails digging into her hip pull her back into the present and it takes all the sense she has to pull off him. Ron is panting, and so is she as she stares at him — chests heaving in time.

She can still hear his heartbeat. She’d be able to even if his front wasn’t so shamelessly pressed to hers. She thinks she’d know it even if she were blind.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t—” she stammers, and she’d climb off him were it not for his grip on her, still so sure, so tight. Keeping her in his lap like he meant for her to be there the whole time. Instead, she hides, ducking her head into his shoulder. “This isn’t why I invited you over I— I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t stop.”

The words are so hoarse it barely registers that it’s Ron saying it. Not until she lifts her head to look at him, and gets a good look at what exactly she must’ve done to him.

Only now, is his face flushed, lips parted and hand still in her hair as though he means to caress it.

“What?”

“Don’t stop,” he repeats, firmer now, more coherent. “And don’t apologize, either.” It’s stern, the way he says it. Like the voice that flooded her senses — barking commands, bringing a woman to her peak. Part of her could sink her teeth in right now, but she’s scrambling for some kind of sense, reaching for self-control.

“I- I can’t— that wasn’t, isn’t—”

The hand in her hair pulls her towards him until his mouth is crushing against hers in a way that’s so messy it has her lips parting on a gasp, her hips rolling almost reflexively. The words hunger and desire flash behind her eyelids once more and she pushes it to the back of her mind to focus on the feeling of his lips, of his teeth dragging on her bottom lip to tug at it. He tastes like a cigarette and mint. She can feel it — the scraps of his resolve are crumbling beneath her, how he breaks whatever promises he made to his God with each squeeze of her hip.

He pulls away only after he’s effectively stolen the air from her lungs, his mouth now stained with his own blood.

“Yes, you can, sweetness,” Ron breathes out, his breath fanning over her face. “Bite me. Drink from me. It’s fine. I want it.” His voice toes that line between almost soothing and downright commanding — a line he somehow managed to create.

But that was the thing about him. Intoxicating, baffling, frustrating, she isn’t especially sure how it is he exists in the way he does. But she’s grateful that he does. She says nothing for a few moments, honing into that sound of his heart beating, now nearly in perfect time with her own.

“Not here,” Daisy settles on. “Can you– can you stand? And do stairs?” She doesn’t think she’s taken enough to leave him physically weak, and he nods, loosening his grip so she can climb off him and he can rise to his feet. She doesn’t miss the wobble of his legs and were it not for… everything else she would’ve laughed at how quick he is to turn off the stove and take her hand. Ron lets her lead him up her stairs, towards her room.

The whole time, she wants nothing more than to sink her teeth into him again, or for him to crush her with the weight of his lips. Preferably both.

“The bed. Lay down. More comfortable that way.” She realizes that her own voice is edging on desperate when she opens the door with her foot and lets him go. Which he does, goes so far as to kick off his shoes, backing up and holding her stare from his spot propped on his elbows.

Maybe she’s too quick to follow after him, crawling on top of him and letting her fingers graze the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw.

She leans down, drags her tongue across the spot where she’d bitten him until it’s clean as his hands find purchase on the tops of her thighs beneath her skirt.

“Didn’t want it to go to waste, sweetness?” That nickname, it makes her shudder and in response she drags a tooth along his skin, leaving a pink line of a scratch in its wake.

“You’re not funny.” She huffs.

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ron grunts, “How’re we doing this?” Daisy lifts her head to look at him again.

Desire on others is cloudy, barely coherent, parted lips and mumbled incomprehensible words. Desire on Ron is precise, aware, a sharp-eyed look like he knows exactly what he wants, exactly how he plans to get it. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for him to already know he can have her.

“You’ll feed me,” Daisy breathes out, before searing a kiss of her own to his lips. She swears it's the only thing more intoxicating than the taste of him. “And then I’ll feed you.”

They’re damned. Her for being so terribly greedy and him for desiring her in the way he does. They both know it. But even beneath her now Ron looks nothing like the blushing, scandalized virgin of folktales and films. His eyes are dark and stormy, his fingers are digging into her thighs and he’s staring at her like he’s challenging her to go through with this. Like it’s her final chance to back out of this entirely.

“Bottom’s up, then, sweetness,” Ron teases, but his tone lacks any sort of lilt.

Daisy lowers herself to his neck to drink her fill, as that low groan of his lights a fire in her belly that had laid dormant for far too long.

#ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs x ofc #ship: daisy/ron #vampire au #band of brothers au #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war au

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toushindai · 10 months ago

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I miss you ganauru fics. 🖐️😔 What are your favourite headcanons about them? Like, would they be a cute couple if they didn't hate each other so much?

I’ll be honest anon, I don’t really have any interest in them if they don’t hate each other? The draw for me has always been the conflict between them, the obsessive focus they inspire in each other as men similarly attracted to power with such different aims and beliefs about themselves. Would they be cute…? Would they be sweet, affectionate with each other? We’ve seen Rauru be that way with Sonia, but my take on Ganondorf is that he’s spent so long lonely, his emotional needs left unseen for too long at crucial ages—ie, far far younger than he is now—that he has crusted over emotionally and has little capacity for joy or kindness that isn’t caught up in cruel domination. So a cute Ganondorf isn’t something I’m interested in in a canon-compliant capacity. I mused once, in response to another ask, about an AU scenario in which Rauru descends to the desert rather than central Hyrule first and he and Ganondorf are drawn to each other there, but my musing started and ended with that ask, and even if I were to continue in that vein, it wouldn’t be with the aim of writing a cute romance; it would be examining what kind of changes they would work on each other by meeting at a different time.

I hope I’m not coming off as too harsh, anon.

Some headcanons! oh this post is getting long—

I forget if I’ve said this anywhere but a crucial part of the dynamic between them is that Rauru is physically attracted to Ganondorf, to a debilitating extent, but Ganondorf’s attraction to Rauru is more to the thought of dominating him and having power over him. Sex is a way to enact this desire this while the kill-him-and-take-over-his-stupid-kingdom plan is still a work in progress, and honestly the chance to call him very dirty names and feel him react to that is at least as satisfying if not more so than intercourse itself.

In contrast—and I only noticed this recently—Ganondorf’s fantasies of killing Rauru are much more physical and visceral than Rauru’s of killing him are. Rauru’s fantasies of having Ganondorf executed are very hands-off; he has no interest in wielding the axe. What makes him shiver inside is the thought of his word, his officially sanctioned power, overpowering Ganondorf’s more physical strength. Fascinating!!

I have the headcanon that Zonai can’t get drunk, and in early drafts of what-wasn’t-ACNOC-yet, Rauru tells Ganondorf this—to a flash of indignant anger as though this is something Rauru hid from him, letting him think he could manipulate Rauru this way. In the fic series as it stands… I don’t think this has ever come up. After the second time they fucked it became less beneficial to Rauru to smugly share this fact with Ganondorf, because that means he’s making this obviously unwise decision completely sober.

Rauru is pansexual and dynamic-wise thought he leaned entirely submissive (this is how he is with Sonia, and with other partners they’ve had) until Ganondorf dropping to one knee in his formal audience set several new mental pathways on fire all at once. Ganondorf on the other hand is purely dominant—there is no part of him that desires to be submissive—and—ok—look it feels presumptuous to declare anything about Ganondorf considering I still feel like an interloper to LOZ fandom, but—as I’ve been writing him he’s either gay or his sexuality is so centered on domination that the way he is expected to interact with potential Gerudo brides does nothing for him. There’s something there that repulses him, drives him even further from connection with his people. And so his connection with Rauru is novel to him, something that’s genuinely scratching an itch he’s never had scratched before, albeit in a quite unwholesome way.

I’m sorry anon, I really do have nothing cute for you. There were moments when they almost connected, when they were almost two people who could have been friends. But after a split-second spark of empathy this only made them loathe each other more, for being someone who would inspire that want without ever really being what they wanted.

#anonymous #and we were both kings 😳#rauru (lozbotwtotk)#ganondorf (lozbotwtotk)#ganondorf (loz)

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jupitermelichios · 4 years ago

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So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

#skyrim #spoilers #technically #although this game is a decade old and we all own at least two versions of it at this point #so i'm not sure it counts #long post

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rebelsofshield · 2 years ago

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Star Wars Andor: “The Eye”-Review

Andor delivers a tense and visually stunning episode that not only raises its own bar but sets a new standard for all live action Star Wars television.

With their plans set in motion, the rebels of Aldhani launch their begin the robbery of the planet’s Imperial garrison. Meanwhile, the heavens burst into color as The Eye fills the sky with meteors and comits, drawing the attention of the Empire and the planet’s natives. For all involved, it’s going to be an unforgettable night.

Andor is more than happy to take its time setting the stage. Even more so than its first three episode arc, the last two installments have focused on putting different parts into motion for a specific, targeted climax. There’s something inherently satisfying about seeing a well planned mission go into action and witnessing just how prepared your characters actually are. “Aldhani” and “The Axe Forgets” not only did a great job of laying clear the ins and outs of Cassian and his allies’ heist but also the personal and emotional stakes for every character involved. Some characters may be more well developed than others, but these aren’t faceless or nameless rebels charging to their deaths. They are people that we have gotten time to know. We’ve not only seen what motivates them to take up arms against the Empire, but also their personal weaknesses, fears, and eccentricities.

It’s part of what makes “The Eye” such a surprisingly nail biting experience. The only given going into this episode is that Cassian would make it out. We have no idea who, if any, of the Aldhani fighters will survive or even if their mission will succeed at all. Director Susanna White and writer Dan Gilroy have not only carefully laid out the difficulty of Vel’s plan but also just the scale of the enemy we are up against. We’ve seen TIE Fighters become horrifying again and just how little the Commandant thinks of the natives of this planet.

As has been the case for most of the series to this point, “The Eye” once again provides an effective and pointed critique of colonial abuse and indifference. The Aldhani people have stripped down to only their most faithful as the Empire tempts them away with false promises of comfort and suppresses them with shows of force. Their ceremonial gifts are treated as a joke. Their most holy event nothing more than a novelty to the Imperial leadership. Their future, one of slavery and subjugation, already determined. For all their planet exploding terror, it’s unsettling to see just how much more common and biting Imperial abuse can be and for the first time in quite a while, I really wanted to see these bastards pay.

The mission itself is tense from the start and quickly has our heroes crossing some unexpectedly murky moral lines. While Vel makes it clear that they aren’t looking to murder indiscriminately, there is something a little jarring about seeing rebels take a child hostage at gun point. It’s a reminder of the desperation of wartime and what lines can and can’t be crossed.

Of course, everything does go to hell and I honestly wasn’t prepared for just how much of a bloodbath this mission would be. Gorn gets shot down. Teremyn takes a blaster bolt to the chest. Dozens of Imperial soldiers and crew men are dropped. I’m glad that Cinta, Vel, and Cassian make it through episode’s end but I’m honestly surprised that “The Eye” is as brutal as it is. This isn’t a show that pulls its punches. The fact that we aren’t watching stock rebels and faceless stormtroopers face off makes the entire shoot out that unfolds in the garrison vault feel much more immediate and tragic. There’s an undeniably human cost to this war and Andor isn’t afraid to show its face.

The Eye, which serves as a backdrop to the escape from Aldhani, is a stunning visual set piece. It’s a gorgeously rendered fantasy environment that would have been breathtaking if we didn’t have the mission’s survivors navigating it in a rickety cargo ship while dodging TIE Fighters. Andor has been a show that has been defined by its commitment to the grit and every day of the galaxy far, far away and The Eye serves as a perfect reminder that both the spectacular and mundane can exist side by side in the same story. In fact, it makes both better.

There’s quite a bit happening in “The Eye” and it honestly would have been completely understandable if Cassian’s personal journey took an episodic backseat to the tension and fireworks. But, Gilroy’s script centers its quiet, devastating conclusion on the conflicted thief at the center of this story. As Nemik, fatally crushed by the very credits they were trying to steal, passes away, Skeen privately suggests to Cassian that the two of them split the money and run. Skeen’s sob story history from last episode? A lie. He never had a brother. Cassian’s sudden murderous response to this revelation is a jarring reminder of the complicated man that we have been following. His anger comes from betrayal and disgust at a man he thought was an ally, but there’s no righteousness in this shooting, just raw exposed hurt. Diego Luna’s acting, which to be honest has always been a series standout, is incredible here as his face conveys the whirlpool of emotions churning beneath. There’s an additional tragedy in how Cassian isn’t brought further into the fold by the marathon of carnage and betrayal, but instead finds himself running from it. Even as Vel demands that he take Nemik’s manifesto with him, Cassian clearly has no interest in returning to the rebellion any time soon. His faith in a larger cause, which had slowly been won over his time in Aldhani, has been shattered and he’s once again just an aimless, wounded loner in a complicated galaxy.

“The Eye” is a fantastically realized hour of television and accomplishes just about everything you could want out of a Star Wars story. It delivers on spectacle and a beautifully realized fantasy universe just as it doubles down on its characters and themes. It shows that Star Wars shows can be exciting and explosive while still remaining smart and human. And we are only halfway through season one.

Score: A

#Star Wars #Star Wars Andor #review #reviews #Andor

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imagineslashers · 4 years ago

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First Words Soulmate AU

okay so i love this au, and i’m not sure if it’ve done it before, but i’m doing it now so enjoy! essentially, the first words you ever speak to your soulmate are imprinted on you somewhere and same for them, if you aren’t familiar with this au! x

WARNING for violence and death and swearing!

also sorry this is long yikes-

Jason

To be perfectly honest, you had lost all hope of ever meeting your soulmate, if going only by the words on your wrist - or rather, the lack of words. All you have imprinted on your skin is a dash, a wobbly line, and nothing else. From day one, you had merely accepted the fact that your soulmate was likely dead, or going to die, before you’d ever have the chance to meet them.

Your trip to an old camping ground was purely as an escape, to break away from all your friends who were happily in love and all met their soulmates. It was overwhelming, the joy they were suffocating your lonely self with, so you needed to get away.

Hiking through the cool afternoon air, your heart lays heavy in your chest, proving that even distance and ignorance can’t shield you from the pain. Anxiously, your fingers rub at your exposed wrist, and the crooked line across it. An owl hoots in the distant treetops, reminding you of your isolation.

You pause, taking a minute to breathe in deeply, stretching your sore muscles, and peering at the glimpse of the lake through the distant tree trunks. A slight sound distracts you, a brief snapping of a twig, and all the birds stop singing. A deer, perhaps? Your head turns slowly, taking in the surroundings. Even the insects seem to be holding their breath, the forest blanketed by a harsh silence.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you exhale shakily, deciding to push on and try to reach a clearing where you may feel less trapped. It doesn’t help. The more steps you take, the more aware you become of the sensation, constantly looking over your shoulder.

When your nerves are entirely fried, the sudden flight of a startled crow sends you into a fully fledged panic, bolting through the trees. The quiet snapping of twigs becomes a heavy thudding, trembling the ground and you no longer waste time by looking back, powering through the forest.

There’s a looming shadow that falls over you and your voice escapes in a shriek, realising the inevitable. You’re not fast enough. The world spins as your shirt is grabbed, yanking you backwards and throwing you off your feet. Rolling across the dirt for a few seconds, you’re finally stopped staring up at the hulking masked figure. There’s a machete in his left hand, and a shred of your shirt in his right. He steps over you, feet either side of your hips and pulls back his arm.

You instinctively lift your hands to defend yourself, turning your head away and gasping for breath. “P-please!” You whimper, heart racing like a hummingbird. “Please don’t!”

He freezes, pulls back, and blinks at you from behind his mask. After a few painfully slow moments, he rotates his arm holding the machete, and you’re able to glimpse three words inscribed down his arm. They’re the words you spoke.

It all clicks and you realise he doesn’t, or can’t, speak. You shakily lift your wrist to show him your mark. He appears bewildered, stunned at the thought of having a real soulmate as much as you, then finally extends a wary hand. You take it.

Bubba

The road trip was a stupid idea, you said that from the start. However, you had been dragged along by your friends to celebrate a few milestones in your lives, and so succumbed to their pleading. Now, you sit rigidly in the back of their car, waiting anxiously. How long does it take to pay for fuel?

Your mind is racing, it’s been nearly half an hour and you haven’t heard anything. You elected to stay behind to keep an eye on the car while they went inside to get snacks, but that shouldn’t take too long, right?

A light flickers in the back of the old gas station, and with it the sound of a machine, perhaps a chainsaw or similar tool. You try to shrug it off. It’s a dilapidated country station, they’re probably fixing something or working at the back.

However, you can’t ignore the screaming, or the sudden bursting open of the door. Your friend’s boyfriend comes streaking out, face ashen, bolting past you. You lean out of the window, eyes wide, calling his name but he ignores you. A whoosh of air rushes past your head and an axe lands squarely in the back of his head. You scream, jerking yourself back into the car before kicking the door open and almost falling out.

