#he is a Perfect Soldier - a weapon built for his country

[radley-writes]

Just -

Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; never man Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, We have a power on foot; and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing.

Modern translation: yo Coriolanus I know we've tried to kill each other multiple times but, like, I'm totally horn for you and dtf <3

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend (1.6k words part 4)

Summary: Valeria breaks into the headquarters of the Mexican Army in search of her wife.

TW: implied sexual violence, violence more generally (and Google Translated Mexican Spanish)

Note: I'm back from my home country y'all and free to write gay fanfiction once again. I'm working on the next part ASAP but I wanted to post this because you guys have been waiting forever. Thank you for all the lovely comments and the interactions!! means a lot to me that you guys enjoy reading this :>

Link to A03 Link to part 1, part 2, part 3. Next part: part 5

'Army soldier' was more than a type of occupation, more than any other job title; it was a lifestyle. It is truly a different way of life, a way of life that most people are simply not built for. A soldier's form - their straight back, their way of taking in the world around them within a second, their way of assessing everything as either hostile or neutral, their battlefield instinct - it all became an inseparable part of who they are. There is a certain instinct that gets drilled into soldiers, the instinct to act immediately and fast. The instinct to not think twice about running into danger. It is triggered immediately and triggered intensely. So when the emergency siren at the Mexican Army Headquarters wailed, the whole place came alive. No time was wasted before troops placed themselves in position. Snipers grabbed their rifles and headed for the rooftops, Captains and sergeants tuned into their mics, barking orders to their subordinates, assembling their troops as quickly as possible. Guards ran to their posts and pilots rushed to where their aircraft were getting readied by flying personnel, prepared to take off to gain an advantage in the airfield and a much-needed vantage point of what was happening. The armoury opened as many hands reached within for ammo and other equipment.

From the outside, it was a perfect scene of military efficiency and readiness. But from the inside, anxiety bubbled, threatening to cut loose.

"Why did this have to happen today of all days?" A soldier grumbled as he tightened his weapon belt.

"Someone planned this. It's the most popular day for annual leave," another responded as he grabbed his shoes.

"Dia de los Muertos," the first one said, his voice low and grim.

The Day of the Dead. Celebrated annually around November 1st but spanning over the course of multiple days. A day of celebration for life and death, a day to pay respects to those who have passed on. A time of parades on squares and community gatherings, with crowds of people in traditional costumes and painted faces taking to the streets to rejoice with others. A time when many troops were stationed outside the headquarters for public safety. A time, therefore, of relatively little staff being left behind to man the fort.

It was so perfect, Valeria almost giggled as she withdrew her knife from someone's body and let them drop to the floor.

She had infiltrated the headquarters from the underground tunnels that connected to some fields further out, which were created to be used in emergencies but had been long forgotten over the years. These were the same tunnels she took many years back when she wanted to see you on a day that she hadn't booked off. She would wait until most of the barracks were asleep before slipping away in the shadows, passing the guards and quietly unscrewing the lid that separated the tunnels from the world above ground. It was even more exciting once she taught you when and where to wait for her, at the end of the tunnel, among greenery and orange trees. Among the fields that you would lay on for the rest of the night underneath your blanket, touching each other's bodies and talking to the stars. Whispering how badly you'd missed each other, hearing the hum of insects in between short gasps and warm moans. Now, she had unscrewed these same lids and stabbed the person in front of her, dragging them out and passing the body along to the staff that followed her. They dumped the body back in the fields. Part of her found it annoying that these tunnels were always standing between her and her wife. And yet there was some charm, too. Travelling the bowels of the Earth for her love.

Having officially stepped on ground owned by the Mexican Army, El Sin Nombre and her people spread like a virus, taking down certain key spots and hiding bodies. Not enough damage to create immediate alarm, but good enough progress to feel confident about the next step. Her heart sped up in excitement as she thought of her wife, who was only one building and a lock away from her. And right in front of that building, was him.

Valeria looked out from one of the windows and saw Alejandro standing with his back straight, his face possessing a deep scowl as he conversed with Rudolpho. It had been many years since she last saw him, which was nothing memorable. There was no goodbye, no farewell. She had simply gotten up in the middle of the night and gazed at his face one final time; he glistened beneath the moonlight. He was younger then, his face smoother, his voice gentler; not yet hardened. A mass of muscle on a standard issue Army bed, he was unaware that the woman he loved was slipping right through his fingers. Unaware that by the time he woke up, she'd be gone.

There'd be nothing left behind to prove that she even existed. All of her things just went missing alone with her. She didn't even leave a picture behind to immortalise their love, to have something to look at during those nights when his heart almost gave out, when he realised that he was starting to forget what she looked like. That he could no longer remember her voice. Now, as she looked at him, she wondered why they even started a relationship in the first place. He was attractive, sure, but nothing special. Not like the woman in the box.

He was older now, his face more wrinkled. Valeria was raised with the idea that in women, this quality had the same visual effect as decaying fruit. When Valeria looked in the mirror and saw her signs of age - the smile lines that wouldn't smooth out when her smile fell, the lines around her mouth that could not be covered by cosmetics, the wrinkles around her eyes - it reminded her of something that was starting to fade. But in men, the quality was different, more merciful. More like maturing. It enraged her to see him getting older. To see him in the exact same place that she left him. The memories attached to this place were too much to handle. Memories of her younger years kept materialising at the edge of her vision, like a trick of the light; a shadow figure that kept pursuing. It used to be her, out there in the yard. Talking with Alejandro and Rudy, passing along jokes during a long day. But right now it was just the two of them, talking with ease like she had never been there at all. And right at that moment, as she gazed down at them, the alarm went off. What a glorious opportunity to have a front-row seat to witness Alejandro's reaction once she pulled the rug from underneath his feet. There was no more time to waste. She forced herself to stop gloating at these shadows of the past and to move forward. With each step, she got closer to her wife, her sweetheart. Valeria felt weightless, she felt herself glide through the space between herself and Y/N. She would pause here and there to ensure she did not reveal herself to her enemies. At times, she stealthily murdered someone who could have easily been her roommate back when she was a cadet. But that was another lifetime, a lifetime of making the wrong friendships and choosing the wrong lovers. She wasted no time on these obstacles. At last, her hand encircled the handle of the container. She pushed her weight into it and entered, ready for anything. Be it to murder a guard, or to embrace her love; her instincts were on the front seat. She could kill a hundred men if it came to it.

“Valeria. Bienvenida.”

The metal door crashed into the threshold behind her, the echoes reverberating, she felt, for eternity. There was nothing beyond these metal walls anymore, the whole world went silent. The wrath that burned in her eyes met the hatred that dripped out of his. Darkness met darkness; loathing encircled within their dark glares like an ouroboros, its dark scales flashing where the light hit it. Valeria and Alejandro were a perfect mirror, they were tuned into the same frequency, a frequency of violence. They were built of the same clay; two destroyers meeting at last.

He was right in front of her, waiting. Standing tall and armed to the teeth, Colonel Alejandro Vargas. Her jealous ex-lover, the kidnapper of her wife, the annihilator of peace, the snake that infiltrated the garden. The evil eye incarnate. And here was she, the abandoner, the backstabber; the woman lover.

“Y/N.” Valeria spoke with steel in her voice.

“Is no longer with us, I’m afraid.” The lines of his mouth fell into a pout, feigning sadness. Mocking her. “She’s not a fighter, like you or me. You know what happens to the weak here,” he scoffed. “What was it that you used to say? That the weak exist to serve the strong and die? Yeah,” he said diabolically, a grin etching itself on his face. “That’s what happened.”

She knew he was lying; Y/N walked this earth still. She and her wife’s souls were so intertwined, Valeria would have felt it if her wife was gone. Y/N could never leave without her heart knowing. Valeria would put her hand through fire to prove her conviction.

“If I thought she was dead, I would have shot you on sight,” she said. Her hand gripped a blade tightly, willing herself to stop shaking.

Alejandro laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean she was dead.” His gloved hands held onto his vest as he looked down at her. “I meant that your wife served me.”

Unable to contain her wrath any longer, Valeria lunged at him with a scream.

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp

thanks for supporting me!!

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Queens and gods🐍👑

Loki x fem reader

Chapter 1

Summary: Loki, the god of mischief, has brought chaos to new york. What happens when he meets a particular interesting human? Love? Havoc? or rather--amusement.

Warnings: death, swearing.

A/n: A recent commission was made by @kitxel-draws. Thanks for your supportive generosity. Chapter 2 shall be out soon. Enjoy💖

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

-----

War is where death follows between two opposing sides that fight until nothing but ash falls.

The city of New York was under threat, and the god of mischief had accomplished his goal; using the tesseract, he summoned an army that he had gained with the alliance of Thanos. The aliens came through the portal with heavy machinery and weapons, rifles, blasters, and snipers. These aliens, the Chitauri, were under the commandment of their one true God, Loki. The civilians in the area under witness to these extra-terrestrial beings were mortified in horror—the only reactions they could muster were screams and fleeing. The Chitahuri fell from the sky, riding their chariots. They resembled a swarm of bugs from above, bunching together before parting as soon as they hit the earth’s atmosphere. The Chitauri started attacking the streets below; their weapons blasted anything in sight, human or not. Loud explosions could be heard at every corner, blazing fires emerged from the streets, and the tall, mighty skyscrapers that towered above any human, fell into a pile of broken rubble and dust. Loki stood proudly as he gazed down, staring at the battle in his glory. Loki closed his eyes as he heard the screams of mortal beings fleeing from the chaos—it seemed too beautiful, finally, a world where he was crowned and worshipped. The word “worshipped” meant so much in Loki’s mind, a world built in his name, a world he could call his own.

However, the dream ended when a worthy foe appeared in his presence.

“And, what fool dares to challenge me at my hour of triumph?” Loki asked with a mischievous grin. He knows how this will end, another mortal who shall bite the dust or join his army.

“One that values freedom for their country” A familiar voice struck Loki with recognition.

It was Captain America, the first avenger, the first fighter for freedom, and a patriotic hero beloved by all. “A soldier” Loki grinned further. Was he serious? Is this mortal willing to battle a god? What a joke.

“I’m giving you one last chance, Loki; stand down,” Captain America ordered.

“Never!” He furiously hissed.

Loki blasted a magical force from his scepter, and Captain America quickly dropped and rolled out of the way. He was determined; he didn’t back down while his country was attacked. Captain America threw his shield in a straight line; the blue and white shield flew at an unnatural speed, the circular disk spinning in a smooth motion as it aimed toward Loki. However, Loki used his scepter to ‘whack’ the shield out of the way. Captain America tossed his shield repeatedly in all directions. He was determined to defeat the god of mischief. Captain America ran up to Loki, punching him square in the jaw only—it didn’t affect him. Loki hit Captain America on his back to knock him over, but Steve quickly pushed himself up and dodged the oncoming scepter smashing into the ground. Captain America held his fists up, his legs facing in a fighting stance; he was prepared to take on Loki.

“I can do this all day,” Steve determinedly said.

Captain America came in again, rushing toward Loki with his hands curled into a fist. One punch after the other, swing after swing, Captain America fought with all his might against the God of Mischief. Loki turned his scepter in a perfect balance, following Captain America’s attacks. It was a fight to the death that would last between two powerful men: one a god and the other an artificial soldier. The difference between fighting Thor and Loki was that Thor relied heavily on his strength while Loki relied on his agility and wit. After the last punch, Captain America pushed Loki off to retrieve his shield. Loki prepared to defend himself from more of Steve’s attacks. Captain America looked directly into Loki’s eyes; he threw the shield with all his strength. The shield’s impact was so powerful that it knocked him onto his back. Loki’s crown fell off with a loud ‘clank’ to the ground. Perhaps he was wrong; mortal heroes were undoubtedly more formidable than they seemed.

This didn’t stop the god of mischief; however, he was still willing to take down this artificial soldier. He was a god, after all, a deity more powerful than man. All it took was one hit, and Captain America shall be no more. Loki curled his hands into fists; his own dark, raven hair that was once slicked back was now unkempt; strands of his black hair dangled down the side of his pale face.

“Come soldier, are you still prepared to fight for your weak brethren” Loki teased threateningly.

Captain America grabbed his shield as he was prepared to fight God, though something significant impacted Steve on the head. He lost his balance as he held his hands to his head. Loki stared in blatant confusion, knowing he wasn’t using any magic to force something that heavy on Steve’s head. Captain America turned to his side to see where the oncoming impact came from.

“Fuck you, motherfucker!! It’s your fault she’s dead!” a voice emerged from the pile of rubble.

Loki was astounded yet kept quiet and watched in confusion toward this angered human.

Captain America immediately turned to the Civilian; it was a woman with tear stains on her face and messy hair. Captain America tried to order her, “Mam, you’ve been ordered to evacuate the area!”.

“No! Y-you’re supposed to be a hero; what kind of hero allows an innocent person to die!” the woman stood her ground.

“I understand your frustration, mam, but please, we are trying to take everything under control,” Captain America reasoned with the angered woman.

Captain America was frustrated that this lady wouldn’t listen; however, only to his astounded horror did he realize his shield had hit a Chitauri ship earlier. He was so focused on defeating Loki; he didn’t know the risk to the other civilians surrounding the area. Steve gazed at the fallen ship; beneath its crushed underside was a woman’s body. Steve felt horrible; he looked at the woman with a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry, mam, I had no intention of—.”

“Intention of saving those innocent bystanders,” the woman snapped.

The woman, named y/n, didn’t care if Captain America was brave or good-hearted; he killed off the one woman who meant the whole world to her. Y/n’s mother. She was the most audacious and kindest soul any could know. She sacrificed herself to save her daughter’s life, a tough decision that couldn’t be made quickly. It was always a battle between the heroes and villains, yet, they were all the same. No matter where who, or what they fought, it was always the same. Heroes do more damage, just like villains.

While Steve was distracted, a Chitauri emerged from behind the car, holding a dagger. Captain America couldn’t react fast enough for the alien to take hold of y/n by the hair. “FUCK YOU- AH!” she screamed, wrestling with the grey-armored, hideous E.T. off her. Before she could react, a blue strain of light formed beneath the woman. “I thank you, soldier, for the fight. However, you were getting a little boring, so I’ll take my farewells and leave your pathetic world behind,” Loki smirked. Y/n screamed out to Captain America; Steve rushed to try and save the civilian that hit him with ash felt earlier. Only, he didn’t grab her fast enough.

Loki shot a blue beam of light into the sides of the buildings; the buildings all started to tumble down as Loki escaped.

With the puny, feisty human.

[subtile-jagden]

Rudolf Berthold (Part 3)

Disclaimer: Now starts a part of German (and European) history that is highly controversial. The period shortly before the end of the war and the years afterwards were a mess of revolutions, fighting, terrorism and murder. Opinions of how good/bad it was depend on political/ideological convictions. For the sake of keeping it short, I will simplify and only mention events that are necessary to tell Bertholds story.

During the last month of the war Berthold still had hope that he will be able to return to the front: “I want to go back out to the frontlines! If only I had my healthy bones – but I can still do it. As long as the battle rages everyone with experience belongs out there.” But his health was too unstable for even his iron will to make a return possible. He returned to his home and waited. For what he wasn´t sure. 

In November the situation at the front and in Germany worsened and Marine troops started mutinies. Revolutions broke out, inspired by the Bolshevik revolution in Russia. Berthold was a fervent monarchist and held on to his Kaiser and the established social order. “Overthrow! Constitutional change! In a few days, what strong men have built up over centuries will be destroyed. The people have been seduced. Doubts are cast on the army. We're still far in enemy territory and we're supposed to surrender? Madness!”. Bertholds opinion on all that was happening is clear. 

After the Armistice in November a semi-civil war broke out in the bigger German cities. Communists, Socialists, Bolsheviks on the left; Nationalists and Monarchists on the right; Social Democrats in the middle. Mix in some Anarchists and foreign agents and the disaster was perfect. The soldiers returning from the front were being pursued by all sides to join. By many they were not treated well, their uniforms were ripped and they were called to throw down their weapons and join the fight against militarism. But many soldiers were still loyal to the emperor and did not want to accept the looming Republic.

 Especially at the end of 1918 to early 1919 the communists were very powerful. The left-wing Spartakus movement tried to overthrow the government in Berlin and took over Munich. Separatists in Western Germany called for independence of the Rhineland.

Berthold spend the rest of 1918 depressed at home. He felt angry, devastated and useless but he stayed true to his convictions: “The oath of allegiance I once swore I keep for life. A life that now lies so dark before me!”. But his mood and his perspectives changed when more and more Freikorps units (mostly right-wing paramilitary units, used by the Social Democratic government to defend itself and suppress the communist/Bolshevik uprisings) were established. He saw that there was still fight in some men.

The newly formed Reichswehr (official military of the new German state) offered the Hauptmann an active duty posting at Döberitz Airfield. He soon was back in uniform, training men. His charisma and leadership ability enabled him to even get along with the Worker´s and Soldier´s Councils (that caused a lot of trouble in other places). But shortly after, Berthold was ordered to close the Airfield and dismiss his men. Berthold worried that the ever rising number of unemployment would drive the men towards the Spartakus and similar movements.

When Munich, capital of Bertholds home region, was taken over by Communists in April 1919 and proclaimed a “soviel republic”, several Freikorps from all over of the country came to free it. For Berthold this was a turning point. He saw a purpose again. He now saw an opportunity to keep fighting for his country. He put out a call for young men to join him and form their own Freikorps. Soon he had gathered around 1,200 men for his “Eiserne Schar Berthold”. He trained the mostly very young farmers boys and in August they answered the call to go to the Baltics to fight the Bolsheviks there.

Berthold and his men travelled to Mitau, Lithuania to join with the Eiserne Division (Iron Division). There, Germans and anti-Bolshevik Russian were fighting the Red Army side by side. But also local troops that wanted complete independence and both Germans and Russians out of their country. It was a brutal fight from all sides. Bertholds right hand was still paralyzed, he was not able to join in the active fighting but he rallied and motivated his men with great success. They came into the suburbs of Riga but then it was over. Pressure from the German government to cease fighting and return home as well as strong resistance made it impossible to keep fighting. The Freikorps did not get any new supplies, be it food or weapons; something that even Bertholds iron will and dedication could not substitute. 

Starving and their numbers greatly decimated Berthold and his group returned to Germany in December 1919. There it was demanded that the Eiserne Schar be disbanded. Bertold did not agree to this, knowing that there was nothing waiting for him or his loyal fighters. They were ordered to report to several different locations, finally ending up in Harburg (near Hamburg), which was governed by Independent Socialists.  During this time a military-backed putsch (“Kapp-Putsch”) to overthrow the Government in Berlin was about to be carried out, with support of Lieutenant-Commander Hermann Erhardt, with a Freikorps of his own. 

Berthold was accused of wanting to come to its support and ordered to give up his weapons. Harburg officals ordered the officers of the Reichswehr stationed in the town to be arrested. Tensions rose and Berthold met with town representatives who promised safe accommodations and later on transportation for his troops. He and his men went to make camp in the local school. Local union trade leaders demanded of the Reichswehr soldiers to subdue Berthold but they were ordered to stay out of it. The trade leaders then called for their workers to take up arms against the Eiserne Schar Berthold. The men in the school readied their weapons, including machine guns, to defend themselves against the advancing lynch mob. A fight broke out (it is unclear who fired the first shot). Bertholds men were outnumbered and being fired at from all sides. Many died inside the school. After a while a cease fire was called. Berthold managed to come to an agreement with the local authorities: His men were to give up their arms and then be allowed to leave the city unharmed. But that deal was broken the second a disarmed Berthold and his men stepped out of the school. Some local sympathizers warned Berthold that he will be attacked and should try to sneak out on his own but he refused to leave his men. That was his doom. The men were attacked from all sides the second they stepped out of the school and soon lost sight of their leader. Shortly after one of the attackers called out tauntingly: “There lies your great leader”. The men of the Eiserne Schar Berthold looked towards a street corner where an unrecognizable body lay in the gutter.

Autopsy results:

The captain's blue tunic was completely torn open. There were severe scratch wounds to the neck. Terrible piston blows had shattered the entire top of his skull. Seven shots in the head, left and right chest shots, all from behind. The spine was completely separated.

