#i will probably repurpose most of this later on but its okay

[soulofamy]

Parallel Sparks

this is a chapter out of a fic i discontinued but this chapter alone, by itself, is one of my favorite things i have ever written tbh. its meant to portray the parallels between syzoths budding relationship with ashrah and his blossoming relationship with his deceased wife

Syzoth's head had not stopped spinning nor has his stomach stopped churning since he learned what Liu Kang truly was. He was instructed to prepare for an assault on Ying Fortess in order to capture Shang Tsung and Quan Chi but he found the task at hand difficult to focus on. Instead, he contemplated the implications of what he had learned. Was the prejudice and destitution he had faced his whole life something Liu Kang could have stopped? Could Liu Kang have done anything to avoid Layara and Kaiyon's deaths? More questions arose, one after another, threatening to cause him to burst. He needed to hear another opinion. He needed to know his reaction made sense. He needed to seek out Ashrah.

He made his way over to the Wu Shi Academy's armory and was welcomed by the sight of her sitting alone as she sharpened her kriss. Though her gentle hands masterfully maneuvered the blade against the grindstone, he could tell by the distant look in her eyes that her thoughts were somewhere else. Cautious not to startle her, Syzoth cleared his throat as he approached her. She glanced his way before a kind smile graced her lips. 

"Hello, Syzoth," she said before her attention returned to her blade. 

"I'm not interrupting you, am I?" he asked cautiously.

Ashrah shook her head. "Not at all. I've done this countless times," she said as she slowly moved one of the blade's edges along the spinning stone. "I find I do my best thinking while maintaining Datusha." The stone halted and she lifted her kriss up to inspect its blade before reaching for a cloth to clean it. "If I had to guess, you are here to discuss what we learned about Liu Kang."

"Is it that obvious?" Syzoth replied.

"It was quite the revelation," she pointed out as she lowered the opposite edge of the blade back down onto the grind stone. "I know that I can't stop thinking about it myself." 

Syzoth released a slow breath. "It's given rise to so many questions that I fear I will never get answers to. I have to wonder what else Liu Kang has not told us."

"You don't trust him now?" Ashrah inquired, her attention now fully on Syzoth. Though the sound of stone grinding metal no longer echoed, the buzzing inside of Syzoth's head was happy to fill the silence. He sighed and took a seat on a nearby stool.

"I'm...not sure," he confessed. "I don't know what to think."

Ashrah was silent for a moment as she contemplated. "...does this impact your resolve to fight in the upcoming battle?"

"No," he was quick to respond. "Shang Tsung must pay for what he did." He tapped his closed fist on his knee. "What he plans to do. Quan Chi as well. I just...never imagined this would escalate as much as it has. Something inside me tells me there is more to come."

"So let it come," Ashrah responded.

Syzoth tilted his head but said nothing.

She shifted where she sat and inspected her kriss before standing up. "If there is one thing I have learned, it's that the universe will always be larger than my understanding of it." Syzoth listened to her with slight skepticism in his eyes before standing up to meet her. "Imagine my surprise when I learned of what the realms had to offer. I felt like I had been lied to, and the uncertainty of it all was terrifying. But I knew I would not achieve what I wanted without facing that uncertainty head on."

Syzoth nodded and his gaze drifted to the side in contemplation. What if I don't know what it is I want? he thought to himself. He wanted Shang Tsung to suffer. But further than that, Syzoth was unsure what sort of future he wanted for himself. Syzoth felt himself approaching a crossroad, but each path was shrouded in darkness. How could he look to the future when so much of his past was unresolved?

"Focus on the task ahead and everything will fall into place," Ashrah said, as though she could read his mind. Syzoth looked back at her and found that she was holding out a hand for him to shake. "Luckily for you, you won't have to be alone on this journey. Whatever uncertainty comes our way, we can face it together."

Syzoth stared at her hand for a long pause, then looked up at her face. He met her gentle gaze and his shoulders relaxed. For one so new to humanity, Syzoth was impressed that she seemed to know just what to say to put him at ease. He reached out to take her hand before smiling. 

"Together," he echoed. 

---

"Unhand her, you brute!" 

That was Syzoth's cue, while in his reptiloid form, to roar and encircle himself and Layara in a ring of acid. From up above, their fellow performer, Kaelos, stood in a heroic pose with a rope in hand. As always, this skit ended with Kaelos flying through the air to save Layara from Syzoth. He grabbed Layara from within the acid ring to deliver her to safety. The crowd erupted in cheers as Kaelos slayed the savage Zaterran-Human mutant, winning the heart of the fair maiden. 

The carnival had seen a spike in patrons ever since debuting this skit as a part of the whole show. While Syzoth was at least relieved he was no longer forced to beg on the streets, he found the role that he was forced to play to be exhausting. Just as the rest of Outworld saw him as inferior, so too did the rest of the carnival. Other performers were given roles that inspired respect and admiration. Kaelos was often given the role of a warrior prince. Syzoth was always relegated to being a villain or threat to the skit's protagonist. His victim was always the beautiful maiden, played by Layara. She was the only one in the carnival who showed him kindness, but their roles in these skits made him wonder if, deep down, she, too, viewed him like the beast everyone else seemed to think he was.

After one of their shows, Syzoth sat to the side of the performers' lounge area, primarily in his humanoid form but with his tail exposed. He held it in one arm, and his other hand held a file. The carnival owner wanted him to maintain his scales so that they appeared sharp and so that they shimmered in the light. If Zaterrans didn't already judge him, surely this sort of odd maintenance would have earned judgement from them. The rest of the performers typically sat together during their off time. Syzoth preferred not interacting with them more than was required of him. They had already made it clear that they didn't accept him. Many of them were favorites among patrons for their talents and gifts, resulting in their boosted egos. Syzoth was never anyone's favorite. He didn't need to be. As long as he did the job he was paid to do and as long as he minded his own business, he knew he would avoid trouble. 

Being quiet and minding his own business often meant that Syzoth could hear most of what went on between the other performers. People often assumed he was not listening. For how little Syzoth cared for them, that might as well have been the case. Today, things were different. 

"Let me pass, Kaelos," he heard Layara say. Syzoth glanced up from where he sat to see that Kaelos was towering over her, blocking her path to the exit. He was a tall, lean man with pale skin. From what Syzoth was able to deduce, this man embodied what an attractive male Outworlder would look like. He didn't quite understand why though. His dark hair, shoulder length hair reminded Syzoth of the plant fibers used to make bedding by Zaterrans. His eyes were the same color as the berries commonly found in Zikandur once they had rotted. It was a mystery to Syzoth why patrons fawned over him. 

Layara's shoulders were stiff as she tried to stand her ground. It was easy to see that she was uncomfortable with the way that he stood so close to her or the way that he looked down at her with arrogance in his eyes. 

"Say you will allow me to take you to dinner tonight first," he tried to bargain. The scales on Syzoth's tail stood up and he wrinkled his nose at the proposition. 

"I may not be well versed in warmblood mating rituals," Syzoth began to interject, surprised that his mouth seemed to be moving all on its own. His gaze moved back to his tail and he continued to groom it as he spoke. "however, I can't imagine coercing someone into spending time with you is a good way to gain their favor or admiration."

Without looking up, Syzoth could feel Kaelos's angry eyes trained on him. "What would you know, Zaterran?"

Syzoth hissed with amusement. It would take more than Kaelos's scowl to intimidate him. "Clearly a great deal more than you, judging by the fact that I can tell your advances are unwelcome but you can't."

"What did you say to me?" Kaelos asked as he turned to full face Syzoth. 

Syzoth glanced up to see that Layara was making her silent escape, but not before mouthing 'thank you' to him. He looked back down at his tail and dusted it off before standing up. The closest thing he had to a friend was now safe, Syzoth decided he had accomplished his goal.

He gave Kaelos a stiff smile. "Nothing at all." Without giving Kaelos an opportunity to escalate, he shifted his tail back into obscurity and left to collect his belongings. "Have a good evening, everyone," he said as he made his way out for the night.

The next morning, Syzoth walked to the carnival. The air was calm as he passed by the market place. People passed him by without a second glance, and vendors tried to call his attention to the goods they wanted to sell him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but inexplicably, he felt his skin crawl in anticipation. He got the sense he was being watched. His eyes shifted about him as he tried to locate the cause of his suspicion.

Wham

A howling pain ignited at the side of Syzoth's head following the strike of a rogue fist. His hand shot up to cover his now bruised eye and he turned to face his assailant. 

"Tenji?!" Syzoth asked, incredulous. The people in the surrounding area had stopped to watch what appeared to be the start of a fight. 

Tenji was another performer in their carnival, one who Syzoth interacted with very little outside performances and rehearsals. Notably, he was often seen at Kaelos's side. "What was that-" his words were cut off by his own agonized groan as the back of his knees were kicked, knocking Syzoth down. Syzoth looked up from his position with gritted teeth to see Zyron, the assailant who had kicked him from behind, circle around to meet Tenji as he approached Syzoth. The two moved to either side of him to grab hold of his arms. Syzoth's eyes scanned over the now large crowd that had gathered around to watch with embarrassment before looking up to see Kaelos walking up to him with a smug expression. No one in the crowd seemed willing to come to Syzoth's defense. 

Syzoth gave a disapproving hiss but said nothing as Kaelos stopped to stand over him. 

"I wonder if I can somehow make you look like more of a freak than you already do," Kaelos snickered. 

"I'm warning you," Syzoth growled. His attempt to stand up for himself was met with a sharp kick to the stomach. 

"Shut up," Kaelos spat. Tenji and Zyron were quick to express their approval and to egg him on. Syzoth was unable to respond, the wind had been knocked out of him. For a brief moment he contemplated shifting into his reptiloid form but the murmurs of the surrounding onlookers was quick to silence him. He could only imagine how quickly he would go from being seen by them as a victim to being seen as deserving of this treatment. 

Kaelos reached down and threw back the hood Syzoth typically wore over his head to grip his hair. He yanked Syzoth's head back and forced him to meet his conceited gaze. "Do you still think yourself smarter than me?"

Syzoth gritted his teeth as his control over his breathing slowly resumed. Rather than dignifying the question with any sort of answer, he spat in his face. Kaelos flinched backwards and he removed his hand from Syzoth's head to swat away the acid-infused saliva that now singed his skin. "My face!" Kaelos whined before looking back at Syzoth with murder in his eyes. "You'll pay for that, you freak!"

Without a second to brace himself, Syzoth began to endure each of Kaelos's enraged blows, some to his stomach, others to his head, others to his face. His body ached and burned. His heart threatened to shatter his ribs. The longer it persisted, the less he felt himself care what the onlookers thought of him. What good would their positive perception of him be if he was dead?