You don’t have the keys, but running is obviously pointless. Instead, you bolt for the gas station, hoping to find a phone or a weapon or something! You don’t make it that far before the axe thrower steps out into the light, breathing heavily. He’s hard to make out, but you recognise the bloody apron and odd looking mask as immediately a threat, if you hadn’t already witnessed what he’d just done.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Shocked by his appearance, you find your feet are sluggish and unresponsive. He notices you but doesn’t charge, instead making cautious steps towards you, dragging a large chainsaw. He mumbles something, just a string of sounds, as if trying to soothe you like an injured deer. It takes hearing more screaming for you to start stepping backwards quickly, unwilling to take your eyes off of him. Your back thuds into something solid and your hair is twisted into an iron grip, making you cry out.

“Got ‘em! Hurry up and finish it so we can go home already.” The man behind you reeks of blood and sweat, his accent almost masking his words. The one with the chainsaw makes a muffled noise of distress, closing the distance between you and shoves the one holding you backwards, releasing the grip on your hair.

“The hell, Bubba?” He growls, but the much taller male hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with him. This captor, Bubba, starts desperately pulling up his pant leg, seemingly having forgotten where his mark is, but finally twists around to see the back of his calf. Your words in shaky handwriting are scrawled across his flesh.

Shocked, you pull down your shirt and try to inspect the nonsensical letters along your collarbone. Bubba makes a slight squeal, pulling you against his chest, delighted to finally have his soulmate! Still in shock, you allow him to lead you to their truck, your heart swelling but your head spinning. Oh well, not like you have much choice anyway!

Freddy

Bad dream would probably be an understatement, that’s what you think as you find yourself sprinting painfully slowly through a boiler room, steam burning your skin as you pass. Laughter rings out, bouncing off the walls and startling you. Bitterness creeps into your heart, a sour taste in your mouth as you try not to fall into the sick games you know are going to begin.

“Where are you, you prick?!” You yell, hands balled into fists, stomping your foot for effect. You’re terrified, naturally, but not going to die looking like a wimp or giving him the satisfaction. You know all about him from the teens in your neighbourhood.

Freddy comes bounding around a corner, looking expectantly gleeful and sadistic, his gloved hand dragging along the wall. His face breaks into a grin, but you recognise the flash of panic in his face, which confuses you all the more. Why would he be scared?

You step back, ready to throw yourself into a fight or flight, but he just looks at you dumbly, huffing, amusement fading. “What did you say?” Something clicks in his mind and he stalks towards you. “Say it again.”

You’re ready to tell him where he can shove his request when you understand the significance of his words. His first words to you.

“Oh, shit, no way!” Your words leave you a breathless rush and it makes him laugh. He’s so badly burnt that your words have been essentially destroyed from his wrist, but he’d never forget what they said. You carefully roll up your shorts and expose the slanted writing wrapped around your thigh. Freddy looks a little stunned, and annoyed, but he finally sighs dramatically in defeat.

“Okay, guess you’re mine then, baby!” He resigns himself to it like a child having to do chores, grabbing your hand in his exposed one, pulling you with him.

Michael

Halloween is arguably one of the best holidays, but you don’t agree with that statement anymore as you’re creeping through the dark streets, trying not to be noticed. The news headlines were that the killer was on a streak, getting more creative with every victim, and you’re determined not to be the next one.

Unfortunately, you live in his neighbourhood, so you didn’t have any options when the television at your work lit up with a warning to stay home. And your car broke down, so you’re now stuck walking home, jumping at the sound of every meow and car horn. Pulling your coat tighter around your frame, you hurry down the street, passing under a streetlamp which illuminates your white knuckles wrapped tightly around your bag.

There’s a siren in the distance and that assures you, just a little, that perhaps the killer is being brought down right now. With that in mind, you let out a breath which escapes you in a puff of smoke in the cold air. Clinging tightly to your reassurances, you speed up a little, having reached your street. Relief washes through you, as well as embarrassment at how terrified you’d been.

You chuckle to yourself, rounding the corner to your house when you see him. A huge black shadow, stepping out from the neighbouring house, his knife stained crimson. You both stand in silence, staring at one another, before you decide to try your luck at running.

You turn around and sprint the way you’d come, biting your lip so hard it draws blood. Your breath comes in short puffs as your body is pushed beyond the limits. He may have the advantage of being quicker, but you know this area. Ducking down an alleyway, you launch yourself onto a wooden fence, scrambling to get over. You’re just about to when a cold hand wraps around your ankle and yanks you back down.

The force of it knocks the wind from your lungs as you lay on your back, gasping. The stranger crouches over you, pressing the tip of his blade to the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Just do it!” You manage to force out.

The blade pulls away and you risk peeking one eye open to see the white mask. Your killer is shocked, looking almost like a stone figure, unable to move or breathe. He never wanted a soulmate, didn’t believe in it, but now you’re laying under him and he can’t kill you.

Angrily, he slams his fist into the concrete by your head and you flinch, eyes wide open now as he stares back at you. There’s a quiet word he mutters, just loud enough for you to catch it. “Fuck.”

You barely have time to question him, recognising that one word from the one that’s imprinted on your shoulder blade, before he’s hauling you up and carrying you off bridal style, one hand still tightly clutching his knife.

Beetlejuice

The motel room is kinda dingy- well, it’s very dingy if you’re honest, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to do more than collapse on the bed. You’d been travelling for a few days on your way to a new town to start up your new career, passing through this idyllic little town. It’s cute, very homey, but the motel is pretty old.

Whatever, you just need to sleep. Rolling onto your stomach, you pull out your phone and check your messages. The television starts playing. Sitting up, you strain your ears but hear only some corny romance film. Rolling your eyes, you decide that you’re leaving as soon as the sun rises, but begrudgingly force yourself to walk into the living area to turn off the television.

Once you do, you put the remote on the coffee table, making sure it can’t fall or turn itself on again. Turning around, you start walking back to the bed when it turns on, louder this time. Your brows furrow in annoyance as you return and turn it off, smacking the side of the set for good measure.

After staring at the black screen for a few seconds, you decide it’s done being irritating and once again try to walk back to bed. You’ve just collapsed on your side when it turns on again.

Gritting your teeth, you rub your eyes and contemplate how much effort it would be to walk back to reception to ask for a new room. You’ve just decided on getting up when you feel the bed dip behind you, fingertips tracing your arm. Your heart nearly bursts in terror.

“You don’t like this movie?” The words come out dripping in sarcasm and amusement from the stranger behind you. Immediately, your body reacts defensively and you leap from the bed, whirling around to punch the intruder. He yelps in surprise, hand over his nose.

“You asshole! Get out of my room!” You yell, barely able to contain your emotions, completely glazing over the realisation that those words are on your lower back. However, the intruder does notice and sits up excitably, eyeing you like a prize. You’re not sure where to look first, the green hair or the dirty striped suit.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find you in a motel room, but hey, can’t complain!” He grins, his expression resembling that of a wolf. He pops the buttons on his shirt and you’re stuck standing in confusion as you read back the words you just yelled at him, imprinted on his collar.

“No.” You point at him, then the door. “Not happening. Go away and come back at a decent hour.” He laughs, but then realises you’re serious, whining as he pulls himself from the bed.

“You’re mean. I like it. See you in the morning!” He disappears in a hazy cloud of purple smoke, leaving you coughing and wondering if you hallucinated.

Billy & Stu

School sucks. Not only because of the obvious; preppy kids, bullies, annoying teachers, homework. No, you’re annoyed because everyone is falling madly in love with their soulmates, throwing it in your face. You’re a freak to most, because you don’t have your soulmate mark. You have two.

Wearing long sleeves is how you conceal it, but everyone knows you’re different, the rumours started as soon as you walked in the door. Irritable, you resign yourself to having to deal with not only the first day at a new shitty school, but also being the object of much taunting on said first day.

You manage to sail through most of your classes by ignoring everyone else, but by lunch time, you can’t avoid it. Your feet carry you to an empty table where you hope to just have a quiet meal. That, of course, can never happen for you.

Two rather imposing looking teens slink over to you, and you recognise them as the school’s bad boys, popular kids if a little weird, Billy and Stu. You look down and continue picking at a sandwich, hoping that if you pretend they don’t exist, they’ll do the same for you and move onto someone else.

Once again, that doesn’t happen for you. “Hello, gorgeous.” Billy sits in the seat next to you and Stu sidles up on the opposite one, both of them grinning. “Why are you sat alone, baby?” Stu purrs. You’ve had enough of being taunted today and you stand up, causing your chair to scream in protest against the tacky floors.

“Can everyone just leave me the hell alone?” You scowl, grabbing your bag and missing the look that the boys exchange in surprise. Billy nods, and Stu grabs your arm.

“Hey!” You try to pull it back, but Billy takes your other one and they both pull up your sleeves. Sure enough, the words they just greeted you with are on your arms, one of each. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, and relief, at finding your soulmates.

Stu lets go first, practically bouncing on the spot as he lifts his shirt to show you what you said written angrily across his ribs. Billy’s next, he has the same words but wrapped around his ankle.

You’re in a state of shock when they coax you back into your seat, one hanging one each of your arms. There’s no way you’re getting away now, especially not with the way they’re looking at you like you’re their favourite toy.

The Man

The night was finally quietening down when you decided to sit on the porch for a bit, a hot drink cupped in your hands, listening to the crickets.

Your decision to live in a wooded area is probably one of the best you’ve made, or at least that’s what you believe as you enjoy the blissful peace of your surroundings. Blowing on your drink, you almost don’t notice the figure in the corner of your eye.

Expecting one of the neighbours checking in about something, you aren’t immediately alarmed, sitting up a bit straighter to try and make them out in the shadows. The stranger doesn’t speak, so neither do you, but the longer you both stare at one another, the worse the feeling in your gut becomes. Something isn’t quite right.

You’ve just decided to go back inside when he starts approaching. Coming nearer to your porch lights, you can finally see that he’s wearing a mask, and across his back he’s carrying a crossbow. Adrenaline shoots into your veins and you leap up, your mug smashing. The display of alertness doesn’t concern him, he continues approaching at a leisurely pace, dragging his hand across the side of your car as he comes up the driveway.

You walk backwards to the front door, making sure you can keep him in your sights at all times, your hand fumbling for the handle. He waves at you, and you sense he’s smiling under his mask, judging by the delighted, predatorial glint in his eyes. You simply scowl in response, attempting to hide the way your body trembles as you finally get the door open and jump backwards, slamming it shut.

He leaps up the porch steps and stands outside the door, his shadow spilling in from under the door. You step back, holding your breath. The shadow retreats with the sound of boots, leaving you frozen to the spot listening for him.

The silence becomes so painful that when he finally does make a noise, it startles you. Tracking it down, you find him stood outside your kitchen by the large window, head tilted as he peers inside at you, still jovial and content to be terrifying you.

Unwilling to show him your fear any further, you point at the alarm system, indicating you can set it off to alert authorities. Yelling to be heard through the glass, your words get his attention easily.

“You better leave, or I’m going to make sure they haul your sorry ass to prison!”

He steps back, much to your surprise, and then lifts his mask. You’re taken aback by his face - attractive - and don’t notice him pulling up his hoodie. There in cursive along his hip is your handwriting, and the threat you just gave him. His face breaks out into a grin as he jumps back to his position right up against the glass.

“Show me yours!” His voice is elevated by his delight and you step away, warily lifting your arm to reveal his demand written along your outer forearm. Like a kid given candy, he knocks excitably against the glass. “Let me in! You’re so mine!”

The Blissfield Butcher

What a shitty day. You missed the bus trying to get home from work, and then it started raining. By the time you’d made it to the next operating bus stop, your clothes had been successfully drenched, leaving you shivering under the meagre shelter provided.

Cursing your boss for lecturing you and in turn making you late to leave, you hug your arms around yourself. A ping goes off from your pocket, then another, and another, until you give up on trying to warm yourself and fish around in your pockets to find the source. Your phone lights up your face in the darkness. An amber alert prompts all residents to stay home if they can, following a string of murders.

You exhale sharply, trying to centre your thoughts on anything other than the anxiety creeping into the back of your mind. Your gaze lifts from the screen and is immediately drawn to a passing shadow, which halts the second you look at it. Unsure if you’re seeing things, you put your phone away and squint through the rain, attempting to distinguish whether it’s someone you know.

Likely just a passer-by, you resume huddling under the shelter. The shadow moves away, and your anxiety with it. However, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. After a few minutes, the shadow reappears and you realise it’s circling you from a distance. The reality sets in and you curse, chancing up your options. Glancing over your shoulder, you can see your workplace still lit up a few blocks down. You could run there, but you’re not sure how fast the figure is.

When you tear your eyes away from your distant workplace, you realise that looking away had been a mistake, the shadow significantly closer and now more obviously a male. A very tall male, in a mask. You curse under your breath and decide to risk it, your aching legs once again forced into action. The bitterly cold rain makes running harder, and it’s worse trying to see where you’re going as it starts to come down heavier, masking the sounds of your stalker.

You shoot a quick look over your shoulder, your heart jumping at how close he is, within reaching distance. Your mind makes a quick decision and you jerk to the side so his grab misses you, whilst you run down another street onto a local sports field, now dark and silent.

The wet grass clings to your feet, slowing you down, but you don’t have time to reflect on this mistake because your shoved from behind. The force of your momentum and the power behind the shove sends you skidding on your front, grazing your cheek.

He’s on you before you can blink, pushing you onto your back, straddling your hips. His eyes are wild behind the mask as he uses one hand to keep your shoulder down, the other gripping a butcher’s knife. Your efforts at squirming are denied by his sheer weight and the force of his thighs trapping your lower half. Seeing no other option, you start to panic and gasp, the rain still soaking you both.

“Wait, please, don’t!” Your tears mix into the rain as your hands desperately push against him, one accidentally knocking his mask off. He’s distracted by this and you continue, your hands instead lowering to protect your face. “I know a lot of cops, I-I-” the excuse tumbles from your mouth, but cuts off when you notice the black writing on his neck. “Oh.” Your voice is reduced to a whimper, reading back what you’ve said to him.

He sighs, stabbing the grass and sitting back, looking at you expectantly. “Um, are you not going to kill me?” You curse the way your words shake as you look up at him. The ghost of a smile touches his lips and he grips your wrist, pulling you up. He doesn’t stop there, throwing you over his shoulder and stooping to pick up his knife. “I’m not gonna kill what’s mine.” He growls the words, sending a chill through you as those familiar words are etched onto your arm.

#soulmate au #slasher imagines #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #freddy krueger x reader #michael myers x reader #hush 2016 #the man x reader #blissfield butcher x reader #billy x stu x reader #beetlejuice x reader #reader inserts

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izzymeadows · 3 years ago

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Izzy’s Stranger Things Rewatch

I’m so sorry for this delay, this post has been waiting for almost two months to be written because I’m that forgetful.

As always, if you want to read the previous episodes notes:

-Episode 1

-Episode 2

-Episode 3

And on with the fun of episode 4: The Body.

We start where the previous episode left, with the police talking to Joyce and Jonathan. She most likely told them about the demogorgon appearing through the wall, because then they seem to be looking for something in the house and they look on said wall, before telling her about the body found in the quarry.

Joyce doesn’t believe it’s Will, once again she’s right and once again nobody believes her. I mean, can’t blame them for not believing she talked to Will through the Christmas lights, but it’s frustrating when you know she’s right. It’s so well done.

I like Hopper trying to comfort Joyce. And then he goes to his car and just. Stays there. He’s a good friend and I appreciate that a lot.

Jonathan cries in bed with his earphones on, and Joyce goes to his room but at the end she decides against relying on him. And she doesn’t listen to Hopper and doesn’t get any sleep. She just goes to the shed and gets an axe and sits on the couch. She’s showing how she cares about her son more than she cares about herself and her own health :(

Mike looking at Will’s drawings, so fondly and sadly, he even caresses them, it’s heartbreaking. A kid should never have to think his best friend is dead ;;

El’s face when he scolds her is so sad, and she doesn’t even have the resources to explain what’s actually happening. Poor girl. But then she channels Will and it sounds terrible, but Mike recognizes his voice immediately. He probably didn’t want to get his hopes up and he asks her, and her tiny smile when she confirms it’s Will is ADORABLE. BUT TELL ME WHAT’S THEIR CONNECTION. WHY DOES SHE KNOW HIM. I AM ASKING QUESTIONS DUFFERS.

And cut to the credits.

Then there’s Joyce sleeping on the couch with the axe in her lap, and she sees and hears Will, and hear me out, that’s not Will when he disappeared. He’s pale, he has eye bags and that’s surely not like he looked when she last saw him. It’s like he contacted her in her dreams. When she wakes up it’s Jonathan the one in front of her. Waking her up on time to go and see the body. Taking care of her, being like a parent to her instead of the other way round. This season is so fucking hard on Jonathan.

I really really like Karen. She’s trying so hard to be the best mother possible, and she’s so understanding and sweet to Mike after what happened.

I noticed Mike has a Rubik cube on his nightstand, which makes me think of Bob bringing one to Will in s2.

The fact that Lucas doesn’t even want to talk with Mike until Mike says it’s about Will *sobs* “Screw his funeral” is a hilarious line.

Hopper takes like two seconds to start suspecting the state people. The fact that they don’t let Joyce and Jonathan inside the room with the body is also really suspicious, and I think Joyce notices, because she asks them to show a birthmark Will has, and it could be her wanting to confirm it’s another kid, or her wanting to confirm it’s a fake corpse. Jonathan doesn’t notice anything, but he’s a teen and he shouldn’t have to go through this, poor child. He does believe Will is dead and is grieving and suffering so much. And judging by what he said in episode 1, he also feels guilty and it breaks my heart. I want to hug him.