Bibliography:

Iron Man – Rudolf Berthold: Germany´s indomitable fighter ace of World War I, Peter Kilduff

Kamerad Berthold, Thor Goote

Rudolf Berthold, Ludwig F. Gengler (this book consists mainly of Bertholds diary)

Die Geächteten, Ernst von Salomon

[yllowpages]

BUCKY BARNES : RESIDENT EVIL VERSE.

tag : verse. bucky barnes / resident evil.

considered dead since 1945, former united states army soldier ja.mes bar.nes slowly faded into history, the world unaware of how history was being shaped by his very hands. found by soviet soldiers after a near-fatal accident, barnes was taken as a prisoner of war before carefully being crafted into a powerful weapon : the perfect soldier. for decades, a brainwashed barnes was used by the soviets to carry out their will, all for them and against others. but in 1991 with the fall of the soviet union, a shift came to the existence of the winter soldier.

former kgb general aleksander lukin becomes the sole inheritor of the winter soldier project and program as he begins to grow his very own company : the kronas corporation. using the winter soldier for personal gain in the form of personal vendettas and business "negotiations," kronas and lukin quickly grow into powerful forces. and more changes come in the mid-90s when lukin enters a new deal with the umbrella corporation.

while kronas had a record of buying out and absorbing other companies for lukin's gain (oil and energy, private security, water, real estate, etc.), he saw the potential of a quid pro quo arrangement with umbrella and the reaches they had across their own businesses, especially as pharmaceuticals is one area kronas had not yet expanded to in order to further lukin's reach in the country.

at some point, early in their dealings, lukin revealed the winter soldier to those in umbrella he was in contact with. while initially using him as a threat to gain loyalty, individuals with umbrella were intrigued — but lukin was steadfast in his secrecy surrounding his agent. as part of their agreement, as long as it's seen as mutually beneficial, lukin allows the higher-ups of the umbrella corporation to use the winter soldier for their own gain — on lukin's terms, of course.

one such time came during the aftermath of racoon city's destruction. in the few years between the incident and umbrella's involvement becoming public, the winter soldier emerged once again, this time in search of survivors that the umbrella corporation saw as a threat, at the time ; individuals such as jill valentine and leon s. kennedy (among others) were targeted for elimination.

while lukin agreed, umbrella's wishes were no top priority for him. lukin had already begun the process of dissolving any connection kronas may have to umbrella, even privately, as a precaution, as he would not allow what he'd built to be dragged down by them. ultimately, all assassination attempts failed (for various reasons), to umbrella's detriment, but lukin saw this as no real loss.

in the years following umbrella's dissolution, lukin only mildly involved himself with any of umbrella's competition that took the opportunity to rise now that they were gone. he made it his business to keep his eyes on any other golden opportunities, seeing as the partnership with umbrella amounted to nothing, in his eyes.

years later, bucky barnes has managed to escape from lukin, regaining his memories of his earlier life. after having been granted a conditional pardon by the president, barnes largely lives as a civilian. that is until the government decides to begin calling him off the books to deal with various things they deem threatening ...

NOTICE : i still consider myself only marginally familiar with resident evil and its canon. i am constantly learning. while i haven't personally played any of the games, i have watched playthroughs of the first four and i've tried to do as much reading about the canon/timeline as i can. feel free to correct me if i ever get things wrong—or i'll probably be asking a lot of questions. as i get more familiar with RE, i may make adjustments to this verse, or i may change things simply from plotting with people.

[geistxhund-a]

      big ugly lore dump for khaz since my brain finally decided to do something for once, just gonna put it under a read more though since there’s definitely some mature stuff and I’m not too sure how to tag it

       Khaz has implanted memories/false memories, given to him by the Facility and basically processed him into believing that he was a blank slate, artificially-made bio-organic weapon, despite the reality being he was an orphan of war being plucked from the ruins of his home to become a child-soldier with a self-repairing machine that he’ll effectively keep him alive but due to excessive use and essentially nearly-abusing it’s own function now runs are nearly one quarter of it original effective healing-factor but can out of emergency rapidly heal severely damaged or lost limbs or even possibly save him from a critical-state depending if he can preform emergency first-aid on himself properly according to the wound.        The indoctrination procedures would include implanting basic run of the mill memories, leading the kidnapped children to believe that they were bio-organic weapons, effective test-tube babies developed, born & produced for the sole purpose of infiltration-exfil and assassinations, despite the truth being that the children were in-fact war-orphans from a nation that was fighting a civil war. The Facility staff believing that it'd be more than perfect to select children that would effectively have already been broken from the atrocities and horrors of warfare, the brutality of man. Thinking that they could mold the built-up rage and complex emotions of children who've supposedly lost their entire lives and families due to the avarice of men who were willing to kill their own country-men to ascertain power.          Khaz would eventually find out about this falsehood he had believed for so long, after having a stray dream that was different from the usual occasional reminder of his implantation when he would see a poppy in a store during november when he was still working as a bodyguard for his father’s gang. He had collected enough information after working a few odd jobs for an information broker he knew through his old connections within the decade he had in the criminal underworld about a small compound belonging to the company which more than piqued his interest in the matter since he still had a seething hatred for those who’d brutalized him and strapped the accursed machine to his back. Infiltrating the small compound belonging to the pharmaceutical company responsible for his mutations and forced surgeries and fighting through some basic security just to find the facility was running on bare-bones staff, most of the files were wiped, the only real viable intelligence left for him to scavenge for were physical documents that were scattered across the floor, supposedly in a hurried manner one would could assume from how hectic the archives and other rooms in the state they were left in. Once he did find something about him, or at least related to the project he was a prime test-subject and failed product of. 

      To say the least, he was more or less not happy with what he found, in fact he'd rather believe that the false-memories of him being a product more than an orphan with nothing, at least him being a weapon had some purpose for him to continue his drive for survival, besides, he had nothing else left to return to anyways if he were to pry any further, at this point he could honestly be considered a ghost as he has no recollection of his original name, only that of the serial number given to him by the Facility staff and the name given to him by his adoptive gang-boss father. Sometimes, he'll have dreams at night about his really early years, sitting in a massive field of long green grass, corn poppies littered among the grass, a couple who he could only assume was his parents, their face blurred by the sun when he'd look up to them when they would mutter something, like the sound was being absorbed, muffled into an undistinguishable garble. Other times, he'll have reoccurring nightmares, all pertaining to his time in the Facility during the processing and production, the falsified memories of him lazily floating in turquoise-colored liquid in what seemed to be some device suspending him in said-fluid, cables connecting to the freshly planted mechanical spine, his vertebrae and surrounding muscle and skin tissue raw from the surgery. An oxygen mask strapped over his mouth, presumably also pumping him full of tranquilizers and a small dosage of sedatives. Other nightmares being the surgeries and operations, or in other words, the testing phases of the mechanical spine-technology the pharmaceutical company was researching, seeing how far they can push it's regenerative healing factors capabilities, just how much they could tear apart a human and just how much the spine can repair and was able to repair. All of the brutalized, cruel and inhumane torture they had put Khaz through as he had not been administered anything for the pain nor to put him under while they operated and tested, the times he'd pass in and out of consciousness are the nightmares he remembers most, waking up to catch glimpses of limbs in the process of being hacked off or incisions being made with different tools and weapons and different lengths and widths, all too see the effective healing prowess. They wanted results and were willingly to exhaust the healing factor of the spine and to see if there was anything they could improve on with the next iteration and model when the research would get to that point, although it seemed that Khaz’ spine had been already over-exerted 

      This all in all, would also develop his nosocomephobia and his effective insomnia as well, often finding it hard to sleep for long when it was a gamble if he'd actually have a good decent chunk of sleep or if he was just going to go to sleep and have a horrible night trying to sleep but just having the worst nightmares or just not fun dreams in general since his own memories don't even feel right as he can't remember any of the important details, not even his parents' voices and faces, nor their names.

[vampire-meta-knight]

you said i could so i will- tw death, war

timekeeper. he’s exactly who you think he is. the keeper of time. amazing i know. as of right now he’s dead/a ghost and has existed for about 550 years. his name hasn’t always been timekeeper.

when he was alive he was removed from his house at 6 years old, and met his future husband, roman. while surviving on the streets. at 17 years old he enlisted in the army.

the war in Exile (the country he lives in) had just started and he saw that the soldiers would have housing and food so he joined. his, at the time boyfriend, roman joined with him. They did small missions and never really experienced any real fights or anything that was in the heart of the war, they even ended up getting married and having a house when they had their months off duty. (they where 21 when they got married)

around 2 months after the marriage they got thrust into the middle of the war, into the biggest battle so far too. almost instant timekeepers husband was killed and soon after timekeeper was captured as a prisoner of war. he was kept in confinement with the enemy and was interrogated harshly and made to do work with them.

when he turned 23 he ended up dying by his own hands, his last words being a letter to his late husband, confessing his love and feeling all over again. his last words where a love letter.

he’s been existing as a ghost since then, with his friends being a shapeshifting soldier still in the same war he was (ethan), a god who records all of history ever and gave him the responsibility of time keeping (poet), a teenage king who runs the monarchy of Exile after the questionable death of his mother (oliver), and the lover of the king and the brother of the shapeshifter soldier who has magic of his own (casper), and a small child who lived with a cult for most of her life (ari)

they all live in his large cabin he built with his husband and have adventures and so on.

every year on his husbands birthday, he goes into town with ethan and buys things for roman such as nice clothes, fancy weapons, cool books, food, and so on. he’ll often make paintings and write letters as well

“i buy these things just in case he ever comes back, he’s gonna need them, he’s gonna need to know that i still care and have never loved another more. i know the clothes are ridiculous expensive but he always talked about having a proper weeding so i buy them for him… just in case.”

he’s a very stoic ghost, and doesn’t say much unless he knows someone is going to listen. he paints and draws but every time he tries to draw a person, is ends up being one of his friends and/or roman. he puts all the things he gets and makes by the grave he made for roman, since roman never got a proper burial. he keeps their marriage swords polished to perfection, it’s the only one he fights with.

since this war has been going on since he died, there has been times when the enemy raided his cabin, most often its god killers looking for blood. one of them shot and killed the god, poet. timekeeper didn’t know that poet can’t truly ever die, and feeling the same intense heartbreak of seeing his husband die, he flipped over his black moon sand timer, carried poet’s body to his husbands grave, sat down and wrote one last letter as he ended the entire world.

poet, after coming back, was stuck in a time loop as he put the world back together and fixed everything. poet ended up breaking the sand timer in a fight. timekeeper thinks he should be allowed to be a god with poet, poet disagrees.

they ended up getting over this and now make little jokes about it and are still friends. they will protect each other from the harms that their status brings, and from any danger.

he teaches ethan, the soldier how to fight and they often go on hikes and visit Nature (another god) together. Ethan likes to ask question about what timekeeper thinks of everything.

timekeeper teaches the kids (oliver, casper, ari) about history, the world, economics, maths, english, and will answer any question they have about anything. They kids can’t go to a normal school in their country because of their situations.

overall i love timekeeper so much and he’s one of my favorites. sorry if this was too long or complicated. you can reply privately or publicly! it’s up to you! thank you so so so sooooo much for letting me go on this tangent!! i feel refreshed now

stay safe, drink water, and have fun! thank you!! 💛💛

Thank YOU for sharing with me! I loved reading it! It sounds very interesting, and it'd make a great premise for a novel or show.

Gah, I knew Roman was going to die right as you mentioned he joined the army. I could feel it. XD

Also, *fist bumps you* we both have shapeshifting paras!

And I love how Timekeeper and Poet joke about the whole time loop thing. Such a wild thing to joke about. How does that even go???

Poet: Hey, remember when you broke time?

Timekeeper: Yeah, I was crazy back then

I'm interested in his actual duties as the keeper of time. Can he get visions of the future? Can he time-travel, or is that forbidden? It'd probably create lots of drama if he found out he could hypothetically go back in time and save Roman, but Poet wouldn't let him because it would break cosmic time laws. Aaaahhh I wanna know more!!! You've gotten me hooked already.

[laurore-stormwitch]

The time Zoya saves Nikolai in the Fold. The time Nikolai asks her to be his general. And the times when they had win their battles and they can tell each other of those times. 

 This is dedicated to @tricewithaz because she specifically requested it and we came up with some nice hc. It’s so fun to explore how they met and how their relationship was built. the times we made a choice - ao3

word count: 10.417

“Do you plan on keeping some order on this desk or do I have to incinerate your work with a gust of fire?”, Zoya grunted, eyeing the absolute mess he had left after working in her sitting room all evening as he waited for her to come back from a private state dinner. She slumped beside him, huffing a tired breath and shutting her eyes. Nikolai closed the novel he had stolen from her nightstand, turning to her with a grin.

“I’m very glad to have your goodnight spite reserved for me, Nazyalensky.”

She turned to him, eyelids fluttering open, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. A wave of aching affection washed over him at the sight of her. His darkened fingers disappeared in her silky hair, skimming on the skin of her neck. A shiver went through her. 

Nazyalensky. The habit of using her name like this had turned from provoking her to scowl to getting himself an annoyed but affectionate look. It possessed a different power, now that he knew it was an identity she had chosen for herself so long ago. Nikolai had waited to see if she would desire to change it, but he had the sense she was attached to it. It was hers, it was the promise of a new life she had made to a little girl long ago, and this made her feel conflicted. She was slowly embracing the parts of her past that could finally complete her, wandering through what she had missed in denying a part of herself; yet, some ghosts were more haunting than others. 

“Do you remember the first time I called you that?”, Nikolai asked, if only for the sake of distracting her from another tiresome and tedious day of meetings. Zoya peered at him under her lashes. That was the look she wore when she was pondering whether to indulge his nonsense or just let him ramble her into sleep, with the engulfing solace of his voice frantically telling her about his new invention of the moment or the last thing they made explode at the Fabrikator’s lab. Her hand came to adjust his collar in an unconscious gesture. 

“I’m not sure”, she admitted. He traced the soft curve of her lips with his thumb, smirking. 

“It was when you saved me. I mean, the first of the many times you did that.”

Zoya looked dubious. “Was it though?”

“You remember something else?” 

He was positively sure. When it came to Zoya, his memory rarely failed him. Still, a part of him did want to hear what she remembered. Zoya being willing to talk was a treasured rare occurrence.

“I think it’s when you made me your General”, Zoya asserted, cushioning her head on his forearm. 

***

He was flying, and then he was falling. 

When the blade went through the Darkling heart and his blood soaked the Fold’s barren sands, Nikolai’s wings disappeared in an inconsistent smoke. 

He was fighting, and then he was surrendering. 

The world started drowning in darkness, the shadows curling around its outlines and growing like a monstrous tide that devoured every living being on its path. He remembered the clouded sky, the shrieks of the volcras, the stink of fire and gunpowder. If that was how the bastard prince’s fight was going to end, his mind thanked the Saints for giving him that one last moment as himself. The demon retracted, leaving Nikolai on his own as he dove toward his demise. Yet, it would be fine. They would win. And Nikolai would never see what could become of his country. 

He was dying. And then, without warning, he was floating. 

Or sort of. A sudden gust of wind slammed on his back, slowing his helpless fall on the ground. The prince had only a split moment of consciousness to be glad before crashing onto earth, the blow hard enough that he heard the sound of his ribs cracking, of the air forcefully snatched out his lungs. The world went dark. 

He was breathing. A strike of ravaging pain splitted his chest in two. He thought he had opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred as he forced his eyelids not to fall shut. Inhaling felt like a burning flame scorching his throat. He wanted to move, to get up, to take his weapon and resume the fight. He wanted to rest. He wanted.  

“Try and be still”, a distant voice murmured beside him. 

His vision sharpened, bolts of pain running through his battered body. Nikolai did not know how long he had passed out, if it was hours or mere seconds. Was he seeing the sea again? Was he coming back to the restless waters he loved with woeful neediness? For a brief moment, there was peace. He was home. 

Then, another breath tore his lungs, the searing ache canceling the blur. It wasn’t the sea; he found himself lost in a pair of impossible blue eyes, deep and dark as the oceans he had sailed with his wolf of the waves. He grasped at them. 

“Don’t move'', the voice whispered, shuddering.

A girl, with raven-black hair and blood smeared on her cheek. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, checking his pulse, while she held the back of his neck with the other arm. Her hold was firm, comforting; yet, Nikolai felt a tremor coming from her, her tone desperate. He knew her, something inside him told him as his consciousness slowly slid back into place. He knew her; he remembered her laugh, in the brief excitement David’s dishes for Alina had brought them before being shattered by the nichevo’ya. He knew her from dimly lit hallways made of rock under a mountain, where they had thought they could hide from the monsters lurking in the shadows. His lashes blinked away the mist and he gripped her arm, steadying himself; the girl startled, shifting her gaze and locking those unearthly eyes back on his again. Were his still black? Was he still the demon, or was he himself again? Another remembrance rushed as his mind finally cleared of the last strands of darkness, restoring all his awareness, all of himself. The squaller, the stubborn one, with that insanely acid tongue. Zoya. The grip on her arm grew stronger, he wanted to part his lips, to speak. He wanted. 

“Damn, stop moving. I need to make sure I saved you. No way I’m letting Ravka’s only hope die on me, are we clear?” 

Anguish cut through the edge of her tone, cracking it. Zoya, the proud one. The one he had overheard standing up for the Etherealki in the face of every disdain she had earned from them. Zoya, who had fought her way through their reckless warfare strategies with the grace and precision of a hawk diving for a prey. With the snarky words she had sent his way whenever they had crossed paths, her piercing gaze studying everyone around her, always surprising him with a biting response. Zoya Nazyalensky, the impossibly beautiful and equally mysterious summoner who all the other Grisha gossiped about. Kneeling on the dirt beside him right now with an endless well in her sight, full of sorrow and terror. It was the aftermath of the battle, probably. Probably. 

Zoya the soldier. Alina’s soldier, Ravka’s soldier, the king’s soldier. His soldier, now.

“Nazyalensky”, he rasped out, mustering all the strength he could find. Relief flooded her face, making her lips quiver. Not too gently, she shook his hand from her arm, her look hardening. Nikolai felt the horrifying moist consistency of blood on his hands; he could not dwell on where it was coming from, either his own wounds, the ones of the girl beside him, or the ones coming from the lives he had snatched with his infernal claws. 

“Good. The blow on your head did not shatter your brain.”

Cutting as a blade. As she scanned the ground around, he found her havoc-raging presence weirdly heartening. Nikolai was only dimly aware of the mayhem still breaking out. There was a muffled quiet around them; he realized that it was probably Zoya’s doing, hushing the sounds in the air. An unforgiving wind flowed, kicking up the grey sand; it seemed to reverberate directly from Zoya’s trembling body. The squaller ran a hand through her hair and her face, shoving dirt and red streams on her skin. She was shaken. It would take her a few more battles to get used to this. Maybe she never would. If he wasn’t lying half dead on the ground, he would have felt tempted to reach for her, to comfort her. The wind rose as she swore out, spreading her black mane around her, still frantically searching for help with her gaze. Saints, Nikolai thought, this girl is powerful. She snapped at him.

“For Saints sake are you capable of staying still? I have to fetch you a Healer”, Zoya barked. 

Nikolai tried to get himself up, ignoring the excruciating ache in his chest, steadying himself on her shoulder with his right arm. “This would be a perfect moment to indulge in regicide”, he tried, another burst of pain running through him and causing him to cough violently. 

“I might consider it if you don’t stop moving”, she murmured in response, scanning him for injuries other than his broken ribs and a likely dislocated shoulder, considering his other arm felt like it was catching on fire when he had tried to lift it. Nikolai caught a movement behind her, tried to gather the strength to get up, to follow the instinct to protect her. Zoya was faster, followed his eyes and threw her fist upward in that direction with a frustrated yell; a violent rush of air hit a soldier aiming at them, sending him toppling to the ground. “I’m trying to keep you alive, you idiot”, she raised her voice, and with it a thunder echoed in the field. Was it being called forth by her? Whatever she was doing, she did not seem aware of it. “You have a country to run. So don’t distract me.”

Someone else was rushing toward them, but this time she looked relieved, which meant whoever they were, they were on their side. That help was coming, that they were almost safe.

“Then you should handle me more gently”, Nikolai spoke again, voice unpleasantly screeching the walls of his throat like nails on a mirror. 

What was happening around them? Blinding rays were coming from upward as Alina’s power rumbled into the Fold in whistling sounds, shredding every inch of it into light. He heard muffled voices, Zoya barking commands. Nikolai reached for her again, he clenched his fingers in the folds of her kefta; the hold on her tied him to earth, tied his mind to a world that still felt too unreal and too far away, as it had felt when he had been looking at it with demon eyes. This time, she did not shove him away. A young boy with a red dusted kefta kneeled before him, placing his hands on his chest. Zoya unceremoniously slipped her arm away from below him, lowering him to the ground to let the Healer work. Nikolai hissed when his back hit the sand, shooting her a glare. She shrugged her shoulders, raising her hands in fighting stance to keep them safe, scanning the area for other enemies. 