Without thinking about it, Syzoth's tail appeared behind him and made quick work of tripping Tenji and Zyron, forcing them to let him go. The horrified gasps of the onlookers were not enough to stop Syzoth from completing his metamorphosis and letting out a vicious snarl. Kaelos's smirk was quick to be replaced with a look of fear as he staggered back. With a rapid turn, Syzoth used his tail to bat Kaelos into a stone wall, leaving blood where his head had connected. As he slid down, Syzoth approached him with bared teeth slathered in acid. Kaelos looked up at him with a weak, dazed expression before holding up his hands defensively and whimpering. Tears had already begun pouring down his cheeks.

"Let me tell you the difference between the two of us," Syzoth growled. "There are countless men in Outworld who could do your job. You are nothing short of expendable. But the carnival will never have anyone like me. You risk your job and your life by being a bully. But for defending myself, I most certainly do not." He let out an angry huff from his nostrils and shortened the distance between their faces. Kaelos flinched and shut his eyes. "Touch me again, and you won't live long enough to regret it."

Syzoth shifted back into his humanoid form and decided to go back to the inn he was staying at while in this village. There was no way he could go to work that day and not be questioned. His whole body ached. Green bruises marked his skin and his eye was almost swollen shut. Emerald blood trailed down out of his nose and down his chin. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the thought of how Layara would perceive him after this scuffle also loomed over his head. One thing at a time, he thought to himself. Right now, he wanted to rest. 

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he arrived at his room before there was a knock at his door. His heart began to race. He went to the constable. Of course he did.

"Syzoth?" a familiar gentle voice called from behind the door. His shoulders relaxed and he hesitantly went to open it, finding Layara on the other side. "Oh good, you're here. I was worried that-" she started before her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her. "Dear Argus..." she frantically looked him up and down. "What happened?!"

Syzoth was unsure how to respond at first. He licked his lips and his gaze wandered to the side. "...I was hit by a carriage on my way to work this morning."

Layara frowned as she stared up at him but she said nothing. Syzoth had never been a good liar. 

"...can I come in?" she asked. Syzoth grew nervous but he found himself unable to deny her. Bashfully, he stepped aside and allowed her to enter the room before closing the door. She turned around to face him with crossed arms and a look of concern. "What really happened?"

No one ever looked at him that way. No one ever cared for his wellbeing. He couldn't fathom why the most beautiful woman in the carnival of all people seemed to. He also could not deny the sincerity in her eyes as she looked up at him. 

With a sigh of shame, Syzoth looked to the side before answering. "...Kaelos..." was all he said. 

Her look of concern turned into one of anger. 

"He did this to you?" 

Syzoth braced himself to be made out as the villain. 

"That son of a..." she muttered. 

He looked at her with curiosity. She's taking my side...

"Why did he do it? What led up to this?" she inquired. To Syzoth's surprise, he was less ashamed of talking about it now. 

He let out a bitter huff before recounting what had happened, including everything that Kaelos had said to him during their encounter.

Layara frowned before looking to the side. "I see." She shook her head. "I feel like it's my fault now. I'm sorry, Syzoth."

Syzoth stood up straight and shook his head. "Please don't say that. I don't put any of the blame on you," he insisted. "I would happily come to your defense again, no matter the risk."

Her apologetic look slowly became a shy, endeared smile as she looked up to meet his gaze once again. His heart thrummed in his chest as they fell silent. She looked at him with sympathy and concern once again. "Your poor eye..." she murmured as she raised a hand up to his face. 

Syzoth wasn't sure if it was his tender wound or his tender heart that led him to reach his own hand up to meet hers. He brought their hands down to their sides and to his surprise, she kept hers in his grasp. 

"We don't have to face people like him alone. We don't have to let self-entitled bullies step on our backs," she said to him as she met his gaze. "We could depend on each other. We could face them together." Syzoth felt his eyebrows raise at her proposition before a smile grew on his lips. 

"Together," he echoed. 

[mediocre-noodle]

okay so i mentioned the multiverse with dallas and The Family many times but i wanted to expand on that:

tw: unreality, depersonalization/derealization -> idk how bad w these but its. it can be triggering probably.

not exactly what im thinking of but meh.

-> what im going for

the line at the top (of my drawing) is like a separate plane. its like how there a spiritual dimension in some fandoms? where you can be but not interact w the physical world? its sorta similar to that but only in the way that its above all universes that exist EVER.

its where The Family reside. its not a whole other universe because The Family has no origin universe— aji IS the origin. when aji selected someone, who then became a Chosen and then Ascended after death, he created this dimensional space.

anyways, more on the multiverse. its similar to space and galaxies set-up, obviously. each universe is just a bundle of stardust and life— look into it closely and you can See whats going on inside it.

its like a garden, too. as mentioned once before, the Eyes can manipulate how they look, thus their height. in the mulitverse garden (idk what else to call it), the universes normally can fit in their palms. (“like,, to compare,. a planet would be anywhere from the size of a marble to a baseball in their hands (sometimes even full universes can fit in their hands & bc shapeshifting)”). again, roaming in a garden or wading through water.

i have described the multiverse as a spiderweb but it’s only when Guides* are HOLDING universes in their hands… like string. ->

* a name for The Family. easier than calling them The Eyes or The Family n all that.

this but more spiderweb-looking… and with more strings, this is puny.

and The Core? The Core is centered right at the middle of the Garden. The Core is OUR world. our universe that has several galaxies and solar systems and the Milky Way and Earth. every multiverse branches off from The Core, even if things from The Core doesn’t exist in its universe. it still is descended from The Core because a Core eyeless made up that universe.

im breaking my brain thinking about this—

however non-Core universes? ones that arent associated with The Core? they still exist yeah. but really, most things have elements from Core cultures and species and nature and science and all that. (undeveloped bc i literally cannot grasp this concept. everything i make is connected to my humanity, which is Core. my experience on earth is dripping from my hands and it stains all my creations with a brush of a thought and the tips of my fingers.)

i got side-tracked.

The Core is the oldest universe. aji came into existence with a sea of nothing and then centuries later, so did The Core.

this doesn’t mean every other universe is only a few million years old. time is irrelevant. time is both now and then. the future is the past and the past is the future. the big bang happened when the gun went off into abraham lincoln’s skull. the sun exploded when it also came into existence. the baby laughs and at the same time, it dies of old age. i sit on my death bed and i am also ten years old. it is not linear. let me repeat that: time is not linear.

this doesn’t even include the conservation of matter. that matter cannot be created or destroyed. the grass that fed the rabbit is the same as the rabbit eating the grass. the molecules that make up fire are the same as the tree that feeds it. the ashes of a parent also make up the smile of a spouse. i am me but i am also you. we are everything that has ever existed and more. we are repurposed and made into something new. are we ever truly new? the flesh of my skin has been something else before. it will be something again.

The Core may be the oldest universe in the Garden, but inside itself, it is still young. universes can be born already hundreds of millions of years old inside of themselves, yet in the Garden they are only a blink in time compared to the existence of The Core.

besides, new universes come into existence quickly. a blink of an eye and hundreds may appear. blink again and theres hundreds of thousands more. theres no Core measurement that can even describe this.

and the Guides? they don’t have to physically be in a world to See. They don’t need to hold a universe gently in their palms and open the stardust curtains to reveal the stage of life and death, to See the actors do their part in the play they didn’t know existed.

no, most Family members stay in the dimensional plane thats above the Garden. They simply open Their Eyes and focus on a universe, then watch. honestly, its like spectator mode in minecraft— a bit different but its still similar.

some Family members, however, prefer to guide by entering the universe itself. not many do this: dallas is one of the few. its takes a toll and each of the Guide-walkers has their own reason for doing so.

there really is no way to describe all of this… have you held the multiverse in your hands? did the universes overflow and drip from your palms? did you hold the dark sludge of shadows too? or was it only the brightness of the universes being so close in your hands? are there even shadows if there is no sun? is there light if the only source comes from the trillions of universes themselves? are they bright enough to show you the way?

are you floating in the Garden, the void, where there is nothing under you? there is nothing above you. what is a floor if it does not exist? will you have to relearn how to walk if all you do is hover in the nothing-that-is-somehow-everything?

what do you breathe? do you even breathe? what is breathing? have you forgotten?

did you forget how to be alive? did you forget how to push blood through your veins? did you forget how to turn food into nutrients? did you forget how to blink? what about inflating and deflating your lungs? and what of the heart? the valves and chambers and blood and what it looks like and how does it beat?

how long have you been in the Garden? time is tangled, anyway.

dude holy fucking shit im actually insane over this

the way you write?????? i cant even describe it but ITS SO GOOD its like addictive…

“my experience on earth is dripping from my hands and it stains all my creations with a brush of a thought and the tips of my fingers.” <- IM OBSESSEDDDDD WITH THIS

the inherent humanity of a story no matter how far it tries to distance itself from our world… gee whiz

CRAZY OVER THIS OMG i love the way you describe basically the experience of a god and how utterly massive and incomprehensible it is to us… ough…

tgis is so good dude

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Oh I'm such a wimp I don't even wanna think about bad things happening 🫣 But I keep coming back to touch starved, secret caretaking and cry into chest, if you want to talk about any of them?

Well secret caretaking would be kind of a fluffy one! Buck is a pretty stubborn guy when it comes to taking care of himself and asking others for help related to that, so it would be Eddie quietly doing things to make his life easier/nicer while he’s having a tough time. A lot of him being sappy while making sure his ice packs always get back in the freezer, etc.

Haven’t figured out the other two so I’ll just start typing shit out under the cut

Cry into chest…. Not sure what to do about this one…. Maybe I’ll make Eddie cry about something…. Family problems? A nightmare? Buck got hurt and he’s worried? Chris is sick and he’s worried? Or maybe nothing at all has happened but he still is just caught up in an overwhelming feeling of nonspecific worry and frustrated about it because he thought he was past this, The Breakdown ��� was so long ago at this point and like he knows making progress doesn’t mean he magically doesn’t have anxiety anymore and he can have set backs and that’s okay, but he’d been getting better at recognizing when panic like this is coming on and what might trigger it, he’s upset that this blindsided him. Yeah I like that I think I’ll turn that into something…

Touch starved might be another Eddie one. Maybe lawsuit era, maybe post shooting where Ana is there and touches him but he just wants buck, maybe breakdown era where he doesnt see buck anymore and misses him so much but doesnt know how to ask for it, maybe just a general him getting in his head about what kind of touch he’s allowed to have? Like he and Buck casually touched and hugged more in the first season or two they were in and then got a little more distant and that could be characterized as like… in the early days Buck is a friend, its fine to pal around with your friends, but then uh oh the emotions are getting really intense now and you’re not supposed to want to touch your friends this much! Danger! What would the guys on his baseball team have said? What would his dad say? In other words Eddie Diaz Fights The Forces Of Internalized Homophobia. OR I might repurpose and finish this snippet (that I think I’ve already posted before??) about Buck coming back to the Diaz house for the first time after the tsunami

They’re in the locker room, shift over by a good ten minutes, when Eddie puts a hand on his arm. Buck, carefully, doesn’t startle or say this is the second time you’ve touched me in three months out loud.