I really admire Joyce and Mike for believing Will’s still alive after seeing the body. We know it’s not his body, but they don’t and it’s amazingly made, especially because they had like what, a day to make it?

Nancy talks to Steve about Barb’s disappearance and what she saw when she went back to his house and he asks her “why didn’t you just talk to me?”. SHE DID YOU DUMBASS. But you were with your asshole friends and didn’t pay attention to her. Dump those idiots already, Steve. You’re better than this.

Joyce and Jonathan’s argument on the street is just terrible. We know Joyce’s right, but Jonathan doesn’t. For all he knows, he’s a kid who’s just lost his little brother, who he was taking care of for years and loves more than anything, and his mom is going crazy and talking about monsters in the wall and Will being in the lights. He must feel so alone and scared. Almost as much as Will in the upside down.

Then we have a direct parallel to this scene when Mike repeats to his friends basically the same Joyce says to Jonathan. I like how Dustin starts being hopeful so fast, while Lucas looks for the most logical explanation (“you just tapped onto a baby monitor”). And Mike being so sure that Will’s just alive and it’s not his ghost? He warms my heart. He loves Will so freaking much.

El’s makeover scene is great and Mike is adorable telling her she looks pretty. I think he remenbers her saying Nancy was pretty in the photos, and wanted her to feel good about herself, and it’s so cute.

The cut from this cute moment to the lab and this Shepard guy going to his death is amazing. Way to change the atmosphere.

Also, why this guy, with his suit and being tied so he doesn’t get lost or whatever, dies after like ten minutes, and Will survives for a whole week? CARE TO EXPLAIN DUFFERS??? DO TELL US PLEASE.

Nancy being interrogated by the police because of Barb disappearance and then by Karen because she slept with Steve makes me sad. The poor girl is worried sick and Karen is there like “you didn’t tell the police you slept with your boyfriend”. Nancy’s right Karen, that’s irrelevant and you only care because it’s your daughter. No need to tell the police private stuff that’s not related to the case.

I like that she sees the demogorgon in Barb’s photo because she had already seen it before.

The kids talking to Mr Clarke and pretending they’re sad and all, that’s a really fun scene, but the assembly looks like bullshit imo. Get a psychologist from the church of whatever ugh. Why not a true psychologist?

Then Mike confronts Troy for Will, he never did for himself, but he does for Will. El getting him to piss himself is great because he deserves it. Slay queen.

Jonathan looks so lost when she’s trying to purchase a coffin ;; I’m glad that Nancy comes in that moment because she helps him piece things together so fast. Now he can believe Joyce about Will being alive.

We have a flashback of Brenner making El spy and then she’s channeling Will with the big radio. This scene is another thing that makes me think Will has powers, because he contacts Joyce again AND he almost gets to open a gate to go back. So... is it El who burns the radio, or is it Will?

I didn’t remember that Jonathan does apologize to Nancy for taking the stalker photos.

And then we have Hopper, who, after investigating a bit (and beating a guy up), gets into the place where the body is kept and finds out it’s fake. I actually noticed a weird thing when he took it out of the freezer: it didn’t have any cut. You can’t perform an autopsy without cutting lol it’s so obvious they wouldn’t let anybody get close.

So he’s gonna sneak into the lab and find out more interesting stuff!

The episode finishes with Lonnie coming to Hawkins for the funeral, which is important for reasons we already know because this is a rewatch. Fuck Lonnie. We hate him.

#stranger things #stranger things season 1 #show analysis #izzy liveblogs #this episode confirmed a lot of my byler feelings #like why is said that lucas is mike's best friend but mike's always willing to confront lucas if it's for will #why is he willing to confront the bullies for will when he doesn't do it for himself or dustin or lucas #i have so many thoughts #also i love jonathan a freaking lot #and hopper is so smart #this show is amazing #and the characters are great

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hargrove-mayfields · 2 years ago

Text

Today’s the 27th!

The prompt I chose for @harringroveweek is a combination of Cowboy/Western and Classic Song of the Day, because I chose an old cowboy song as inspiration! So here’s a fic based on Ghost Riders in the Sky!

Years after the fact, Billy still can’t forget it, the feeling of losing control of his body. Lost to the fight against those monsters, along with everything he had in the process.

He’d almost been lost to it completely.

An old cowboy went riding out One dark and windy day Upon a ridge he rested As he went along his way

It would be a disservice to everyone that had pitched in to save him to not admit to himself that some part of the blame, even if it were small, falls onto himself for that.

Because he hadn’t run in the other direction like he should have. Like some sort of misguided hero, or just a fool who thought too highly of himself, Billy had tried to fight.

When all at once a mighty herd Of red eyed cows he saw Plowin' through the ragged skies And up the cloudy draw

To chase those gangling beats and towering monsters, rusted old axe in hand, across the unknown to try and prove himself.

Their brands were still on fire And their hooves were made of steel Their horns were black and shiny And their hot breath he could feel

Or at least to make himself feel like he had achieved something aside from the destruction and death he had accidentally caused in its wake.

Fighting back gave him purpose and direction. Hope.

An ideal he couldn’t stop chasing deeper and deeper once he started.

That was scarier than the beasts in his head and his body. Realizing he would lay down his life just for just a moment's recognition, glory in death.

He’d become a monster all on his own.

A bolt of fear went through him As they thundered through the sky For he saw the riders coming hard And he heard their mournful cry

There was a moment after his best friend had been taken into the suffering with him, where he stopped worrying about who he was hurting, what damage he might’ve been causing to the people around him. Over there, it was just him. Him and the monsters he chased and chased until the final showdown. On a war path of death.

Ghost Riders in the sky.

That power was addictive, even if it wasn’t his own. Even if it wasn’t real.

Their faces gaunt Their eyes were blurred Their shirts all soaked with sweat He's riding hard to catch that herd But he ain't caught 'em yet

Eventually Billy was the last one. The others were weak. Disposable. Sacrificed for a greater cause. A cause he didn’t know if he believed in anymore. But watching the faces of those he once knew, he can tell it’s too late for him. Theres only one option left, to join them. He powers through.

'Cause they've got to ride forever On that range up in the sky On horses snorting fire As they ride on, hear their cry

And then a voice broke through. Not the ones he was hearing in person, Max’s apologies through sweating glass, the girl with the tattoo reliving memories that didn’t belong to either of them, not anymore. He heard them, but some little piece of his subconscious mind was always inconvenienced that they were distracting him from his duty.

If only he’d let them in.

As the riders loped on by him He heard one call his name 'If you wanna save your soul From hell a-riding on our range

But like before there was this strong voice of recollection. One which was so familiar to him, in a way that nobody else’s could be. Melodic and somber, a voice like a beacon of guidance, away from his thoughts, from the ghosts that dragged him along through this vast and literal hell that he didn’t understand.

And it belonged to Steve Harrington.

And even though Billy, in some capacity, felt himself be torn apart, his mind ripped away from that deadly trance just as his flesh was pierced through, that was enough. Even though, in every sense, it was too late.

Steve understood. He fought the monsters himself. And he did every day since. A spiked bat under his bed. A police scanner in his car. A healthy sense of dread alway settled heavy in his heart. He knew what Billy was going through.

The two sides of him seemed to come together then, though he didn’t think it would matter much now, what with him bleeding out on the floor of the Star Court mall. Still, for the first time in his life, the search for a reason had been met. He felt whole.

Then, cowboy, change your ways today Or with us you will ride Trying to catch the devil's herd Across these endless skies

And like never before, he wanted to live. Wanted to embrace this new path of light that was offered to him instead of the pain and torment he’d been conditioned to think was the right way. All he needed was the motivation, and kneeling above him as he bled out on the cold ground, was that very same angel of light, making promises he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears.

He didn’t need to hear. Their souls had been bound and he had been saved. He could do this for Steve. The boy he’d created so much history in such a short time with. Secrets and promises and other things that were best not spoken aloud. Billy could escape fate for that.

That was back in 1985. It’s 1994 and Billy’s almost thirty now. Healed, for the most part.

But still the ghosts don’t ever leave him.

His mother. His father. The life he could’ve had.

Heather. Her parents. That little boy whose name he never learned. The lives he had taken.

The way Max had looked when he’d broken down that door. Then again when he’d hit the ground dead. Mirrored images of fear and grief and relief when he’d been stopped. The lives he’d touched, for better or for worse.

Ghost riders in the sky

Billy carries every last ghost with him. Alive or dead. Damned like him or onto something more. He doesn’t forget not even a single one.

Now he stares out the window, dark pupils blown forever wide, the endless expanse of sky laid out before him. A flash of red lightning that isn’t really there lights the dark clouds in a fiery glare. Another memory of that night hits him in time with an ache behind his rib cage.

Like always, Steve’s gentle voice cuts through the haze, “What’s keeping you awake?”

It takes a moment for Billy to will himself to respond, speaking shakily, unsure as he gives the first answer that comes to mind, “You were snoring in my face.”

Almost ignoring his attempt at brushing him off, Steve shifts closer to him, so their shoulders are pressed flush together, a grounding sort of contact, and asks carefully, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Billy tries to be firm.

Steve knows better, and clarifies, “Do you need to talk about it?”

But Billy really isn’t in the mood to talk at all this morning. Evening. Actually he doesn’t even know what time it is right now. All he knows is that he isn’t ready to open up, “I already said no.”

“There’s a difference between needing something and wanting something.” Steve’s just trying to be nice, trying to let him know it’s okay. There’s too much on his mind to believe it.

“Not when you can’t be sure of either. Needs, dependency. It’s just another way of trusting and giving to someone that doesn’t deserve it.”

He won’t look at Steve, but he hears the pain in his response, to hear Billy talk about himself like that. Billy wishes he wouldn’t try to make it better, but of course, he does, “It’s almost been a decade Billy.”

“For eighteen years before that I was in hell. Feels like everything changed in the ten years since. I don’t.. I don’t even know who I am anymore?” That’s when the tears start. He hardly feels them on his face though. He can only tell because his vision is blurry.

“You’re you. The overly charming, kind of gross, super funny you that you were when we met. You came back to us. Nothing really changed.”

It’s hard to stay himself when he gets like this. His mind starts to slip away and wander, though his stay eyes fixed on that one spot straight in front of him. Seeing things that aren’t there, remnants of the terrible life and death he was nearly damned to. It’s like somebody else is speaking out of his mouth, a feeling he’s far too familiar with, “I guess maybe you're right and nothing has changed. ‘Cause I still see them.”

“Billy, that’s normal. What you went through.. You’re diagnosed. You’re not supposed to magically be better just because it’s over.” Steve reasons, somehow staying comforting and calm. Knowing Steve, he’s a wreck on the inside though. They have that in common.

“It’s never over.” Billy gets defensive and snaps just a little too harshly, though his front quickly crumbles out of guilt, defeat. He continues, barely able to muster more than a whisper now, “They still call my name too.”

“Who?” Some kind of desperation and fear lace into the articulation of Steve’s simple question, and Billy has to stop to think of how best to answer it.

“The ghosts.” He chews his lip nervously, to the point of drawing blood, in the pause he takes to gather the words in his mind to speak, “You always called them monsters like they weren’t beings of their own. Like all they did was attack, not think or speak… And you think I’m crazy.”

“No, no, I’m just.. confused.”

With a lot of concentration, Billy does his best to explain what’s been happening in his head, “The shadow was everywhere. But so were all of its soldiers. I could hear the dogs hunting. I heard the people we captured asking nobody for help. I could hear everything... I still do.”

“What do they say now?” It’s genuine concern, and Billy wishes he could be more helpful to soothe it. The best he can offer is, “I don’t really know. They aren’t loud enough anymore. It’s like they only get loud enough to hear whenever I start to forget or move on, and go dormant again until the next time I try to leave.”

Again Steve sounds so somber, “So what keeps them quiet?”

It makes Billy want to tell him everything.

“You. Your voice.” Even now it seems to be working, staying engaged and listening to Steve’s soothing attempts at comfort keeping him from being lost to the pull. He blinks way too many times, and finally gains the control to look away from the window, right into Steve’s honest eyes, “Nobody but you could break their hold on me. It was hearing your voice that gave me a reason to come back to the way things should be.”

“So.. if their control only lifts sometimes, does that mean they’re still alive down there? Is this something we need to worry about?” He can’t blame him for his fear, but for Billy, this has been happening the whole time. If something were going to happen it would have already. Billy just doesn’t have the heart to tell him how long he’s been suffering with this. How many times he’s danced the line of falling back into the darkness and rejecting the chance he got, because that would just be easier in the long run.

“No, I don’t think so. Not as long as I’m with you.”

“What makes me so special?”

From the sound of it, Steve is expecting a light answer, something to make them laugh and move on, but Billy’s thought about this before, and he answers genuinely, “Nobody else ever gave me a chance. Some others cared in their own ways, but you were the only one that ever told me how to change.”

A heavy deep breath, and he continues, “I was a monster long before they got in my head. But it was your call that won over the person underneath the fighting.”

“You mean.. it was me that saved you?”

“It’s always been you, Steve.”

There’s a long pause. That's admittedly a lot to take in, and for a moment, Billy starts to regret opening up. His mind returns to him if not just to race with equally as heavy thoughts of everything he's done wrong. He knows he’s unloveable, knows that talking about it is sure to chase away anybody, even Steve.

But then he asks, all gentle and curious, not at all accusatory like Billy’d expected, “So what happens if I change, or if something happens? It’s a lot of responsibility, keeping another person sane.”

And that’s a relief, except for that he has to admit, “I don’t know. I’d probably do what I’ve always done and just.. run towards it.”

“I don’t want to lose you like that.”

“You wouldn’t. Not all of me anyways.” Billy assures, trying to be helpful. Steve’s frown only deepens, and he proposes, “Can we stop talking like this? I don’t like thinking about this sort of thing.”

Billy nods and turns away again, this time met with reality, a sight that brings him a sense of relief and normalcy. For now, the world in front of him is clear, and though the promise of the ghosts returning is guaranteed, he’ll take the fleeting moment to appreciate it. In better spirits, he hums, “I owe you a thanks.”

“Hey, I promised you my heart and my soul. It wouldn’t be fair if I let yours be damned.”

“Still. After everything, you don’t have to wait around and put up with me.” And maybe now he’s just searching for a way to hurt himself, to burst this momentary illusion of happiness, but Steve, always the optimist, doesn’t allow it.

He takes up one of Billy’s hands, stealing his attention back, “I’ll love you no matter what. You know that, right?”

But it’s too soon, feels too out of body. He pulls away gently, folds his hands over themselves, and tries to be negative again, “You said it yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do. Too much responsibility.”

“So what? Loving anybody isn’t supposed to be easy.” Steve hadn’t bought it, because as much of an optimist as he is, he’s also unbreakably stubborn. Billy’s perfect match.

He appreciates that, “I’m starting to think there’s a reason you’re special.”

“And it only took you ten years.” When Steve, taking caution not to push boundaries, puts an arm loosely around his shoulder, Billy lets him, leans into that hesitant embrace even. Steve smiles hopefully, “Here’s to another ten?”

Billy decides from now on, he wants to choose his own path. No more chasing ghosts of a past that never came to be. Fighting against something he was never going to be able to manage. Giving into temptation now would be a waste of everyone’s efforts, including his own. He’s wasted enough time, enough life on that already. Now it’s time for him to truly live.

Ghost riders in the sky

He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Ghost riders in the sky

#HarringroveWeek #harringrove #billy x steve #songfic #lyrics are in italics #sort of a different take from me than usual but this concept came to me and i couldnt shake it #ej writer #story by ej!#my writing

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP Recap (March 12/2021) - Exiting the Vault

After Sam finally checks the cell and discovers that Tommy is alive, Tommy exits Pandora’s Vault at last. Everyone on the server starts coming to terms with Tommy’s return, while both Tommy and Ranboo are set on a new goal:

To kill Dream for good.

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Tubbo

Fundy

Tommy

Jack Manifold

Ranboo

Eret

---

- Tommy is in prison. Still there.

Dream: “I’m starving! Can you give me that? Can I have that?”

- Tommy throws him a potato.

Tommy: “I only have one.”

Dream: “Oh, well you can have it then.”

- Tommy eats some potatoes.

Tommy: “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you look like that?”

Dream: “It’s a mask.”

- They talk about Dream face-revealing and Tommy concludes that it must be sewn onto his face.

Dream: “Sam has not visited us in like a week! He hates me!”

- Tommy throws him the last of his potatoes. There’s no way of knowing how long time’s passed in the cell.

Tommy: “I’m still...I can’t believe you did that.”

Dream: “You were the one pushing me to do it! You were basically begging me to!”

- Tommy throws an item frame, a book and two potatoes into the lava.

- He boasts that he hasn’t cried

- Tommy sees Sam’s nametag by the lava and rushes over. Sam tells Tommy to run to the corner and Tommy gets out via damage pot. Tommy confronts Sam about letting him die. Sam is just shocked to see him alive.