“I hardly am gentle, prince”, Zoya spat out, alert.

"Did we win?"

Now she sent a swift gaze his way, drawing in an unsteady breath. "I think so", she answered with tentative hope. The Healer’s powers were doing their magic, a warmth flooding him and numbing his senses. He fought it, not wanting to lose consciousness again, to fall back into the unknown. 

"Then I'm fairly sure I'm going to be crowned. You should go with Your Highness."

Wit was his. Humour, brilliance, the might to find words when voice was failing you, when air was rare, was his. Not the demon. It was Sturmhond’s cocky attitude he had kept when he had been shot and nearly bled out, it was Nikolai’s charming attire when he had rode with Dominik through village fairs and then military encampments, the optimism he had tried to feed since when he had been just a boy. It was what provoked that shadow of an exasperated smile on the squaller’s face, the twitch in her lips promptly straightened again in a thin, severe line. 

"You’re a wretch”, she scolded him, turning her attention from their surroundings to the Healer that was sealing his wounds. “There’s little royalty in you right now.”

“Still a king.”

The Grisha boy cleared his throat and nodded to her. “I did the best I could, we need to get him to a tent and someone more trained”, he explained, his remark shaky. “But he is out of danger.”

Zoya exhaled, her eyelids falling shut for a mere instant. The wind slowed down; her hands were still trembling when she ran them again through her hair. 

“Do you want me to take care of - “, the boy tried to ask, pointing to her. Her eyes flew open then, firm determination in them. 

“We need to get going”, she cut him off. She got up with a swift movement; Nikolai caught the hand she extended to him, letting her help him to a standing position that made all of his muscles and bones howl in protest. He staggered, his knees failing to keep him up. Zoya looped an arm around his back and made him lean on her side; he gripped on her shoulders, hating himself for feeling so weak, for having to rely his weight on her. Her kefta was badly bloodied and ripped, she had a deep cut that ran over her hip and other bruises; it was difficult to assess how injured she was, yet there they were, her will tougher than the hell they had just been through. 

“Then you’re a King wretch”, she mumbled from under him. She barely reached up to his chin. What a tiny ball of spite and power she was. They started to make their way toward the outlines where the Fold ended once, when it still existed. “Better? Now let me save you. You have work to do.”

With another pang of relief Nikolai recognized Tolya in the distance, the flash of white of Alina’s hair lifting up from the ground. They were alive. He could not think of much else right now, not until they reached them, until they were safe. And all properly healed, he thought, checking Zoya’s limp and how she pressed on the gash in her flank with the hand that was not supporting him. 

“Are you hurt?”, he asked, winded from the effort of putting one foot in front of the other, unable to conceal his worry. Zoya startled and looked up to him, her blue irises wide and exhausted, vulnerable for the span of a flutter. 

“I’ll be fine”, she said, somehow softer than before. “Just keep walking.”

Nikolai put all of his remaining energy into subtly pulling away, relieving her from some of the weight. If she noticed his effort, she did not tell. His head emptied of anything but their cautious steps, Zoya’s ragged breathing beside him, her wind running with them, shielding them from harm. 

“King wretch. I like it”, he muttered back. 

Kings better not take themselves too seriously, after all. It was nice to have someone remind him of that.

***

Nikolai did not mind the paperwork that came with being a ruler. It felt almost comforting to see the slow improvements his country was making under his watch written on paper, sealed with ink and brought to life. He had decided to dedicate himself to the good news today, that maybe he had earned an afternoon of peace inside the quiet of his study. The wheels kept restlessly turning inside his brain, relieving the images of the tour they had taken across torn cities and miserable villages after his coronation, and for a couple of hours he just wanted to forget about them. Contrary to every concern he had held, the people travelling with him had made the grueling trip all the more bearable; they had run against time itself, wearing their horses down and getting little to no sleep at all, resting not more than one night at every stop to be back in Os Alta as soon as possible. He had felt even hopeful, at times. The same kind of jittery expectancy that made him check his time piece for the tenth time in a row and try to stop the rhythmic beating of his foot on the floor, without dwelling too much on the knot of eagerness in his stomach. When the pointer clicked on the chime of the hour, a knock resounded in the room. She was always almost eerily on time. 

“Come in”, called Nikolai to the door, folding the letter he was skimming through. A valet entered and cleared his throat. 

“Your Highness”, he bowed deeply,  “Miss Nazyalensky is here as you requested. Shall I let - “

The squaller marched in the room, surpassing the poor valet as if he was an inconsistent blur of annoyance. 

“Miss Nazyalensky”, she hissed under her breath, flicking her hair over her shoulder, ”I am no Miss, and I am perfectly able to let myself in.”

Nikolai arched an amused brow at her, kindly dismissing the servant. A disdainful glare was cast in the direction of the valet’s deferent curtsy as she strode in front of the king’s seat. Zoya never bowed. For anyone. He lounged in his chair, turning all of his focus on the gorgeous harpy that now stood before him, spine straight, chin high and defiant eyes pinned on him. She clasped her hand behind her back with her usual military countenance.

“You called for me, Your Highness?”

“I did”, he confirmed, straightening his legs before him and crossing them at the ankle. There constantly seemed to be a slight mockery in the way she indulged in his title. He folded his hands, still studying her. The vague nuisance with which she was eyeing him was clear enough to make him smirk at her. 

“I hear the Triumvirate has done some grand process in these first few weeks”, Nikolai stated, gesturing to the documents on his desk. “I’ve been informed that many Grisha are seeking refuge in the Little Palace. And I also hear you’ve been reconstructing. I do have hope we will be able to put the Second Army back into shape.”

Zoya did not answer, merely kept looking at him with the barest nod of her chin. The king was not used to people being so untouched by his presence, or to be that annoyingly silent around him. He would not admit he had spent part of the last weeks trying to catch her off guard with an astounding lack of results. 

“Would you agree with the reports?”

His question seemed to ignite a spark of interest through her immovability. He had noticed that while she had no issue in voicing her opinions strongly, she seemed not equally accustomed to people directly consulting her with a true interest in her point of view. Maybe he was reading too much into things, but he had guessed Zoya liked how he had started to value her input. 

“We are indeed making progress”, Zoya said, “but there is a lot of work to be done. We’re only starting.” She paused, seemingly pondering her words. “We need - “

“Before we start making requests”, his interruption earned himself an irritated glare, “I called you in because I have something to ask. To the whole three of you, actually; I asked Genya and David too.” Yet, somehow, her answer was the one he was most curious about. “Alina gave you the Triumvirate. You know what to expect from it now. And you’ve got just a mere taste; what’s to come will be tougher, tiresome. While I assume you have the motivation to keep your position, I do prefer to give people a choice when it comes to demanding tasks. So I’m asking: do you still want it?” 

“I do.” There was no hesitation, only urge in the way the answer rolled out of her. She took a step in his direction and cleared her throat. “Not just the Triumvirate. I want to train the new Grisha. And we need to speed up the process on the royal order stating Grisha’s rights. If we are to rally them, they need to feel truly safe here.”

Nikolai kept his expression neutral, although he was pleasantly impressed. He knew she had taken it upon herself to start working with the Grisha finding shelter in the Little Palace, and the kids being taken there. He would not have made her out to be someone who loved teaching; then again, it was hard to make her out for anything. As far as her initiative went, he had quickly understood how his status meant little to her. After all, they were kids themselves. She was a year younger than him, and she had seen him shift between his roles of privateer, prince and what someone might call usurper. Never failing to point the last one out to him, if one had to be precise; Saints forbid he could ever possibly forget he needed to earn a respect that was not freely given. Surely not by Zoya Nazyalensky. He would not expect from her the humble demeanor of a subject in front of a king. Thank the Saints for that, he found himself thinking. Her bracing self was almost soothing, after weeks of dealing with people smarming at his feet, and hers was the company he had found himself searching for more often than others, as wicked as she might be. Zoya never overstepped without a reason, apart from a common snarky energy that was profoundly her. What she did was to call him out on every dumb decision he leaned toward, and constantly remind him how to be worthy of his position and the love of his people. 

“We can arrange that”, he decided to answer, satisfied by how her pupils widened at his prompt concession. He got up and opened a bottle of brandy, pouring himself a glass. He glanced back at her, still planted in the middle of the room. 

“You were loyal to the Darkling.” Nikolai was sure he had not imagined the flash of anger that darkened the blue of her eyes, nor how her jaw clenched and her posture seemed to tense. “Pardon me for being so forthright, but I do feel like it’s better to deal with the tedious matter first.” Or rather the interesting ones you seem to keep an aura of secrecy around.

When she spoke, her voice was not as firm as before. “We’ve worked together for weeks and known each other for longer. I wonder if you have a suicidal strike or you are really questioning my loyalty now.”

“No suicidal strike, and I’m not questioning anything.” The heartfelt honesty in him seemed to reassure her. Her shoulders eased ever so slightly, yet her features remained strained. “As you dutifully pointed out, the time for that has long passed. However, since we’re getting to know each other, I guess you’ll find I like stories. This seems like a good one.”

“Stories are earned”, Zoya asserted, slitting eyes and matter of factly tone. 

“Fine point. You were, though”, Nikolai pressed. Her look never wavered from his. Unconsciously he leaned toward her, rolling his glass between his fingers.

“I was.”

“What changed?” 

“Everything.”

Silence stretched on. Nikolai decided he could wait a while, if it meant gaining some other insight. He did know part of the story, the part that was ushered by people when she strode beside them. Stories might need to be earned, but they also needed to be told by the ones who had lived them. Nikolai was not one to listen to gossip anyway. Sure enough, she resumed speaking, catching that he was not going to drop the subject. 

“It got personal. I was loyal to him because I craved power, then because I believed he could provide a home for us. Instead, he stripped from me the only one I had and slaughtered my friends. Enough of a reason?”

Zoya proudly lifted her chin even higher, her words back to being stinging as an icy wind, the anger burning in her seeping through the tremor in her hands. She moved closer. A slight breeze swept through the room, rustling the papers, called forth by her emotions in turmoil. He remembered when it happened in the Fold, when her despair had raised the wind around them and a thunder had boomed. 

They were no more than two steps apart, now; the gust she summoned carried a scent Nikolai struggled to place as her hair lifted up. It reminded him of the heat of a sunny day, of the field near Dominick's house when spring came, when his little sisters would run back into the kitchen with crowns made of daisies and golden ears of wheat. Was it the pressed corn caught in the evening mist? Was it flowers?

“I won’t beg for trust. Words are empty vessels, actions carry meaning. The choice is yours: either you let me prove myself, or you discard me now.”

She kept her fierce piercing eyes to his, every inch the warrior. Nikolai held her gaze, hazel melting into blue, a small smile tugging at his lips, struck by the force of her nature and her fuming reaction. 

“Here I thought I was the dramatic one”, he chuckled, ignoring her scowl and pulling his hands up in surrender. He slipped inside a reassuring attitude. “I was really not questioning you. Alina trusted you, she chose you. You fought for all of us. I’ve seen the way you stood up for your people, I’ve always agreed with Alina. This is your home; you already proved yourself, more than enough.”

The wind ceased to flow; Zoya flexed her fingers, a rage made of guilt and regret still paining her look. Nikolai knew the place from where those feelings came. Maybe picking at that was not a sensible idea after all. He would need to stop outright testing both her patience and his luck like this; the temptation she was brewing of roasting him alive right now was evident. He was still measuring his steps around her, how she seemed to dive into arguments that would make anyone on earth feel at least uncomfortable, or close right off when someone touched seemingly irrelevant nerves. 

“Besides”, Nikolai let the smile spread in her direction, “I am in dire need of allies.”

And friends, he thought sourly, yet a king can rarely ask for those. 

“Unnerving them sure seems a smart way to ensure your supposed allies’ support”, she clipped out, shaking her cuffs.

“I like to test my chances.” His words were accompanied by a shrug. The urge to take another step toward her pressed in the back of his brain. “You haven’t unleashed a storm on me yet, so I’d say we’re halfway through a steady relationship of trust and mutual forbearance.” 

“Mutual, sure.”

Nikolai tapped his finger on the desk. It seemed he could not stay still. “You’ll need to work together”, he advised, “with Genya and David.” 

“I do well on my own.” 

Like she has not made that abundantly clear in the last couple of months. 

“Oh, I have no issue in believing that. Still, it wasn’t a suggestion, I’m afraid.”

Zoya’s mouth curved in an honey smile; she fluttered her lashes, tilting her head in his direction, the dark waves of her hair falling on her shoulders. It could have been an almost convincing smile, if it had reached her eyes. Instead, it stood cold on her face, firm as a statue, a pretense of complacency with the clear intent to taunt. Nikolai had no doubt whatsoever that entire crowds of people had fallen on their knees for that feigned sweetness. To be completely truthful, she did throw him off balance. Now it would surely be a reasonable call to put a bit of distance between them. Not that he resorted to reason that often when making decisions. 

“I am well aware kings are not in the habit of making requests, Your Highness.” Her voice rippled like silk, delicate and musing, dripping sarcasm. “I was merely informing you.” 

“You’re not particularly easy, are you?”, he asked with a grin, leaning back on the desk and folding his arms. An apparently casual movement meant to regain the use of his lungs. The smile vanished as she adjusted her hair. 

“I am not easy, nor kind. And I lack the interest to make people search for these qualities in me.”

Nikolai had begun to understand in these weeks the stories around her, more than he had ever understood them before. He had also begun to nurture a sheer curiosity in her regard, for the complex mind she hid and the way she seemed careless to other people's thoughts on her. He tried not to let himself be distracted now, which always proved to be a strenuous task with this particular girl, when she waved that look at him and played the card of the ridiculously attractive and positively enchanting Grisha summoner she undoubtedly was. He did really need to get a grip, though. If they were to work together as closely as he had his mind set to, he had to find a way to make himself immune to her flair, constructed or natural that it was. 

Never seduce anyone prettier than I am, right? Or never even conceive to seduce anyone you’re attracted to if you had planned to offer that specific anyone one of the highest-ranking positions in the whole country. An equally wise rule to live by. If only her look was the only appeal he had found in her. Her edgy personality, which people tended to be almost scared of, had captivated him a great deal more; whatever beauty withered in the face of how capable and strong-spirited she was. Qualities that made her all the more desirable. The privateer in him had screamed at the top of his lungs to take on the improbable quest of conquering someone who seemed impervious to him as she did, someone that out of reach, that captivating. Shameful instinct, to say the least. And leaning on the worst-idea-ever side of things. 

Besides, he had a country to take care of now; he was no longer a privateer who could make reckless choices and chase after impossible girls. Nikolai Lantsov was a king, the king of a war-torn, desperate place. The challenge of earning her trust and admiration might turn out to be just as endearing; he could embark on that one, letting her bitter tongue put him back into place. 

Resorting to his decision, he got a small box out of a drawer, placing it on the desk beside him. 

“There’s something else I mean to offer you.” 

Zoya eyed the box, while Nikolai bobbed his chin at it, encouraging her to take it. She stood still, her look shifting back to observe him. Truly exasperating the lack of gratifications she offered. 

“Contrary to what you believe, I am no fool.” He decided to dive right into it, pushing through her silence. “As much as I hate to admit it, the Darkling was fairly good at reading people. You rose high in his favour because he considered you extremely resourceful and trustworthy, and valued you as a soldier.” Nikolai unfolded his arms and rested his hands on the wooden brink of the desk, pushing himself to her; he lowered his voice with a smirk. “And I know for a fact the reason for that has nothing to do with your very pleasant appearance, which I have no doubt is another weapon you know how to use.”

He backed up again. Life on the sea had taught him to turn weakness into brass. Thankfully, he had spent years practicing the art of acting. Zoya pursed her lips, biting a comeback and momentarily avoiding his gaze. Not that impervious after all. One had to catch on the details.

 “I am not blind. Nor do I have reasons to pretend to be. Still, I’m afraid I am far more interested in your wide arsenal of warfare talents.” He took a sip from his glass and hummed teatrichally, cocking his head to the side to assess her. “I do share the burden of being handsome, though. We can whine together about our fatigues.”

That mocking smile was back on her mouth, sparkling with mischief. She spoke with a casual tone, smoothing her kefta. “As much as you brag about it, your charm seems to fail you. Our Sun Saint did not look particularly impressed by it.” 

Ah, clever one. Nikolai mustered his composure to flash another grin at her, thoroughly impressed both by her boldness and by the precision of her strike. All right, that stung. Which to her credit only meant she had no fear to bite people where it hurt and a certain ability to find that spot. Useful skills for a General.  

“Luckily for me, she was one of a very few number of exceptions.”

“Charm our way through peace, then.” Zoya cast her eyes heavenward, crossing her arms. 

“Can I come back to praise you? I wasn’t finished.”

“By all means, do”, she gestured.

“As I was saying. Sadly for our favorite herald of darkness, he was also a prick. Not to mention manipulator and mass murderer, amongst other remarkable successes. He wholly under-estimated you: you are trustworthy and resourceful, along with a lot of other virtues he did not remotely understand nor properly paid attention to.”

 Nikolai paused. He put his glass down, yielding to the temptation at last and letting his feet stride toward her. Had she moved more near too? Now they were definitely closer than needed. He could see the darker slivers in her irises, the curls falling inside the fur collar of her uniform. 

The smell in the Grand Palace garden after a rainstorm, he thought of that scent. When he had laid in the grass and soaked his clothes in mud, just for the sake of feeling the earth below him and the water on his skin.

“I’ve watched you, these weeks. You are good. Not just at fighting, I believe that is a given. You are good at leading. Your mind is way sharper than your tongue. I’ve studied you with your Etherealki and the other Grisha, with the First Army representatives.``

He made a show of plucking a peck of invisible dust from his coat. Zoya did not move, keeping her attention on him. A sceptical frown appeared on her face.

“You do love to hear yourself talk.”

“I’ve watched you do that, too. You’re bold, in a good way. You tend to deliver neat blows.”

“Are you in the habit of examining all the people that come to work for you?”

“Just the powerful ones”, he admitted. 

She might have looked nothing but unimpressed by the string of praises he had just given, as if they were common known truths, nothing of importance to linger on. Her eyes had grown troubled though, then curious, they had softened in the glowing sunset light. They were assessing him with strong intent now, and Nikolai could only think they held the ocean inside. The ocean he had seen when he had thought he would never be back on the waves again, the one that had felt like hope gained with blood and shattered bones in those grey sands. 

“You saved me, in the Fold”, Nikolai abruptly said. The twitch in her breath made him understand just how much his demeanor had changed unconsciously, how much the mask of the ruler had slipped away and his unguarded voice betrayed him.

“Indeed.”

“I haven’t had the occasion to thank you properly.”

“It’s my job”, she briskly answered, almost annoyed. “You’re my king.”

You’re my king. Best to ignore the bolt of confidence and pleasure that spiked through his spine. 

“Apart from my gratitude, I kind of had in mind to make it your actual job”, the king considered.

Zoya Nazyalensky. Not kind, and not easy. Zoya shot him a suspicious look, but she held her ground.

“It just so happens that both me and the Second Army are in need of a General”, he declared, never shifting his focus from her face. “Would you care to consider taking the position?”

He caught the box in his hand, opening the lid and extending it to her. A medal was shining in it, the golden Ravka double eagle, wrought in in a pale blue sash. Zoya briefly lowered her gaze to it, turning to look at Nikolai with an intensity that was almost impossible to bear. Her look was unreadable, yet the tension in her stiff muscles unmistakable. Nikolai could hardly hide the painful want for her to accept, the thrill he felt at the chance of having someone to rely on, in time, to share some of the burden with. Someone who was not his father’s advisors, someone he could choose. Someone he felt a strange pull toward, a sort of twisted hidden affinity.

Alina chose you, he had told her. The choice is yours, she had told him.

I made the choice. I am the one choosing you now.

The thumping heart in his chest ached at the possibility of making things right for this cursed country with a person he could trust at his side. To ease the loneliness, even if it had to be a game of pretend to some degree. The moments dripped away, her eyes alight with a flame hard to understand. Nikolai restrained his own will to jump into that blazing chaos, knowing how easily he would have lost himself in it. 

“You’re making me your General?”, she said finally. The annoyance had disappeared, replaced with a hesitant falter, something that sounded both like disbelief and a flicker of cautious excitement. 

“I’m asking you to be my General, if you wish so. I would not force anything on you. The position comes with a lot of heavy responsibilities and long sleepless nights.” Zoya was still frozen in place. Slowly, her arms uncrossed, coming to rest at her sides. “On the brighter side, you’ll get to enjoy endless hours of my company.”