“You wanna come over,” Eddie says, theoretically a question but presented more like a statement, and Buck should probably feel more annoyed at that except for the fact that there’s a less than zero chance he’d ever say no.

“Yeah,” he says, unnecessarily. “Sure. You want me to grab food?”

So, 40 minutes later, he’s in front of the Diaz house holding a few greasy boxes and worrying that somehow everyone’s taste in pizza has changed since the last time they did this. Eddie’s taste, probably, at nearly years old, has settled such that the most garlic-y option Buck can find is still a safe bet, but Chris is just a kid, getting bigger every day, changing all the time. Three months is an age to an eight year old, maybe pepperoni is disgusting now, embarrassing, food for babies.

So. Buck is standing on the porch, holding the boxes, biting his tongue not to cry wondering what all he might have missed when Eddie pulls into the driveway in his new big truck. He bites down harder because he doesn’t know what he’s allowed anymore, if it would be okay for him to laugh and say what the fuck are you hauling around that you need this much car, Diaz.

Sorry Eddie I will never pass up the opportunity to rage on you for your poor choice of car for city driving

[lizzienoodles]

17 and 50 (tell me everything lol)

17. Any OC OTPs?

:3c

Um. Them !!!!! Loki isn't technically my oc but at this point i've diverged so far from comics canon I basically consider him my own version of the character LOL!!! (And since Marvel took him from mythology I have every right. Anyway. Almost zero resemblance to the mcu too, i dont consider them even remotely the same character 🤷‍♀️) I could talk about them like. hours. I don't know what to put here in a text post. Send any questions to my inbox (that's a demand)

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

Okay HMM I guess I'll use this question to do a very broad overview of my stories! Maybe that should be its own post?? LOL

My main focus is on my Marvel fan characters:

Gail and Erica, twin sisters yoinked from my webcomic and all grown up, Valentine, the Valentine Crew (Crash, Red, Hands, Roux, Fuse), Keegan, Brightgene (mutant) kids (Brianna, Edwin, Luiz, Ali), tenants/residents at Gail and Loki's mansion (Eunice, Elenari, Avril ), my own AU version of the Guardians of the Galaxy... That's most of them.

I also have a few DC characters (Breeze, Doomscroller, a digital Batgirl, Paisley and Siren)

My original stories:

Fledge Fighters (webcomic, mostly technically finished), Characters from that are Gail and Erica (as kids), Pace, Rae, Michael, JD, Stephen, Nathan, Beck, Perri, Agent Jay, Flare Pants Man. Teen superhero hijinks on a "crime free" island.

Sketch Ninja (maybe someday webcomic): Rye, Kytton, Ciela, Kizzy, Dex, Nova: Ninjas have the ability to turn drawings into weapons. Popular Machinery (pitching this to publishers ideally): Kaiya, Aalex, Ripflick, Olivia, Juliet, various robots: Influencers with mechs. Need I say more?

Danger Spoon (WAY on the backburner) Tyler, Jamie, Lillith, Becca, Ruth: Boy from the big city moves to conservative small town and ends up as the front singer of a girl band.

Daisy's patience: Daisy, Sugar, Soap, Loafcat: kids fight giant robots. Probably won't do anything big with this unless I get a chance to pitch as a cartoon.

Honey and the Bee (Raina, Maple, Forrest) and Journey of Hearts (Kyo, Mimi, Oliver) Both very underdeveloped romances that I'll never write but the characters stick around in my head so they might get repurposed into something else later.

OKAY WAS THAT ENOUGH????

Edit: i can't even begin to list my one-off fan characters ahaha!! but honorable mention to Tomo my TMNT oc who already has like 3 iterations

[aura-acolyte]

🎙 Where did you first get the idea for Mare?

//Okay, so, story time. Let me take you back to August 2018. The world had gone to shit, Avengers Infinity War had recently released in theaters, and I was a 14 year old boy (probably) who had just discovered the internet.

//I had taken to browsing TV Tropes in my spare time, still do but not as frequently. Something, something, ruin your life. Anyways, TV Tropes has many pages for many different things, far beyond just TV and Tropes. Among those was fanfiction and through it I discovered a treasure trove of ages long past. That Golden Fandom Era of great cringe.

//You see, most of TV Tropes' pages on fanfiction are for some pretty old stuff. They've got pages on newer fics too, its a great source of advertising, but the website was launched in 2004 it goes back ages and newer fics aren't crosswicked as much. So much of my fanfiction exposure was older stuff. The classics. And, of course, one of the fic types I came across was Nuzlocke fics. The idea of doing a Nuzlocke Challenge intrigued me, and the idea of writing a fic about it more so. And thus, my journey bega.

//I booted up my favorite game in the series, Pokemon Alpha Sapphire, and restarted. incidentally wiping several years worth of event legendaries and the event Blaziken I'd carried over from XY out of existance. I'm sorry XY Event Blaziken with Speed Boost and Blazikenite. You will be missed. What was I saying?

//Oh right, I restarted Alpha Sapphire, selected the female pc with blissful ignorance of my own gender fluidity, named her Mare, and began my run... I wrote one chapter and then gave up because I got too attached to the Pokemon and having to release them made me cry. But, while that was the end for that fic, it was not the end for Mare. I tried to write several more fics for her which, uh, weren't good and can hopefully stay buried forever. 14 year old me had a bit of a perverted streak that I am not proud of.

//Then roleplaying came into the picture. I've been roleplaying for... this'll be my 8th year roleplaying online. Jeez. Anyways, I used to do forum roleplays before I got kind of tired of that and stopped. Takes a lot of effort to maintain a forum roleplay and, honestly, a lot of the people on the site I used were assholes, elitists, gatekeepers, or all three. But I'm not here to trash talk people behind their backs.

//So, I started a Pokemon forum roleplay and repurposed Mare for it. Because my Nuzlocke fic was inspired by classic Nuzlocke fics, Mare could understand Pokemon for no explained reason other than to make it easier for the reader to grow attached to them before they die. I also gave her enhanced strength because I thought a teenage girl punching out Archie would be funny. Now, for the roleplay space, I had to explain it. Luckily, I remembered a movie I'd watched as a kid, Lucario and the Mystery of Mew, and also by that point it was 2020 and I was an avid Smash Ultimate player who mained Lucario. So I gave her Aura powers to justify it, added on Aura Vision, discovered Sapphire Pokespe existed halfway through making her character sheet and used her as Mare's faceclaim, and bada bing bada boom, Marie "Mare" Birch was born. But we aren't quite at final form Mare yet.

//In February of 2023 I joined Tumblr and one month later, in March, I discovered Pokemon IRL. Eager to join in, I created a blog for... Caleb Vixen, normal fox guy and intended self insert. I created Mare's blog 20 days later. When I created the blog I expanded her Aura Powers to include durability, healing, and any moves a Lucario can use (Aura Sphere mainly), and gave her the epithet Chosen of Rayquaza. Also, she was the worst. Like, she was still a hero but she was also an asshole. This was true of all versions of Mare up to that point. Its kind of incredible looking at her right now where her defining personality trait is being nice vs back when I started where her defining personality trait was being an asshole. Oh, also, when the blog started it had been six months since her Journey ended not five years I don't know how that happened.

//So, Chosen of Rayquaza, what did that mean? Nothing. I just thought it sounded cool. But, when I had Mare make a little joke about "I don't know what Chosen of Rayquaza means" it quickly gained a meaning, largely thanks to @pinkhairandpokemon, who introduced me to the concept of Chosen AUs which I had no idea existed at the time. Anyways, Mare ended up with Rayquaza powers and a savior complex and also became much nicer. Then a bunch of other stuff happened and a good chunk of it had to be retconned away and now you're here.

//tl;dr, she came from a Nuzlocke fic.

[hebezunet]

sorry I'd just like some clarification on the shipping stuff. Since most of Wily's bots are stolen do they count as well? Or is it specifically ones built by Wily like the seconds and fifths? I'm assuming the latter but it's totally okay if it's the former as well I just don't want to cross any boundaries >_<'

oh youre good no worries! im more than happy to clarify :)

taking an actual close look at the mmkb to see exactly who made what robot masters is proving more convoluted than i thought. yes, there are definitely a good chunk of robot masters that were stolen and remodeled/repurposed by wily, but were ultimately created originally by someone else (mm1 robot masters belonging to light, mm4s belonging to cossack, etc) it gets kinda fuzzy later on too (mostly 6 7 and 8) because they were all made by different people entirely/not really specified, and end up falling under the DWN category, so like...

for the sake of ease, if you can source them from one of the doctors easily, then thats their dad. cutman is a lightbot, quickman is a wilybot, dustman is a cossackbot, etc. if its really ambiguous, like either an unknown original creator or just taken by wily and repurposed, then wilys probably your better bet. someone like centaurman i would file under wilybot (stolen and repurposed from an unknown creator) but splashwoman is a lightbot (yes repurposed by wily, but ultimately her source is easily traced back as dr light)

sorry if this doesnt make sense!!! these games are a little messy so trying to figure stuff like this out can get confusing. tldr use your best judgement i suppose ^^;

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Skinny Tiger, Fatty Dragon (Lau, 1990)

This review contains mild spoilers.

I’ve seen Carrie Ng in a few films now, and I’m afraid to say that she’s becoming a sort of Sean Bean for Hong Kong cinema. If she shows up in the movie, there’s a good chance things don’t end well for her. And it’s not just her eventual fate, but the demeaning nature of her treatment that seems to be a recurring theme. I have to wonder if casting directors in Hong Kong in the ‘90s kept her on speed dial in case they came across a script where a female character is treated horribly. Despite the title, Naked Killer is probably the most empowering role I’ve seen her in. That movie delivers the expected thrills of a Category III movie, but is less sleazy than you might expect. Some of its pleasures include getting to see Carrie Ng and her foil Chingmy Yau in great looking hats. Also all the stylish action and appreciative (okay, leering, but less leering than it could have been) camerawork and whatnot. Guys, watch Naked Killer.

But in Rock’n’Roll Cop, Angel Terminators and here, she’s granted the least ceremonious of character arcs. In those other two, she at least brings a certain dignity to her characters in the face of great cruelty. Here, she’s not even allowed to be sympathetic. Here, as we meet her, she gets groped by the heroes (who are looking for a villain disguised as a woman smuggling drugs and/or cash in his bra) and is made to look like the bad guy when she presses charges against them for sexual harassment. Now, she does pal around with the bad guys and doesn’t express too many concerns about it until much later, but she’s totally in the right to press charges against these guys, sorry.