- Tommy flicks the switches to let the lava down, wanting to look at Dream. He says a last “fuck you” and walks after Sam to get out.

Tommy: “Suck it, green boy.”

- Tommy tells Sam off for failing at his job again, as they go through the security measures.

Tommy: “Sam, you kept me in this prison for thirty-two days!”

Sam: “Tommy, I didn’t even know you were here -- I haven’t even gone to feed him!”

- He tells Sam that Dream is going to escape.

Tommy: “You are now the most powerful man on this server -- not Dream, you are, ‘cause you withhold him! And you can’t even stop him from killing me! You’re not qualified to run this prison, Sam.But that’s beyond the point, alright? Look at me -- Dream is going to escape, he told me that he’s planning on escaping, alright? Technoblade owes him a favor, Technoblade owes him a favor -- I’ve seen everything!”

- Tommy tells Sam that he can’t have any visitors ever. He tells Sam about the revive book, that that’s how he’s back.

- Tommy exits through the Nether portal. The first thing he sees when he gets out is the giant penis statue.

- He starts walking down the path and sees Tubbo working on Bee ‘n’ Boo. Tubbo sees him and runs away initially. He doesn’t believe Tommy is real.

- Tommy points out the bench where they listened to music after defeating Dream -- but they didn’t defeat Dream, and now they need to kill him and also probably Technoblade.

- Tubbo tells Tommy about the inn and also getting married.

- Next, Tommy speaks with Sam Nook and sees Jack Manifold at the desk. Jack is outraged.

Jack: “No, you’re dead, you’re dead! You died, I grieved for you! You’re not back! No one comes back, I mean -- oh -- MOST people don’t come back!”

Tommy: “No I’m alright. Anyway, um --”

- Jack is furious. He tells Tommy he’s been trying to kill him for two months.

Jack: “That’s the problem. All the time, you belittle me, you dismiss me, you drop me in a pool of lava, I’m the only person who tried to visit you when you were in exile, and you forget me! Like I’m nothing! And when I try and finally get my own back, I launch NUKES at you and you didn’t even care!”

- Tommy talks about Moana. Then they argue some more.

Tommy: “Jack, what you’re doing here is creating a villain for yourself, alright? And when I was gone, you didn’t have that. You’re so glad I’m back, you need to stop -- you’re just creating a villain out of nowhere, alright?”

- Tommy tells Jack he’s changed, he’s seen things in death, he’s trying to hold himself together like it’s still the old him, but he’s struggling.

- Jack draws his axe. Tommy tells him to put it away.

Jack: “You died and you think you’re all that, you think you learned everything. I died! We died! I died because of you!”

- Tommy leaves the hotel, telling Jack he can keep the hotel for now while he deals with bigger issues.

Jack: “This isn’t the end.”

Tommy: “It probably is.”

- Tommy sees Tubbo watching him from on top of the McPuffy’s.

Tommy: “He’s staring at me like I’m not even real. And he’s got a new best friend -- a new husband!”

- He sees all the statues by his house. Connor is inside, freaked out to see him.

- Tommy tells Connor to move out again, and Connor gives him his diary -- Connor misses Schlatt, wants to solve mortality, knows Karl’s secret (thinks he should see a doctor) and missed Tommy when he died.

- Tommy tells Connor what he went through. Connor says they need prison reform. Tommy tells Connor that Sam isn’t fit to run the prison, and Connor moves back into Ninja’s house.

- He takes a quick look at L’manhole.

Tommy: “I fuckin’ miss when times were simpler, and all I had to worry about was defeating one big green guy. And all I had to do was follow someone else’s lead. And now it looks like I’m gonna have to follow my own lead. So the server seems to have changed a lot.”

- As he walks down the stairs, Antfrost stares at him and backs away. Tommy wonders why no one’s treating him normally.

- He finds Ranboo by the ice cream shop, Tubbo coming along as well. Ranboo asks about what happened -- did Sam lie? Tommy doesn’t want to talk about dying.

- Tommy asks if Tubbo is Ranboo’s best friends. Ranboo says he’s one of them and hands Tommy an allium. Tommy burns it.

- Tommy continues along the path and notices the Therapuffy office. He drops a book in the chest. He also notices the Red Banquet posters.

- Tommy feels like even though he’s back, he’s not. People celebrated his death.

Tommy: “This server was -- this server wasn’t about this, it was about me and Tubbo fighting Dream! I’m still dead to most of these people...They’re looking at me like I’m not even alive.”

- He finds Quackity by the Community House. Quackity thinks it must be some sort of sick joke. Tommy reminds him of the heists they used to do to convince him that it’s actually him.

- Tommy tells Quackity that Dream used the revive book. Quackity is overjoyed at his return.

- Tommy leaves and goes up towards the Nether portal. He decides that he needs to kill Dream, and soon.

- Jack is upset that Tommy came back. It took him dying for Jack to remember Tommy as a friend again, but when he came back, it all came flooding back.

“But when he came back today, he said a couple things that have stuck with me. The main one being...a simple word. He turned to me, looked me dead in the eyes, and he went ‘anyways.’ Anyways.”

- Jack decides he’s done with starting again.

“But the day he died, the day he was killed by Dream was not the day I should’ve grieved. I lost my friend a long, long time ago...I lost my friend a long time ago, the day he decided those discs were more important than any of us. The day he got rid of L’manburg, the day he sacrificed absolutely everything to take back those discs! That’s the day I lost my friend.”

“Him coming back today doesn’t bring back my friend. It doesn’t fill the empty void I felt when he died. All it has done is given me a new purpose.”

- Jack decides he needs to kill Tommy. His friend died a long time ago. He talks about how even when Dream is locked away, Tommy isn’t satisfied and is still going after him.

- Jack came back because he had a purpose. And that purpose was to take Tommy out.

“I’m glad I grieved my friend, and I’m still sad and hurt that he’s gone. But my friend didn’t come back. Dream didn’t bring back my friend with that book, he brought back a monster.”

- Dream brought Tommy back out of cowardice, fearing the server without him. Jack is better than Dream.

- Jack heads into the underground city and speaks with Niki. Jack tells her Tommy’s alive again. Niki isn’t sure she wants Tommy dead anymore.

- They start talking about government and anarchy. Niki says her underground city isn’t a government, while Jack disagrees with anarchy.

- Niki says she’s started baking again. She says she’ll give it time to think about it, whether to help Jack. In the meantime, he’s free to stay in the city.

- Jack returns to his hotel, still upset.

- He makes his way to the prison, thinking. Tommy coming back took away the satisfaction of him being Jack’s villain. Jack came back because he had one goal, one purpose, and that was to kill Tommy. Why not take the same from him?

- He tries to enter the prison portal but it doesn’t work. Jack is infuriated and walks to Tommy’s summer home, where he encounters Quackity.

- Quackity wants him to leave the property. He hid some things there a while back that he doesn’t want people finding.

- They talk about Tommy being alive again. Quackity is happy, but wants to know what Jack’s plan is regarding their business.

Quackity: “Tommy is a complex business partner, and I have to come to terms with that fact.”

- Quackity points out it seems that Jack lack’s power over this hotel business venture. Jack tells him Tommy said he could have it for now. Quackity says he’s made great progress on his business, and they’ll continue to talk later. He leaves.

- Foolish says he looks poor and hands him two diamond blocks.

- Jack says he needs funds anyway and has an idea...what if he became a prison guard?

- He wonders how to go about it. Who would suggest him?

- Jack looks at the ruins of Ze Haus. He’ll stick to the motto:

Be Worse.

- Ranboo starts off in his house, his Memory Book open

“He’s alive!”

“He’s alive?”

- Ranboo thinks to himself. It’s incredible, but…was he even dead to begin with? Did Sam lie? It doesn’t make sense. Once something is dead, it’s dead, right?

- Tubbo’s not handling it well, but he’ll come around eventually. But Tommy’s alive now, that’s awesome! That’s a good thing…right?

- Ranboo isn’t upset at him for burning the flower. If someone died and came back and everyone still thought they were dead, of course they’d be hesitant to things.

- He goes back to the confusion about death. People can be revived.

“And if death isn’t permanent, then people are gonna be living a lot differently.”

“If death isn’t permanent…if death isn’t permanent, then nothing is. Then that means that…anyone can just die, decide ‘no,’ and just come back. And…if…people live with no fear, then they’ll be put through so much pain.”

- Tubbo was so ready to fight the Egg despite being on one life. Imagine if he found out that he could die and come back if he got hurt.

- Ranboo heads through the Nether to the portal to…Dream’s mountain vault

“What is this place?”

“I’ve been here before?”

“Why am I here?”

“…Step away from him, Dream.”

“Everything everyone’s ever loved is right here. If I can control that, I can control the server.”

“Dream was…he was trapped in here when we all came through. Wait, I’m — you can’t kill him because he’s the only one who can bring Wilbur back…what? Dream could…Dream could bring people back?”

“Was I here?”

He moves towards the elevator. “I walked over there.”

“The Enderwalk. That entire time. And they all came to save him…that entire time.”

“You should’ve paid him more.”

“The only reason they kept Dream alive was because he could revive…people. Dream has the power…to…bring people back. No matter…when…who…where…”

“He needs to go, or else…death won’t be permanent, and then, if we get rid of someone because they’ve been causing problems this entire time…then we can never get rid of the villains in this story. We can bring back the villains in the story, when they were supposed to be written out.”

“He needs to go.”

- Ranboo leaves.

“We should be able to get rid of the villains, even if it means not being able to keep the good guys.”

- There’s a reason he was able to pick up blocks slowly throughout time. Things start to manifest. There’s something going on with the Enderwalk. The Enderwalk isn’t a different version of Ranboo, it’s still Ranboo, it’s just more…wild

- Ranboo heads to Snowchester and sees Michael.

“Cause I don’t wanna hurt him…so I gotta make sure I get rid of any possibility.”

- Ranboo is scared of doing something that makes things worse.

“I don’t hurt people. That’s not what I do, I have to keep it that way. However…”

He looks towards the prison.

“There is one exception.”

“Do I even have to be careful? I mean, I still have my three lives. I mean…I’m one of the most safe people on this server. But…I don’t even have to be. I can afford to be reckless.”

- Ranboo writes in his book.

“He’s alive. But hopefully soon Dream won’t be.”

- Ranboo goes into his house. He surveys his riches in the vault. He has a lot of supplies, but he’s not ready to do this yet.

“It’s time to train.”

- Puffy finds Tommy’s book in her Therapuffy office and reads it. Does this mean he’s alive?

- Puffy watches the VOD and decides she would lose all her canon lives just to escape the possibility of solitaire.

- Puffy is happy that Tommy is alive. But how, and why? Why would Dream resurrect Tommy?

She wonders if there was a tiny part of Dream that cared, or if that’s just the duckling perspective talking.

- She goes back to her office and writes a response letter, going to leave it in a chest at Tommy’s house.

What Tommy needs right now, she says, is support.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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natromanxoff · 3 years ago

Text

Queen live at Oakland Coliseum Arena in Oakland, CA, USA - September 7, 1982 (Part-1)

(x)

The band are in great form tonight, full of vitality and passion. Only the intro of Rock It is performed from now onward. When the vocal is expected to re-enter after the rhythm section joins in, the band jump into the first verse of the fast We Will Rock You. John Deacon's bass solo after the second chorus is aggressive, and overall the band are clearly happy to be playing the longer version of the song again - although they do have a bit of trouble getting out of the middle section together, but they recover well. Freddie offers a great version of Play The Game. After the song, he has a word with the enthusiastic audience. "So here we are, back again in Oakland after a long time. Has everybody been keeping okay since we've been away?" Naturally everyone says "yeah", and Freddie replies, "Bullshit!" He continues, "Anyway, we have a lot of new songs for you since we were here last, and this next one is a song for all the girls here tonight, you know what I mean? The real girls. If you've got tits or if you haven't got tits it don't matter." The girls quickly stop cheering as Freddie is just trying too hard when he actually doesn't have to. He attempts to recover, "You just don't understand English. It doesn't matter. This is a Roger Taylor composition [the mention of Roger's name gets the girls screaming again] entitled Calling All Girls." Just before the first chorus of the song, Freddie adlibs, "I've got a message for you babe!" After the second chorus, following "take a message of love for all to hear," he adds to the energy with a few spontaneous words: "Have you got it? Can you hear it? Can you feel it?" Tonight is the first known performance of the Hot Space rocker Put Out The Fire, segueing from the vocal improv of Now I'm Here (Freddie doesn't have the lyrics perfected yet, which suggests it hasn't been performed too many times - fan club magazines from the period say the song was performed as a standalone piece earlier in the tour). After the second chorus, the band seamlessly jump into Dragon Attack. The combination of these three songs seems to recall the medley idea that had been dropped in 1981. After Now I'm Here, Freddie challenges the audience to one of his usual vocal duels. For the first time, he is heard singing "Dee do de de", something that would become part of the lyrics of "Living On My Own" off his first solo album in 1985. Shortly thereafter, after an "alright" that's held for a few seconds, he shouts, "You can do it!" in encouragement, after which he says, "Not bad! It's amazing what you will do if you're pushed." He really takes a liking to this audience. During the next song, Save Me, instead of singing the line "I love you 'til I die," he speaks the words "I love ya", and during the three quiet beats leading into the first chorus, he quickly and poignantly adds, "don't forget it!" Freddie once again dedicates Fat Bottomed Girls to "people who like fucking a lot." In the second verse of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, he modifies a lyric to say "she knows how to fuck and roll." One can draw their own conclusions as to where Freddie Mercury's mind was at on this tour. He turns in a very passionate version of Bohemian Rhapsody (despite not being in full voice by the end of the show), where everything seems to come home to him. Only he knew what the song really meant, but plenty have suggested that the proverbial man being killed in the first verse as told to his mother is his former self that had not yet come to terms with his sexuality. A clash of worlds in 1982, if that's the case. Matt Granz (also with a story from San Francisco '77) fondly shares his memories of this show here:

“This photo is from Queen's last Bay area show ever with Freddie Mercury. With the new direction that they took with the album "The Game" Brian May stated that Queen had "gained the world, but lost America". I think that after they played a Los Angeles gig or two after this particular show that they never did come back to the US. That is truly sad since they were one of the most charismatic of all rock groups to ever play on a stage. This concert was no exception! This photo was taken during Brian's echo solo. The three lights backlighting Brian belonged to one of two manned light pods that followed him around the stage. It was a spectacular effect!

The friend I went to the concert with (who's name I can't even begin to recall) took his SLR 35mm and I took a pocket fixed focus... after seeing me lament over the bad quality of my images he took mercy on me and sold me this memory as an 8x10 B&W Glossy that I kept secured in a folder... and just recently rediscovered and decided to digitize these many years later. My own pics from the concert all came out underexposed... drat! His SLR had some great lenses and he had his own darkroom. He also had great access to many good spots to shoot from.

By the way… remember the days when you didn't need a press badge to bring a camera to a concert? What happened??? Lawyers, I'll tell ya... Lawyers.

The story behind the Flying V being utilized was that at the very onset of his Echo solo, Brian busted a string on the "Red Special". He waked backstage and then shortly reappeared with this guitar. The sound was quite different. After the solo was done fifteen minutes later, he took back his own guitar and proceeded to use it for the rest of the show. It was pretty unusual to see him playing this and (besides the Tele he plays on Crazy Little Thing Called Love for the songs' first solo) have not seen him play another electric besides his main axe that he and his father made.

I was pretty poor at the time, but I liked this photo enough to buy it because of the before mentioned spectacular lighting and the fact that Brian is playing a Flying V.

Though I was not a fan of The Game, this concert was superb! I came to see Brian (being a guitarist myself) and was amazed at how distracted I was by the rest of the band. They were flawless that night and the floor seats I snuck into... 20 rows from the stage... provided the perfect viewing experience. The light show was also the best I had ever seen as well, in that it didn't distract from the music or musicians but rather pulsated perfectly with the beats and saturated the stage with great color combinations.

Freddie, Brian, Roger & John all had the whole auditorium held by the throat from the very start of the show till the last fading notes of "God Save the Queen". Sheer Excellence!” Most of the photos were taken by Sean Trend. A few of the pictures show Brian with the Gibson Flying V, as he had played in East Rutherford last month. But this time he begins his solo with the Flying V, as confirmed by someone who attended the show. Brian, in disbelief, later commented on this: http://www.brianmay.com

“Well, I'm shocked. I definitely would have sworn that I never played a solo live with a Flying V. I played around with them, but mainly at home, except for one video appearance for "Princes of the Universe" in which I'm obviously not really playing!!!

Cheers Bri”

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Part-2

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 3 years ago

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@sajdd

Ok since one singular person asked for this the Big Explanation for Everything In My C!Tommy Design.

General:

c!Tommy, in general, I always try and find a balance between my really soft style and c!Tommy's rougher personality. I draw him with soft features but very sharp eyes, both to make his facial features distinct from cc!Tommy and a contrast to c!Tubbo who I draw with less rounded features but much softer eyes. I try and keep his usual expressions slightly smug and self-assured, to get across c!Tommy's bravado.