“I’d say the brighter side is the responsibilities one.” 

None of the previous snark was contained in her words. He could see how hard she was trying to keep her attitude on her, her own mask. 

“You can decide whether to direct your scowls at me or at people annoying you then.”

“You’re assuming you won’t be among the people annoying me. Bold take.” 

“I’d wager that’s what I’m mostly going to do”, Nikolai conceded. Zoya was trying to buy time, to ward off his attention. He just wasn’t sure if she needed it to regain her confident self or if she was considering how to refuse the offer. Nikolai did not like the last option, and it was better to rip the band aid off quickly. 

“With the prospect of this gain, would you accept?” She peered at him again. He could not hold back a grin. “Did I just surprise you?”

“Please”, she spat out, but it was a little too marked to not be forced. Nikolai fought the impulse to smile wider. “Who else would you choose? Genya, so she can tailor the enemies away? David, to bore them to death with science talks? I’m the most qualified for the job. It’s reasonable of you to ask me.”

“I am not asking you because it’s reasonable.”

Again, reason was not the prime source fueling his judgment. For Saints sake, would you take this damn medal? Nerve racking girl that she was. It was making him fancy her even more.

“I am asking you because you deserved it. I believe you are the right person for this task, in many different ways.”

The weariness in her was still there; he hoped she could see that was not empty flattery anymore, that he had meant it. Finally, finally Zoya reached for the medal. He heard her draw in a sharp breath, a crease appearing between her brows. Nikolai wondered how it would feel to make it disappear, to see her features smooth down. Zoya moved through the world like a soldier with an armor in place, one she kept up with the pure will of her steel spirit and hardened heart. Despite her stillness, power was radiating off of her, the wind once again carrying that distinctive scent. 

That small fishermen port they had docked in when the Volkvolny had arrived on the Wandering Isle, the one that was surrounded by pastures and a wide meadow in which an ocean of colourful wildflowers had just sprouted. Wildflowers. 

For once in life, Nikolai had hardly an idea of who the person standing in front of him was. The enigmatic, beautiful, fierce squaller. Was she happy? Excited for this chance to serve her country? Terrified by the prospect of what they still had to face? Considering smacking him for being out of his mind? There was something that lurked inside of her under that armor, something in those blue eyes that seemed too painful to be looked at, too intimate to know. It came in shadows, disappearing, as if she was fighting it to stay down, to get it under control. The same bottomless abyss he had seen when she had saved him.

Nikolai knew what it meant, to lose something, to fight for an ideal and see it broken, to finally have the power in your hands to fix what others had crushed. It felt terrifying and exhilarating, and maybe that was what was running in that head of hers now. Zoya brushed her fingers on the golden pin, pulling it up and wrapping it under her hand. She closed her fist, raising her gaze to him, locking their eyes together. The shadows had gone, replaced by a fearless light. 

“I’ll need to meet with the First Army generals”, the tone of a leader. “They won’t like this, and since I am fairly sure you don’t care one bit about it, I’ll need to handle them. And I’ll need that document drafted.”

He nodded, pushing down the towering joy that was flooding his chest. Practical. Ruthless, facing the issues head on, not shying away. He twisted and reached for another glass from the cabinet, turning inside his mind the fact that she had accepted, that he was looking at his General now. 

“To a long and fruitful partnership, then”, Nikolai offered her the brandy, “or rather to save this broken country and not getting killed in the meanwhile.” 

Zoya gave him a stern look. “I don’t drink on the job.”

Why does that not surprise me? He grinned excitedly and raised the glass to her, downing his drink.

“In time, I may teach you to have a little fun, too.”

Unscathed, she just tossed her hair. “Believe me, Your Highness, I am perfectly able to revel in fun. I am just highly selective of the people I allow to share it with me.”

The seducing part really would never be necessary, after all. He had a hunch they were immensely going to enjoy working together and drive each other crazy. I undoubtedly am. 

“You’ll teach me how you select those blessed souls, then.”

Before she could resume their banter, another call at the king’s chambers’ entrance interrupted them, bursting the quiet of this comfortable room. The sound seemed to snap Zoya back to herself, making her realize how close they were standing. Nikolai had already been all too aware of it. She quickly moved away from him, not leaving his eyes. Pride back in her expression, shoulders squared. In her silver threaded kefta, she already appeared like the able respected General she would soon grow into. Her medal was closed in her fist, the knuckles white from the force of the grip. 

“I will not fail Ravka”, she said, marking every word. I will not fail you, was the rest of the sentence, the part that hung unspoken between them. “I promise you that.”

Nikolai trusted her, without reservations. The king knew he had made the right choice. Both for the country, and, he selfishly thought, for himself. There was a hidden gratitude in her oath, the emotion she would not speak outright but nevertheless felt. 

“Brace yourself, Nazyalensky.” He felt positively giddy and already itching for the challenges that fate would throw their way. “It’s going to be one hell of a ride. Take the rest of the evening for yourself, I’m afraid it’s the last moment of peace you’ll have for a while.”

She exhaled, her eyes moving to the window and Os Alta’s pointed domes in the distance. 

“Ravka doesn’t consider rest as possible, that much I know.” 

She rang for the servant, ignoring they were in Nikolai’s study and he was the one probably supposed to do that. Already moving like she owned the place, deciding the conversation was over. Zoya gave him a long, deep look.

“Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Nikolai fell back on his chair, watching her go as one of the old king’s advisors was accompanied inside the study. Surely a less pleasurable company for the evening. Both for the eyes and for the soul, he thought, forcing himself to wave a welcoming expression to the white-bearded man and his ridiculously long mustaches.

“Miss Nazyalensky”, the advisor greeted her with a half bow as she passed beside him on her way to the hallway. Zoya simply rolled her eyes, strolling toward the door with a last nod at Nikolai. He was sorry to see her go. Before she got out, Nikolai took the impulse and called to the man before him. 

“General”, he corrected him, ignoring his shocked expression, “it’s General Nazyalensky now.”

Nikolai did not miss the slight misstep Zoya took at his words. Her kefta wirled as her gaze snapped to his. A beat passed. Without a sign of acknowledgment, Zoya looked away, that scent he had finally placed disappearing with her. Nikolai thought it best not to tell her that she hadn’t been quick enough to hide; he had seen her lashes lowering as she sighed, a smile tugging at her lips, one that was not feigned neither mocking, one that made her eyes sparkle with delight and was not meant to be noticed. If there was hope to make Zoya Nazyalensky brighten up like that, maybe Nikolai had it in himself to steer this country to safety after all.

Goodnight, General. 

***

“I thought we were past these poor attempts at wooing me”, she scoffed, playfully pushing him away. Nikolai chuckled, drawing her back to rest on his chest, circling her in his arms. He rested his chin on her head, listening to the warm huff of her breath on the cotton of his shirt. Deadly Zoya, who let herself curl in his hold almost easily. If someone had told him he would live to the feel of her lashes shutting on his heart, Nikolai would have probably sent the man to get his head checked by a Healer. Or paid him another drink.

“I am positively serious”, Nikolai assured her. Zoya blew a distrustful grunt. 

“Nikolai, you do realize you don’t need to flatter me to get me into your bed anymore?”

“I do like you in my bed. Or anywhere else, for that matter”, he considered, humming against her hair. Zoya leaned on his shoulder to prompt herself up, looking him straight in the eyes. He tried to keep a smooth expression. 

“So you’re saying I garnered your attention that soon? To me, you seemed a bit - “

She tilted her head to the side, shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes?”

“Distracted”, she pointed out, an overly amused grin perking her lips.

Nikolai knew she was referring both to Alina and to the apparently unscathed attitude he had kept around her in the years they had worked together. No doubt clueless to how quickly other forbidden images had replaced the Sun Summoner’s ones in his dreams or just how much commitment he had been forced to put into appearing unaffected by her presence. He had been distracted, at first, though even in distraction Zoya snatched the attention like a lightning. Then a quake in the ground had struck; Zoya had then made her way into his life like a ferociously fast tidal wave, rippling foam at first, raging and rumbling waters then.

“You distracted me a lot, Zoya. Working with you has been equally comforting and tiring. You distract me even more now”, he leaned closer, sliding one hand on her neck, preventing her from backing away, “that I get to do this”. Nikolai caught her lips with his, kissing away the disbelieving frown from her mouth. When the kiss broke, she looked halfway convinced of his candor. 

“You can’t possibly imagine how many dull meetings I have tuned out with you haunting my thoughts. The overactive mind I happen to be cursed with did not help my concentration.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, even though they both knew how truthful the statement was.

“You are diverting.”

“Is it working?”

“A bit”, she casually dismissed, tucking a strand of black curls on her finger. Nikolai sighed happily, slipping away in his thoughts. He wanted to tell her everything, he wanted her to take a stroll right into his mind to see it all. They had so much time now, and he had the constant urge of stocking it without letting a single instant slip, making up for all the years it had taken them to have each other.

 “Anyway, it’s nothing special. People are commonly struck by my beauty.” 

“I’ll admit you are kind of a breath-taking vision”, he snatched her hand away from her hair to press a kiss on her knuckles. “That’s not what really caught my attention, though.”

Of course he had noticed her. Then again, who did not? The vexing creature was hard not to notice, with dark waves framing a perfect figure, hiding an intricate enigma to solve. Since he was a boy, the prince had loved to unravel the puzzle of a person, he had proud himself of being able to do so with nearly everyone he had encountered. Zoya was another kind of riddle, one that had given him more headaches than victories. She made a point to hide; and Nikolai, well, he had always been an explorer at heart, hadn’t he? So he had noticed, and embarked on the journey drawn by the thrill of adventure. Every bitter word had been a wave to crash, every harsh reply a storm to weather to look under the surface. Every gust of wind, barked command and brisk political comment a sudden turn inside her convoluted mind.  

“I’m torn between accusing you of sweet-talking me as usual or just outright lying.”

Nikolai clenched his heart in a mock gesture, and a small laugh bubbled in his chest. Judging from the bright gleam in her eyes and the lightness with which she was messing with him, she had believed him.

“Enough about you then. Am I to truly believe I did not impress you at first sight?”

Zoya glared daggers at him, but did not answer right away, considering his question. He got lucky this evening. 

“You did impress me, albeit saying at first sight would be a huge overstatement”, she admitted, then exhaled a long breath and let herself fall on the cushion. “I was so happy when you asked me to be your General”, her eyes were distant, as if she was talking to herself more than him, seeing the rageful and determined girl she had been. “I went back to my room and could not stop smiling. My heart was so full, for the first time since what felt like forever. It never felt like a responsibility, it felt like an opportunity you gave me.”

“Tell me you waltzed alone in your room, please”, he teased, being the one who wanted to improvise a victory dance on the spot.

“I will not.”

“You will not tell me because it did not happen, or just to deprive me of the satisfaction?”

“Your ego does not need more encouragement”, she rested her chin on her hand, forcing her lips to stay pursed and fighting back a smile. So that was a yes, then. Zoya bursting with happiness was a sight he would have probably sold his soul to see, three years ago. 

“That was the first time I believed you may not be the overly chatty catastrophe I would have made you out to be.”

“You know, I’m not so sure”, Nikolai grinned at her, beaming with pride. “You were stunned when I shot the Darkling.” 

“You remember that?”, she gave him a surprised glance from her place on the cushion. They barely knew each other back then, but he had not forgotten. He pulled her back to him, brushed his mouth on her forehead. 

“I paid attention in these years, Zoya. To every inch of you.”

It had taken him a while to notice the other things. The stubborn tilt of her chin when she was being challenged and needed to hold her ground. How she shook the cuffs of her kefta before announcing something, or how it meant the argument was done on her part. The way she marked the first words of a sentence with a harder tone than usual when she was in distress, as if the very fact of lacing a syllable with spite could hold herself together. Her resting her head to the side when she was at ease, narrowing her eyes to the sunlight, allowing herself a surrender. The grief and hurt that peered through only when she was trying too hard to conceal it, only when the exhaustion was overwhelming and keeping this country together too tiring. The gleam she possessed when she was teaching the kids, how her gaze softened with care as soon as they turned their backs on her and she watched them laugh and toss each other around. Her laughter with Genya or Tamar when they had a glass too much in the evening and they gossiped around, basking in the illusion of being normal people with no weight on their shoulders. 

Zoya had been a story for Nikolai, one he had wanted to unfold, to slowly walk through the pages of it and discover her mysteries, her secrets, her wants. She had been the puzzle of his lifetime, and he knew he would never stop sorting through it. Whenever he thought he had put some sense in it, she uncovered a dark alley he had brushed past without noticing; her Suli heritage, her family’s past, her garden of sorrows. And then came the agony of sorting her feelings out, a line he had walked balancing his hopeless wishes and the reality of her gestures. Trying to piece together how deliberate or innocent had been the way she kept locking their gazes together through the opposite corner of a room, wondering how carefree when she lingered with her fingers on his skin a moment too long as they brushed their hands. If she was toying with him as he had heard in the stories about her, or if her restraint wavered under a desire he had not known he was hoping for. All the times the inevitable had almost happened, and they had strode past these occurrences with the shared silent pact of not voicing it out loud. Zoya’s look growing calm in the dim light of the countless rooms they had worked in, a warmth they had both longed for. 

Nikolai tightened his hold on her. He buried his nose in her hair.

The heat of a sunny day, the spring that came in Dominik’s fields, the crushed daisies under his sisters’ sticky fingers. The Grand Palace garden brought alive by rain around him, droplets running through his golden hair. A meadow near the sea in a foreign magical place where he would take her one day, the marvels he would show her. That damn wildflowers scent he had never been able to carve out of the bottom of his soul.

She had revealed herself in front of him, in irrelevant moments carrying with them a significance he had never been aware of. 

“I thought I knew myself”, Zoya started, barely audible over the crackling of the fire, “the rotten parts of me. My strengths.” She paused. “Seeing me through your eyes - you shattered everything I knew and built it back. I did not understand how soon you had started doing that.”

"Soulmates stuff, I guess”, he murmured in a wanton tone, ignoring the prick behind his eyes, startled by the sudden shift in her mood and the heartfelt openness she was displaying.

“I don’t believe in that nonsense”, Zoya huffed dismissively. Nikolai laughed.

“I share your disbelief, actually. Destiny has done nothing but put obstacles in our path, after all. If anything, we have defied it. I believe it’s more a matter of choices”, he said, pensive. Once again, he rested his cheek on her carefully brushed curls, inhaling deeply. “We did not happen to stumble upon each other and miraculously fall in love. We chose each other.”

The choice is yours.

I made the choice. I am the one choosing you now.

I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride.

The first one had gone unbelievably smoothly. The second, it had taken patience and effort and a certain resistance to disappointments. The third one, well - he was working on that. A ring did stand wrapped around her finger. Halfway there. 

Zoya must had been thinking of that, too. She seemed to ponder his statement before replying. “You did tell me you would choose me. When I thought no one would.”

“I think I chose you long before I knew I did. Then I hoped against all odds that when you’d make your own choice, you’d choose me in return. That you’d choose to stay.”

Zoya fell silent. He could not see her, but he imagined just as well her biting her lower lip, his words sinking into her heart. With Zoya, the quiet was comfortable, warm as the press of her body on his. The quiet was needed.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long”, a whisper at last, as she turned back up to look at him. Nikolai shook his head decisively.

“Don’t be.”

“You have waited for me.” There was just a knowing safety in her tone. It had mattered, for Nikolai, to let her choose. To let her know, and then let her decide. To give her a chance at love and stand by for her to take it, his trust in her never faltering. He gently took her face between his calloused hands, worn by battles and tight salty ropes.

“You were worth every second. Besides, time means nothing for demons and saints, right? We have a lot of it in our hands.”

This time she whole-heartedly smiled, adjusting his perfectly fine collar in that affectionate unaware gesture again. 

Being the unsuccessful poet he could have been in another lifetime, sometimes he wondered if the story they had lived would ever go on in ballad and poems, as he had once joked with her. If someone would tell of an open sky split by lightning in which a dragon had spread his wings and roared his heartache, never to be left alone to live in darkness again. If someone would hear of a wayward privateer finding the ocean in a person, tricking fate into conquering everything his battered heart had ever searched for. If there would ever be written the tale of a love waiting on the other side of a door, of the people brave enough to cross it. 

He had thought they would have just kept telling that tale to each other, through open mouthed kisses left on bare skin, tangled sheets and hushed confessions traded in the night. Then one day, he had heard the kids play in the Little Palace forest, a girl with golden brown skin splashing water on the others from the lake, calling herself the Suli queen who could turn into a legendary beast. He had seen a Fabrikator in the library draft sketches of pirates and mystical creatures fighting each other on a flying ship. To his amusement, he had watched and eavesdropped as one of his personal guards, a handsome young boy coming from Udova, had tried to woo a noble girl into walking with him to the garden, promising her to tell her the fable of how a king with a demon inside had won the attentions of a beautiful unattainable witch who commanded the storms.

Nikolai liked that. The idea that their struggles might turn into hope. One thing he loved, though, were the details that remained theirs. 

Zoya brushed a hand through his golden hair with a yearning look in her eyes, soft as a feather she kissed his jaw, adjusted herself in the space between his arms, played with the ring on her finger as she laced her hand with his. She still called him King wretch at times, he still called her his General. She had still eaten all of his herring that morning, they had still made time to work silently through papers together before dinner. At the end, there had never been a hierarchy between them, swept away in the matter of heartbeats since she had held a broken prince in the safety of her wind and he had given her a medal to cradle in her fingers: they had always fought alongside each other, as they were doing now. These details. 

That was the part of their story no one would ever earn to hear. The part they would keep writing in secret.

[themadamespod]

Sharon Carter: A Study in Selfishness

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spotlighted some hard truths. Beyond its real-world parallels, it’s changed our perspective on the MCU. And on the heels of the finale, we can’t help but reflect on how we got here.

It feels like ages ago that an alien invaded Earth believing it was his right to do so. This madman imposed his will upon a whole planet. He wielded god-like power over an entire species. He took the lives of countless people, leaving the rest to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. 

In doing so, he became one of the most beloved characters in the MCU.

So why is it that many of the people who adore a monster are now so disappointed with Sharon Carter?

Easy. Loki is a man. 

Angels and Demons

Relax, everybody. This is not an anti-Loki treatise. I’m writing this post with a Loki poster behind my chair, a Loki mug on my desk, and a Loki t-shirt on my back.

To be fair, it helps that the God of Mischief is played by one of the most charming, attractive men in Hollywood. But Emily VanCamp is no slouch. She’s a beautiful, talented actor who elevates any project. So why are people upset that she’s the Power Broker?

Women aren’t supposed to veer from familial or cultural expectations. 

Women aren’t supposed to put themselves first. 

Women aren’t supposed to seize power in a man’s world. 

The events of Civil War alone had a tremendous impact on the characters we love. Sam and Bucky’s respective ordeals changed them forever, and The Blip forced them to adapt even further. So many people are praising their growth in the TFATWS finale, and we’re among them. But it’s frustrating to then see comments like these:

“Omg wtf is wrong with Sharon? That is NOT who she is!”

“Since when is Sharon evil? That ain’t her.”

“Sharon is totally a Skrull. The Sharon we know would never turn her back on everything she stands for.”

Guess what, folks? Just like Sam and Bucky, the Sharon we once knew no longer exists. She, too, changed and grew - right out of the box that the patriarchy built for her. And people don’t know how to handle it.  

Double Standards

Misogyny is so deeply woven into the fabric of our society that a lot of people, women included, often don’t see it. But it’s in almost every facet of daily life, leaching into our brains like a toxin. And TFATWS called Marvel out on it by illustrating a simple fact:

Men and women who behave in the same way are treated very differently.

A man who tramples others for a promotion is ambitious. A woman is a conniving bitch.

A man who sleeps around is held up as a ladies’ man. A woman is looked down upon as a whore.

A man who logs extra time at the office is a good provider. A woman is neglecting her family. 

Despite centuries of fighting for our right to exist, women are still brainwashed to be and be seen as lesser than men. We’re expected to conform to roles meant to keep us subservient. We’re told that caring for others is more important than caring for ourselves. 

Sharon Carter received the same cultural programming. And it’s likely that she felt familial pressure (either explicit or implicit) to follow in Aunt Peggy’s footsteps, whether she wanted to or not. 

And follow she did.

Sharon joined S.H.I.E.L.D. She fought armed HYDRA agents. Then she sacrificed her life, her career, and her freedom for the greater good. And what did she get for it?

The same thing women always get when they put everyone else’s best interests ahead of their own. 