Even aside from the groping, the heroes are not exactly what you’d call “by the book”. The opening scene establishes this quality, in which they intimidate a few attempted robbers for information, agree to let them go and then immediately have them caught by nearby patrolmen. The rest of the movie has them doing things like the aforementioned groping, beating the shit out of suspects, placing bugs without a warrant and trying to profit from their busts. And I’m not proud to admit that I had a great time with this and laughed all the way through. The best point of comparison is probably Bad Boys II, which similarly asks us to root for cops who behave abominably while delivering ably on action movie thrills. It took me a while to come around to that movie (I made a point of revisiting it a few times, perhaps out of cinematic Stockholm Syndrome, but also a growing appreciation for Michael Bay) whereas I readily embraced this.

Why? For one thing, my tastes have substantially deteriorated over the years. But also, I think the Hong Kong context gives this a very different energy than the other film. Bay’s movie is a work of relatively lavish, large scale spectacle. This one takes place in busy streets and back alleys, the urban environment giving the proceedings a certain claustrophobic charge. And there’s the political element too, with the impending handover, ineffectual institutions completely useless in stopping crime, and the heroes’ superior treating his assignment with total irreverence, making the “up yours” gesture anytime he thinks someone isn’t watching. If you’re gonna slot this in a double feature, I would recommend not Bad Boys II, but Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man, Ruggero Deodato’s poliziotteschi that repurposes the director’s usual sadism for lizard brain thrills in an atmosphere of violence.

Like those other movies, a big chunk of the movie’s success can be attributed to the magnetism of the leads, with the rubber-faced Karl Maka and the slightly more genial Sammo Hung making the irresponsible pleasures of the movie completely infectious. There’s even a scene where Maka sings and Sammo shows off his dance movies that does absolutely nothing to further the plot but is completely charming. This is despite the fact that the scene occurs during a trip to Singapore when the heroes contemplate settling down with some local girls and opening a bar, even though Maka already has a girlfriend. Said girlfriend is played by Wanda Yung and is much too patient given his blatant bad behaviour and fear of commitment (he pretends to fall asleep anytime she asks about marriage and has his pager conveniently go off so he can leave). But I suppose lousy treatment of women is a recurring theme in this, and Yung is pretty funny in the role.

And of course, this has its share of great action sequences, including an eventual showdown with director Lau Kar-Wing, who is much more agile than his character’s age would suggest. But I suppose Sammo is much more agile than his stature would suggest, so this is a film of surprises. Sammo also does some Bruce Lee inspired shtick in his fight scenes, which might make sense in the context of his career (he made a Bruceploitation parody called Enter the Fat Dragon and also did the imitation Bruce Lee fight choreography in Game of Death), but is not at all explained in the movie. The important thing is that it’s another fun thing in the already very fun action scenes.

So yeah, this is a great time, even if you’ll be saying “yikes!” every other scene.

[tennessoui]

oh my god literally every single prompt on that list is gold and i'd love to see your obikin take for all of them. hmmm... if i had to choose i guess first 13. co-stars au?? thank you lots of love !!!

ah bless!! thank you so much!! i'm slowly working my way through most of the prompts on that list so you might see many many more before I'm done with my ask box. I think after two more, I'll put em on ao3 to keep em more organized too. this has been soooo fun!!

13. Co-Stars AU(/7. Fake Relationship AU)(2.5 k)

“No.”

“Ani, darling, you can’t say no.”

“Don’t call me that. And secondly, I can. I just did. This is my personal life, the company has no control over that.”

“While you’re filming its movie and it’s giving you money, you’ll actually find that it does, Anakin.”

Anakin sits down heavily on the bench outside his trailer, leaning forward until he can put his head in his hands. He wants to run his fingers through the mess on his head, but they’re in between takes right now and the make-up department will definitely kill him if they have to fix him up again.

“Asajj, please. You know how hard it was to get to come out as bisexual. If the first person I date after that is a woman, no one will remember! It’ll just be completely erased, and I’ll be Anakin Skywalker, Playboy Actor again.”

“But you do like women,” Asajj points out. “So either way, you’d be confirming your sexuality.”

Anakin sighs and leans his head back against the metal of the trailer. “And it would be different if I was actually in love with Padme, but she’s just my co-star and--”

“Anakin, she’s your co-star. You’re in a blockbuster movie where you dramatically save her life and then kiss her as the credits roll. This is just business. You like her. You’re friends. Think of it less like dating, and more like going to grab lunch together. And coffee. Maybe a fancy dinner. Several times a week.”

“For how long?” Anakin asks, resigned and despairing and hating the fact that he ever got into acting.

Asajj sounds relieved. “Just until the movie’s out and sales are doing well.”

That could be months. That would be months. “And I have to?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin doesn’t say it’s fine. It doesn’t feel like it is fine.

“They’re not looking for anything to be confirmed. If asked about your relationship with Padme, tell them you think she’s a great woman and you’re enjoying spending time with her. No comment on any sort of serious relationship.”

“Because a break-up afterwards might hurt the chances for a sequel?” Anakin asks drily.

“Exactly! We’ll get you a head for the business yet, Anakin. Okay, I have to go, but I’ll send you the information now, just so you know what you’ll be expected to do. We’re thinking a dinner tomorrow to start things off strong, and then slow afterwards!”

She hangs up before he can say anything else and he slumps back boneless against the metal trailer. God.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Padme. Ventress is right. They were friends before this project and Anakin knows they’ll be friends after as well. They genuinely get along, and it’s probably one of the reasons Anakin was cast in such a big name production: the chemistry between them when they’re acting is undeniable. She’s one of his favorite people in the entire industry.

“Anakin?” One of his other favorite people in the entire industry asks hesitantly from in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he says.

“May I sit?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Like he’d ever turn Obi-Wan Kenobi away.

“Are you wearing your costume?” he asks, without opening his eyes. Obi-Wan’s playing the villain of the movie, and Anakin has a hard time focusing on anything else when Obi-Wan’s around him wearing that skin-tight white turtleneck and cape combination, with his hair slicked back and fake glasses perched on his nose.

Obi-Wan sounds amused. “No, I’m finished for the day. Heading home now. You don’t have to see how silly I look today.”

Anakin smiles slightly, despite everything. In one of his better acting moments, he’d told Obi-Wan that his costume was distracting because it looked so funny on him. Really, it was just hot.

(Of course, Obi-Wan had taken his criticism seriously and gone to the director and the costume department. They had decided that it would make Obi-Wan’s character more threatening if he pushed up his sleeves in almost every scene to reveal heavily tattooed forearms. Anakin had hated himself and his big stupid mouth for days afterwards.)

“Is...there anything I can do to help, Anakin? I hate to see you like this,” Obi-Wan places a hand gently on Anakin’s knee, and Anakin has to fight a shiver at the touch.

They’d met at the script-reading for the movie, a handful of months ago. Anakin had set two clocks in his head the moment their hands grasped each other and Obi-Wan smiled charmingly up at him. “So you’re the one to kill me?” He’d winked. “Tall order.”

One clock signified the weeks it would take for him to fall in love with the older man. The starting number was pitifully small, but Anakin had been watching Obi-Wan’s movies and interviews for years before meeting him. He’d known something about the man, which of course had paled in comparison to knowing the man himself. They’d spent two weeks choreographing the steps of the final fight scene, just the two of them in a repurposed ballet studio.

Looking back, Anakin isn’t sure how he’d survived. And he had never wanted it to end.

Which is the other clock, still ticking down in his head. The moment filming ends, and they go their separate ways. They’ll probably keep in touch, but Anakin won’t see him constantly, won’t be able to lean into the weight of Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder, his knee, sometimes even on his cheek when he leans down in between takes to tell him how good of a job he’s done.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry,” Anakin snaps to the present. “Sorry. I was in my head. I. I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, tensing his hand as if he’s planning to remove it, which Anakin wouldn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“My agent says that the executives want me to date Padme. To drum up hype for the movie. Because I guess people will think it must be good if the co-stars start fucking each other?” He runs a hand across his face. “Um. Sorry, excuse my language.”

“Anakin, I’m forty-one, I think I’ve heard someone say fuck before,” Obi-Wan sounds amused again.

“Yeah, I just. Don’t want to? I guess maybe--I mean you probably didn’t see, but I came out as bisexual a year ago, and I haven’t dated anyone since, and I just know the way the rags will write about me and Padme if we’re seen together. And it’ll be like I just. Never came out.”

Obi-Wan makes a sympathetic noise but doesn’t interrupt. It’s one of the reasons Anakin loves talking to him.

“And my agent just sent me this contract, or I don’t know, list of things I have to do because there’s no way for me to get out of this and it just makes me feel trapped. But they don’t even want me to confirm if we're dating or not dating, they just want to create rumors about it, but it’s my life. I want to do what I want to do with my life, date who I want to date.”

“Do you...have anyone you want to date?” Obi-Wan asks, hand stilling from where he’s been casually rubbing circles on Anakin’s knee.

“No,” Anakin says too quickly and then grimaces. Does he really get paid for acting? He’s always so terrible at lying.

Obi-Wan hums. “I could...take a look at whatever papers your agent sent you?” He suggests. “I’m obviously not really an expert, but I have been in the business a fair bit longer than you.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin responds by rote, but hesitates, curious despite himself. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve nothing planned tonight except to have a glass of wine and pet my cat, Anakin. It would be a pleasure to help you any way I could.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, reaching out to lay his hand gently on top of Obi-Wan’s. He’s never done that before, never responded so openly to Obi-Wan’s touches. It’s an amazing thrill.

Obi-Wan flips his hand around until they’re holding hands, basically. In the middle of a public area. God, Anakin’s letting his crush get the best of him when Obi-Wan isn’t even gay. “Thank you,” he says, standing up and pulling away from the older man. It’s the right thing to do. The last thing he wants is for Obi-Wan to think he’s...predatory.

A harried looking crew member spots him as he stands and gestures to him to get back to the set. He smiles ruefully at Obi-Wan who gives him an unreadable expression but also a soft goodbye.

Later, in between takes, he forwards Obi-Wan the emails Asajj sent him, both the papers and the message at the top that says “dress nice for tomorrow at Delfino’s!” followed by a little smiley face he can’t believe she’d ever mean.

He knows nothing’s going to come of it, but. But he has to try.

----

Padme’s dressed to the nines in front of him. He’d compliment her outfit, but he’s already complimented her hair and her make-up, and he thinks she’ll scream if he continues to act as stilted as he’s being now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly after the waiter leaves with their drink orders. “I know I’m being--awkward. I just.”

They’re seated in the middle of the restaurant, and Anakin knows there’s two paps already outside, taking pictures through the windows. The rest will have arrived by the time they pay the bill and leave. It’s a circus and he’s the main event.

“I understand,” Padme responds, the angel that she is. “I don’t particularly want to be doing this either.”

Anakin presses his hand to his chest, jokingly wounded. “What are you trying to say, Padme, my beloved, my dearest?”