I generally draw him with tanned skin, as I imagine he’d spend a lot of time outdoors. This does vary on the arc I’m drawing him in, though, for example he’s much less tan in Pogtopia because he has less access to natural light whereas he’s more tan in exile due to not having much shelter from the sun. This is also done to make the pale scar on his nose bridge more noticeable- it’s one of the two scars I draw Tommy as having from the beginning, as I feel it shows c!Tommy's scrappy, determined personality very well. The other scar is a long jagged vivisection scar which is there to show my labinnit headcanon lol.

While I draw c!Tommy with varying hairstyles and lengths, I always draw him with curly textured hair that’s a very pale blond. I also draw his hair as leaning to one side and partially covering his eye, similar to how I draw c!Wilbur's hair, to show their closeness. I also draw c!Tommy with similar wings to c!Wilbur and c!Philza- specifically, I draw them with the same starry night sky pattern I do with c!Philza, but a lot smaller and atrophied.

I really like putting lots of fun design elements in characters eyes because drawing eyes is fun and c!Tommy is no exception! I draw his eyes a very bright electric blue, and I use a small brush and very light varied colours to make them look like they’re filled with little stars. I also give him red pupils to match his main colour association in either the shape of a full or broken heart depending on the arc. I went with a heart design to show his hidden kindness and loyalty.

There’s also a lot of design elements that are admittedly there primarily because I enjoy drawing them, and less for any specific reason. The fangs do have the most reason, to help show c!Tommy's rougher personality, but I also just like drawing fangs lol. (I also draw him with braces in every arc, since I imagine he couldn’t get them removed in exile and he didn’t have the time to care afterwards). I also draw him with bioluminescent, starlike freckles and a strange blood colour which is also used to help texture the skin (well, slightly, it’s not super noticeable but it’s pink instead of red) which are both just things I like to draw.

Also, this is a small detail, but I always draw c!Tommy with a Church Prime necklace (unless I forget it which I do sometimes lol). It’s a good way of showing his faith through a quick look.

Fun fact, what’s probably most noticeable about my c!Tommy design is that as soon as Tommy made the joke about his character being made in a lab I picked it up and ran with it, specifically the idea of him potentially being a clone of c!Philza. I draw them with identical facial features and hair colour/texture, though a lot of the more supernatural features of c!Philza are toned down on him. That’s specifically because due to my hc that c!Philza is an angel and angels as ageless it’d be impossible to clone them exactly so c!Tommy has some random human/hybrid dna thrown in haphazardly (which also makes him a mess of instincts from pretty much every animal ever lol)

Disc War:

I really like the headcanon that c!Tommy was nine during the L'Manburg war entirely because its really funny to imagine c!Wilbur looking at this literal nine year old and being “yes, my right hand man, responsible enough to help manage a nation in my stead,” so c!Tommy is roughly 9ish around this time in my design.

During the early Disc War is probably the only time I actually draw c!Tommy as close to his actual Minecraft skin lmao. It helps show that, despite the fact I don’t hc him as human he is mostly just a normal kid. I don’t draw c!Tommy in the traditional red and white t-shirt entirely just because I want to make sure he’s not mistakable for Dave Strider though. I have him in a white button-up shirt, a red and white hoodie, cargo pants, and trainers.

During this arc, I draw c!Tommy's hair as fairly short and very similar to how I draw c!Wilbur, as this was back when he idolised his brother and I think drawing their hair so similar shows that well.

L'Manburg:

This covers the time from the beginning of the L'Manburg war up to c!Tommy's second exile to Pogtopia, so this design covers a period of years from when I hc c!Tommy was nine up until about thirteen.

During the war, c!Tommy wears his uniform without modification, except for of course wearing his Prime necklace, but afterwards he and the rest of the residents of L'Manburg (except c!Wilbur) slightly modified their uniforms to better fit their own tastes. Specifically, he wears his trainers instead of combat boots, loose trousers instead of shorts, and a slightly shorter and short-sleeved revolutionary jacket, for easier mobility.

During the war, his two canon deaths left him permanent injuries and scars. His death in the final control room, where he broke his leg during his desperate attempt to escape, left that leg permanently weakened (along with being badly scarred) and requiring a leg brace to help him stand and walk properly. The arrow through his skull during his duel with c!Dream left him with a large scar on his temple, covering his brows in crack-like scars which also leave him with frequent migraines.

During the L'Manburg arc, c!Tommy's hair in my design still looks like c!Wilburs as they were still close during this arc.

Pogtopia:

Since Pogtopia apparently lasted two years (which is probably from Cursed Timeline Lore but I love cursed lore it’s hilarious,) c!Tommy would be around 13 to 15 here.

In Pogtopia, I draw c!Tommy as wearing similar clothes to during the Disc War arc, however, I also add on a loose belt holding knives, to show c!Tommy's increased need for self defence along with his fondness for knives lol. I actually don’t do the bandanna design with c!Tommy and c!Tubbo a lot of people do mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to get it to work with c!Tommy's hoodie. They have an equivalent but it’s later on alas.

As c!Tommy and c!Wilbur get more distant, c!Tommy grows out his hair slightly, and wears it tied in the back in a short ponytail.

Exile:

Oh I have a lot of things to talk about here >:). As a quick note to my messed up timeline, c!Tommy would be 15 here.

During exile, c!Tommy wears the same clothes as he did in Pogtopia initially, though due to lack of care and supplies, they eventually of course fray and rip. He also wears c!Wilbur's old ragged longcoat, even though it barely keeps out the cold, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes weirdly comforting. Over time, he rips up his shirt for bandages to the point he’s not wearing anything under his hoodie. His leg brace breaks and he makes a new one out of branches and leaves. (He could ask c!Dream, but he doesn’t want to be fucking reliant on him, relying on pity handouts like a child, so he won’t.)

Eventually, since c!Dream doesn’t exactly want c!Tommy to get hypothermia and die anticlimactically, he gives c!Tommy one of his capes. This is one of my favourite character design decisions I’ve made lmao. I specifically draw it looking too-big, despite the fact that doesn’t make much sense because they’re the same height, so it looks almost like he’s getting enveloped in c!Dream's green shades, and it also hides c!Tommy's wings which helps reinforce the loss of freedom.

c!Tommy gains… a lot of scars over exile. I mean he was literally hit by an axe multiple times. Specifically they’re primarily around the shoulders or the torso. I also draw him with a Glasgow grin, specifically curved to resemble Dream's mask, along with smaller, self inflicted, scratch and bite marks covering his arms. In addition, due to him barely eating I draw c!Tommy from this point onwards looking very scrawny. This is also where c!Tommy's pupils change from hearts to broken hearts! They never turn back :)

During exile, Tommy's hair grows out a lot, down to just past his shoulders, in a matted mess. c!Dream used to braid it at the back, like how I draw c!Dream's own hair, but it very quickly grew too matted with saltwater, mud, and blood to style :) :) :)

Bedrock Bros:

c!Tommy turns sixteen here during my scuffed timeline.

c!Tommy patches up the rips and tears in his clothes. He can’t fully salvage his cargo trousers, so he turns them into shorts. He makes his own shoes out of leather to replace the ones he lost. There’s a gaping hole in his hoodie pocket that couldn’t be stitched up. He'll patch it up later. c!Techno gives him one of his capes to keep him warm, fur lined and arctic blue with silvery snowflakes embroidered on. c!Tommy has to be reminded, or he puts on the green cape, turned a dull viridian from the sun, that makes him feel both safe and so, so afraid.

Scars heal, but never fully fade. Still, his eyes brighten again, somewhat, even if the bags under his eyes less disappear and more just turn a strange gold. He finally has the time to clean out his hair, and c!Techno ties it into a short, loose braid at the back. With the cape, he almost looks like c!Techno like that. Obviously, the visual implication here is to show that even though it’s obviously not exile, c!Techno is still suppressing c!Tommy's identity, albeit unknowingly (and the gold is from his constant eating of golden apples).

Final Disc War:

By this point, c!Tommy's back to just wearing his old clothes, tattered and frail as they might be. He finds his old sneakers, and day by day he sees himself in the mirror a bit more than the gunpowder on a battered trenchcoat, blood on a smiley face mask, wither rot on the edges of an elaborate snowy cape. He patches the hole in his hoodie with a piece of the fabric from one of c!Tubbo's old shirts. He lends him one of his too-small hoodies so he can do the same.

He still braids his hair, but in his own way, in a tightly woven ratstail braid more for convenience than for aesthetics. Character design wise, it’s another way to show c!Tommy's openly rougher personality than say, c!Dream or c!Techno, and so’s the patchwork clothes and rough shorts and scars. Like I said, maintaining a mix of rough and soft is very important to me in how I draw c!Tommy, and I’m very satisfied with how I pull it off here and in the next entry.

Revival:

the story has handed me the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead. i will not pass up the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead.

After revival, c!Tommy stops aging, at least in appearance. His skin… less pale, more colourless and almost grey. One of his eyes glows a pure, empty white now, like ghosts do, and the white messy streak in his hair doesn’t glow but it’s white enough it might as well.

The injuries of his death bear apparent on his form. His limbs can bend at impossible angles, his entire body covered head to toe in bruises. Two black eyes cover his face like a raccoon mask, and the ugly mottled marks of strangulation on his throat stand out like a sore thumb. You cannot look at him anymore and not see that he hasn’t died. He avoids mirrors again.

There’s stranger things, too, like how he doesn’t bleed anymore, any cuts just revealing an impossibly dark void beneath his marble-cold skin. Sometimes he goes weeks without eating, the hunger only hitting once he realises. He feels so tired, so cold, in a way not even the touch of fire can stem at all. He doesn’t have a heartbeat, or breathe.

Initially, he was too tired, too out of it to even consider cutting off or dying the white streak. When he wasn’t, he’d soon learn any attempts were futile, dye fading in mere days, cut off hair half regrown in a week. It should bother him more, but he just feels numb.

#dream smp #dsmp #c!tommy #tw abuse #tw mutilation #tw scars #tw bruises #tw death #tw child death #tw murder #tw child murder

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

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Magnetic; Din’s POV - Part 1 (Chapters 1-2)

Pairing: None.

Word Count: 4,400

Rating: None, really. This is pretty general. Din’s thinking about women, but it’s not graphic in any way.

Summary: Din’s adjusting to life on Mandalore as the Mand’alor, but his mind is constantly elsewhere. After a year, he receives a transmission from Luke Skywalker that changes everything.

Author’s note:

Hello friends! As I’ve been writing Magnetic, I’ve realized that I want to take a look at things from Din’s perspective. I’m not sure that I’ll cover everything in the story this way, but there are certain moments (especially ones coming up) that you’ll definitely benefit from being in the man’s head while reading. These will always come after the corresponding parts of the story, because I want you, as a reader to experience things first ... but I promise, these will make things that happen in the main storyline make more sense. IDK. Maybe this is dumb. Maybe no one cares ... but I do. And I think that since Din spends so much time in his own head, we should too.

If you want to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know - it’s open.

His favorite part of the day was returning to his quarters and locking the door behind him. Even though his schedule wasn’t exactly full, the Mandalorian was usually exhausted by the end of the day - especially when those days extended well into the nighttime hours. And when she’s here? It’s worse.

He stood at the foot of his bed, carefully removing his armor piece by piece and stacking it on the shelving that was built into the wall behind him. Working his way down his body - beginning with the pauldrons on his shoulders, the man saved his helmet for last - as he always did - hesitating before removing it, but not because he didn’t want to. Did I forget anything? He sighed, pressing the button on the bottom edge and lifting the beskar from his head, taking two steps and setting it down on the the table next to his pillow without looking down. No. After the reluctant removal on Morak and the no-hesitation answer to Grogu’s silent request on the light cruiser, the man found that taking his helmet off came easier for him both in private and in front of those that had previously seen his face. Though that number was still small enough to count on two hands, it was more people than he’d ever thought would see him for who he was: not the stoic, beskar encased warrior he presented to the galaxy, but the emotional man that he’d pretended didn’t exist for the better part of his life. But it was for the kid. All of it.

Undoing the closures on his flight suit, he stepped out of it and tossed it into the bin full of clothing leaning against the wall and raised both arms, stretching. There was no reason for him to spend each day fully armored, but for him, it was as much a habit as reciting the four most important words of his creed had become. This is the Way.

The area of Mandalore they occupied wasn’t dangerous, at least in the sense that they had to worry about an attack from others. Despite the fact that there were Mandalorians and residents of the planet’s larger cities that were still sympathetic to the Imperial remnants, no one paid any mind to their small group taking over an outpost hours by ship or speeder from the capital city of Sundari. It was an arrangement that worked for him, but he knew that others in his group were growing tired of the waiting and planning, Bo-Katan included. Mandalorians were few in number, but he’d met many more of them than he ever thought could exist in the months spent on the planet’s surface. Some were like him, keeping their faces covered at all times; a few of them had even been members of the Nevarro covert. Others were like Bo-Katan and Koska and Axe; they’d sworn the Creed but still showed their faces. It was a lot for the man to come to terms with, but as he too had removed his helmet and exposed his face to other living things, he knew that it wasn’t his place to judge the way that they lived their lives. After all, under the beskar, we’re all just …

He sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes and then dragging one hand down over his mouth and chin, stroking the short beard he’d allowed to grow. It was new for him, like most things on Mandalore were, but with no worry of unending fighting and constantly chasing bounties, there was no need for him to worry as much about the comfort level of spending long, difficult hours beneath the helmet. He’d let his hair grow, too, the ends curling down and around his ears and against his neck. Even Cara had commented on it the last time she’d visited the planet to update them on Nevarro’s progress, and he hadn’t been able to hold back the quiet laugh or keep the blush from rising to his cheeks at her words - the surprisingly positive reaction to his ‘new look’. Just a man. He sighed. Even though I hate it.

In the year since Grogu had left with the Jedi, the Mandalorian had learned many things about himself and about the galaxy, but he was still coming to terms with the way it felt for others to see his reactions to their words. Used to hiding behind the visor, each day was another learning experience for him - but they were also the reason he hadn’t committed to taking the helmet off for good. No one was pressuring him to, and it wasn’t even true that the other Mandalorians needed to see his face to trust him, to believe in him, but he knew that it would have helped. I’m not ready yet. Closing his eyes, he bit down on his lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. For the first few months, he’d dealt with the raging loneliness he felt by hunting more bounties, Karga hesitant but in the end willing to give him more pucks. He’d also found ways to keep busy that had nothing to do with bounties and everything to do with the most basic human needs and desires.

He’d spent countless hours in the company of women - other Mandalorians, a Twi’lek that had reminded him too much of Xi’an for him to go through with anything, Morganians, Kiffar, a few human women on Coruscant and Naboo … but none of them filled the empty spaces in his chest or his mind in quite the same way the Child had. They were distractions - nothing more - and even though they sought him out more frequently and warmed up to him more easily when they knew he was the Mand’alor, it still meant nothing to him. Mand’alor. He scoffed at the word, laying back on the bed and folding an arm beneath his head. The word still struck him each time he thought or heard it. It was his title - rightful because of the battle he’d fought and won with Gideon, but still not one that he wanted. But the galaxy - and the Way of the Mandalore didn’t care what a single man wanted. So he dutifully spent each day with the blade clipped to his belt, though he’d only ignited it a few times following the light cruiser and wasn’t comfortable using it. I will be. It will happen. He learned more about the planet and the people and their history, and he spent time with Bo-Katan and her crew, took an active part in the planning for their future. The ultimate goal was to retake Sundari, but that couldn’t happen until they were truly ready, and all corners of the galaxy had been searched for others to join their cause. It was a waiting game, and one thing that the Mandalorian was good at was waiting.

He’d waited for his parents to come back and rescue him from the bunker. He’d waited for bounties to show themselves. Waited for the repercussions of rescuing the kid from the Client and the doctor. Waited for the day when his quest came to an end and he reunited Grogu with his kind.

But the waiting on Mandalore - for whatever would come next - was truly wearing on Din. Maybe if it was my home, then I … But he sighed, turning his head to the side at the sight of a blinking red light reflecting off of the shining surface of his helmet. Who would leave a message? Din sat up again, reaching for the device on the tabletop and pulling it into his lap. Cara would have tried the ship. I just talked to Bo-Katan. Karga wouldn’t… Frowning into the darkness, he pressed play. There was silence for a few seconds, but then at the sound of the voice coming through the small speaker, the Mandalorian swore under his breath, fatigue all but gone. Skywalker. “”I’m hoping this message reaches you, Mandalorian. This isn’t an update like the others I’ve sent. This is …” There was a long pause and Din heard a slow exhale. “This is different.” Different? Is the kid… “Grogu’s been struggling. Not physically, but … mentally. We - the other Jedi Masters - have talked about it, and agree that he needs to see you again, to spend time with you. It’s been a year since you’ve seen each other, and we… I think that it’ll help him one way or another.” Luke paused again and Din lowered his face into his hands, the tips of his fingers gripping the ends of his hair tightly. This isn’t … he … the kid… I… “And I don’t mean a few days, either. I’m thinking long term. You know how to reach me, Mandalorian. I’ll be waiting.” The transmission cut off there, the light going dark. But Din saw none of it, his eyes closed and hands still in place. Seeing … seeing the kid again? Can I? Should I? He raised his head, looking up and into the darkness. He wanted to; there was no question about it. The seed had been planted - if Luke and the other Jedi thought that Grogu needed time away, time spent with him, who was he to say no? But … He looked around the room, sparsely furnished - barely more welcoming than the sleeping quarters on the Razor Crest or the Razor II - and groaned. Can’t bring the kid here right away, can I? There was too much to consider; Bo-Katan’s plans, Din’s responsibilities, the future of an entire race of people and their planet… but each of those things was no more important to him than the last, especially at the thought of Grogu’s wide eyes looking up at him and his weight settled against the crook of Din’s arm. It’s something to think about, Din admitted to himself as he put the device back onto the table and laid back, the arm back beneath his head. Just to think about it. Like always, it took him long minutes to fall asleep, and when he finally did, his dreams were filled with the sound of Grogu’s quiet coos. --- But upon waking up the following morning, Din realized that no matter how much he wanted to see Grogu in person again, he had to do what was right for the kid. Even if it means… He dressed slowly, pulling on his armor piece by piece, saving the helmet for last again. Once dressed, he sat back on the edge of the bed and picked up the device, turning it over in his hands. I need to do this. Switching it from recording audio to a video reply, the man set the device down, squaring his shoulders and spoke out loud, commanding it to begin recording.