She got fucked. 

A Matter of Perspective

Let’s pretend the TFATWS finale had gone differently. The Power Broker is a previously unseen bad guy, a Wilson Fisk type. After the U.S. government branded her as a fugitive and the Avengers forgot her, Sharon has just been trying to survive in Madripoor.

Nonetheless, she helps Sam and Bucky neutralize Karli. Sam secures Sharon’s pardon and she reclaims her former post as a dutiful C.I.A. agent.

Talk about disappointing; that would be like watching a woman return to a man who beats her. 

In reality, Sharon is revealed as the Power Broker. After the people for whom she gave everything betrayed her, she built a lucrative business from scratch using a canny brain and the skills S.H.I.E.L.D. taught her.

Now for those who are incensed by Sharon’s turn because she’s selling weapons, please see Exhibit A:

Even after Tony Stark stopped manufacturing weapons for the U.S. government, he continued making them for S.H.I.E.L.D. If memory serves, he also created a sentient murder-bot that leveled a city before nearly annihilating mankind.

Tony’s intentions were noble, but that didn’t make him any less responsible for a humanitarian disaster. The Sokovians would have been well within their rights to demand Tony’s arrest and incarceration.

But we love Tony, so we don’t like to go there.

And speaking of the U.S. government, let’s be real. American politicians wouldn’t condemn Sharon for illegally selling weapons to dangerous groups. They’d condemn her for cutting into their own profits. 

If there’s one thing the U.S. government excels at, it’s creating and arming terrorists. Sharon’s just running their playbook.

Redefining Selfishness

In all fairness, some people’s disappointment over Sharon’s arc has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with heroism. For this discussion, see Exhibit B:

Ever since Steve Rogers got his happy ending with Peggy Carter in Endgame, the Marvel fandom has been divided into two camps.

Camp 1: Steve is a selfish bastard who abandoned his family, his country, and the world when they all needed him the most.

Camp 2: Steve did more than enough for his family, his country, and the world when they all needed him most and deserved his happiness.

I will always be a card-carrying member of Camp 2, which is one reason I exited my Endgame theater as a human ball of snot. 

Steve Rogers gave enough for his country even before he was defrosted. He liberated a POW camp behind enemy lines. He defeated Red Skull. He saved countless lives by crashing the HYDRA bomber into the arctic, sacrificing his own life in the process.

And when he was resurrected after 70 years, did he stop and smell the roses? Read a book on the beach?

No. He saved the world. Again, and again, and again.

It’s incredibly noble that a life with Peggy is all Steve wanted. Think about Michael Bay’s uber-patriotic Armageddon. Those roughnecks had quite the list of demands for saving the world, all of which seemed perfectly reasonable because, hello, they were saving the world. 

So what does this have to do with Sharon Carter? Well, if you’re in Steve Rogers Camp 1, you likely see Sharon as a selfish bitch. I’ll make the same argument in her defense:

She’s given more than enough for others. She has every right to now put herself first.

We as women need to redefine selfishness. It’s been weaponized against us for far too long. We have to reframe it as a positive concept whereby we simply make our needs a priority in our own lives. 

If more women embraced selfishness, we would be unstoppable. 

Oh, and if you’re in Steve Rogers Camp 2 but still disappointed in Sharon Carter, you’ve got some hypocrisy on your chin. Might want to wipe that off. 

A Final Note

Alice Walker, who knows a thing or two about feminism, once said, “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”

When the name “Power Broker” was first dropped on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, it felt cheesy. But now it seems like the perfect title for a woman who not only refused to give up her power, but actively sought more. 

Sharon Carter is unequivocally selfish, but that doesn’t make her evil or even wrong. 

It makes her one powerful woman. And we can’t wait to see her again. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Earth is Space Australia, “Plagues of Earth.”

I finally got to write an earth is space Australia ft. (Australia) lol. I hope you guys have fun, i enjoyed making this, though I had less time than I wanted to elaborate. 

Also inspired by a cover of “The Plagues of Egypt” Done by Johnathan Young in a heavy metal style. I would suggest listening to it when you think about this piece. 

Also, sorry if I said anything inaccurate about anyone’s country. I had less than two hours and a quick google search for facts 

“Their planetary defense is strong, but they prepare for battle on a large scale.If we bring our troops to the surface in small drop ships, and lead their military carriers away by attacking their nearby colony. We will take the planet.”

“What would be the point of this?”

“Humanity is held up as deity by the rest of the galaxy. As long as they fight, the GA fights with them. But if we destroy them, crush their planet at the source, then we crush the morale of the rest of the galaxy.”

“Where do we drop out soldiers?”

“Everywhere, on every major landmass, near every major city. But we do it quietly, drop them into the wilderness first so the humans won’t see them coming.” 

“If we can defeat the humans, we can defeat them all.”

***

Location: Upper-Mid Merianda (Previous US/Canada border rocky mountain region) 

The burg landed in the thick forests of the north. The human planet was lush and green, and the temperature was moderate, though it leaned slightly towards cold under the canopy of branches. There were sounds everywhere, the chattering of wildlife and strange flying creatures flitting through the trees. The nearest human residence was not far off, maybe a ten cycle march down hill.

They would reach it in no time, and make their sneak attack.

Their team commander barked his commands to the following Burg soldiers and together they began making their way down the hill.

None of them noticed when things began to go wrong.

They had never been to earth, and so were not aware of the sudden silence in the forest that comes before a coming storm.

You see, the Burg are similar to the Iotans, in that they give off a pungent smell. Not so pungent as it tends to affect humans, but pungent enough to affect the nearby wildlife. A wildlife that was not pleased with their presence.

It might have been fine, if they hadn’t stumbled into the den.

It started with a light squeaking. A sound that gave them pause as they looked around for the source. One of the burg pushed aside a green fern to reveal a hole dug into the embankment. He would have investigated if it weren’t for the loud piercing howl that echoed through the trees just to their right.

They all leaped upright in confusion and fear backing into a circle.

Another howl pierced the forest from their left, another form their right. Until they were surrounded by the sound. Shapes flitted through the trees, furry on all fours and hunched.

A howl from directly behind them.

They spun in place.

As the wolf leaped from the top of the embankment her teeth flashing.

As it turns out wolf pups are fond of Burg flesh

***

New Brazilia (Somewhere in what was once central Brazil, Border rain forest district)

This was the perfect climate, nice warm, dark and moist, shady below the trees that towered overhead in great twisting arcs. The foliage below them was very thick and hard to cut through as they made their way towards the human colonies. This was surely going to be their element, and they laughed at the idea of making the humans suffer as they waded their way through the trees.

The ground before them opened revealing an embankment on the side of a river. There was a hole in the foliage here, and the ground was dry. The burg stepped down onto this spot, their feet crunching slightly in the dirt.

One of them slapped absently at one of it’s segmented legs, brushing away a small insect that had crawled onto its body. Another party member did the same.

One of them even shrieked in pain, “It bit me!”

They looked down brushing the little black bugs off their bodies, only to find that the ground was absolutely swarming with them. One of the Burg shrieked, and tried to run his entire body now covered with hundreds of these little black creatures, however he tripped and fell onto his face.

His entire body was black.

The others began to scream as well, swatting at their bodies and their weapons falling to the riverbed as they were overrun by a massive troop of army ants.

They would never make their destination.

***

United Slavic  Districts (North/eastern Russia)

This forest was both humid and somewhat cold. It was early morning in the summer, and yet frost still built up on the leaves of the plants overhead. The burg weren’t particularly pleased about this, but they were going to have to deal with it.

It was best to keep moving at times like this, and they hurried their way through thick banks of early morning fog towards the not-to-distant human civilization. Their feet were nearly silent over the frosty forest floor dirt compressing under foot.

They had been walking for some minutes when they heard the sound. A strange mournful cry from the woods almost like the cry of a human infant, though slightly deeper. THe sound made them excited. Where they were infants there were likely humans. And who knows that could be a human noise.

They followed the sound looking about the foggy forest.

The noise came again, so close.

Ah, and there it was, though they were disappointed to find it was not a human at all, but  two fuzzy brown animals no bigger than waist height. They were so small, so pathetic and pitiful and they cried out in terror when the burg approached.

One of the burg raised it’s weapon angry.

The bellow came echoing through the trees rending the very air around them and sending birds scattering into the sky.

The burg turned on their heels as the massive brown bear came charging out of the forest bellowing her teeth flashing.

As it seemed the great land, of what was once, Russia was not pleased with their presence.

***

East Trans African Belt (former Ethiopia)

It was hot and dry, and the burg didn’t like it. But at least the ground was mostly flat, and the dirt was easy to navigate. Tall grasses raised to either side of the shallow river just to their left. Animals grunted off in the distance and the sky above was bright and blue. Dust rose up from their feet as they made their way towards the edge of the river, hoping that the water would help to moisten up the air around them.

The grunting grew louder.

They glanced over seeing large bulbous shapes in the water. It didn’t much matter to them, and they mostly ignored the creatures, knowing that anything that big was likely to be equally slow. They were making their way up the riverbank now, and the creatures rested in the water just to their side.

Distant grunting grew louder.

One of the burg was standing just next to the bank now when the water exploded casing great droplets into the air as the Hippo burst from the river mouth open wide at it’s four foot extension and bit down upon the unsuspecting burg dragging him violently into the water.

The others tried to run, slipped on the mud, and were set upon by the rest of the family.

***

Southern Indasia (India) 

The river bank was calm, nothing but floating logs out on the distant water. One of the burg officers was listening to her communications.  There were reports form all across the human’s home planet, that many of their parties had gone radio silent. She wasn’t entirely sure what that could mean but it worried her. Many of them had been traveling along river pathways just like her and her group, and she wondered if that had anything to do with their current situation.

One of the young burg stood at the edge of the water kicking stones into its murky green depths.

“We should definitely move along  from this area.” She was saying moving back up the bank and towards the forest of trees.”

One of he logs had floated closer to shore.

The young burg agreed and bent down to retrieve his weapon from the bank.

A moment later his head had disappeared vanished inside the mouth of a crocodile who then began to spin violently  dragging the burg into the water. Alerted to the frenzy others came as well racing up onto the bank.

There was never any evidence that the Burg had visited india, though there were reports about strange noises by the river that morning.

***

Australia (still just Australia)

They came as the sun was rising. A low mist had coated itself over the land, though the day was lucking to be annoyingly hot. 

They were just coming up to the edge of the human settlement when they saw it. A distant shape silhouetted between two trees. At first it looked like a man, but as the fog drew back they found a strange creature staring back at them.

One of the burg snorted.

The thing looked like a Tesraki almost, but dumber and a bit taller with large pointy ears, an absolutely massive trunk, and a very long back tail that it used like a Tesraki to stand on iits back legs.

One of the Tesraki crouched down in the foliage resting his hand on a low garden wall.

“Just shoo it off.” Their commander ordered, and two of the Burg moved up to confront the dumb looking creature.

Three things happened at once.

First the crouching burg cursed violently flicking his hand and tossing the angry funnel web spider into the bushes. 

A hiss rose up from the leaves.

And the kangaroo violently kicked the first burg in the chest collapsing his carapace beyond repair before moving over to stomp his friend.

The death adder struck.

Two  of the Burg were convulsing on the ground, another two lay silent and broken. The next two ran off in different directions, one towards the nearby beach and the other back into the forest.

No one is entirely sure what happened after that. All we know is one was found belly up at high tide near the docks where blue ringed octopus are known to be found, and the other was completely gone, though they did spot a rather bloated and very happy looking python chilling in the bushes not far from where the incident occurred.

More and more berg had stopped answering their calls.

Most of the burg would never find out what happened.

But we do.

Burg were found dead all over the world.

A young girl reported a burg attack in the outskirts of London, though her rottweiler had made quick work of that enlisting another pack of suburban dogs to protect the little girl from the freaky bug things.

Alligator attacks in Florida.

Six burg were found plowed over by a speeding bullet train in Japan.

in  Lower Mid Mericanda, a group of self-claimed hillbillies  with cutoff sleeves and unironic mullets were speeding through the forests on the back of four wheelers taking pot shots at anything remotely burg shaped. They had  at least ten confirmed kills, and the creatures never made it out of the swamp.

Another group of burg had made the mistake of landing in one of the last nuclear fallout zones in eastern europe, and ended up cooked by the radiation, their bodies to remain rotting there until cleanup finally made it to the site. It was likely they didn’t last more than twenty minutes.

A surfer off the coast of New Zealand watched a school of dolphins ravage a group of burg who had through a water approach would be more prudent.  He had no idea how the dolphins knew the burg were intruders, but they seemed very interested in helping out.

One group of burg had managed to land themselves in a city in the european provinces, and found themselves beaten to death violently by a group of drunk civilians carrying improvised weapons, one of them even brandishing a pool cue.

Two more teams froze to death before they reached their destination.

Another was washed away by a minor flood.

One of the burg ended up tipped off a cliff by a massive eagle, falling to his death hundreds of feet below. 

Another entire group managed to walk their way into a patch of poison ivy breaking out in horrible boils, which later necrosed as they lay paralyzed on the forest floor. 

Somewhere someone was trampled by a moose, while their other friends were whisked over a waterfall.

In yellowstone (yeah it still hasn’t blown up yet bc the vents are a good pressure release) at least another team of burg found themselves cooking in the natural hot springs after ignoring the signs that said (keep on the walkway).

Those who chose to land in the city were not greeted cordially either, packs of marauding street dogs, gangs, the homeless, drunk civilians, angry policemen, and a high school baseball team supported by the high school chess team.

Long and short of the story is that earth was-not-having-it.

The burg had made a grave mistake. 

Mother earth was fond of her children, even the human ones. 

[9worldstales]

MCU What if Ep 1-2-3: My two cents

So, I’ve been watching the “What if” series. I won’t beat it around the bush, I’m enjoying it but at the same time I get the feeling this series is aimed at younger audience, younger audience which isn’t deeply familiar with the movies and needs to be feed a simpler storyline.

In fact from the way they present it in each episode 1 single change should be the one which gives life to a parallel universe in a sort of domino effect… only, from what I could see in those 3 episodes, there are actually multiple unconnected changes, 1 presented more markedly as if it were the one starting everything and the others… just there for unknown reasons but they aren’t remarked and might easily be missed by who doesn’t remember well the movies.

Characterizations are also simplified, with heroes more black and white than grey, and a general toning down of the drama. This isn’t necessarily tied to the short time, 30 minutes in the hand of a good storyteller are plenty of time to construct a complicate, adult, emotionally engaging story… but a complicate story requires an audience willing to put its mind to understand it, or capable to handle a more morally nuanced plot or that wouldn’t be too distressed by a more emotionally engaging one.

This kind of audience is clearly not what those stories are aiming at.

This isn’t meant to say they’re bad, they’re perfect for young audience, passing on a good message, being overall funny and giving them the chance to enjoy the heroes they love in a different setting.

Dialogues are nice, their voice actors so far delivered good performance, the art isn’t bad and the stories can feel still intriguing enough.

However, if you think too hard at them, especially in comparison to the original movie, the story tends to crumble or feel morally poor or mess up the characterization or some other thing.

Overall I think the “What if” so far are more enjoyable if you don’t really remember well the movies and, anyway, judge them as stand-alone more than “What if” based on how a single divergence from the plot could create a new timeline.

Some examples?

Pick “What If... Captain Carter Were the First Avenger?”

The divergence supposedly happens when Peggy decides to stay in the room.

Erskine: Agent Carter, wouldn't you be more comfortable in the booth? Peggy: No, I'd prefer to stay. Watcher: There. That's the moment that created a new universe. When asked to leave the room, Margaret "Peggy" Carter chose to stay. But soon it would be her venturing into the unknown and creating a new world.

Only, in truth, it’s not just Peggy who was meant to go to the booth and didn’t.

EVERYONE was meant to go to the booth… only they all stay and Kruger, the spy from Hydra, who was seated in the booth BEHIND Peggy in “Captain America”, in the “What if” episode attacks the lab during Erskine’s explanation and not, as he did in “Captain America”, after the experiment took place, using as a distraction a bomb he left in the booth, and not on the floor of near to where the experiment was taking place so that it can kill Erskine.

And, to be really accurate, Erskine, in “Captain America”, asked Peggy to move to the booth when Steve was already lying down for the experiment, while here we see him asking her so while the two are standing next to each other and he hadn’t started undressing yet.

And there’s a reason why in the movie things were done like that.

Of course in the movie everyone was in the booth, it was safer should something go wrong with the experiment.

Of course Kruger waited for the experiment to be carried on, if it didn’t work there was no point in stealing a vial of a serum that didn’t work.

Of course Kruger left the bomb in the booth and made it explode when he was outside of it, so that he was sure it would create distraction but not harm him.

Overall, it’s not just Peggy that acts differently, it’s Erskine, who asked her to move in advance, it’s all the people there, who didn’t move to the booth, it’s ESPECIALLY, Kruger, who originally aimed to see if the serum worked and, in this case, steal it and kill Erskine so he couldn’t produce more and instead he now doesn’t check if the serum works and kills, for unknown reasons Chester Phillips, who didn’t even have a weapon in his hand and so didn’t pose a threat.

Even the placing of the bomb is poor because, since there was plenty of mechanisms in the lab, it could have triggered a series of explosions that were to destroy the whole place, himself and all the serum included.

But how many young viewers noticed all this or worry for the risk of everything exploding or realize that causing an explosion outside of the room in which the serum was worked as a diversion so as to take people away from that place, while if the bomb were to explode there, everyone would converge in that place, with hydrants possibly as no one worries about fire spreading but they should… even if there’s magically not as much as there should be.

And tragic scenes get tamed down, we don’t see Erskine die, we might not even realize he died in the explosion, young viewers might not remember or not like Chester Phillips so when he’s shoot he doesn’t leave an impression and Kruger’s shape gets shoot down by Peggy so we don’t have him committing suicide.

It’s not a complain, it’s a logic choice to make the series more palatable to a younger target by toning down the violence and the drama in it.

And so we reach the big event of the episode.

John Flynn would want Stark to get the serum injected in himself (forgetting there were men of the MP around him who shouldn’t be all dead) but starts to complain when Peggy volunteers to take the serum herself. Peggy does anyway and again things are tamed down, as Steve ended up screaming so loud in “Captain America” Peggy feared they were killing him and they considered stopping the experiment but Peggy doesn’t scream at all.

Sure, in had been scientifically proved women are built to handle pain better, but very likely Peggy’s lack of scream isn’t because she’s tougher, it’s again to not upset young audience.

So, while Steve lies on the ground and no one comes to help him, Peggy comes out of the experiment enhanced. But here we’ve the real core of the episode, John Flynn decides the experiment is an absolute failure. Why?

Flynn: Sixty million dollars and all the hope in the world down the drain. I was promised an army. I was promised peace and salvation. Instead, I get a girl.

Basically the real core of the episode, the real theme is that Captain Carter will have to fight discrimination based on sexism.

Peggy: You have a Super Soldier. Flynn: Women aren't soldiers, and they sure as hell don't fight on the front lines. They might break a nail.

Undoubtedly this is an important matter, it’s a good topic to make an episode about, to give young girls an heroine, to show to them and to the boys what an absolute moron Flynn was in discriminating Peggy, also presenting boys being supportive of Peggy and trusting her. Howard Stark, Steve Rogers, and then Bucky and everyone else, all the men who see Peggy fighting are ultimately supportive and admiring of her. This is important. But Flynn’s sexism is better remarked if we don’t remember what happened in “Captain America”.

Steve Rogers: Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in. Col. Chester Phillips: You’re an experiment. You’re going to Alamogordo. Steve Rogers: The serum worked. Col. Chester Phillips: I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough. Senator Brandt: [to Steve] With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point. I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s seen it. [to his aide] Paper.[the aide shows them the news paper (‘The New York Examiner’ Vol. XCVII No. 33.634, Wednesday, June 23, 1943), headlines: "Nazis in New York - mystery man saves child"] The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands. You don’t take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab. Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war? Steve Rogers: Sir, that’s all I want. Senator Brandt: Then, congratulations. You just got promoted.

I mean, Rogers was a male and he too was judged ‘not enough’. Brandt has him tour the nation in a colorful costume as “Captain America” to promote war bonds, while scientists study him and attempt to reverse-engineer the formula.

Chester Phillips was likely killed because otherwise they would have no reason to deal with Peggy the same way he dealt with Steve ‘one is not enough’, only it wouldn’t have been a sexist problem, just math (though it could be argued Phillips never trusted Steve to begin with). This causes the message ‘sexism is dumb’ ends up feeling forced because it’s basically pasted over a previous narrative of ‘not being enough’. If you want, you can read it as always discrimination and discrimination it’s always bad, but it still cheapens the message.