She laughs and he does too, but in the back of his head he can hear the sound of a camera’s shutter clicking. Everything feels fake, and he feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

A hand lands on his shoulder with startling familiarity and for a second he thinks it’s a very brave member of the wait-staff, before Obi-Wan Kenobi is swinging into his field of vision, pulling up a chair from god knows where and sitting right in between Anakin and Padme, never once removing his hand from Anakin’s jacket.

“Sir--” someone says in distress, “This is a two-person table.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and looks down at the table. “Well it certainly can fit three, so I would go as far as to say that tonight it can be a three-person table. Anakin, what did you order to drink?”

“The house white,” Padme supplies when Anakin makes no move to respond, instead choosing to gape at Obi-Wan like a fish out of water.

“Excellent choice, darling,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing at his upper arm absent-mindedly. “I’ve never been here, tell me. Do you serve a good seafood dish?”

The waiter stammers. “We have an acclaimed oyster platter, sir--”

“Oysters?” Obi-Wan smiles at the man, all teeth. “The aphrodisiac? What are you trying to get these kids in the mood for?”

Anakin blushes. “Obi-Wan!” He hisses, aghast. Obi-Wan’s eyes cut to him for a second before he smirks back at the waiter.

“I’ll take the oysters for the main course,” he says dismissively.

Somehow it’s that sentence that tips Anakin off, more than anything else he’s done tonight. Obi-Wan spends hours talking to the people that run the crafts table. He would never be so cold or rude naturally. He’s...playing a character, one that Anakin recognizes as being the villain from their movie (although without all the blood and murder).

Anakin only recedes into personas when he’s nervous about something. Can the same be said for Obi-Wan?

Padme, at least, looks amused. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” she says. “I see you’ve decided to crash our very romantic date.”

“Well that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan replies, turning to face her but keeping his hand on Anakin, although it slides down to rest on the crook of his arm. “I had Anakin send me the paperwork, mild curiosity, you know how it is, and I realized the strangest thing while I was reading over it.”

“Oh?” Padme asks.

“It never states which co-star Anakin should be seen with, just that he must be seen with a leading actor. And I don’t want to focus on the numbers here, of course, but in the rough-cut of the movie, I have thirty-four minutes of screentime. And you, my dear, have thirty-two and fifteen seconds.”

“Tragic,” Padme says, taking a sip of her water. "You may be considered more of a leading actor than I am."

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan gives her a friendly smile. Anakin is still stuck on the fact that Obi-Wan is here, that he read the paperwork, that he’s arguing semantics for the purpose of--of--

“And I suppose you’re here to offer yourself as a replacement?” Padme asks, leaning her head on her hand as she watches the two of them.

“Only if Anakin wouldn’t mind,” Obi-Wan says, turning to face him.

Anakin isn’t sure what he’s thinking right now. “But you’re not interested in men.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“But...you’re not interested in me.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“You are?”

“Excuse me,” Padme says. “I’m going to go to the restroom.”

“We’ll wait to order until you come back,” Obi-Wan reassures her, without taking his eyes off of Anakin.

Anakin bites his lip and hesitantly brings his hand up to sit palm up on the table. Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers again, like they had been just yesterday.

“I’m a very private person, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly, all traces of any sort of persona dropped from his voice. “I’ve never come out, never wanted to. But I was so proud that you had when you did. And I--well. I suppose. You already get to fake-kiss Padme on screen, I thought that perhaps you’d like to try to fake-kiss someone else for a change.”

Anakin ducks his head and gathers his courage. He can’t not ask. A fake relationship with Padme would be awful, but one with Obi-Wan? That would be torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. He’s still reeling from the information that apparently Obi-Wan does like men and apparently he likes Anakin enough to come out for him.

But does he like Anakin enough to touch him and mean it? He has to know. He looks up at Obi-Wan’s earnest face from beneath his eyelashes. “What if I want to real-kiss you?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a smile breaks out across his face. “Then you don’t even need to have to ask, darling. Kiss me all you want, if you’re okay with a clingy old man in your bed.”

“Not that old,” Anakin argues, smiling so hard he’s afraid his face will crack in two. “But I don’t want to kiss you tonight.”

Obi-Wan turns solemn, although his grip on Anakin remains tight. “We can go as slow as you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, you can have me later,” Anakin says, waving his free hand in the air. “I just don’t want our first kiss to be for the cameras.”

Obi-Wan catches Anakin’s palm and brings it up to kiss lightly. “You’re right, Anakin. That should just be for you and me.”

The rough brush of his lips over his skin causes Anakin to shiver. He’s never felt so on edge, as if his body is a live-wire. “Good thing you ordered the oysters,” he mumbles, blushing bright red as Obi-Wan laughs loud enough to fill the whole restaurant with its sound.

[monsterywriting]

Thenerius - pt 3

Masterlist

Word count: 4,581

AN: so i gave up on making this just 3 parts lol. will probably finish up in the next part. maybe. the last couple parts i posted weren’t showing up in the tags initially so fingers crossed this one does on the first try.

Alfore was nearly devoid of all life as your odd pair rode into town, the cold driving most residents indoors to the warmth of their hearths. Besides the occasional resident outside running errands and icebreaker ship crew, the streets were largely empty.

You were frankly jealous, your knitted wool coat thin with overuse and doing little to protect you from the cutting wind. However, the largest source of unease for you was the stares following you, only able to catch the subtlest hints of movement in windows whenever you would whip your head around to look.

It took you a minute to figure out why, but the reason was obvious once you thought about it.

Thenerius still led the way, a few feet in front of you despite the fact that he had no idea where you were headed. Even in a city filled with all kinds, purple skin and twisting horns stood out, and it was evident to anyone who caught a glimpse of his clothing what the nature of his occupation was.

Pirates weren’t rare in Alfore, but really only venturing here in the warmer months. There were hardly any normal sailors this time of year, much less the more criminal ones. And, despite their frequent visits to the port, pirates were by no means a welcome sight to the residents.

The city council had even imposed alcohol bans within city limits to try and discourage them from stopping here, the only reason The Deep was able to turn a profit as the port was a necessary stop for trade between the eastern and western hemispheres and too far away from any major kingdom for adequate protection, making for prime pickings for pillaging.

So of course Thenerius would be stared at, most average people resenting his presence. It made you antsy, paranoid someone would grow brave and decide to confront the lone pirate and his companion - you. But even as you feel nervous, Thenerius seems unfazed by the glares, sitting tall while on horseback.

“We’re turning here,” you scowl as your voice waivers, uncertain, as you try and get Thenerius’ attention.

You turned Horse down a narrow side road, now in front as Thenerius was forced to turn his own horse around.

“Where exactly are we going?” Thenerius asked after an innumerable amount of turns in the maze-like structure of the city, the sound of the water of the bay now audible with how close you were to the water.

“I am going to the doctor’s office to buy medicine for my mother,” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the street signs as you navigate.

“What, exactly, does your mother have?” Thenerius asks, his voice careful, though you’d been expecting the inevitable line of questioning.

“She fell ill with an unknown sickness a few years back,” you say, unable to maintain the usual bite in your tone you had for Thenerius when you thought back to those uncertain times, “Mr. Thistle wrote to me that it seemed I should prepare for a funeral, she had gotten that bad. They had to bring her to Alfore for treatment The doctors weren’t sure what it was, just that it wasn’t the consumption.

“By the time I arrived from the capital, she had recovered somewhat and insisted on going back home. The doctors couldn’t stop her, and they said it was just a matter of her body fighting it off, so she went back,” you finished, wincing once you realized just how much you revealed.

You hadn’t intended to say more than she was sick, but it had been like a dam had broke once you started speaking.

It felt… cathartic. To talk about what had happened. You couldn’t talk to your mother about it - it inevitably devolved into arguing about selling the cottage to move to Alfore. And though Mr. Thistle insisted that you could always come to him with any trouble, having a heart to heart with your prickly halfling godfather about how sick your mother and his best friend of decades was, was about as appealing as it seemed.

“What does the doctors say now?” Thenerius asked, seemingly unaffected by your rambled speech.

“I’ve been saving up for one to make a home visit, but it’s been almost a year since he last saw her.” You think back to how bewildered the doctor had been when he came to check on your mother after so long the last time and her condition hadn’t improved.

You find yourself glancing at Thenerius through your periphery. He was staring right at you. You quickly look away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

“Actually, I’ve finally earned enough for the final payment, so I’ll also be giving him that today.” A small lie of omission. You would be able to make that final payment, as well as the next month’s supply of pills, but there wouldn’t be much leftover until you go back to work, and even then with only your base salary to last you the winter as the cold kept even more travelers from crossing its threshold, much less tipping ones.

Miraculously, Thenerius didn’t push the matter further. You’re grateful, finding that mulling over every answer to avoid oversharing exhausting. You find that word beginning to describe your state of being more and more lately.

The doctor’s office is a small storefront in a larger building, nestled in between a tavern and barber’s facing the choppy water of the bay, only a single cobblestone separating it from the drop-off.

After hopping off Horse and tying him to a post outside, you step inside. The doctor had no receptionist, so it was just a matter of being able to find him amongst the clutter of medical devices and books everywhere.

“It’s been a long time, child,” the doctor’s wizened face appeared from what you now realized was a desk underneath the mess, nearly giving you a heart attack, “Good news, I hope?”

“I have the final payment,” you smile, but it’s forced and awkward as you desperately wished you had good news to share. You give up on the smile and pull out your coin purse to hand over to him, “it’s all in there.”

“How is your mother?” He asks as he waves you into his office, clearing out a small section on his desk and flipping through papers until he somehow finds one particular one. He pulls out a pair of spectacles from his pocket, looking at the paper, shaking his head before putting it back and flips some more. He then begins the arduous process of counting your gold.

Dr. Inderpahl was old as dirt, to put it mildly. He was the doctor who delivered you and your mother before you. You’d believe it if someone told you he had some magical blood in him, keeping him alive much longer than a normal human. Though his body was ancient and senescent, and he hadn’t been able to perform a surgery in years as his hands had become gnarled with rheumatism, his mind was still sharp as a tack. So, though he counted every coin painfully slowly, he made no mistakes that would have further set back his progress.

“Yes, it’s all here,” he muses, crossing something off on the paper. At some point, Thenerius had found the two of you in the back room and both of you now stared expectantly at the doctor still scribbling away, “Okay. I’ll be seeing her in the spring.”

The relief you had been feeling burned away, your eyebrows furrowing as your mind refused to process what he said.

“What? No, Dr. Inderpahl, she needs a checkup as soon as possible. The payments- you said it was enough to close your practice for the day!”

“I’m sorry, child, but I’m afraid I’m unable to travel in the cold. I’m much older than I used to be, you know,” he said, struggling to rise from his seat in one go as though to prove his point, “and your mother’s condition remained largely the same the last time I went, correct? I’m afraid a house visit will have to wait.”

Your eyes sting, but you quickly grit your teeth and stand, nodding. With a trembling lip and small voice, you give a small “ok, thank you” and turn to leave.