“Master Skywalker. My quest was to bring Grogu to his kind, and that’s what I did.” He paused, thankful that his face was hidden, along with the trembling of his upper lip. “When you came and took him from Moff Gideon’s light cruiser, I completed that quest. He was … he is safe with you, with the Jedi. You’ve updated me on his progress, and I thank you for that, but …” His shoulders slumped, and even though he had to fight to get the next words out, he managed. “This is The Way. I don’t want to …dank farrik.” Lowering his helmet toward his chest, he finally continued. “I just want what’s best for the kid. That’s all I …” Say it. You have to say it. “You know how to reach me. I’ll be waiting.”

But he hadn’t said what he needed to.

It wasn’t an answer - Din knew that. It wasn’t an outright refusal - he knew that, too. But it was an out for Skywalker, proof that the Mandalorian wasn’t as selfish as he felt, as willing to drop everything and fly to wherever he needed to be to see the kid again. But I am. I just needed to… He didn’t give himself a chance to second guess the words he’d spoken, instead typing in the necessary information and sending the transmission. Before the device had beeped to confirm, Din was already heading for the door, needing to face the day and deal with whatever was expected of him, keeping his mind from the device … and any possible response. This is the Way.

---

His resolve only lasted until the middle of the night, Din finally returning to his quarters and beginning the ritual of removing the armor from his body. He didn’t even look at the table until it was time to take the helmet off, and he froze at the sight of another blinking light. Skywalker sent a message back. He hesitated then, hand held above the device, and without speaking, Din turned to the shelving on the far wall, his hand digging into the pouch on his belt, fingers curling around the familiar spherical shape there. Did I ruin everything, kid? Is Skywalker going to tell me that the offer isn’t… The metal cool against his palm, Din once again walked the short distance to the bed, keeping the knob held tightly in one hand and grabbing for the comm device with the other. “Only one way to find out.”

The quiet of the room gave him the ability to hear each of the Jedi’s words clearly, the man not stumbling over them a single time. Mandalorian. If you’re willing to listen before you make your decision, there’s someone here much more convincing than me. It’ll only take a few minutes, but I know you’ll want to hear it. I don’t know you well, but I know what it sounds like when someone says things that they don’t really believe. It doesn’t even need to be a holo message, just … let me call you. It was simple; Din knew it, and yet he didn’t want to believe that there was still a chance that he’d be reunited with Grogu in the near future. He’d half expected the man’s response to be in agreement; yes, you did what you were supposed to. The kid might miss you, but he really is better here. You’re right. But instead, there’d been a slight note of surprise in the Jedi’s voice, especially as he’d mentioned the other person he wanted Din to talk to. But who could it be? I haven’t … haven’t talked to the kid this whole time. He wouldn’t… But Din didn’t know what the Jedi had planned, and that worried him more than he wanted to admit. But why? He squeezed the ball again and then set it down next to the beskar of his helmet, staring at the two pieces of metal. Before the Razor Crest had been blown up, he hadn’t known that Grogu’s favorite toy was made of the same metal that he wore for protection. He’d assumed it was durasteel, but when he’d unearthed it from the ashes, right alongside the new spear, he’d made the connection. He didn’t know if the kid had been drawn to it because he connected beskar with the man himself, but in the months since he’d last seen the child, the thought comforted Din. At least he has the pendant. Din’s eyes closed, remembering the final moments on the light cruiser’s bridge. Alright, pal. It's time to go. Don't be afraid. He’d been trying to remain strong for the kid, but Din had also been speaking to himself - and the coercion hadn’t worked. He’d been afraid to lose the child - his child, for good. He’d been afraid of what came next for him and Mandalore. He’d been worried about what it meant to go back to his solo existence, even with the addition of people like Fennec and Cara and Boba Fett - even Peli had crossed his mind then. But mostly, he’d focused on the way it felt to see those huge eyes staring at him until the last possible second. I'll see you again. I promise. For a few seconds - time that stretched out into an eternity, Din had imagined that he could hear the kid speaking back to him. Don’t want to go. But have to. See you again. They were short, broken sentences, similar to those that children used, but Din later realized that he’d imagined them, because it was what he’d wanted to hear. But if I call him back, I might … The man swallowed hard, reaching for the device before he allowed himself to think about it, and pressed the record button without switching the holo on. “Skywalker. I’ll listen. I don’t …. I don’t know what the time difference is between where I am and where you are, but if you call within the next eight hours, I’ll answer. Otherwise … we’ll need to figure something else out.” He sighed, running a hand over the back of his head. “I’ll … as long as it’s not the kid you want me to talk to, I’ll listen.” He repeated the direct connection procedure for the device and then sent the message, keeping it switched on while he picked up the ball and laid back, head against the pillow. Din was nervous, but with the message sent, he was calmer than he had been the entire day, and it gave him a chance to think back to the time he’d spent with Bo-Katan and Koska, the women talking excitedly about a small clan that had made contact, and what it meant. He agreed that the more Mandalorians they knew to exist, the better.

He hadn’t heard from all of the members of the Covert, but surprisingly, many of them had survived Gideon’s attack on Nevarro and the breach of their underground sanctuary. Paz was alive, as was the Armorer. Many of the foundlings were accounted for - and that was something that brought Din relief beyond words. This was true not only as the Mand’alor, but as someone that had lived and learned side by side with them. They’d lost a great deal of beskar in abandoning the tunnels, but Din had it on good authority that the pieces that had been recovered were slowly being removed from Nevarro a few at a time, transported to the Armorer’s new forge location in secret. She wasn’t the only one skilled with the metal, but she was the only one Din trusted, and as angry as that seemed to make Bo-Katan, he refused to budge on who he allowed to touch the precious metal. It’s the right call. I… know where it is, and I know that she can’t… use it against me.

The woman hadn’t given him any outright reason to mistrust her, but her attitude toward him since he’d shown up with the Moff and Darksaber in tow had made him pause. Din’s circle of trust was small, and though she’d proven helpful, she hadn’t quite worked her way into it in the months they’d known each other. It bothered her much more than it bothered him, but he tried not to think about it. Especially when I could be … thinking about the kid. Din’s thoughts went to Grogu and Skywalker, the child’s reaction to seeing the droid that the man had with him, the way the doors closing behind the two of them had felt like someone was squeezing his chest, while at the same time, there’d be a small kernel of hope buried there. He’d kept it buried but hadn’t let it die, and with each report from the Jedi, the pressure had decreased slightly. He’s doing well, or … he was. He’s learning, he’s with his own … But Din’s thoughts were interrupted with the insistent beeping of the device, and he shot up in the bed, fingers still closed around the beskar sphere. He hadn’t expected the reply to come so soon, but knowing that the Jedi was on the other end of the line, he was more excited than nervous. Just want to know what … what he has to say. Din took a deep breath, making sure that the video switch was still off and then answered the call, taking another long, slow breath to calm himself. They’re too many parsecs away, there’s nothing to be worried about.

“Hello? Are -” The Jedi replied, and Din continued, wanting to get the conversation going before he had time to overthink it. “I didn’t think you’d call. I wasn’t -” But Skywalker spoke quickly, too, no pretense before reminding him that he had someone for the Mandalorian to talk to. However, at the revelation that that someone was female, Din felt his eyes narrow, head cocking to one side. What? He was determined to begin the conversation in control, and so without hesitation, he focused his eyes on the comm device, slipping into the voice he used with the people he was trying to get information from. “Tell me your name.” The first time he heard your voice - even though it was through a tiny speaker - Din was surprised by confidence in it, the way you replied back to him immediately. You answered his questions with honesty, at least as far as he could tell, and the longer the conversation went on, the more certain Din was that Skywalker knew him better than he’d thought. The kid… the kid probably… they must talk too. He smiled at the thought, absently scratching the cheek that Grogu had laid his hand on, but when you revealed that the kid snuck into your room at night, the Mandalorian had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from reacting audibly. Dank farrik. “I thought he had to complete his training before he leaves the Academy, before he can become a Jedi, so why are you -” You didn’t get to answer that, Skywalker interjecting with similar words to the ones from his initial transmission, and Din began thinking. He wanted to agree to seeing the kid, but instead of saying that, he heard another denial leaving his lips, only cut off by your words. “If he stays here, his attachment to you might change his life, Mandalorian.” It was another simple, straightforward sentence, but hearing it, another joly passed through Din’s body. Skywalker said something about attachment on the light cruiser. So did Ahsoka on Corvus. Din knew that they were attached to each other, that was more about simply caring for the kid, but hearing someone else - someone that had spent just as much time with Grogu as Din had saying the same thing finally got through to him. That, compounded with the admission that Grogo reenacted bounty hunts with you and the others at the Academy often had Din’s lips pressed tightly together, almost to the point of pain. He misses me. He thinks of me. But what really impacted him was hearing the word aliit come through the speaker, reaching his ears in your voice. She shouldn’t know Mando’a. Hearing that, it… Instead of replying directly to that, Din voiced another denial, head shaking back and forth and eyes squeezing shut. Seeing him would be … But with the rounded sphere still in his hand, Din’s eyes opened, brow furrowed. No, you know what? I want this. Why shouldn’t I?

If he’d thought about it, there were multiple reasons why reconnecting with Grogu was a bad idea, but he could only turn the Jedi - and you - down so many times before it became impossible - or, even worse, the refusals were accepted. There’s no one chasing him right now. There’s no more danger than usual for me. There’s…

Din blinked again at the revelation that the reunion could last months, asking who’d be escorting Grogu back to the Mandalorian, and another surprised huff left his lips as you admitted that it would be you. But that means… “Are you a Jedi?” He asked the question before he could stop himself, listening intently for your answer, and the following explanation.

She’s not a Jedi, but she does care about the kid. I … I hear it. I believe it. That surprised him, but Din didn’t want to second guess you. You’d been persuasive throughout the conversation, even before the admissions you’d made, honest instead of trying to pretend that you were something that you weren’t. Complicated? I wonder what … Instead of continuing that thought, Din’s attention snapped back to you and Skywalker, the details falling into place as the discussion continued. He’d have a week to get things in order, to contact Cara and Karga, arranging the arrival on Nevarro. He’d need at least a few days to convince Bo-Katan that leaving Mandalore for months was the right call. It is. He was still speaking to you and the Jedi, but Din’s mind was on everything that he needed to do to get ready to leave. I’ll need to start in the morning. The conversation wound down, and as Din reminded you that you’d need to be ready to leave and meet him in a week, you sighed, the sound loud, even through the speaker. “That’s fine, Mandalorian. More than fine.” You were being short with him, but it didn’t seem to because you wanted to be; you were doing what was best for the situation. She’s leaving her life there to come … here with him. He blinked, telling you that he looked forward to Nevarro, and then the conversation ended, the room going quiet.

His thoughts were on Grogu - whether or not he’d grown out of his robe, if he was speaking yet, if he was more confident with his power - but they were also on the trip itself, and on the fact that once again, he’d be going from being alone to having others with him. And this time, it’s not … short term.

It was longer than he’d ever hoped for, he realized as he lifted to sphere up and over his face, the smooth surface gleaming as the filtered moonlight coming in through the window hit it. I’ll finally get to give this back. He smiled at the thought, and for the first time in the year that he’d been separated from Grogu, Din fell asleep quickly, no dreams of the kid peering over the Jedi’s shoulder keeping him awake.

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Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @malionnes @deceiverofgodss @thisisparadisemylove @siegfriedkingsglaive @valkblue @hehe-oof @jynrumbly @psychedelic-star @nuttyenthusiastdetective @gingib @bitchylittleredhead @littlemissoblivious @misguidedandbeguiled @cannedsoupsucks

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

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How to Play as Teba AKA Birb Favouritism By Kip

This was too big to fit in an ask so here ya go anon!

A handsombe birb with a bow and a little patience, constantly in a power squat with enough spite to rival Ganon: Here’s your guide to the best main in Age of Calamity

Teba is so good he’s so fast and so quick like omfg holy shit those strong attack damage output fucking crowd control AND is faster than Revali and pretty much everyone else at breaking weak point gauges like holy FUCK man So don’t let the chaotic attacks fool you!

Considering you are here and asking yourself: How the fuck do I play as birb dad? You’ve probably encountered one of two problems that prevent you from taking advantage of him. 1) wth are these attacks is he even doing damage to this moblin??? I can’t comprehend these combos because I don’t know what is going on plz I just want to shoot arrows or 2) Where the fuck IS he I can’t fucking SEE anything?!?! where did he GO I’m getting motion sick

Well friend, here I am to help you with both of those problems to help you 1) Understand what the fuck is going on and 2) Find out where the fuck he came from, and where the fuck he go, cotton eye joe

His Y stream is straight forward, quite literally. You’ll notice very quickly that his attacks move his character forward, rather than being more still and stationary like Revali or Zelda(slate). I’m pretty sure his Y stream (as in, a pure Y combo with no X/strong attacks) has the furthest distance in the game, perhaps rivaled only by Riju. So basically, save your big Y combos for crowd control and NOT bosses like Moblins and the such. You don’t want to move your directional input too much, since his attacks have incredible distance and range already.

Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y: Sweep left, sweep right, charge forward, mid-air arrows forward, stomp land, large spiral forward, flash stomp to ground, to an ending backflip.

You can see the distance here, again, with no directional input at all. Just pressing Y.

So just remember that even though the attack looks very chaotic, it’s really just a big fat straight line.

In all honesty though, you could forget about his Y stream all together. Any benefit to them is basically trumped by his different combos which are superior in both one-on-one battles, and crowd control.

Technically on it’s own, Teba’s combos are just good. He’s got a wind stream here and a loop twirl there. But what makes his combos arguably one of the most powerful in the game, is this ability here

This is pretty much the single handedly the most powerful perk Teba has, and it’s not even his Unique Action! It’s slightly similar to Link’s additional X action, but better in everyway. One of the draw backs of many strong attack combos are the slower speed it takes to dish it out, but this perk basically makes that draw back obsolete. It not only gives you insane additional damage, but also doubles, if not triples the length of a combo. Not to mention that half his move set is in mid-air, so the longer your combo is, the more time you’re off the ground and not taking damage. Basically, this equals fast damage for as long a length of time as you want. So! Onto the specifics

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Y-X: Wind Stream. Functions essentially the same as a Y5 (spiral forward) combo, except slower. Its strength, however, lies in your additional X input, which puts you in mid air and allows you to do what I like to call an

Additional X: Arrow Pivot. You’ll know when you do it when the “Press X repeatedly” option comes up. And the end of his wind stream, Teba flies into the air and, with directional input, fires a barrage of and enemies below him up to a 360 degree movement. Final shot will be of a bomb arrow dealing additional AOE damage. You can spam the arrows for around 4 seconds in midair before it forces the bomb arrow finisher, but you can force it early by not pressing X or pressing B. In fact, for all future additional X inputs (I’ll be shortening that to AXs from now on) you can stop anytime you want but just pressing B to hover in the air. All his combos have the ability to lead into mid-air state, which can let you ride the wind and do more damage, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

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Y-Y-X: Bomb Arrows. Teba sweeps left to right before launching into the air to fire seven bomb arrows (with his LEGS BY THE WAY) in a wide area in front of him. Deals AOE damage, of course.

AX: Instead of immediately going to bomb arrows, Teba will rapidly fire normal arrows (at your X mashing input) and can (optionally) fly forward while doing so at your directional control. This is honestly his best combo in my opinion because it not only is the best for crowd control, but is also one of the quickest ways to deplete any weak point gauges. Just remember to keep him stationary and not fly forward if you’re doing one-on-one, as you might just accidentally fly away from your enemy

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Y-Y-Y-X: Wind Bomb. Not to be confused with the speed running strategy Teba hovers in mid air and fires one massive stream of wind with a bomb arrow. It’s trail also does damage and drags enemies. Deals a LOT of damage, I believe it’s his strongest?