All this not to say that the episode isn’t awesome if seen as a stand-alone… it’s just that when you compare it with “Captain America” it feels weaker.

And then there are the other discrepancies, like the Hydra bringing the Tesseract to Berlin and not to Azzano (a sign somehow Schmidt and Hitler didn’t have a fall out) with Stark using it to power up an “Hydra Stomper” suit that proves if he had had the right power sources and technologies he could have built “Iron Man” too.

They’re not bad points (actually I loved the “Hydra Stomper” suit and how Peggy rode it the way Tekkaman from “Uchu no Kishi Tekkaman” used to ride Pegas in my childhood memories) but again they’re divergences without a clear reason. Schmidt and Hitler shouldn’t get along better solely because Peggy got the serum.

And that’s the first episode.

“What If... T'Challa Became a Star-Lord?” is also clearly aimed to a younger audience but with a goal different from “What If... Captain Carter Were the First Avenger?”

Watcher: What you call destiny is just an equation, a product of variables. Right place, right time, or in some instances, the wrong place at the wrong time. As fate would have it, at that very moment, a Ravager spacecraft was arriving on Earth to abduct the spawn of the Celestial, Ego. But in this universe, Yondu outsourced the assignment to his subordinates. Yondu: You morons grabbed the wrong kid!

For start this episode doesn’t try to rewrite a single movie, but by taking pieces of assorted movies “Thor: The Dark World” (for Tivan) “Guardians of the Galaxy” (for the idea of the setting), “Black Panther” (for T’Challa), “Avengers: Infinity War” (for the Black Order), “Captain America” (Tivan has his shielf), “Thor: Ragnarok” (TIvan has and uses Hela’s headpiece, talking of her as if he knew her and we can see he also has Thor’s hammer), “Thor: The Dark World” (Tivan has Malekith’s dagger) creates a completely different timeline by changing something that happened in 1988 and then jumping straight in… 2014, I presume, where a lot is different but we aren’t meant to see the process due to which things were changed, just to accept how T’Challa, kidnapped as a kid by the Ravagers, managed to make the difference.

In fact the whole theme of this episode is that T’Challa is a hero and a role model that gets success and admiration by TALKING TO PEOPLE AND PERSUADING THEM TO DO THE RIGHT THING. He’s meant not to have a character arc but to create a world that’s the best possible for people.

In fact we’re told just by talking with Thanos he persuaded him to stop his whole plan without using violence.

Korath: How exactly did you stop Thanos, the Mad Titan, from decimating half of the universe? Oh, no. Thanos: I'm a big enough man to admit when I'm wrong. T'Challa here showed me there was more than one way to reallocate the universe's resources. T’Challa: Sometimes the best weapon in your arsenal is just a good argument.

I mean, he doesn’t just turn the Ravagers into Robin Hood’s “merry men”, he talks with Thanos and Thanos decides to change his ways.

This is great, a wonderful message, a message against violence, a message about the power of the words and it makes T’Challa a real hero who, just by talking, saves the universe from Thanos but… but T’Challa from the movies was maybe not so good at persuading people from not doing wrong but he still had something amazing that made him very human and, at the same time a role model.

T’Challa wasn’t perfect, he made mistakes… but then he would admit them and correct them.

In “Captain America: Civil War” he wants to kill Bucky in retaliation for what happened to his father…

Natasha Romanoff: T'Challa. Task force will decide who brings in Barnes. T'Challa: [He clenches his fist.] Don't bother, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself.

…but then he understands killing his father’s murder would be wrong and even stops Zemo from committing suicide.

T'Challa: Vengeance has consumed you. It's consuming them. [He blinks ruefully and retracts the claws in his gloves.] I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough. Helmut Zemo: [Holding a gun Zemo smiles thinly.] Tell that to the dead. [He tries to shoot himself but T'Challa grabs him just as he fires.] T'Challa: The living are not done with you yet.

And the same goes in “Black Panther”. At first he doesn’t want to ask Killmonger his name because he knows he is his uncle’s son and this would give him the right to compete for the throne as well as expose what his father did…

Killmonger: Oh, I ain't requesting nothing! Ask who I am? Shuri: You are Eric Steves. An American black operative. A mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. That's who you are. Killmonger: (LAUGHING) That's not my name, Princess. Ask me, King? T'Challa: No. Killmonger: Ask me. T'Challa: Take him away.

…but then he’ll acknowledges they had wronged him, will show him Wakanda’s beauty and will change things in Wakanda. T’Challa in the movies isn’t as perfect as T’Challa in the “What if” episode. He can’t solve everything and make the world perfect. He isn’t always right. He gets angry, vengeful, afraid of the truth. But then he rises above this and does the right thing.

“What if” T’Challa is a model of perfection that’s admirable… but that sits simply too high above the original T’Challa who also had to deal with Thanos but didn’t even think he could change his mind just by giving him a talk… and with good reason.

Younger kids might not realize because they might have not fully grasped how Thanos was a genocidal maniac, who massacred millions even prior to the snap, tortured his daughters and even removed body parts from Nebula. They might swallow it was just that easy to talk him into not doing the snap, and Thanos only needed someone to tell him it was wrong… and that in truth he loved Nebula… but for older viewers while beautiful, this is simply unbelievable.

And what about Yondu and the Ravagers? Just because they had T’Challa they became good and righteous. This is how Peter Quill described Yondu in “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2” which still gives a sympathetic portrayal of Yondu:

Quill: He wasn't my father. Yondu was the guy who abducted me. He'd beat the crap out of me so I'd learn how to fight and he kept me in terror threatening to eat me.

But T’Challa doesn’t seem to have such complains against Yondu.

Now… In Quill’s case Yondu kept Quill so as to protect him from Ego…

Yondu: Once I figured out what happened to the other kids, I wasn't gonna just hand you over.

…yet he kidnap him and tells him his home was destroyed so as to manipulate him into staying… but this is so easily forgotten by T’Challa to the point children might not even realize it was there. Yondu was a good dad for him, he kidnapped him because T’Challa was basically wasted at home.

Yondu: Sometimes you need to hear a lie to see the truth. You're just like me, T'Challa. T’Challa: I am nothing like you. Yondu: You're an explorer, Star-Lord. And for people like you, like us, the past ain't nothing but a prison. You don't belong down there with them. You belong up here with us, with your family.

Although T’Challa doesn’t seem to agree at first… in the end all is forgotten.

Yondu: Look, T'Challa, I just wanted to say... T’Challa: There's no need. I was the one who told you I wanted to see the world. All you did was show me the universe.

and

T’Chaka: (Voice shaking) My son, my son. I knew you would find your way home to us. T’Challa: I'm sorry it took me so long. Let me introduce you to the family I made along the way.

All this is to basically excuse the premise, something horrible like kidnapping a child is passed as not really something terrible so that kids wouldn’t deal with its emotional implications and can even think that it was a pity that, in the normal universe, it was Peter Quill that was kidnapped… without realizing that kidnapping is bad and that in T’Challa’s case Yondu wasn’t even doing it because he wanted to protect him. Actually it’s unexplained why, all of sudden, Yondu felt the need to keep T’Challa and completely forgot about Quill, didn’t even care about making sure Ego wouldn’t find Quill despite, thanks to T’Challa, becoming a better person. It’s another change, one that people knowing the movies is bound to notice but not kids.

So again, for who knows the movie well, the story ends up being weak and this is also because, while T’Challa could persuade Thanos off screen not to commit genocide… all of sudden his persuasive power isn’t even really tested out with Tivan. Tivan is the big evil… yet he’s somehow less fearsome than Thanos because we clearly don’t want to scare the kids.

So again, wonderful for young audience who doesn’t remember well the movies… not so solid for who’s older.

And so we move to “What If... the World Lost Its Mightiest Heroes?” which is absolutely my favourite so far. This one at a first glance seems to be a “What if” of a comic named “The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week”.

The awesome thing of this story is we don’t know what changed the universe, we only discover that someone is killing off the Avengers before they could become the Avengers, starting with Tony Stark.

The mystery is, at a first glance, cool, the idea original, Natasha gets a big role as she investigates and even fights things along with Fury and, again, children will likely not really realize how the “What if” is actually changing the settings even when they’re supposedly not related to the change that caused this parallel reality, the death of Hope van Dyne. I mean, we can start our list of changes with the random funny things that has no reason to happen because Hope’s death shouldn’t have made Coulson and Barton to be so appreciative of Thor’s hair, something they never bring up in the movie…

Coulson: Whoa. I got visual on the intruder. He's a Caucasian male, mid-twenties with... really great hair. Fury: Excuse me? Coulson: It's an accurate description. Sir, he's gorgeous. Fury: I need eyes in the sky. Barton. Barton: Already on it. He's making a move on the hammer. One shot, one kill, sir. Just say the word. Fury: Hold your fire. I wanna see this. Barton: Whoa. Coulson wasn't lying about the hair. That's nice.

…to continue with more plot related matters like how Betty should have known Banner had intruded in her lab dressed up as a delivery boy and was now hiding in a wardrobe… but if we want we can forgive them. Maybe Hope’s death really changed some things in weird ways we couldn’t predict… but the place with the biggest revolution seems to be Asgard… which actually shouldn’t have been affected by by Hope’s death AT ALL and instead the situation is completely different from how it were in “Thor” to the point I could write a 20 pages meta on the changes. But, if we assume this episode is aimed at children, it works because the “Thor” situation was complicate and here instead they show solely some random and confuse elements that children might have picked up from talks about the movies… but that weren’t like that in “Thor”.

And again we have messages that can be good for children, how a father will love his little girl, how Nick Fury will save the day even without the Avengers, how:

Fury: S.H.I.E.L.D. is people, people willing to give their lives for something greater than themselves to save the world from men like you.

…and how in the darkest time new heroes will always come to save Earth as when Loki take over because it seems there are no more Avengers, Fury can still count on Carol Danvers and Steve Rogers.

Coulson: The Avengers fell before they had a chance to rise. May they rest in peace. Fury: They can, but we won't. The Avengers were always meant to be more than a team. They were an idea, the affirmation of humanity's need to believe that in our darkest hour, we will find our heroes. Watcher: I believe that in this universe, as in every other, hope never dies. As long as someone keeps their good eye on the bigger picture.

It’s a good message about hope… but again, it’s something for children. We’re meant to believe Earth could be conquered in one day time without struggle whatsoever… and that only the heroes could save it. Children might not remember it but in “The Avengers” humans tried to nuke New York to stop Loki… the idea they would just sit and say ‘whatever’ to Loki’s domination makes it look as if they actually agree with him to an adult… but, of course, the battle of New York is something we might not want to show to a little child.

And now… something else that’s relevant.

I said the “What ifs” are good stories for children… but we’re talking of young children here because if the child is a little older they can end up passing a completely wrong message.

Remember "What If... Captain Carter Were the First Avenger?" and how it tackled sexism as an absurd behavior to keep? How Captain Carter overcomes it? By using her supersoldier powers to beat the Nazi. She shows as a supersoldier she works.

Does she turns over the concept that ‘Women aren't soldiers, and they sure as hell don't fight on the front lines. They might break a nail’?

At most she proves she can be a soldier. She doesn’t fight using the fact she’s a woman as her strongest point, she fights using her super strength as her strongest point… where Steve Roger’s strongest point wasn’t his enhanced strength but his moral values. Peggy proves as a super soldier she’s equal to Steve… but Steve as a super soldier proved he was better than Red Skull. Peggy’s actions in the story doesn’t cause people to revalue women in general, just her. People either aren’t sexist and accept her regardless of her genre (Howard, Steve) or they’re sexist but accept her because she is strong.

It’s meaningful that when she thinks Steve is dead Flynn goes back to his old mindset…

Flynn: She should never have been in the field in the first place.

… because the truth is he never changed it. Peggy had only yelled at them to stop calling Steve “Hydra Stomper” as his name was “Steve Roger” and Flynn decides she, not Steve who actually died, should have never been in the field.

They don’t show how Peggy got information from Zola, which seems to imply all she did to get them was to beat him up. Chester Phillips in “Captain America” manipulated him into talking with his intelligence only.

Do you know which were Peggy’s abilities in the universe in which she isn’t a super soldier? She’s a Master Martial Artist, an Expert Marksman, a Master Spy, an Expert Tactician, a Thief and can speak and read English, Russian and German fluently as well as use a convincing American accent.

This is hardly noticeable though in her own story.

Howard: Should we not have a plan? Peggy: Who needs a plan? I have a shield. Howard: A shield is not a plan. Oh, Carter...

She was a tactician!

Now… she has a shield. But whatever girl wants to be like her won’t have a shield, nor a super serum. To be a real role model for girls who aren’t anymore children Peggy needed to have qualities they too could have that would empower her. The only good moment is when she understands what Howard plans to do:

Howard: If I can get to the controls, I can transpose the ingress and do science stuff. Peggy: You mean transpose the polarity and reverse the suction? Howard: Being the genius is my thing.

But again, the irony here is that this is no genius plan, middle school students had probably seen him being done in movies and cartoons already. It might seem genius idea to kids, but when you’re older it hardly sounds like one… and when Howard complains all in the machine is written in German they don’t have Peggy show her knowledge of it, and translate the words as she fight, she just fight and he’s supposed to figure things out.

“Captain America” is a role model for what he has inside. I’m sure Peggy Carter has plenty of things inside her as well… but “What if” makes it more about the super strength she has gained.

Where Steve gains Phillips’ respect, Flynn’s respect is more a façade due to her successes thanks to her super strength, and that respect gets pulled back as soon as she gets upset by his behavior. Sure, Flynn is a worse person than Phillips in this black and white world but this too is part of the narrative. If Peggy can’t permanently win over sexism in one person, it’s not real victory at all. If what’s remarkable about her is how she fights (due to the serum) then who didn’t have it, will never have a hope. Peggy Carter was more of a female model when she wasn’t supersoldier, she felt more of a role model in “Captain America”, when she got to do this with her own strength:

Peggy Carter: Put your right foot forward. Gilmore Hodge: Mmm… We gonna wrassle? Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like. [suddenly Peggy punches him hard in the face. Col.Phillips drives up] Col. Chester Phillips: Agent Carter. Peggy Carter: Colonel Phillips. Col. Chester Phillips: I see you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good!

…than when she punched Nazis thanks to being a super soldier. Peggy has never been a fragile Fräulein, but this episode seems to remark she’s not one merely because she has taken the serum.

As a result… she sets an impossible role model for girls. If the key to be (partially) respected and accepted by males is to get the super soldier serum and/or the shiled… well, that serum doesn’t exist, not does the shield.

And a similar problem exists in “What If... T'Challa Became a Star-Lord?”

Teaching a small child he can solve problems by talking and not by hitting is important… but passing the message that you can stop bullies or worse just by talking to them is again setting an impossible role model. People like Thanos can’t be stopped with just words. People like Yondu and the Ravagers wouldn’t become Robin Hood and his merry men merely because they have with themselves a young boy who tells them the right things… and what Yondu does to T’Challa is worse than what he did to Quill and having been kidnapped as a child shouldn’t be waved off so easily. We’re not talking of Yondu finding an orphaned T’Challa and raising him, if he had picked up N’Jadaka after he lost his father it would have been different, but here, he just ripped a child from a loving family, a family he loved back. And it’s almost presented as a good thing because this causes the universe to be saved by Thanos, Yondu’s lie giving T’Challa the motivation to try to to make the universe a better place.

Nebula: You lost your home, and now you save everyone else's.

And problems continue with “What If... the World Lost Its Mightiest Heroes?” because there, the solution, the hope, is presented solely by the superheroes. No one opposes to Loki, the whole Earth is expected to be saved by Captain America and Carol Danvers. The one who refuses to kneel to Loki is Fury, who’s considered special. We don’t have in this story a lone old man who’s standing stubbornly despite the threat.

LOKI: Kneel before me. [The crowd ignores him. Three more Loki's appear, surrounding and blocking the crowd from escaping.] I said KNEEL! [While the crowd quietly kneels, Loki embraces out his arms with a wide smile] Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel. ELDER GERMAN MAN: [As the words resonate to the kneeling crowd, an elder German man refuses to kneel and stands, heroic.] Not to men like you. LOKI: There are no men like me. ELDER GERMAN MAN: There are always men like you. LOKI: Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example. [As Loki is about to execute the man with his scepter as the light glows blue. Right as the energy beam shoots out, Captain America arrives, diving in just in time to block the blast with his shield, and knocking down Loki]

So basically in this series heroes set impossible standards… and are the only ones who can save the day. It can be fun for an adult, as he doesn’t need role models… but for a boy who’s no more a small child but not yet old enough to do without viewing heroes are role models, the heroes presents a standard that is something unattainable. And this is bad because he too might enjoy watching the show, but the show gives him no hope… where ironically, Marvel movies were about giving positive role models in which you could identify.

Overall I stay my case, the “What if” series is definitely enjoyable… but the bar for the target audience is set to a very young age, they don’t really follow the idea that one small change can realistically change everything because they actually intrude plenty of small changes for their setting to work, and might end up not giving the right message if you’re in between a age between a small child and an adult. Of course future “What if” episodes might change, and I will probably still love them because I adore what if… but I would love them even more if they had aimed to a target audience a little older… making their heroes, more realistic role models which can be emulated and if they had respected their own premise, that ONE SINGLE CHANGE can create a completely different new reality.

What changed in the Peggy episode wasn’t just Peggy not sitting on the booth. What changed in the T’Challa episode wasn’t just Yondu sending his subordinates to pick up a kid. What changed in the mightiest heroes episode wasn’t just Hope dying.

The fact you need more changes in order to make the difference makes the initial point that one change can make the difference void. You destroy your own premise… and this is not really a great idea.

But whatever, I guess if the idea is that the audience is really young, they didn’t expect the audience to pick this up but just to swallow their idea that ‘a moment created a new universe’.

MEDIA MENTIONED:

Movies: “Iron Man 2” (2010), “The Incredible Hulk" (2008), “Thor” (2011), “Captain America: The First Avenger” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor: The Dark World” (2013), “Captain America: The Civil War” (2016), “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2” (2017), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017), “Black Panther” (2018), "Avengers: Infinity War” (2018), “Captain Marvel” (2019)

Comics: “The Avengers Prelude Fury's Big Week” (2012)

[bookersebastien]

some spare immortal family halloween costume hcs for a poor soul? 🥺🥺🦇

HEGEL💕💕💕 asjddjfd I LOVE YOU

some inspo taken from @nilefreemans halloween party fic

First nile is the only one who has grown up with halloween, and as i’ve seen the way the united states does halloween is just so much MORE than in other countries, so the others probably haven’t celebrated it much in any kind of way

And nile LOVES halloween, grew up making costumes with her mom and brother and she loves the classic costumes, ghosts, witches, vampires, etc. and she is GOOD at making them and finding just the right things to make them

Except now nile has a resource she didn’t have previously, these ancient ass motherfuckers

She’s a HUGE fucking art/art history nerd, and now at her disposal are four immortals who have a combined over 8,000 years of life on this earth so her costume potential has just skyrocketed

Nile now has the opportunity to dress as any and all historical art figures she wants with COMPLETE accuracy (assuming at least some of the guard met that person - which they’ve definitely met lots of them)

Nicky and joe are absolute GIDDY with the idea of matching costumes, and a serious thank you to kayla for blessing us with the image of them wearing matching abba costumes

But also imagine nicky and joe doing the thing where one of them is an artist and the other goes as one of their works, like van gogh and his self portrait OR pls imagine joe going as michelangelo and nicky going as the david (because listen nicky was the inspiration behind it) or also alexandre cabanel and nicky as the painting of lucifer (it’s the EYES)

But also: decade costumes. They love to reminisce about old fashions and what the world was like and what they were doing at the time, and you know joe probably has several pieces of clothing from various eras tucked away somewhere so when they get the change they go FULL on with the costumes, down to the last detail

However i will die on the hill that nicky LOVES pun costumes, like imagine them as ‘ice ice baby’ with their cat (cattulus because i remember the cat hcs hegel lol) as the baby 

Also pls imagine them or andy and quynh as gomez and morticia addams

Quynh goes dramatic as hell, full on makeup and prosthetics. Like nile, she’s a halloween QUEEN, and loves the sexy scary route, vampires, ghostly warrior, zombies, etc. whatever it is she will KILL it. Loves the scary face makeup with the scratches and blood everywhere

She also probably loves the holiday and loves to scare the rest of the guard, so far she’s scared nicky the most though they now are teaming up to get booker

Loves anything that will make andy SPEECHLESS and anything where she can wear heels

Nile and quynh are a force to be reckoned with about halloween, they prepare MONTHS in advance, buying what they need and taking the time to make their costumes perfect and they WILL show you the fuck up at any party with their skill and beauty

Andy does like the holiday but she will only wear something where she can carry a weapon, bonus if the weapon is her axe but she’ll settle for a sword

Loves to do pirates or warriors, and like nile will occasionally take the historical route and go as joan or arc or artemisia or the like and gets quynh to go as Lady Triệu (which who is to say that wasn’t her in the first place)

Gets at least a little drunk wherever they go and will sword fight someone, too bad for the other person for not realizing her sword is real though

Quynh always helps her with her costume, but andy prefers a more relaxed approach and will sometimes just choose old armor she has and go with that

Booker is the wild card of the bunch

He’ll act like this is all silly but LOVES watching everyone dress up and have fun

Some years he’ll be lazy and throw on jeans and a cowboy hat and that’ll be it, one year he went a little wild and did a brown leather jacket and was indiana jones (which i’d love to see)

He’ll try many times to see what he can do with the clothes he has, instead of going for a whole costume - even going as james bond with a suit he had

A favorite of his is going as famous athletes, soccer or american football, HOCKEY (he’s fucking BUILT for it ok)

Also i firmly believe he went as batman one year in a full batsuit and he LOVED it

Lykon’s gonna be included too, but i think he’d be relatively laid back about his costume. Not going quite as lazy as booker, but he choose simple over the all the makeup and stuff. I think he’d love to do SUPER cheesy classic costumes, a sheet for a ghost, big fangs and a cloak for a vampire, etc. or sometimes as a surfer or something where he can wear hawaiian shirts because i think he would’ve loved them. He mostly just wants to have a good time with his family and focus more on that

now we can also talk group costumes in which i am extremely partial to them going as the scooby doo gang, because this is one of my fav fanarts and nicky going as scooby is the funniest shit ever 

Also you just KNOW they went as the avengers or star wars characters or some shit at least at one point in their lives (idk anything about star wars so)

For your consideration: quynh as black widow, andy as hulk, nicky as the winter soldier (the HAIR and the EYES), joe as nomad steve or falcon, booker as thor (they would all make so much fun of his wig because of course they’re gonna make him do the long hair look), and nile as the scarlett witch because she's that POWERFUL

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 10

Chapter title: Short Fuses

Word count: about 3400 words

Author’s Note: Hopefully this chapter is up to the usual standards, especially considering I completed it in about a week. I really want to try and stay on schedule as much as I can especially considering that I have about six other ideas all begging to be written the second this fic is finished.