Thenerius was leaning against the doorframe, his lip curled in disgust as he watched the doctor. He pushed off the wall, taking a step towards the oblivious old man futilely straightening a stack of papers. Sensing the danger in the look in his eye, his expression twisting into that familiar anger you’d only ever seen the one time before, you jump into action.

“I also need the medicine for the next month,” you say, stepping in front of Thenerius and stretching both hands back to keep him from moving forward. You do not want Dr. Inderpahl to be scared off before he can get you your mother’s medication - or worse, become unwilling to go out to your cottage to check on her, even if months later. Thenerius fortunately seems to get the hint, tense behind you but stilling.

“Of course,” Inderpahl muttered, finally noticing the pirate for the first time and eyeing him disapprovingly.

You pray he doesn’t ask about him, your mind already trying to think up an excuse as to why a pirate would be with you that wouldn’t come across as an intimidation tactic. You could say he was a stranger, but Thenerius may argue that assessment and that would look suspicious. Friend was too vague, partner may be taken as romantic which… with Thenerius right there, you refused to say.

Your whirring mind slows as Inderpahl finally looks away without a word, walking around the tiefling with no fear and back into the storefront, a large row of bookcases pushed against the far wall repurposed to hold various ingredients for medications.

Thenerius still doesn’t move, and you realize you’re gripping his sides tightly. You immediately drop your hands back to your side and step forward to put distance between you.

“Please, don’t do anything,” you hiss, about to follow after the doctor before Thenerius grabs your arm just above your elbow.

“He’s scamming you,” Thenerius seethed, “How much gold have you paid him so far? I can’t believe you’re going along-”

You break his hold on you, immediately rounding on the tiefling. You struggle to keep your voice low, but the outrage is evident, “He has helped my family for decades. He is the only doctor we can afford and the only one willing to even go all the way out to see her. You absolutely cannot ruin this by scaring him off or- or worse!”

When Inderpahl returned with an envelope of pills, you were afraid Thenerius would ignore your plea, but he fortunately kept his mouth shut. His expression, however, was a different story, glaring daggers at Inderpahl.

You thanked the doctor as you took the pills, elbowing Thenerius’ side to get him to move to the door.

He allows himself to be ushered by you out the door, though he lets the tips of his horns scrape the top of the doorframe (or you may not have given him enough time to duck completely). Either way, you make it outside with no bridges burned and everything you needed to do done.

“I suppose the apple does not fall far from the tree. If you’re anything like your parents, I’ll be seeing you two soon,” Inderpahl bids you farewell from the entrance.

You freeze, the meaning of the doctor’s words sinking in. It wasn’t malicious, and as you turned around the old man was smiling at you from the doorway.

Nodding dumbly - unsure of what else to say and hoping Thenerius didn’t ask questions - you shove Thenerius towards your waiting horses.

“What did he mean, like your parents?”

You suppose a nice, silent ride it was too much to ask of Thenerius. And, if it meant he could learn something so personal about you as your lineage, you held no doubt that he would jump at the chance. But, it had miraculously taken him until you reached the inner limits of Alfore to ask his question - a whole ten minutes, during which you lost track of his many attempts to speak up beforehand.

Not once had you ever affirmed aloud who the man was, first because everyone in your life already knew - more than you, in fact - and then because no one in your life knew. Once you went to the capital, everyone you met came from wealthy families, their fathers nobles and doctors and the like.

You weren’t necessarily jealous of that - you didn’t miss a man you never met. As far as you were concerned, you had no father. You were, however, upset at what his abandonment did to your mother. How she constantly worked, spreading herself so thin to provide for the two of you, to try and give you a better life while he was off fucking around at sea. Most of all, how she still loved him despite all that, refused to curse him for the scoundrel he was for leaving her.

Realizing Thenerius was still waiting on your response, you cleared your throat.

“My mother also used to work at The Deep and…” you trail off, the words feeling foreign and heavy sitting on your tongue, “My father was a pirate.”

“Was?” Thenerius asks, “What does he do now?”

You shrug, the edges of your mouth twisting downward, “Wouldn’t know. Never knew him.”

Thenerius is silent for a long time, seemingly sensing your souring mood but clearly wanting to say something.

“Your friend, at the tavern. She truly is worried about you,” Thenerius thankfully changes the subject, though not to one you feel like talking about any more than the topic of your parentage.

You sneak a peak over your shoulder at him, confused at the sudden change of subject. He’s staring at a spot on the back of his horse’s head, seemingly mulling over what he wanted to say.

“She says- you never accept anyone’s help, would rather say everything is fine and do things on your own. She asked me to check on you, even gave me your pay to give to you. She said they were all worried you’d ‘off yourself,’ I think it was. Not that day, just in general you… offing yourself.”

Putting aside the tiefling’s apparent penchant for exact quotes, as well as any mention of doing yourself in, you instead focus on the important bit of information shared in that entire rant.

“That was my gold?” You ask, pulling Horse’s reins to slow him down until you were riding next to Thenerius.

“Oh, yes, here,” he said, feeling up his coat, pulling out the small pouch and handing it over to you.

You glance down at it briefly, noting the small embroidered frog leaping off of a lily pad before stuffing it into your bodice, your brassiere holding it in place. You ignore Thenerius’ lingering stare.

“My offer still stands,” Thenerius finally spoke again and you wished he hadn’t.

“What offer?” You feign disinterest, hoping he’ll drop the subject but knowing better.

“Let me help around your farm. I’ll stay at The Deep but… just let me help you.”

You blink, your rapid-fire retort to a different response dying in your throat. You hadn’t been expecting that. You thought for sure he’d bring up the proposal again, using your obviously dire financial situation as incentive to marry him at least for convenience. You’re not sure what to say and the silence is only extending, threatening to seem as though you can’t turn down his offer.

“I can’t afford to pay you for that,” you finally manage before quickly adding, “and I won’t let you work for free. I’m not going to take advantage like that.”

You leave your final statement vague, but the point is clear. You don’t want to take advantage of his feelings for you, obviously much deeper than the initial infatuation you believed it to be. No matter how badly you may need the extra set of hands around the homestead, you simply could not bring yourself to agree to such a one-sided agreement, unable to give Thenerius what he truly wants. You almost wish it was the fleeting nightly obsession of drunken pirate, vanishing with the onset of the inevitable hangover and gone with the morning dew, dried out by the light of day.

Fortunately, Thenerius seems to recognize the finality of your decision and makes no further argument, following you wordlessly.

Rather than head straight back out of Alfore, you make a detour towards the market in the heart of the city, a block lined with stalls and shops in the old town square.

As you approach the center of Alfore, the city also grows more lively as people run their daily errands. Once the streets become crowded with stalls and people walking between them, you dismount from Horse and tie him to a post, trusting his surly attitude and the crowd to keep any would-be horse thieves at bay. Once you were certain he was secure, you grabbed the empty satchel hanging from the saddle and throw it over your shoulder.

“I’m going to go pick up an order,” you turn to Thenerius, holding up a hand to stop him from following you, “Alone. No pirates allowed.”

“But-” Thenerius began to protest, but you shook your head firmly.

“Her business, her rules. And you don’t exactly have the best disguise,” you gesture to the tiefling’s clothing, the most obvious pirate garb even a child would recognize and was already earning both of you a few stares, “Go… look around or something. Keep an eye on the horses. I’ll be done soon.”

With that, you leave Thenerius behind and head to the blacksmith’s.

Unfortunately, when you reach the street of your destination, there’s several crowds converging around it. Nearby stalls selling firewood and thick fabrics and pelts for winter clothing were of course at their busiest, and flanking the one place you needed to go.

With great difficulty and several sour looks directed your way when you squeezed in between people in lines, you finally reach the entrance of the small stone structure. As though to further mock your misfortune, a small piece of paper stuck in between two pieces of the wood making up the front door.

Of course the blacksmith would be away making a delivery when you arrive, you think with a brief flash of bitter annoyance, sitting on the step as you wait for her return.

By the time she does, the crowd on the street has largely dispersed, the stalls nearly completely sold out of their wares, and you were on the verge of freezing to death.

“You finally came by to pick up your order,” Yagiri said, sweeping you aside to unlock the forge door.

Yagiri was a half-gnome. Well-suited for the heat of the forge though perhaps not for the nippy winter air, evidenced by the sheer quantity of layers she’d wrapped herself in, looking more like a textile merchant’s inventory come alive.

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m so late,” you answer sheepishly, following her into the forge.

“I’d tell you I was going to sell everything off to the next customer who wanted them, but truthfully no one’s building anything this time of year,” she called out, pulling small boxes of iron bits onto her workstation, “Is there a particular reason you finally decided to come by?”

“Finally have time to use everything,” You reply, waiting awkwardly as she counted forty small nails, various hinges and pieces of wire mesh. Not entirely a lie. You have a week before your next shift, but you had plenty of opportunities to come down and at least pick up the order.

You apologize again as Yagiri hands your items to you, placing everything in your satchel and take care while rolling up the meshes.

Yagiri walks you to the door, both of you freezing as you step around her to see Thenerius standing across the street with both horses, dressed in more simple clothes and a wolfskin coat.

“He with you?” Yagiri grunts suspiciously and you wish you could deny it before Thenerius grins and waves at you, calling out your name.

“Yes, thanks again,” you murmur, quickly exiting the blacksmith’s and tugging Thenerius away from Yagiri’s watchful eye.

“I bought regular clothes,” Thenerius said proudly, showing off his new outfit to you.

You were definitely wrong. It wasn’t so much the clothing that made the pirate, but his overall demeanor; too carefree and wild to be anything else.

“I also got you one, too,” Thenerius held up another pelt coat, this one appearing to be from a bear based on the sheer size of it.

You balk, tempted to throw it on over your own but not wanting to encourage Thenerius’ affections, and there was no way you could pay him for it. Pelts were worth two months of your wages at The Deep. You had no idea how much a finished coat would be.

“I can’t pay you back-”

Thenerius grabs your arm before you can continue walking, “I have to insist. You’re going to get sick if you don’t wear something thicker, and then how will you work?”

You can’t argue with his logic, but can’t help but stiffen as he throws the coat over your shoulders and begins to tie it off down the front. As soon as he finishes, you step away and slither your arms through the sleeves.

“Better?” Thenerius chuckles, you practically swimming in the coat, “give me your bag, keep your hands in the pocket.”

You’re no longer shivering, so used to it at this point that you no longer noticed you it was so bad until you were finally able to stop and your muscles slightly sore where they’d been overworked.

You nod, silently handing over the satchel still clutched in your hand so you can stick your hands in the felt-lined pockets of the coat. With that, you lead the way through the labyrinthine streets to the section of vendors selling live creatures. You take your time looking at each vendor’s wares, smiling at the cute animals until you come across a stall with what you’re looking for.