AX: Instead of immediately firing the wind bomb, he will fire normal arrows, but still enhanced with the wind effect. You can control the direction of any of the arrows with the controller. The finisher will be the wind bomb. While this combo deals a LOT of damage (like two normal arrow streams can take out a solid chunk of weak point gauge) It’s the slowest attack in his arsenal. There’s a larger time between each arrow strike, and if you use the full AX combo it keeps him hovering in the air for like 5 seconds, which leaves Teba pretty vulnerable. If you’re using this attack, don’t bother waiting for the wind bomb finisher and end the attack early. So while it’s technically Teba’s “strongest” in terms of damage, I wouldn’t call it his best

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Y-Y-Y-Y-X: The Teba Tornado. Ok THIS is the move that has been ridiculed to death because of how chaotic it is. Teba basically swirls around in a circle and sucks any enemies into his little tornado, and then finishes with a gust of wind upwards

AX: Extends the time of the Teba Tornado, and control it’s direction, lasts for about 9-10 tornado swirls.

DO NOT and I repeat DO NOT LOCK ONTO AN ENEMY WITH THIS MOVE. You will DIE of motion sickness, probably. Ok I mean, you could lock onto an enemy, but that’s not what this move is for. It’s intent is for gathering huge swarms of enemies into one place. The camera zooms out for a reason! It’s great for crowd control, but terrible for one-on-one. Control the movement of the tornado by moving based on the “eye” of the tornado, and not based on where Teba’s character actually is. I still stand by the fact that YYAX combo is superior, as it has better control and is much faster, but hey, this move aint all that bad once you learn how to use it

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Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X and Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X: Arrow Strike. This is the only combo that forces you into the AX “Press X repeatedly” state. Teba does his little Y stream thing, before launching high into the air, where you are then given a circle. Move the circle around while rapidly pressing X to fire arrows wherever you choose. Ends with a bomb arrow

Note that this attack will basically make Teba invincible. This is his highest attack, and even mid air attacks won’t reach him in this state. It’s also the longest lasting combo, giving you about 7 seconds to deal as much damage as you wish. Take full advantage of this. Excellent for weak point gauges, but the set up Y attacks do take time, so make sure to use stasis.

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Dash-Y: Small AOE stomp. Nothing to write home about, not that much damage. Just your average set up for the combos that will actually do damage

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Dash-X: Flips over enemies and fires arrows before continuing forward. Honestly looks pretty badass, similar to that backflip Revali does when he was about to assassinate Link. Anyhow, good for when you just want to kill something small but have places to be so it keeps your momentum forward.

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X/AX: Fires arrows high into the air. After some time, the arrows will rain back down in front of you in an amount dependent on how badly you mashed X. (Note that the arrows will always land in front of you, so if you shoot off the arrows in one direction, but then turn around in another direction, the arrows will still land in front of Teba) Ends with bomb arrows. Pretty good if you want to stack the damage with a timed combo. Also automatically strikes onto big enemies if you’ve locked onto them. Good for one-on-ones but don’t rely on it solely.

A really good thing about Teba’s strong combos is that ALL of them are mid-air, meaning you can instantly continue any combo with your aerial attacks. As usual, your aerial combo is just Y-Y-Y-X

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Aerial Y: Fires arrows in front of you. You can press Y up to three times before you’re forced into the ground

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Aerial X: Teba stomps onto the ground with his talons with the aide of a gust of wind. Deals AOE.

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Special Attack: Teba gives a thumbs up of encouragement before murdering everything in his line of sight. (Damages enemies in a direct line in front of him, plus AOE)

So that’s all of Teba’s attacks. Teba’s combos are really fast with that AX damage. A good stasis plus a barrage of YYX will guarentee you a weak point break, and even if you’re slow on it, just tacking on the aerial combo will definetly break it, or at least deal headshot damage cause again, everything is midair.

Speaking of stasis, here be the Sheikah Rune set, which is ALSO arguably the best in the game.

Stasis: Upon activation, little crosshairs will appear on your screen. Use the controller or motion controls to highlight as many enemies as you wish, and when you press X to activate, all will be stasised. Not only is this overpowered considering you can stasis as many enemies as you wish, but you also can automatically head into a combo as there is no attack animation that you need to dash cancel out of. It is also the longest lasting stasis in the game.

Cryonis: ITS A FREE FORCEFIELD! Unlike other characters, this doesn’t spawn a usable cryonis block for you to jump off of (because *stares at Teba’s pretty much pure mid-air move set* he doesn’t need it) but instead, spawns three ice blocks that encircle you. I know that it might seem like you have to position yourself so that you have to wait until the block goes directly in front of you for it to properly counter, but don’t worry. It’ll counter all cryonis weak attacks, (by EXPLODING >:D) even if it looks like an enemy is striking you in the gap between the blocks.

This is the quickest cryonis spawn in the game, capable of countering enemies even the singular second before they hit you with their cryonis weak attack. But other than countering those ice attacks, doesn’t do anything. Still pretty great though!

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Bombs: Teba gets a fancy Sheikah Bow, launches into mid air, and you can aim with the controller/motion to launch a powerful bomb at an enemy/horde. It is guaranteed to expose an enemy weak point gauge, regardless of whether the enemy is using it’s specific bomb counter attack. Like the Y5X combo, this positions Teba at the highest point in the air, making him immune to damage. SO not only is this a good rune for great damage and countering, it’s also a quick dodge for if you’re in a lick of trouble. You can move out of this rune into an aerial combo/riding the wind as well.

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Magnesis: eh. It’s there. It counters weapons. It does its job. If your enemies have metal weapons it makes a little magnet storm. I was too lazy to bother getting a group of enemies with metal weapons because I killed them all with one Y sweep and didn’t feel like restarting the level. It’s magnesis. What do ya want from me. Nothings gonna rivals Slate Zelda’s magnesis combo anyhow.

And last but not least, Unique Action! Teba can charge up his bow with ZR to deal arrow attacks that get stronger the more you charge. There are four stages indicated by a little “ding!” and also the visuals showing wind forming around Teba.

Charge one: Fires three arrows. Pretty basic, although it has a longer range than a normal attack

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Charge two: Fires five arrows, again with a large distance and higher damage than a usual Y attack

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Charge three: Fires a LOT of arrows covering 180 degrees in front of Teba. Very good for clearing out crowds if you couldn’t tell

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Charge four: Fires 180 degrees of bomb arrows, as well as bomb arrows into the air AS WELL as bombarding the battle field with bomb arrows from above for the next 8-10 seconds or so.

Charge four is really what you’re looking for, although three isn’t so bad either. But there really is no excuse to not use Charge four because Teba’s Unique Action can charge at any time. So long as you’re holding ZR, whether you’re in the middle of a combo, doing aerials, blocking, running away-- the attack will be charging. And you can hold it for as long as you wish. Charge four is very very very good so always be holding down that ZR and releasing it and recharging and re-releasing. You can’t be damaged by your own explosions and you really have nothing to lose.

SO what now? Well know that you fully understand what my birb dad is capable off, here’s what to stick to.

If you got a giant horde of bokoblins or something, just us a Y-Y-AX and go ham. It’s like a giant broom that sweeps the battlefield, doing a lot of damage.

Stasis is your friend and your best friend and your only friend. IF you’re fighting two bosses, it’s in your best interest to use stasis to halt both of them and more. Use stasis during weak point gauges to lengthen your time which, combined with Teba’s AX attack speed, with guarantee you a break pretty much every time you use it

Even if you don’t stasis during a weak point break, stasised enemies are a good enough time to use that YYYX combo as even though it’s more vulnerable and slow as I said, when you have the ability to stasis all of your enemies, it’s as good a time as enemies to deal that big damage.

Don’t use your Charge four on stasised enemies. I mean, you can, but it’s really better for when you’re in the middle fo battle, clearing the battle field, and dealing damage even while you’re dodging.

Don’t lock onto enemies. It just makes it easier all around. Teba like to move, let the birb move. Don’t limit him to the bird cage of the focused camera movement, it’s just easier for everyone to move the camera manually. You can snap it on and off just to focus if you want. But personal experience says it’s easier just to learn how to move the camera you lazy bum

Bomb rune is very good. It’s a free weak point stun, and a free dodge. Use it

When breaking weak point, just use the YYX combo. Yes, the Y5X is good, but honestly they’ll both get the job done, so might as well do the quicker combo and save Y5X for crowd clearing. Besides, even if your YYX doesn’t immediately clear the guage (becuase you’re SLOW at button mashing for some reason) you can continue with an aerial combo

Ending a combo and letting the final animation fully finish will drop you to the ground. Don’t. Let the final animation finish and then immediately press B, or B cancel before the final attack starts. This is because you suck on the ground cause you’re a bird. Pressing B allows you to automatically go into glide state/”ride the wind”, giving you better time to glide away to safety, or lead into an aerial combo

Your unique action charge attack can be fired even in mid air. Note that weak point smashes, special attacks, and runes will cancel any charges you make

My personal favourite combo for levels are using stasis, YYX sweep for damage, then while stasis is still going, charging and releasing a Charge Four arrow, then finish by setting up a 5YX combo. That pretty much clears all hordes, then just stasis a boss’ gauge, hold ZR while I do a YYX plus aerial, boss is stunned, use the Charge Four arrow, fall back and do some normal X attack or Ys, then finish off with the weak point.

For his seals, I’d say invest in mid-air attack damage, strong attack damage, or attack speed.

Teba’s final Falcon Bow seal bonuses are:

Midair attack damage (Star)

Damage to foes with status effects (Star) [this is pretty useless ngl]

So I’d say stick with mid-air attack just to get the seal bonus, but don’t put all four as it, as it’ll just waste a seal slot as there’s no bonus for 5 of the same seal. So I say 3 mid-air attack, and 1 strong attack damage. But then again it’s all up for preference! 3 strong attacks plus a single star seal isn’t gonna be a bad match either

Pretty much the most powerful thing about Teba is his ability to smash a weak point pretty much the instant an enemy is down. So use his stasis and combos often.

Although obvious his general crowd control is pretty great too! He’s jut a really well rounded character that is pretty broken and honestly rivals Impa imo

The more arrows on screen, the more chance that fps may tank...just saying. BUT! It’s not really to a rate that’s that detrimental to the experience of playing as him. Just goes to show how overpower he can be if you push yourself enough

Congrats! You have learned the ways of the bird. Now get out of my face, I’m in the mood to post more Teba gameplay....

#i spent three hours on this plz appreciate the birb dad #hwaoc spoilers #hwaoc #age of calamity #hw age of calamity #hyrule warriors age of calamity #teba

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erinhime83 · 3 years ago

Photo

Since APPARENTLY I did the designs all wrong (I won’t lie - doing my own design of Evangelia was sort of a thinly veiled attempted to get @callistochan87 to redesign her herself. >.>), I figured I’d make it my life mission this week to go through and, like, fix them. Partially because in my fuming about finding out that two of the people were talking about this behind my back, I kept giving myself ideas. >.<

I am pleasantly pleased with the design that @callistochan87 did for Evania/Evangelia, although I’m worried how much is actually influenced by my design and how much she actually decided to do on her own. *shrug* I just like the simplicity of it and how it does make her look like a goddess. I kept forgetting to add in the pieces in front of her ears, lol.

Antigonus I did fiddle with a little bit. Mostly, @callistochan87 mentioned that she thought it was funny having this super old guy traveling with a bunch of teenagers, and she wondered why I didn’t just...make someone new. Well, mostly because I didn’t want to, and mostly because when she did create someone new when I decided the Guides were supposed to be younger, it felt...wrong.

SO, I decided to age him down a little. Which I suppose sort of defeats the purpose of @callistochan87 creating another character when I wanted to do the same, but ignore that. He basically has the same backstory - he was the youngest Guide of the previous generation. He’s the heir of the empire, being the Emperor’s nephew, and now that his Guide duties are over, he’s preparing to take over the Empire. EXCEPT, the idiot new Guide managed to get himself killed, so Antigonus is temporarily taking over the duties as they try to find someone else to take over. BUT THEN GUESS WHAT? He’s about 35, so while he’s old, he’s not stupidly older than than, and is sort of more of a chaperone than anything else.

His outfit come from an old one @callistochan87 designed, and I figure it’s just, like, a traveling outfit? idk

Freyja...omg, Freyja. She caused most of my strife. Like, I honestly didn’t change THAT MUCH of her design, just sort of little piddly stuff to make it look more visually appealing, but APPARENTLY, that was still bad. I stewed and hemmed and hawed on this for quite a while, annoyed before it hit me - this is a a redesign. Shizuka sort of went back to her roots. Why couldn’t Freyja as well?

(And yes, I realize I was in the wrong, but like I said, I hadn’t changed her that much from her last design, and, well, these were done years ago so I sort of...forgot that she didn’t originally look like that. >.<)

And I figured, ya know, since I had minorly changed Freyja and she didn’t like that, I had better change Desiree, too, because I drastically changed her. I don’t care what @swankifiedcos says about this one, I am IN LOVE with her outfit. <3 Her hair, though, was inspired by a recent picture of @swankifiedcos of her hair between dye jobs where it was pink at the tips and she looked SO PRETTY. Sure, Desiree is brunette, not blond, but I like that look on her so much I wanted to recreate it somewhat, and she looks so nice!

Frejya, well, I did sort of tweek her design slightly to what @callistochan87 did, mostly giving her cold shoulder sleeves as a sort of call back to her old sleeves. I won’t lie - I did attempt to do them again and failed spectacularly. Sorry. But apparently she approves of this sleeve, so that’s...one less problem for me to deal with. XD Just so you know, I gave her hearts rather than flowers merely because I can’t draw flowers. Consider it a style thing. Like, in reality, she has flowers, but i just draw them as hearts. I am SHOCKED that I was able to make the feathers as nice as I did, though! This look makes SO MUCH more sense than the way we used to draw it. Me likely.

(Also, you might be thinking that she’s still wearing the pants. I originally indended that, with the thought that she comes from a cold kindgom, but then decided they’re actually shorts that she ended up added to her outfit for modesty sake, much like Sethos did with his shirt. :P)

I really wanted to redo Nannin’s outfit as well, but I’m sorry - I’m lazy, and her original outfit is both too detailed and too simple. So I just made her top layer a darker pink, and I like it better. Also made her a blond again with the idea that the people of Melohdia like like normal ass humans, and the Chosen have colored hair, and the Guides have unnatural colored eyes, which is how people can tell they’re Guides.

Geoffrey (I’m thinking of renaming him Geauffery, because that’s how I prenounce it in my head) over there gets a new design as well because I didn’t care for his other one. >.< Also, decided, as much as I like the name Dimitri Kaminiski, I;m going to go ahead and make him Owen again. Mostly because he’s sort of shifted more into being Owen. I was sort of going with this old look while making it look a little more medieval, and I like it. I also decided he’s not a soothsayer, but rather a magician.mage.

Which is sort of similar to Evangelia’s power, but not quite. She uses the power of miracles, whereas he uses actual magic. Its sort of like how Shizuka and Freyja’s power is similar, but Frejya’s is a little weaker. (Shizuka has mastery over all weapons, whereas Freyja just has mastery over bludgeoning people with a huge ass axe. But she has the benefit of also having magic, whereas Shizuka can just use some fire magic.)

The next design is where it get all long and involved. Basically as I was stewing about having my feelings hurt and how I was going to hide everything in my annoyance, I THINK I was briefly reminded of the last time I screwed up and within that instance a brilliant idea came to me, mostly because I needed more villains.

I remember I really like Astrid’s design, but looking back, I’m sort of confused as to why? It doesn’t look at all better than Freyja’s. >.< Anyway, the thought is simple - when the Chosen are originally yanked into Melohdia, Nuncio replaces one of them with one of his own that would be easily manipulated. Why Freyja, you ask? Plot reasons, since it does help explain the whole Nannin thing a lot better. The thing is, though, that Ariadne and Atalo sort of find out and drag Freyja in as well, except she ends up in Baldernan rather than Azibo with the rest of the Chosen.

So the Chosen are in Azibo thinking Astrid is one of them, except they don’t really vibe with her that well. They just figure it’s because they can’t like everyone, and ignore it. Astrid herself doesn’t really suspect anything. But then they travel to Baldurnan and find Freyja there, who they do vibe with very well, and they find out that Astrid is a fake.

Which would be all fine and well. Even Freyja’s willing to give the girl a chance because, hey, it’s not her fault she was falsely brought into this world with no purpose. Except Astrid is a spoiled bitch and takes it as an affront that they would even want to include Freyja at all. So she just sort of runs off and Nuncio catches up to her, and convinces her that she’s the real one, and and she goes around antagonizing the group from time to time. They think she’s in league with Atalo at first until they find out of the truth.

NEW IDEA. I actually had this very vague idea while musing around, but @callistochan87 had another idea that was similar enough that I can change things to make it work WAY better. So, the new idea is mostly that Nuncio pulls Astrid into Melohdia way before the others. The people are rather confused, certainly, but it’s not 100% unheard of one Chosen being brought over. So she’s treated like something of a god and spoiled further, and Nuncio pretty much convinces her that she’s the soul savior of Melohdia. He assigns Thor to be her Guide, although he’s just some Random Dude (because I decided that matching genders to the Chosen is sort of weird, so Nannin is a full Guide now).