Warning for descriptions of violence, just in case.

First  | Previous  | Next

...

The loud slam of a car door made the two Mobians still inside it jump.

Shadow and Rouge stared out the window, horrified, as Omega drew himself up to his full height of four feet and eleven inches and stared down the troops. When he’d seen his friends so scared, so certain that this was the end, something inside him had snapped.

He wasn’t ordinarily the type to process much in the way of emotion. His circuits hadn’t been built for it in the first place, but so much rewiring and extra work had been done by now that he’d almost become more than his processors and coding. And...meeting two people who understood him in a way he’d never thought possible had done a lot for his personality as well. By now, Omega had grown to care for these two organics more than he had ever thought possible since the day they had first met.

And now he was furious.

“I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.” he thundered, his voice blasting out of his speakers at top volume. “YOU HAVE CHASED US ALL OVER THIS CHAOSDAMNED COUNTRY. YOU HAVE TRAUMATIZED BOTH OF MY FRIENDS. AND YOU HAVE RUINED OUR LIVES.

“I WILL GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE TO GET OUT OF HERE. ONE. CHANCE. THEN I START FIRING. AND I WILL NOT STOP.”

He immediately began to power on all of the weapons that he could possibly use at once. Everything from machine guns to missiles to lasers started to warm up and make clicking noises as his ammunition slid into place. Omega made sure to load a few extra explosive charges into his weaponry- his targeting systems had been significantly improved after some time in Tails’s workshop, but they still weren’t perfect. Especially not with this level of opponents. 

He found that he didn’t really care.

(His only real worry was that the firing noises would stress out Shadow.)

The G.U.N. soldiers refused to back down, and oh how Omega wished that he could properly express the blend of frustration, rage, and just the tiniest bit of satisfaction that burned and sparked through his wires. As it was, he simply had to settle for speaking.

“YOU���RE NOT GOING?” he asked.

One of the apparent leaders pulled out a megaphone, and the robot’s head spun ninety degrees directly to the right to face him. “I DIDN’T SAY YOU COULD TALK.”

A single shot ripped the megaphone from the man’s hand.

“NOW LEAVE US ALONE.”

The actual fighting forces were almost entirely made up of G.U.N. drones, so Omega began tearing into those with ease. Explosions of flame appeared across the field as his shots scattered all around the first wave.

The E-series robot was at least a little pleased that it seemed like he wouldn’t have to physically fight any humans today, though. He’d spent enough time around Rouge and Shadow to know that they’d both be horrified if he did- and he wasn’t going to upset them. Not now.

As it was, he was holding his ground impressively, considering that G.U.N.’s mechanical soldiers were top-of-the-line creations, built specifically with fighting software according to the organization’s highest standards. They were loaded with the latest weapons, and made with light material so that they could move quickly across the battlefield.

But they had never before faced down a nearly three thousand pound robot built by a mad genius with a destructive streak a mile wide….so they were basically being mowed into the ground.

Before long, though, their orders suddenly appeared to change, and a squad started heading directly for the car which still held his two closest friends.

A laser blast incinerated the first few with the full power of Omega’s protective fury behind it, but having two targets to manage- himself and the car- was a lot for anyone to handle. If he turned his attention to the drones swarming the vehicle, then they would get too close to him and start trying to tear him apart. But if he focused for too long on those tearing at his chassis, they could easily break into the car.

Once, when he was busy dealing with an irritating detachment of flying robots, one of the ground fighters broke through a window and started reaching for Shadow and Rouge. The hybrid managed to stab it through the face with a Chaos Spear, but almost immediately went limp against the seat afterwards, clearly struggling to maintain consciousness.

With a scream of static, Omega sent the next few assailants who dared attack his friends flying, but there were just too many for him to handle alone.

As the robots began to climb atop the car, Omega stopped paying attention to the ones trying to tear him apart and focused his aim on the others, but one managed to grab his arm and sent the shots flying wildly around their brethren, skittering across the top of the vehicle.

Omega felt his ammunition starting to run low and wished he had a chance to grab some extras, but even the slightest pause could mean failure now. The drones were clawing at his body, at the car, and they just kept on coming.

He couldn’t last much longer...

And that was when a truck to his right exploded in a giant ball of fire.

The robot was startled for a moment- he hadn’t been aiming for the trucks at all! A moment later, though, a roaring noise sounded directly overhead, and Omega looked up to see what was perhaps the best sight to grace his optics in months.

A red biplane wheeled around overhead before taking another shot directly at the drones surrounding him, leaving him perfectly free to blast the rest off of the car. The E-series robot was also certain he heard a faint “Heck yeah!” from above, and indeed, when his vision focused properly, he spotted a small blue shape standing atop the wings of the plane.

Omega could see Rouge smiling- actually smiling- from inside the car, as she shook Shadow back into awareness. The moment Omega saw her say the name ‘Sonic’, Shadow jolted upright and scrambled to the window despite his shaking limbs, staring up at the Tornado in shock.

He said something to Rouge then, who responded with a light smack on his shoulder, looking more relieved than anything else.

After a few more moments, the tide had begun to turn, and Omega soon heard someone patching directly into his auditory processors. A familiar high-pitched voice asked, “Omega! Do you read me?”

“Affirmative.” he replied, blasting another few drones into oblivion. “It is good to see you, Tails.”

“You too.” the fox replied happily, clearly pleased to have arrived in time.

“Okay,” Tails continued, his voice becoming more serious, “can you get Shadow and Rouge to fly up to the plane? I can’t land, but I need to get them out of here if they can’t fight.”

“I will inform them at once.” 

Omega stalked over to the car, physically shoving several more drones off it and allowing them to land with a loud clatter on more of their kind. Rouge wound down the window, still looking optimistic.

“Alright, what’s the plan now?” she asked him, a sparkle in her eyes.

He blew up a couple of flying bots to his left in big blasts of fire before responding. “Unfortunately, you will have to fly Shadow directly upwards to the plane. This is the best way to get out.”

Rouge groaned. “Chaos...I don’t have to lift you too, right?”

“No.” Omega said. “I will stay here and keep them busy until your return.”

“Won’t you be alright?” she asked him worriedly, placing a hand on his arm.

“We’re not leaving you.”, Shadow insisted. His eyes were narrowed, but the determined effect was undermined by the way his body slumped against the seat, as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.

Suddenly, another voice spoke up. “Come on, you think I can’t watch this big guy’s back?”

Sonic walked up next to Omega and leaned forward on the car’s window. At first, he wore his trademark smile (tinged with a little extra relief), but it quickly turned to shock after he did a double take. “Uh...that is you guys, right? Cause last I checked, Rouge isn’t edgy and you don’t dress like a nerd.” he said, pointing at Shadow.

“I don’t look like a nerd.” Shadow mumbled irritably, glowering at him.

“You actually kinda do, hon.” Rouge said, her smile growing wider. 

The hybrid’s eyes widened. “But you picked this outfit out...Rouge!”

Omega played an audio file of a person clearing their throat while causing another explosion. “While I am certain this conversation is pleasant for all involved, please consider continuing it when we are not surrounded by mechanical troops trying to tear our limbs off.”

All three Mobians looked sheepish. “Alright then, let’s go.” Rouge said, refocusing and flexing her wings in preparation for takeoff.

“We will cover you. Do not worry.” Omega assured them both.

Shadow still frowned at him, before clasping his small gloved hand around the robot’s large metal finger. “Don’t go doing anything too crazy, alright?”

Rouge grinned again, though a little less brightly, before stepping out of the vehicle for the first time that day. “He’ll be okay. Us, on the other hand...you know what, let’s just do it.”

Then she grabbed onto Shadow’s hand and immediately blasted fifteen feet directly upwards in the air. Tails soared as low as he could possibly dare to go in the meantime, even tilting the plane to the side slightly so that Shadow could climb into the seat. 

Some flying G.U.N. robots began to close in on Rouge as her wings beat frantically, struggling to gain more height. Omega couldn’t fire now- there was too much risk of him hitting her- but then he realized that Sonic was already handling it. The hero bounced off of the car, then a robot, before launching himself up high into the air and spindashing all of the drones, bouncing from one to the next like a wild blue pinball.

Meanwhile, the E-series robot busied himself with spraying explosives and laser fire across the entire field, finally feeling free to properly tear into the opposing forces. At one point, he actually lifted the car above his head, set it on fire, and threw it with all of his strength directly at an advancing wave of drones, taking out an entire platoon.

(The car rental company would just have to deal with it.)

Omega heard a small chuckle to his right, and looked over to see the blue hero himself standing there and smirking up at him. “You’re pretty ticked off, huh?” he asked.

“YES.” Omega replied, putting as much loathing and distaste behind that one word as he possibly could whilst throwing a drone several yards into the nearest tree. 

Sonic’s grin tightened in response, and something shifted deep within his eyes, transforming them into a blazing green flame. His entire expression practically screamed ‘you messed with the wrong people this time, idiots’.

“Hey, pal?” he asked, his words deceptively light and loose. “I heard you can blast curled-up ‘hogs like me outta those arm cannons of yours. Mind if I give it a whirl?” The blue-and-gold robot could practically feel the growl that lay hidden beneath his voice...and decided that he definitely approved. 

In response, Omega’s hand simply retracted into his arm, leaving a perfectly Mobian-sized barrel behind. Sonic immediately curled up on the ground, and the robot scooped him into the cannon with ease, before aiming it at the mechanical soldiers marching towards them yet again. “Ready?” he asked.

“Always.” the hero hissed from within his quills, curling up tighter.

One second later, he was fired out of Omega’s arm at high speed, before ricocheting off about a dozen robots hard enough to shear most of them in half. Sonic uncurled after that, bouncing to his feet with an expression barely qualifying as a smile as drones fell beneath his feet and fists.

Not long after that, Omega heard the whir of a G.U.N. troop carrier above them and saw an entire new wave of reinforcements dropping in- the organization clearly wasn’t willing to risk their human soldiers on two such dangerous foes. While the blue blur was certainly helpful, he knew that they couldn’t hold off endless amounts of these machines, and would unfortunately tire or run out of ammo eventually.

Which was why he was incredibly grateful to see Tails’s biplane soaring into the fray just moments later, prepared to sweep them both to safety. (While he enjoyed giving G.U.N. its long-withheld punishment, he also wanted to survive long enough to see his friends healthy and happy again, of course.)

“Omega! I need you to get on top of that truck!” Tails ordered through his audial processors. “I can try and pick you and Sonic up from there!”

The robot acted immediately, barreling through the lines of drones with incredible strength. To his left, he saw Sonic doing the same- jumping over the bots’ heads and up onto the trailer. The hero fought to hold off some physical soldiers with punches and kicks carefully calculated to bruise, but not kill.

Omega clawed his way up to the top of the truck, leaving deep gouges in the side as he heaved himself over the edge. They both scanned the sky, watching as Tails waited for the right opening…

Suddenly, the Tornado dove sharply downwards, carving through lines of machinery as it soared towards them. Its wings nearly skimmed the trees as it closed in on them. Sonic tensed, preparing to leap, as Tails yelled, “Jump on...now!”

Omega’s reflexes were not exactly what one might call good, unfortunately, having been built with strength in mind over speed. Thankfully, Sonic grabbed hold of his arm, and that combined with his rocket boosters was enough to sling him face-first over the seat as Tails pulled upwards.

Turning his head to the side as he struggled into the plane, the E-series robot caught a glimpse of Sonic braced on the main wing of the Tornado as they put more and more distance between themselves and the ambush site with every second. However, he also quickly spied several flying drones headed their way.

Clearly, Tails had too. “Omega! Can you take care of those for me? And strap in, ‘cause I’m about to try and shake these people for good!”

He began to empty his cartridges as quickly as possible at those infernal machines, nothing more than hollow shells of metal twisted to serve an evil master. Omega had never been more grateful that he was made with free will. Most of the drones fell quickly, but were easily replaced by more of their brethren. 

The blue and gold robot was disgusted at the very thought of being expendable. 

“Hang on tight!” the fox yelled. 

A jolt shook the entire Tornado as its turbo engines fired, causing the plane to blast forward at such speeds that the ground blurred beneath them. G.U.N. just didn’t have the technology available to catch up with them, especially not while they were this high up.

Soon enough, Angel Island came into view, but it almost looked like it was...moving away from them?

Sonic saw Omega’s ‘frown’ and explained quickly. “Angel Island doesn’t move too fast, and the Tornado gets some crazy mileage with these new engines! We figured Knux oughta get a head start on those creeps.”

At least Knuckles wasn’t avoiding the action out of cowardice, then. If he had been, Omega would have punched his Master Emerald straight off the island, ‘duties’ be damned.

As they came in for a landing, the robot practically felt his chassis grow heavier the more he looked around. Shadow was slumped against a tree near the edge of the clearing, while Rouge was leaning on the steps of the altar, exhausted. Knuckles was sitting cross-legged atop the Master Emerald, his eyes closed as he focused on directing the island where he needed it to go.

“Shadow!” Sonic shouted, jumping off the plane. His face was twisted with concern as he rushed over to his friend. “Dude, why aren’t ya up with the Emerald? Chaos knows you need that energy!”

The hybrid groaned faintly, turning his head to face them. “Knuckles...is busy with it. Don’t want to...interrupt now- we need to get away.”

Omega glowered at him. “Enough of this nonsense. If you insist upon behaving in such a manner, then I will have to make you take care of yourself. Again.” The robot scooped Shadow up in his arms and began to physically carry him to the altar, despite the latter’s protests and squirming. 

Sonic and Rouge giggled practically in tandem, and Shadow glared at them both. “Shut it.”

“What, hon?” Rouge smirked. “This is the second time Omega’s picked you up in like a week, can’t I enjoy it?”

The robot ignored them both and placed Shadow on the altar carefully, the hybrid’s body too weak to do anything more than just lie there. Quickly, though, the Chaos energy began to seep into him, restoring some true life to his eyes.

He didn’t have much more than twenty minutes to rest, unfortunately, before G.U.N.’s best planes began to catch up with the island’s sluggish movement. The four battle-ready inhabitants of Angel Island readied themselves the moment they heard the first aircraft roar in the distance.

Rouge spoke up first, though. “Shadow, honey, I absolutely hate asking this of you, and if there was any other way to get out of here that I could think of then I would take it. But I can tell that there’s at least three Chaos Emeralds on this island, and with how good you’ve gotten at teleporting...if Sonic and Knuckles helped, could you zap us out of here?”

Shadow dragged himself to his feet with the help of the Master Emerald, sighing. “Yes. I’ll need Knuckles to channel as much energy into us as he possibly can, and at least one of the Emeralds. Sonic can use another.”

Sonic and Knuckles both looked startled. “No way, man!” the hero exclaimed. “You could really hurt yourself that way!”

“So help me then.” Shadow replied flatly, looking at him over his glasses. 

The blue hedgehog sighed reluctantly and stood on the other side of the Master Emerald from him, holding out his hand. “You got your Emerald, lil’ bro?”

Tails placed it in his hand as Knuckles handed Shadow one of the two he’d been holding onto. Then, the echidna placed both of his hands on the great gemstone, breathed in, and sent as much power as he could flowing into both of the hedgehogs.

Their eyes locked, and Shadow inclined his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Chaos….Control!!”

The entire island vanished.

It reappeared moments later, above the ocean. Sonic would have plenty of time to be concerned about all the water, but for now, he was more preoccupied with Shadow. He hovered nearby as the hybrid’s eyes unfocused slowly and he swayed from side to side.

The hero caught him a moment later as he crumpled, unconscious. Feeling for a heartbeat, he sighed with relief the moment he found a steady pulse in Shadow’s wrist. 

“He simply needs rest.” Omega said, watching as Sonic laid him back down at the altar (before lying down right next to him, having exhausted his own Chaos stores as well). “As do you,” he added, spinning his head to the right to stare at Rouge.

The robot continued to stare at her, unflinching despite her glower, until she lay down on the grass with an irritated sigh. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of this team, you know.”

Omega folded his arms. “And you may do so soon. After you get some rest.”

Rouge closed her eyes and seemed to relax soon enough. Omega stood exactly in between his two friends, watching over them with a careful eye.

After a minute or two, he heard Knuckles whisper to his friends, “How do you guys think she figured out that we had those emeralds?”

Without opening her eyes or moving at all, Rouge replied, “I’m just that talented, babe.”

The resulting startled shriek from her boyfriend made birds a hundred feet away flee their trees in fear.

[theparanormalperiodical]

Everything You Never Knew About The Nazi UFO Conspiracy Theory (it’s a wild ride)

Oil.

You could tell the story of the modern world through oil.

The thick, sticky liquid is the dark glue clobbering the West together. Nations go to war, governments plot and plunder, and innocent people get caught up in the crossfire. All for oil.

But the oil I’m talking about didn’t start a war. It instead leads us to a little known historical tale. A tale that in turn brings us to the front step of a conspiracy theory.

Our story starts in Queen Maud Land, Antarctica.

It’s currently -46 degrees celsius. We are surrounded by soft, white stretches of snow and sharp, mountain-esque peaks breaching the ice.

But some would have you believe there is much more to the land lying just beyond the North Pole. According to some theorists, beneath the frost-bitten ground lies an entire hidden society. And amongst the people gathering in this underground bunker sits technological advances quite literally out of this world.

In 1938, an expedition from Nazi Germany was sent out to take control of Queen Maud Land (known then as New Swabia) in order to supply whale oil for the upcoming war in Western Europe.

Theorists, however, claimed that after the war, the remaining Nazis in Europe fled to New Swabia and may have even kept and developed their advancements in aircraft technology. Yes, it is here they keep and dispatch their UFO technology, helped only by a superhuman race or aliens!

Strap in, kids. It’s time to talk about the messy, mysterious and my-god-this-is-weird-shit Nazi UFOs.

2010 was a pretty tame year by the decade’s standards.

But in late November, a meme was born. A meme that probably relaunched a conspiracy that once thrived in a postwar world: it claimed aliens paid a visit to the guys at the top during Nazi Germany’s heyday and offered up advice for advanced aircraft technology.