You smile at the old woman manning the stall and her granddaughter sitting a short ways behind her, both snuggled comfortably in rabbit pelts, before turning your attention to the rabbits curled together in their cages.

“How much for the spotted buck and three solid does?” You ask, pointing out the each rabbit you’re referring to in their respective enclosures.

The old woman grins toothlessly back, holding up three fingers, “three silver pieces.”

You hesitate, not sure you’d have enough to take all four home today. You grab your coin purse from a pocket of your satchel and dig around for any silver, finding two and starting to count up the equivalent bronze when the old woman suddenly clucks a “thank you, sir.”

You look up in surprise to see Thenerius retracting his hand, the silver pieces disappearing into a pocket of her coat before you can even protest. You don’t know where where Thenerius was keeping his coins, much less how much he had. She picks up an empty cage and begins gathering your picks, each easily curling up into the crook of her arm when she grabs them.

“The gray one’s already pregnant. Two weeks left,” she whispers, winking at you as she hands the full cage over, continuing loud enough for Thenerius to hear, “Good luck for you and your husband.”

Your smile strains to remain plastered on your face, merely nodding in thanks so as to not cause a scene. You already feel the heat rising in your face, refusing to meet Thenerius’ gaze as you walk away from the market despite how deeply you could feel it boring into you.

The ride out of Alfore was mostly silent, you lost in thought and playing absentmindedly with one of the ties of your coat.

You think back to what Yagiri asked you. Why you were picking up your order now when it had been ready for weeks now. You had already made your decision, one you had spent the entire afternoon thinking about but was now unsure how to bring the topic up again.

“What did you buy from the blacksmith?” The question sounds nonchalant, but when you look over, Thenerius looks concerned as he looks at the satchel. You suppose Thenerius wouldn’t be very familiar with a blacksmith’s more mundane talents in metallurgy.

“Some things to build a hutch,” you reply, looking away.

“You’re building a hutch?” Thenerius asks incredulously.

“No, you are.” Is your brilliant retort, and you hope your burning face isn’t noticeable from where Thenerius is.

“I am?” It isn’t teasing, or negative, but actually sounds… hopeful. It’s almost enough to make you backpedal, tell Thenerius nevermind or that you somehow misspoke.

“I still can’t afford to pay you,” you say instead, swallowing a lump in your throat you think is your pride, “But you will be compensated with room and board.”

“Yes,” Thenerius agreed immediately, his mood obviously perking up, “but I’m going to pay rent.”

You are on the verge of arguing but soon think the better of it, “Twenty gold a month.”

Thenerius scoffs, “Why so low?”

“It’s five gold less than the rate at The Deep,” you shoot back, “or were you lying when you said you couldn’t afford a room there?”

“Yes, I did,” Thenerius admits immediately, surprising you with his shameless.

You feel the amusement begin to bubble up and before you can stop it, what you thought would be a small snort comes out an uncontrollable peal of laughter.

You bend forward, body shaking with the force of it, threatening to fall right off your horse’s back had you not had your feet securely in the stirrups.

Once you’re finally able to compose yourself with only the aftershocks of your giggling managing to escape, you realize Thenerius is beaming over at you.

“You’re still paying twenty,” you fail to put in the sternness you wanted in the words, to out of breath to sound firm.

Either way, Thenerius would no doubt change his tune about paying the extra gold after a few days of the work you planned to put him through. There was plenty of work you’d been holding off on doing yourself around the homestead, having planned on waiting until the weather warmed.

“Alright,” Thenerius agreed dreamily, or so you determine, a small kernel of gratification germinating within you at the thought of your ability to turn a sea-hardened pirate into a lovestruck fool.

Residual mirth, you tell yourself, forcing yourself to not read so deeply into things. Perhaps it was unwise - stupid, even - to invite the tiefling whose ultimate goal was your heart into your home for an indefinite stretch of time, but as you continued riding down the path, the sun finally making its presence known and still buzzing with your good mood, you can’t help but drown out your objections.

Besides, after a week you’d be occupied at the tavern and your daily interactions would undoubtedly be limited to the mornings when you returned from work.

part 4

[jerryb2]

In my ongoing quest to create the ultimate Expanded Universe® Grand Master® Luke Skywalker® Lightsaber® (shut up, that’s totally my latest quest 👀), here we have some side-by-side pics of the ROTJ Luke V2 & V3 sabers, as well as the MK1 for scale and reference.

I’ve just recently added the blade plug to the V3, as well as replacing the original D-Ring on the pommel with one that has a more rounded shape, which I personally think looks better. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. 😎

Breaking character for a moment though; ever since I learned about the different versions of Luke’s Lightsaber I’ve been sort of mulling over a metanarrative that I’d like to share (this’ll take a while, so strap in):

For those that might not know, Luke’s lightsaber from Return of the Jedi has a complicated history, to say the least; there are actually multiple screen-used lightsaber props for Luke in ROTJ. If nothing else, this simple fact serves as a testament to the sheer disorganization of the early Star Wars films. In general, movie scenes are rarely shot in sequential order - in fact, they’re shot in an order that’s the most cost-effective. Pressed for time, and shooting the climactic throne room duel with Darth Vader early in the production, the prop department was forced to re-purpose several "stunt sabers" and turn them into on-camera props. These were originally FX/stunt sabers for Ben Kenobi (the MK1) in ANH, and that had since been repurposed so that the actors could practice with them. There’s some really neat footage out there of Mark Hamill and Bob Anderson (Vader’s stunt double) practicing the fight from ESB where Mark is actually using the V2. This led to the V2, V3, Yuma and later, the Hero versions of the same (technically) lightsaber. This also goes a long way to explain why Luke & Ben’s sabers have such a similar profile. How did no one notice this for literally decades? Well, when you take into account that there was no such thing as a high-definition picture, as well as the fact that most kids watched the OT on VHS tapes in the late 80′s and early 90′s, you can start to see why the filmmakers weren’t too worried about smaller details like that. 

It was a different time - and in that way - worse. 

If we look at the V2 (that is, the one with the gaffer tape around the neck and the overall aesthetic of ‘let’s just get this over with’) we see something that fits the part it played in ROTJ; a weapon made by a burgeoning Jedi Knight, who was probably just glad that it didn’t blow up in his face when he hit the activation plate. For my money though, I’d say that this is Luke’s saber for only a few days to a week, at most. 

For anyone who hasn’t read Shadows of the Empire, here’s a brief aside; Luke built his lightsaber using plans he found in Ben Kenobi’s Hut on Tatooine, hence an in-universe reason why the sabers look so similar. After losing to Vader on Cloud City, Luke and his allies spent the next several months recuperating and making plans to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt. During this time, Luke was able to scrounge the parts necessary to build his new lightsaber; a high-energy reflector cup, diatium power cell and a focusing lens, etc. The only thing he needed to complete his blade was the main crystal. Due to a lack of resources (thanks to Old Palpy himself), Luke was forced to use a synthetic crystal. After a solid month of work, he finally completed his saber and it’s here where we more-or-less meet the narrative of the film. There are dozens of pictures that depict Luke fighting on the sail barge, on Endor and on the Second Death Star - and in the vast majority of them, he’s holding the V2.

So where does the V3 come in, within the context of this story? 

Well, after the conclusion of ROTJ and the events of the next several days as depicted in The Truce at Bakura, I would imagine that Luke took some time to reevaluate his saber. Maybe it had begun to malfunction? Maybe the insulation wasn’t properly protecting the power source from the superconductor after all? Or maybe he was just slightly embarrassed that his (not-so) shiny new Jedi weapon had a strip of tape holding it together? The point is, I would imagine that he probably made a trip or two down to the ol’ hangar bay and had a chat with one of the chief mechanics, who was then able to procure some slightly higher-quality components.

The gaff tape is outta there; it doesn’t provide proper insulation and it just doesn’t befit the only Jedi Knight left in the whole galaxy. After the insulator was properly (re)installed, it’s conceivable that Luke took the neck to a milling machine and polished it to expose the metal underneath, revealing its copper-brass color. For that matter, Luke probably gave the whole thing a good once over with some steel wool. Now at least it doesn’t look like a Bantha shat it out after an evening meal. And as it turns out, with proper dimetris circuitry, he doesn’t need the nipple on top of the emitter to stabilize the blade, so he just removed it.

That’s the way it probably stayed for several years; it looked more polished and was properly functional. It would still have the long clamp lever and the unique circuit card over the activation plate, as well as the cone knob and mystery chunk, but we’re already starting to look more like the V3. Then we get to the Thrawn Campaign and shortly after, Operation Shadow Hand with the reborn Emperor. After these threats had passed, we do know (via The Jedi Academy Trilogy) that Luke spent some time contemplating his place/role in the galaxy - it was shortly after this that he decided to establish the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV, after all. 

By now the clamp lever is getting a bit sad; probably more trouble that it’s worth to replace just the clamp lever, so why not replace the whole thing? And that clamp card is pretty grotty, so it’s time to fix that. And I would imagine that he would be a bit tired of having the cone knob & mystery chunk cutting into his hand (I can relate, fam) so let’s just rework that booster. What we come away with is something that looks almost bang-on like the stock Rudy Pando V3; no emitter nipple, copper wind vane, new activation card and clamp, and no extra greeblies. 

From then on his saber stays pretty much the same for a couple of decades....until he recovers it from UnuThul/Lomi Plo after The Dark Nest crisis. 

Now, because we know that Luke did build a replacement after UnuThul confiscated his first saber (one which apparently looked almost identical to his OG saber - sure, okay, Troy Denning), I think this is where the Hero saber enters the narrative. Most likely only a short time after he claimed the title of Grand Master of the Order (around the time when the Jedi were preparing to launch an all-out attack on the Dark Nest and thus the newly minted GM would need a functioning saber), I’d like to think that Luke let his natural mechanical ability and technical knowhow run a bit wild - he builds a very close facsimile of his saber, but this time with a proper control box and indicator lights, better basic construction, etc. Once he recovered his original saber, I don’t think it would be out of the question for him to carry over a few design tweaks he had just made with the Hero. Notably, he added back the nipple on the emitter - in the long run, it’s just better to have it since it prevents power bleed-off (or something - lads, I’m literally pulling all of this out of me arse) and more than anything, because it improves the overall profile. And on top of that, it looks like he added some mesh coverings to some of the heat venting ports(?), probably to prevent grime or dirt from building up over time. Smart man, that Luke Skywalker.

And at last, we have arrived at the construction we see in the pictures above; this is (for me) Luke’s saber as he carries it in his duels with both Darth Cadeus & Lumiya, when he goes into (more-or-less) self-imposed exile and through to when he confronts Abeloth and eventually becomes one with the Force.

This has been my TED Talk. Thank you for coming. 😅

Oh, and because I suspect that some of the more eagle-eyed readers out there will be wondering - where does the Yuma fit into all this? Well hey, this is my metanarrative. Go make your own. 😉

[mst3kproject]

Beast from Haunted Cave

I’ve actually received a couple of requests for movies to review, and I am looking into them.  I just have a few others I want to get through first… like this one.