BUT Ariadne and Atalo end up pulling the REAL Chosen a month or so later, which REALLY pull the people for a loop, and they realize that Astrid is a fake once they realize that Thor isn’t a real Guide and that Nannin claims Freyja. The group attempts to assimilate Astrid in with them, because they realize it’s not HER fault all this happened, but since she’s a fake Chosen AND a narcissistic bitch, they end up not viving all that well, and she ends up running away in anger and embarrassment.

Nuncio sort of blames the whole thing on Atalo somehow, since the people forgot that Ariadne is the only one who can pull true Chosen into the world, mostly to save face.

Astrid and Thor do end up joining with Atalo for a little bit, because he’s trying to be sympathetic to her as well, but their goals aren’t really the same. She does prove to be a major threat to the group because she DOES have the power of a Chosen, although they’re sort of weak.

Her real name is Katelyn Davis, and she’s pretty much the opposite of the other Chosen. She’s a complete social butterfly, the sort to think the world revolves around her. She’s not happy unless she’s around people, whereas the other Chosen are pretty much introverted and would prefer to keep to themselves.

Her Guide’s name is Thor (I keep calling him that in my head, I think because of Frejya being named after a god), and he is, in fact, a true Guide. It’s just that he’s not a very good one, nor is he a good person. He’s a bandit and delights in the misfortunes of others. The other Guides avoided him at all costs, and wasn’t sure why he was chosen to be a Guide. He goes off with Astrid after they kick him out of the group when Freyja chooses Nannin over him. (The two of them became close in the month Frejya was stuck there on her own, so of course she’d want to have her stay with her.)

The last picture was just me giving them their original hair colors just for the hell of it, and now I’m torn. >.< Because I like these as well. I mean, I like the idea of the colored hair being how you can tell they’re the Chosen, BUT I also, you know, like the original colors BECAUSE they are the original colors. >.<

#original charcters #designs #mi #evangelia #antigonus #frejya #nannin #geoffery #alden #astrid #thor

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max-is-tired · 4 years ago

Text

They can tell you that it’s righteous

Fandom: Dream SMP

Prompt: Kidnapping ( @badthingshappenbingo )

A/N: Aaand I’m back on my writing bullshit, let’s go. I started plotting this fic back in January, so it only follows canon up until Doomsday/Techno and Phil finding the portal room, but at least it’s finally done!

Obligatory tags of people who asked: @deadonmercury @littlecatninja

Warnings: hostage situation, blood, violence, mention of skin melting off, antagonist Quackity, drowning, temporary character death (gotta love respawning), near death experience, beheading.

Read on AO3!!

It had started like such a good day for Ranboo. The sun was shining bright in the sky, the SMP seemed to be at relative peace for once, and there were plenty of grass blocks lying around and waiting to be picked up. So yeah, great day!

Ranboo knew this peace probably wouldn't last long, not with these lands' track record of starting conflicts and trying to kill people on a weekly basis. But when the afternoon rolled around and random explosions had yet to start filling the sky with smoke, the hybrid felt pretty confident that, at least for that day, things were looking up.

The problem was that, by thinking on those lines, Ranboo ended up forgetting the most important rule of the server, the one rule he'd promised himself he would not break, no matter what.

Never, ever lower your guard, especially in times of peace.

He didn't even notice the person sneaking up on him until the very last second. One moment, he was crouching down, happily patting the grass block he'd just placed on the ground and the next, there was a shadow looming over him, the familiar shape of small, feathered wings being the only thing he managed to discern before a sudden, excruciating pain in the back of his head made his vision go white.

Ranboo groaned, stumbling on the ground while his vision wobbled and filled with dark spots. Dark, dirty sneakers stopped just in front of his head, but try as he might, the hybrid couldn't bring himself to move his head enough to look up, the mere thought of it making him wince.

"Sorry Ranboo, nothing personal," a familiar voice muttered, drawing a confused whine out of the kid. After that, everything went black.

+++

Technoblade had been feeling on edge all day -which, by itself, wasn't such a strange occurrence. Being on edge was a given for him, what with the voices in his head constantly chanting for blood and half of the server seemingly having a personal vendetta against him.

Listen, okay, he did blow up their precious country -but only after they decided that a corrupt government was the way to go and, you know, tracked him down while he was in retirement to try and execute him. He felt like the retaliation was kind of deserved.

Still, Techno didn't give much weight to the feeling. He'd learned to never let his guard down after the butcher army, and if someone decided to be stupid enough to attack him in his own home, they'd have to deal with him, Philza, and the small army of hounds living in the pen outside, plus the polar bears. The entirety of the SMP could attack them and he'd be able to at least hold them off enough to get away.

So, Techno spent most of the day chilling, for once, sitting on his couch with a book and Steve curled up nearby while Phil worked on some blueprints for a project of his.

"You keep that up, you're going to end up building a whole city down in that abandoned fortress," he commented, huffing in amusement as the older looked up from the table to glare at him.

"Oh, you shut up," Phil retorted, pointing at him with the quill in his hand. "Do you want the syndicate room to look decent or not? Because if you prefer I can just wing it-" chat cackled at the unintentional pun, much to Techno's dismay- "and have it turn out whatever."

Techno squinted at his friend. "You wouldn't."

"You sure about that, mate?" Phil grinned back, the picture of innocence. Which, when it came to him, meant he absolutely would, the fucker.

"Alright, alright," Techno huffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "leave the old man to his planning, got it."

Phil snorted, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "Now you listen here, you little shit-"

The sound of tapping on glass distracted them from the discussion, attracting their attention to the kitchen window. There, perched on the windowsill, stood one of Phil's crows, holding something in its beak.

After exchanging a curious glance with Techno, the older went to retrieve the bird, opening the window enough to let it hop in. Giving the crow a few pats on the head, he reached for the object, raising an eyebrow when he realized it was, in fact, a folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, Techno watched as Phil opened the message, his eyes quickly scanning the paper before widening slightly in alarm. Well, that wasn't good.

"Mate, I think you might want to take a look at this," Phil called, urgency obvious in his voice and that really, really wasn't good.

Techno sighed, slipping the bookmark back in his book before standing up. Guess he could say goodbye to his plans for a chill afternoon.

Hello, Technoblade,

heard you guys took in a little stray -should have known, traitors tend to stick together, don't they? Well, jokes on you, I've got him now. Get to the coordinates listed at the bottom of this note, alone and unarmed, before sundown, or Ranboo gets it. An eye for an eye, that's how the saying goes, right?

See you soon,

+++

Techno had been already halfway out of the house the second he finished reading the note, Phil hot on his heels.

"I'm not letting you go alone," the older stated, already reaching for his coat.

"Well, you'll have to," Techno countered.

"You can't go in without backup, especially unarmed and not knowing what to expect!"

"Oh trust me, I'll be anything but unarmed," Techno huffed, letting the axe Ranboo had gifted him slide in his inventory. "I can use the element of surprise, I'll be fine. But the second Quackity sees you, Ranboo is going to be in hot shit, and we don't even know where he's keeping him."

Phil glared, his lips pursed in a displeased frown before sighing in defeat. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Techno sent him an apologetic glance, quickly fastening his coat on before stepping down the porch.

"I'll keep my communicator on the whole time," he promised, walking towards the stasis chamber and reaching for one of his ender pearls, "I'll get there, grab Ranboo, kill Quackity if I can and the second I text you you're gonna teleport us back."

"Sounds like a plan," Philza sighed. "Be careful, okay mate?"

"When am I ever not?" Techno smirked. "we'll be back before you know it, old man."

"Fuck off and go save our neighbor, you ass!"

Techno cackled, shaking his head as he set off towards the Nether portal.

Save Ranboo!

Protectiveblade

Blood for the blood god

Techno shook his head, pushing the voices back as he forced himself to keep a clear head. He was pissed, sure, but he knew men like Quackity -he'd met a lot of them in his life, and all of them had fallen under his sword. He would be no different.

The Nether travel didn't take that long, and after that, all he had to do was follow his compass towards the coordinates he'd been given. Techno found himself feeling glad the place wasn't all too far away, seeing how the sun had just started dipping below the horizon when he finally stepped out of the forest.

"Man, look who is here, our guest of honor!" Quackity exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at him. "Technoblade, how nice of you to join us, I was starting to think you wouldn't come, after all."

Distantly, Techno could hear the ocean waves crashing against the rocks under them, the occasional droplets of water reaching the top of the cliff they were currently on. Quackity was standing just near the edge, gusts of wind ruffling the feathers of his duck wings and trying to slip the beanie off his head -all it would take was a misstep, a small push, and he would plummet towards the unforgiving water below.

But what actually got the piglin's attention was the small structure he could see just behind the man, a small, locked cage rigged with redstone dangling well over the edge and above the crashing waves. And just inside of it, slumped against the metal bars, laid an unconscious Ranboo, left with no armor on but his clothes.

"What did you do to him," he demanded, not even bothering to tear his gaze away from the cage that reminded him too much of the day the butcher army had come for him.

"Ah, watch your tone, Blade," Quackity tutted, a smirk evident in his voice, "all I need is pull this lever, and the kid falls down into the ocean. I heard he doesn't do well in water without his armor… we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Techno snapped his head towards Quackity, baring his tusks in a silent threat.

"I'm here, I followed your stupid directions," he growled, barely able to keep himself from cutting Quackity's head clean off like the voices wanted him to, "now let Ranboo go."

The duck hybrid tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion. "And why would I do that, Technoblade? He's a traitor, he needs to be punished as one."

"A traitor to what?!" Techno asked, bewildered. "L'Manburg is gone, Quackity!"

"And whose fault is that?!" Quackity shouted. "Uh? Remind me, oh great Technoblade, who here razed an entire country to the ground not once, but fucking twice? Please, enlighten me!"

"Government corrupts," Techno answered, his voice low and dangerous, "L'Manburg was rotten to its core, look at what it did to you, to Tubbo, to Tommy! It needed to go."

Quackity laughed, throwing his head back as the wind kept howling around them.

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned, throwing his arms open. "Well, that's my old home you're talking about. And if it was rotten, well, then so am I."

Before Techno could even react, Quackity reached to his side, wrapping his hand around the lever connected to the redstone of the cage. And then, still grinning from ear to ear, he pulled.

"Ranboo!" Techno shouted, watching helplessly as the kid plummeted down towards the ocean water. Quackity's laughter mixed with the howling wind, crazed and high-pitched and making Techno's blood boil.

Ruby red eyes settled on the laughing man, filling with bloodlust as the familiar weight of an axe appeared in his hand.

The voices were growing louder by the second, feeding on his fury and chanting for blood. And this time, Technoblade didn't bother holding them back.

+++

Ranboo woke up to muffled voices, yelling from somewhere in front of him. He didn't know what was happening, or where he was -the voices were somewhat familiar, yes, but he couldn't place them for the life of him and as it was, he could barely even catch a word every four, with how loud the wind was.

Normally, something like this wouldn't have failed to send him spiraling into a panic -he hated not knowing, not being aware of his own surroundings or how he got there in the first place. But his brain felt fuzzy, off-kilter, the only thing he could focus on being the dull throbbing coming from the back of his head. Ender, it hurt.

Fighting down a small whine, Ranboo pried his eyes open, pushing against the sluggishness to try and at least make some sense out of the situation he'd found himself in. His vision was fuzzy, but he could somewhat make out two figures standing somewhere in front of him.

One was standing with his back on him, decked in the familiar iridescent purple of an enchanted netherite armor. The other was a little farther away, enough so that to Ranboo, they looked like nothing more than a blurred blob of amassed colors. Pink was very prominent, followed by something red flowing on their back -they felt familiar, safe, causing Ranboo to relax almost on instinct.

"Technoblade...?" he slurred, confused. What was Techno doing there? They weren't in the Antarctic, there was no snow around them.

Before he could properly think of a reason, however, Ranboo felt the floor suddenly disappear from under him, fear shooting up his spine as he started plummeting down into the abyss. He didn't even have the time to make a sound before something dark and cold enveloped him, shocking him awake as he got twirled and smacked around.

A few seconds of shocked bliss passed, and then everything started burning.

It felt like he'd fallen in a pit of fire, the flames licking at every ounce of his skin as if trying to melt it directly off his body. Ranboo opened his mouth, trying to scream as the pain overwhelmed him in the worst way possible, only for something to fill his mouth and throat, choking him and only strengthening his growing panic.

He was going to die. He was going to die, alone in this darkness, he needed to get out, out, out-

Ranboo crashed on the hard, unforgiving ground, coughing harshly as water rushed out of his airways. Cold, frigid air hit his skin, soothing the burns and making the pain a little more bearable. He could breathe. He could breathe.

Ranboo slumped to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his racing heartbeat under control. He had to fight even just to keep his eyes open, exhaustion weighing him down until he could barely move his head, let alone think about standing up.

A white, furry snout filled his vision, curiously sniffing at his face. Ranboo blinked, a startled sound escaping his lips. The dog blinked back, tilting its head to the side.

"What…?" he whispered, wincing at how hoarse his voice came out. Ender, his throat hurt.

Another snout appeared above his head. And then another, and another, the sound of barking finally reaching his ears. Where- where was he, exactly?

Before he could try and come up with an answer, Ranboo heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a sharp gasp and hurried footsteps.

"Ranboo?"

The hybrid squinted in confusion, immediately recognizing the voice.

"Phil?"

+++

No matter what tricks he might have had up his sleeve, Quackity couldn't stand a chance against an angry, vengeful Technoblade. It took him barely minutes to sink his axe through the other's neck, slicing his head clean off and sending it rolling on the ground under their feet. Techno barely watched as the lifeless body slumped down, ignoring his communicator vibrating with the death message as he raced to the cliff. He knew, he knew there was no way Ranboo had survived a fall like that, but he had to check, had to make sure.

Crashing waves and wet, glistening rocks were the only things staring back, destroying whatever hope he might have had. Someone more impulsive would have jumped off, in a desperate hope to find the kid still struggling against the current, but Techno knew better.

The ocean was unforgiving, and for someone like Ranboo, even more so.

He sighed, stepping back from the edge and turning around. Quackity's body wasn't there anymore, having disappeared as the respawn mechanics worked their magic -if the man was smart, he wouldn't dare bother Techno again, not unless he wanted to lose his last life and find out how permadeath felt like.

In theory, Techno knew that Ranboo's death wasn't permanent. The kid still had all of his lives, at least before this, and the SMP would bring him back soon enough. Respawning sucked, though -it left you aching and in pain for days on end as your body stitched itself back together after whatever trauma had taken away one of your lives. It was a painful process, gruesome at times, and one Techno wished Ranboo didn't have to go through.

Especially not when it was his fault.

Ignoring the guilt pooling heavily in his gut, Technoblade reached for his communicator, intending to text Phil to bring him back. As it turned out, however, his friend had beat him to it, blowing up his notifications with hurried messages. Guilt now replaced with worry, Techno tapped the screen, reading through the chat.

[Philza] Techno

[Philza] Techno what the fuck

[Philza] Ranboo is here, he's in the dog pen

[Philza] Jesus christ he's covered in burns what the fuck happened

[Philza] Technoblade you better answer your fucking communicator right now or so help me god I will fly there, find you, and drag your ass home myself

[Philza] I saw the kill message where the fuck are you

Techno blinked, staring at the messages with wide eyes. What?

[Philza] Techno, I know you're reading these, answer me right now

[Technoblade] im omw

+++

When Techno slammed the door of his cabin open, he didn't know what he was expecting. A dead body in the middle of respawning, maybe, with Phil watching over it like a silent guardian angel.

He certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on Phil wrapping gauze around what looked like the entirety of Ranboo's body, the bandages visible for the world to see with the simple shirt and pants the kid was now wearing.

Techno barely spared a glance to the pile of soaked clothes lying on his floor, raking his eyes over the enderman hybrid as he tried to work the surprise out of his system. Fine is the farthest adjective the piglin would use to describe Ranboo right at that moment, seeing how his entire body was covered in gauze and he was holding a pack of ice to the back of his head, but he was alive and breathing and for once in his life, Techno had no fucking clue about how that was possible.

"Fucking hell, kid," he groaned, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he trudged inside the house. "You'll give me a heart attack, one of these days."

Ranboo winced as Technoblade slumped on the couch, still a little dazed from the hit to his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, breaking into a coughing fit immediately after.

"Don't force your throat, mate, you gotta let it rest," Phil scolded gently, sending Techno a small glare. "We're just glad you're okay -or, well, as okay as you can be right now."

Ranboo hesitantly looked up, looking at Philza and then at Techno. The piglin nodded in silent agreement and watched as the kid seemed to slump on himself in relief, the tension leaving his body at once. Was it really that surprising, that they'd grown to care for him enough to be worried about his well-being?

The two men exchanged a worried glance, silent words passing between them. Then, Phil nodded to himself, tying up the last of the gauze around Ranboo's forearm before heading to the kitchen.

"How do you guys feel about some tea?" he asked, pulling down a kettle and three mugs. "I'd say we could all do with something warm right now."

Techno made a noise of affirmation, watching with amusement as Ranboo snorted and nodded in agreement.

Maybe things weren't okay just yet, but this? This was a start.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #ranboo #technoblade #philza #philza minecraft #quackity #blood #temporary character death #near death experience #antagonist quackity #protective technoblade #angst with a happy ending #bad things happen bingo #maxiswriting

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