Ancient Aliens (season 2 episode 5) gave us innocent viewers the lowdown on the UFOs spotted during and after the war that were supposedly related to Hitler’s regime.

This theory clusters alongside other Ancient Aliens theories - that extraterrestrials have popped down now and then to help construct vast civilisations like Ancient Egypt.

Is it true?

Is it bugger.

But the theories and the evidence put forward frame a unique time in history.

What are Nazi UFOs?

The title of this theory is far from imaginative. The theory claims the Nazis were successful in advancing aircrafts and spacecrafts during WW2. But there is also talk of postwar survival of this technology, whether concealed at the North Pole or hiding in plain sight at NASA.

We know that the Nazis made vast strides in engineering and weaponry. In fact, the ‘evidence’ route forward by theorists relies heavily on accounts from high-up figures in the Axis countries.

Take the Repulsine: this was a specialised engine built during the war. How far was the stretch from this feat of engineering to alien-tech? Is it possible that an advanced race of extraterrestrials stopped by with a few tips and tricks?

Apparently so, as put forward by the claims of the Haunebu flying saucer and the occult-inspired Die Glocke (the existence of both of these aircrafts is, of course, highly disputed).

Nazi UFO believers should get some credit, however - they at least did some research. They got their facts right on three crucial pieces of evidence, before losing control of the wheel and skidding off the track completely.

Firstly, yes, we know they claimed New Swabia in 1938 for the purpose of obtaining whale oil and potentially for imperial pursuits, as well.

And yeah, they researched advanced propulsion tech. They even created a prototype of a circular-winged aircraft that looks preeeeetty similar to your run-of-the-mill UFO.

They even get right that there were flurries of UFO sightings during the war by allied forces.

But as soon as 1950, outlandish claims emerged, mere years after Germany surrendered and the Allies claimed victory. But we need to start at the beginning.

The year is 1944.

The end of the war is just on the horizon. The Allies have liberated Western Europe from Nazi grip. But a new, surprising threat is in the soldiers line of sight, too.

It was a cold, November evening. Lt. Fred Ringwald was in a night fighter piloted by a fellow Lieutenant. As they soared above the Rhine valley, the two american soldiers spotted something in the hills of Strasbourg.

8 fiery, orange lights were staring back at them.

They were sure, as any fighter pilot in that situation, that this was enemy aircraft. And yet nothing showed up on the radar. As soon as they turned the plane to prepare to fight, the orange lights had disappeared.

Many would attribute such sightings to combat fatigue, St. Elmo’s Fire (weather phenomena during a storm where glowing plasma appears near masts) or the fact that pilots would have seen many aircrafts clogging across Europe's skies.

But soon, the sightings began to spread. And fast.

In December, a pilot saw “5 or 6 flashing red and green lights in ’T’ shape.” in the skies near Breisach, Germany. They followed him but quickly vanished.

Days later, two orange glowing lights were spotted by two more flight crews.

They rose from the earth to 10,000 feet before tailing the fighters for approx. 2 minutes. They then stopped following the allied planes and disappeared.

“They appear to be under perfect control at all times”

Keith Chester

These sightings would become so common, they’d be given a nickname:

Foo fighters.

Scientists would go on to investigate them, later decoding them as advanced German aircrafts and weaponry. As they were only spotted by allied forces, it was likely they were advancements such as the V-1 or V-2 rocket.

But after the war, UFO sightings continued to apparently connect the dots:

Project Sign, an official US UFO investigation team, linked the designs of the German Horten brothers to UFO reports. The head of the follow up investigation confirmed some of their findings:

“When WWII ended, the Germans had several radical types of aircraft and guided missiles under development. The majority were in the most preliminary stages, but they were the only known craft that could even approach the performance of objects reported by UFO observers.”

Captain Edward J. Ruppelt, 1959

It was only after the war that accounts from former officials of the Axis regimes appeared to support these claims.

The first newspaper report forging a connection between UFOs and the crushed Nazi regime was written by a former Italian Minister of National Economy under Mussolini’s regime:

"types of flying discs were designed and studied in Germany and Italy as early as 1942"

But this doesn’t suggest aliens airdropped a PDF of flying saucer designs. We know that flying saucer aircrafts can and have been created.

A similar account from a Czeh scientist spurred on another key element of this conspiracy theory.

Die Glocke.

December 9th 1965.

All is peaceful in the small town of Kecksberg, Pennsylvania. That’s about to change.

Six American citizens in Detroit, Michigan, Windsor and Ontario witnessed a fireball score across the sky. NASA later claimed that this was a meteorite or a Soviet satellite crashing back to Earth.

UFOlogists weren’t so sure.

Many claim they saw a large object the size of a VW Beetle spotted with strange symbols, like hieroglyphics, being carried out by a truck from the area cordoned off at the crash site.

UFOlogists believe they recovered The Bell, an occult-alien-hybrid spacecraft.

Apparently, such claims bear a similarity to the designs of an aircraft laid out in a Wehrmacht document about a vertical take-off craft. And then Rudolph Schirever, the man claiming he designed it during the war, gave a statement the same month something crashed to the earth.

He told Der Spiegel that he designed a craft powered by rotating turbine blades. He developed it until April 1945 at BMW in Prague before fleeing to the Czeh Republic, as it is now known. 3 years later, he claimed the designs were stolen.

He thinks Czeh agents nicked his ideas for a foreign power.

Could it have been for an underground society of failed Nazi war criminals stowed away in underground base in Antartica?

(That was a mouthful.)

Many have attached their own take to Die Glocke.

Some believe it was anti-gravitational, others claim it was a time-machine. Some claim a Nazi colonel handed it over to the US military to buy his freedom, and a few even allege that the US forces forced Nazi scientists to build Die Glocke and advance it’s anti-gravity technology.

This stuff is pretty out there.

Quite literally.

But the last bit does fit actual history: US forces did bring over Nazi scientists to advance their space technology.

Postwar Theories

When historians began to reflect on the war decades after it ended, new ideas banking on UFOs followed suit.

In the 1960s, one of these most infamous theories was put forward in the controversial book The Morning of the Magicians.

It made numerous claims about the mysterious and fictional Vril Society which was based on a novel about superhuman-angel-alien beings that lived inside the Earth. In 1935, a German engineer fled to the US spouting claims that the Nazis did indeed have a society dedicated to finding the Vril.

The Morning of the Magicians claimed the Vril Society was a precursor to the Nazi party amongst other ideas. They supposedly created flying disc prototypes and had a secret base on the moon.

Oh, and about that Antarctica underground base?

It’s so the Nazis can vanish into the Earth and meet that advanced race living down there.

Jumping onto this New Swabia bandwagon was Ernst Zündel.

This Holocaust denier (*stares into camera*) wrote many books throughout the 70s claiming flying saucers were secret weapons released from this base. He even claimed he would attempt to locate the base and reveal the Earth was crammed full of aliens this entire time!

In 2002, he let slip that it was a big ruse to bring in more cash for his publishing company.

At the end of the decade, Migeul Serrano gave it a go. He was a Nazi sympathiser and believed that Hitler was the avatar (a deity on earth) of a Hindu god. Apparently he was hanging out with the hyperborean gods (Greek gods that are stowed away at the North Pole) underground until he was ready to release UFOs and bring in the Fourth Reich.

The last, infamous proponent of this theory had physical, real-life consequences.

A year after Serrano made his claims, Richard Chase professed that Nazi UFOs had forced him to commit numerous brutal and bloody crimes under threat to his own life.

Chase is one of the most infamous serial killers in history, earning the title the Vampire of Sacramento due to his reputation for murder, rape, cannibalism and necrophilia. These claims can be traced back to his schizophrenia which prompted him to believe prison officials were poisoning his food as directed by Nazi UFOs.

***

I think sometimes it’s easier for us to frame the atrocities committed by the Nazi regime within the context of something the horror genre would spit out. We’d much rather spin tales of occult rituals and far-out entities than admit actual humans did what they did.

It’s no surprise that following the war, a surge in movies detailing alien invasion emerged. It fit the fears of impending doom from a foreign, fascist government, a reality for many nations during WW2.

What do you think is the craziest claim?

If you liked this blogpost, make sure you like and reblog it. And while you’re down there, hit follow to read something spooky every weekend!

[the-wanted-man]

Comrades-in-Arms .II

Warnings: Potential 5.x spoilers regarding Garlemald. Part [1] Imperial Garlemald | Levi’s Theme

“The whole damn country’s gone to hell in a hand-basket, boys. Now, I don’t, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, say this to be an alarmist but...just look at the facts. Losing royalty left and right. People disappearing in the dead of night. I mean I love this country as much as any true son but we’re eating ourselves from the inside out, and it doesn’t seem to matter what side you’re on anymore.  I know you can feel it. The noose tightening in around the neck. The cross-hairs on the back. We’re coming up to the point of no return. Loyalist...or otherwise.”

The windstorm comes on much quicker than they’d anticipated and it makes those last few malms a miserable journey for the small unit. Even fully suited the harsh winds cut through the layers of their like phantom swords and moving became a matter of necessity to keep the chill at bay. Even silver-spoon Leviticus found it necessary to walk eventually.

Companionable moods from even minutes before seemed to lessen at the same rate their visibility did. The snowy haze of the blizzard made seeing more than five fulms ahead a near impossible feat after a time and were it not for the pulsing red light of the old guard tower beacon ahead they might’ve surely been lost to the white.

Eventually, they came upon an impenetrable wall of steel that seemed to simply rise up out of the snow. It wasn’t exactly the kind of sight that most would consider welcoming with its clinically grey exterior, and structured lighting that barely seemed to shine through the thick coat of hoarfrost that had built upon its metal surface. What bliss it would be to leave this place behind.

“Now, talk of insurrection is on the winds...and I’m not saying I support it but I DO understand it. You’re kidding yourself too, if you think I’m the only one who sees how this is going to get. Everyone’s thinking it, even if no one’s out right saying it. I mean...civil war...When its neighbor against neighbor....friend against friend...Brother against brother...It’s only a matter of time before you have to -really- start asking yourself -- Well, who can you really trust?”

A kind of tense silence seems to sweep over the convoy by the time the magitek vehicle rolls to a halt in front of the castellum gates. It starts as the usual routine first: the declaration of ranks, unit and business into a blue screen that takes their information. .

Albina quo Silvius. XIth Auxilliary. Supply drop.

The terminal flashes, and then beeps in acceptance of the credentials provided. With an almighty, groaning, screech of moving metal, the barricade begins to lower itself. Sinking into the earth like some kind of retreating monolith.The ice along its frame spider-webs and cracks, before falling away.

They are waved through, just past the barricades where two armed guards walk forward to greet them. Little more than a skeleton crew was necessary to keep the checkpoint appearing operational. Papers were exchanged and one guard points something out to verify it with the other. They nod, and then the first guard lifts his rifle up to Bastille’s chest, and fires twice.

“Times like this, might SEEM like you can’t trust anyone at all. Like you got to keep your guard up to keep the knife from sticking in your back. Like its all you can do to keep it from twisting... You might even feel like you’re alone. Like the whole world is pitted against you. Well, I’m here to tell you that you are NOT alone. There’s people you can trust. ”

It was absolute chaos.

Gunfire erupts from behind them and the team scatters. Albina shoves Quintus just as the second guard opens a volley of fire where he’d previously been sitting. Her weapon is drawn, and she cuts down one of the soldiers before he can fire again.

Tatius tackles one of the castellum guards as two more flank them from the gates. Cicero dives for cover, taking Levi with him as he goes. He screams for Crispus to radio for help while they’re pinned down by fire. Leviticus thanks the man by flossing the space between his ears with a bullet.

His unit starts to fall, one by one. Tatius manged to take on with him before he is pulled into a chokehold and he struggles until he doesn’t. Everything happens so fast, Albina barely has time to process as she pulls her blade from the body of an imperial soldier. It begins to dawn on her though, as she turns to her treacherous fiance.

“What did you do?”

“Matter fact, they’re right here in this very room. Take a look around boys, to the left, and to the right of you. Ahead and behind. Look around and witness them - your family! Us who’ve slept together. Who’ve bled together...Killed together.  -Trust- in them. Your fellow brothers-in-arms. Trust...in me.”

She knows before they’re even at each others throats. She knows the man she’d intended to marry so well she empowers him in moments and backs him blade tip first into the caravan. She knows that somehow this is his fault and doesn’t understand how she could have been so blind.

Leviticus only answers with a shameless smirk, but she catches the flick of his silver eyes and turns in time to be impaled by Crispus. He had always been quiet, and she had thought, dependable. She realized now, just not to her. Albina slumps to the ground. The battle is over and the damage done as quickly and as suddenly as a lightning strike.

The world starts to muffle and fade into black. Albina hears her fiance say “Took your sweet time.” As he brushes off his uniform and looks to the two remaining guards. He steps over her body, pausing long enough to tell her “Consider this an end to our engagement, darling. It’s not that its me, it’s just that it’s you. Quintus -- you can come out from hiding now.”

Harsher blows couldn’t be dealt as the young medic crawls out from the mud and snow, shivering as he stands and looks Albina in the eyes as they close. “R-really, Levi. Sh-she was your fiance.”

“I know! What was I thinking? Marriage never would have suited me.” 

“You see, commitment is important. How long have we been at this -game-, Family? Four years? Five? Because that’s what it comes down to. Our lives, are a -game- to...to these people! Heartless, and arrogant leaders who care more about their image than those who make them -look- good...Who are so quick to kill their own loyal brothers and sisters, if it makes them look good. Greedy, selfish leaders. That’s what they are.”

“Load those supply crates in that freighter there. We’ll need all the money we can get across the border and these weapons will flip for a pretty gil piece there. Especially now.” 

Equipment is quickly  transferred and stored within the cargo hold of a small airship, none of which Levi lifted so much as a finger for. The ship itself was weaponless luxury class and couldn’t pass for militaristic if it tried. Too spacious. Too comfortable. Being royalty had its perks, and no one said escaping couldn’t be done in style.

“Did we really have to...do all this?”  Leviticus looked over to Quintus, who stood anxiously over the body of Bastille. He seemed like he was having second thoughts, and Levi couldn’t have that.

“Having doubts, are we? You know they never would have hesitated for us. Even my loving fiance was too committed to the country for us to ever work. It still hurt me, having to do this to them. Him though...I never liked Bastille. It might be terrible but..It’s true. He always acted like he was...better than all of us. Better than you.”  Bastille croaks and Levi considers it the definition of a corpse turning in its grave.

“I...oh jeez, I think he’s still alive..?”

Leviticus passes the young man a knife. “You said you could kill for a bath, right? Well, how bad did you want it?”

"Was it those officers starving in the cold beside us while they shouted orders from the back lines? Hm? Was it them? Huddling in the trenches, never knowing if  they’d see the light of day? Do you think they care? What about the people. We serve citizens that don’t even care for the sacrifices we make. Who spit on us when we marched in the cities. They don’t know what we had to do, to survive. What we -will- do.”

They staged the scene, positioning the bodies of their fellows more deliberately. Stripped the castellum of its valuable supplies and spilled a trail of ceruleum around the encampment with whatever excess they could find.

A more immediate guess once discovered might lead the assumption of an encounter with savages and he relied on the fact that resources would be stretched too thin to make an in-depth investigation. It wasn’t perfect but it would do.

The four loaded themselves onto the new convoy, an airship no bigger than standard fare civilian transport and luggage but it was enough for them and  their haul. At the hatch, Leviticus turned to look behind him. Struck a match off his chest, and tossed it into the shimmering pool of oil. Blue fire spreads like spilled ink over thin cloth. Leviticus leaves brimstone in his wake, and it makes him feel divine.

If he can do this, he can do anything.

“The hand that claims to feed, has only ever taken away. Everything we did, we did for nothing. But I promise you...if you follow me...if you trust me...trust the man on your left, and on your right...Nothing, is what’s going to stand in our way.

The ship full of defectors takes off from a blazing outpost and veers off into the distant sky.

                                            To be continued...                                                    

[endangered-liaison]

Last Rites

A Resistance soldier staggers into the light of day. He doesn't squint or flinch as he moves from the darkness of his hideaway into the light, simply steps forwards. One step, then another. He doesn't check his surroundings. He doesn't watch for Garlean patrols. He just lurches forwards.

Finally, he seems to notice something. He looks up, dull grey eyes looking blankly toward a hilltop.

There's the crack of a rifle, and he drops to the floor. Brown, viscous blood seeps from the hole torn through his face. Around him, another dozen corpses are arrayed. Some wear Resistance gear, while others have the clothing of civilians, or older rags weathered by time.

"Fuckin' zombies." Maxima grunts, watching as this newest body joins the others. To her right, Castellus slides the bolt back on her rifle and racks another round in the chamber.

They'd been searching for a Resistance hideaway they knew was concealed in the area. A few minor supply caravans had been intercepted; idiots didn't know if those supplies were meant for their towns or not. They weren't, obviously, but they didn't know that.

At first, this tomb had seemed like perfect cover for the Resistance to hide out in. Barely visible from most angles, reinforced, and built up enough to be comfortable rather than hiding out in some cave like animals. That was before the first zombie wandered out into the sun.

Idiots must've hidden out there without even realising it was cursed. Thaumaturgic reanimation spells last a long time, out here in the desert. From what Max hears, they still lose patrols out in the northern Lochs sometimes, only for them to stagger back out a few days later.

Fucking worthless country.

No more undead seem to be appearing through the doorway, and Max gives a sigh. "Alright, screw this. I'm gonna go take a look."

Castellus frowns. "Shouldn't we report this and come back with a full patrol? We don't know if there are any more inside."

Max is already climbing to her feet and stretching. Rolling her back after a prolonged period of waiting around. "You're right. We don't know. That's why I'm gonna go check, yeah?"

Victoria stares up at her with a distinct lack of amusement.

"If there's more dead in there I'll come runnin' out. If there ain't I'll find the supplies. Come on." Max draws a handaxe from her belt, starting to spin it and make sure she's warmed up for its weight. "Oh, and gimme your revolver."

She reaches out with her free hand. Victoria just looks at her, a mixture of resignation and profound disappointment on her face. For a few seconds, Max thinks she'll refuse. Then, finally, a handgun is pressed into her palm with the care such a weapon deserves.

Max beams.

"If you come back out groaning and shambling, I'm shooting you." is all Victoria says, turning back to her rifle and adjusting her scope slightly.

"They breed you mongrels brutal as fuck, Vic. I like it."

With that, she slides down the hill, her boots kicking up sand and dust.

Victoria rolls her eyes and settles herself in to wait.

She watches Max approach, playing with her borrowed revolver with far too much carelessness.

She watches her smack the pommel of the axe against the doorframe to the crypt, the loud thudding noise echoing through its darkened halls, before she turns back to give the scope a shrug and step inside.

And then she sees nothing.

She doesn't panic. Waiting is nothing new. And the most important part of this is focus.

And so she doesn't let her mind drift. She doesn't worry about anything. She doesn't think about how many minutes it's been since Max stepped into the dark. She doesn't fidget, or move, or do anything but watch and listen.

Cicadas chirp. The river roars in the distance. Half a malm away, the M tribe are on a hunt, their Huntspeak clicking and echoing.

There's the quiet echo of a cry.

Shit.

Instincts collide.

Move in to help, or hold position? Max might need help. On the other hand, if Max has to run, rifle support might save her life.

Her grip tightens on the rifle. Play it safe. Follow orders. Her hands stay perfectly steady.

If there's one thing Victoria oen Castellus isn't, it's a hero. Right?

That mantra doesn't make it any easier to stay put, and her arguments with herself get louder and louder over the next few minutes, until something finally steps into her line of sight.

It's Max.

There's blood staining her cheek, and she's staggering forwards. Limping. Making dull, groaning noises.

Fuck.

Victoria's hands don't shake as she lines her rifle up with Max's head. They're perfectly stable, even as Max's acid-green eyes flash across her scope. Her finger rests on the trigger. She offers a split second of hesitation...

"Fuckers set up leg snares!"

She lets go of the trigger, eyes wide. "Max?!"

Max leans over, wincing and slipping her knife against the wire tangled around her foot. Blood, red and bright and alive, drips from her cheek. "It's all clear 'cept the traps," she calls, coughing a little as she finally snaps the wire. "No living, no dead. Cleared of supplies, too. Must've shipped 'em someplace else."

"...And you're okay?"

"Course!" Max climbs to her feet and resumes her limping gait back toward Victoria, wiping the blood from her cheek. She grins, showing far too many teeth. "Let's get back to camp, yeah?"

Victoria stows her rifle without another word.

Her hands don’t shake at all.