Beast from Haunted Cave begins with a familiar tune – over the credits we hear the same jumpy ‘suspense’ music that opened both Night of the Blood Beast and Attack of the Giant Leeches.  It seems to have been a favourite of Gene Corman (Roger’s brother), who produced all three movies.  The writer, furthermore, was Charles B. Griffith, who did the same job for half a dozen MST3K movies, including It Conquered the World, Gunslinger, and Wizards of the Lost Kingdom II.  Finally, Beast from Haunted Cave has the strange distinction of being the only movie I’ve ever seen that thanks ‘the people of South Dakota’.

A master criminal and his drunk, stupid henchmen (one of whom is a drunk, stupid henchwoman) have decided to rob a mining operation.  In the process they annoy some kind of giant bug monster that was living in the mine, and it stalks them and their guide through the wintery mountains until they reach a cabin where they hole up to wait out a blizzard. Between the monster lurking outside and the fact that the gang are all getting fed up being stuck indoors and starting to hate each other (a familiar scenario in 2020), it’s a good bet that no more than two of them are getting out alive.  Probably the henchwoman and the guide, since they were kissing earlier.

Beast from Haunted Cave is a typically cheap Corman production.  The familiar music persists through the entire film, and gives the same impression it did in Blood Beast – the soundtrack people were given a set of pre-existing pieces and did what they could with them.  A terrible winter storm is represented by howling wind noises, but it never actually snows. ��The monster is dreadful.  The webs draped over everything demonstrate that it’s a spider, but all we actually see is a featureless head and a couple of flailing arms that resemble nothing so much as one of those inflatable tube men at a used car lot.  When all we’re seeing is one leg reaching out to grab people it’s not awful, but as soon as we get a good look at the whole creature it’s clear that this is some kind of repurposed Hallowe’en decoration.  The gold bricks the thieves came to steal are just… well, bricks painted gold.  The paint isn’t even shiny.

Outside of that, however, the movie isn’t really that bad.  Everybody on the crew seems to have known what they were doing, and did their best to work within their meagre budget.  The photography is surprisingly competent.  The lighting rarely qualifies as atmospheric but there’s always enough of it – even in scenes set at night or in a dark cave, I never found myself squinting and wondering what’s going on.  The snowy landscapes are shot on location and look suitably hostile (although they could often only do one take, since after that the snow wouldn’t look pristine anymore).  You can see the actors’ breath, which gives a visceral sense of the cold.  The writing is mostly just serviceable but every so often there’s a little gem tucked within it.

The two places where this shows best are in the character of Marty and in the relationship between the mastermind, Alex, and the henchwoman, Gypsy.  Marty is a drunken buffoon but there’s more to him than that.  Early in the film he invites a cocktail waitress from the ski lodge, Natalie, to make out in a cave with him.  They disturb the monster, and Marty escapes but leaves Natalie behind.  For the rest of the film, even as he continues to be a drunken buffoon, it’s clearly eating him up that he abandoned this woman.  There’s an ambiguous moment when he finds Natalie’s still-living body webbed to a tree in the middle of the woods – perhaps it really happened, or maybe he’s having a nightmare.

Gypsy has clearly been working for Alex for some time, as secretary, girlfriend, and as a way of distracting the targets of his robberies. She’s an alcoholic sad sack who looks ten years older than her stated age of twenty-six, and clearly regrets her self-destructive life.  She cannot leave, however, because Alex is controlling and violent, and because she wouldn’t know what she wants or who she is without him.  When he beats her up for kissing Gil the guide, she later says Alex had a perfect right to slap me.  At the same time, the film hints of happier times between the two in a running gag, never explained, where Alex and Gypsy call each other ‘Charles’.  This seems to have once been an endearment, but is now a passive-aggressive insult.

One character whom I wish had done more is Gil’s housekeeper, Small Dove.  She rarely speaks, but she carries an axe and spends a lot of time judgmentally watching the stupid white people.  She could have been this movie’s Eulabelle, but she ends up getting eaten by the monster without ever doing anything badass.  Shame.

Let us now return to a familiar question: who is the main character in this movie?

I guess Gil is the ‘hero’.  He’s the hunky male lead, who gets the girl at the end. He never does much to further the plot, though, except for urging Gypsy to leave Alex and figure out how to lead her own life. Although she seems romantically interested in him, Gil may not return the sentiment – it’s hard to say.  He doesn’t kill the monster, Marty actually does that by setting it on fire with a flare gun.  Gil is just sort of there, a cardboard cut-out in the ‘handsome guy’ box all movies must have.

Gypsy has a much better claim on the protagonist role.  The script takes much more interest in her situation than in anybody else’s, and we are encouraged to sympathize with her feeling lost and trapped.  She survives at the end to run off with Gil, though we’re not given any indication of what they’ll do now or whether the budding relationship between them will last.  Like so many other movies of its era, Beast from Haunted Cave has no denouement.  We simply fade to black from the monster on fire (another thing they could only do once, since they actually burned the prop).

Gil is the one who describes the cave as ‘haunted’, but this never has anything to do with the story.  There is not even a hint of a ghost or even a ghost story connected with the cave.  I assume the word is in the title mostly because Beast from Cave sounds like a dinosaurs-and-cavemen movie made by the cavemen, and having put it there, Griffith felt he had to justify it with a line of dialogue.

The character who had the most potential to go through an arc is actually the antagonist, Alex.  He’s been pulling heists like this for years, and is proud of his success.  He has no reason to think this job will be any different, and yet as the movie progresses, Alex has to watch his plans fall apart all around him.  One of his henchmen is going mad from terror and guilt.  The other, Byron (who you can tell apart from Marty because Byron is The One In The Stupid Hat), is developing a crush on Small Dove and thinking about getting out of crime and settling down.  Gypsy is kissing Gil right in front of him, and Alex worries what she might have told him about the real purpose of the ski trip.  Then there’s the storm, which means the plane that was supposed to take them to Canada can’t get to them, and the lurking monster.  At the end of the film, Alex is still trying to regain control of the situation, even as the monster closes in on him.

Criminals on the run getting menaced by a monster seems to be a surprisingly common plot for a movie.  Voodoo Woman and Killer Fish were both variants on the theme.  I’m guessing this serves two purposes within the plot: the first is that it means we’re not too sad when the main characters die, since they were already bad people.  The second is what I think Beast from Haunted Cave was going for – it means that the characters cannot ask for help with their situation.  The group know, from hearing it on the radio, that they’re being hunted by the authorities.  If they were to call for help, whoever came to the rescue would find the gold bars in their bags, and they’d go straight to prison.

This idea is mostly implied.  Nobody ever actually suggests calling for help, or even trying to contact the people who were gonna be flying their getaway plane.  It also seems that they had no contingency plan for bad weather, which makes the whole operation look very poorly-planned.

One thing I did find myself thinking about is that the radio news mentions the police looking into the theft, but we never actually see the cops investigating.  This applies to the other movies I mentioned above, as well… in Voodoo Woman we’re in an area that doesn’t seem to have much by way of police, but in Killer Fish, too, law enforcement is entirely absent. This is a good choice on the part of the writers and directors, because it allows us to focus on the monster plot. If they were to include detectives, that would unnecessarily complicate things and require a resolution of its own.

Then again, if they had two resolutions, they might have had to include some ‘wind-down’ time.  I don’t like it when movies end abruptly after the monster dies, because it tends to leave dangling subplots.  Gil and Gypsy are still in the middle of nowhere, and must now shelter in the cave until the storm ends.  Are they going to be okay?  Last time we saw Small Dove she was weakened from blood loss but not yet quite dead.  Can they save her?  Will Gil and Gypsy stay together, or will he encourage her to go find herself? So there’s another lesson for aspiring film-makers: don’t end your movie until the story’s actually over.

[pianosmp]

Who was Pandora’s Vault originally for

(Because I have been thinking about this for far too long)

(Sorry if some of these are a little old, I forgot I made this like a month ago so I cleaned it up and here we are)

This list will go from most likely to least likely character.

Likely

- Technoblade (arguably the most likely option simply because when you mention “powerful enough to be a problem” the first thing you think of is Techno. He’s notoriously strong and unafraid to oppose Dream. Also seeing as the prison ‘changed purpose’ it implies Dream no longer saw the original intended prisoner as a threat, or at least as much of a threat, as Tommy)

- BBH (Dream’s old friend, implied more powerful then a regular human. Plus by this point the egg plot on the Dream SMP had already started. There may have been ‘good intentions’ originally. As dumb as it sounds, I’d also count putting the egg itself in jail here)

- Wilbur Soot (revived, of course. It’s been established that a revived Wilbur would be more dangerous then ever, and if Dream had any inking of this beforehand the prison would be the best way to fully utilize his power. Those not in the know would be blackmailed to keep him safe, and Wilbur could also provide some added chaos to the SMP as a whole, which may end up working in Dream’s favor. And now that he is revived by Dream, we know he’s a threat in some capacity, though seemingly not to Dream himself. Don’t forget, anyone who tries to break out Dream may be hunted down and placed in the prison themselves (or, as in the contract for visiting, “killed until they’re completely dead”))

- Ranboo (Ranboo is tied to Dream in some significant way, seeing as he was used by Dream in some of his plans in some capacity. While a help, I’m sure it could also have been turned into a threat of the wrong things were to get out. Also for meta gaming purposes that get him higher on this list, Dream and Ranboo have collaborated with lore in the past and clearly trust each other to carry the torch. Furthermore, with current Ranboo Enderwalk lore, we’ve learned that rather then just being a servant for Dream, there’s a chance the Enderwalk state was manipulated by Dream who perhaps claimed he was doing it for the greater good of the server. But more introspection on the Enderwalk state is a post for another day)

- Karl Jacob (time travel implies two things. Power and unpredictable nature. Seeing as Karl keeps most changes to himself though and seems to be self destructing either the prison is no longer needed for him or he was never considered a real threat in the first place)

- Philza Minecraft (Phil is notably dangerous, though less then Technoblade. He’s got big hostage potential due to his one life predicament and big use potential due to his knowledge in Minecraft)

- Foolish__Gamers (a literal god, and has recently shown godly powers. This would either involve pre planning on someone’s part though, which the Dream SMP isn’t particularly known for, or making this the original prisoner in a retcon “we’ll figure it out later” manner. It would be interesting though, as the prison may have been repurposed after Dream realized Foolish was at this point in time a big pacifist)

- Quackity (he’s dangerous with his tongue, but I don’t think his physical strength is enough for there to be a whole prison containing him. Not to say he doesn’t play to his other strengths- I bet he’d have an easier time convincing someone to break him out then most. And if anything else, Dream’s worries about him as a threat are now justified due to the whole ‘torture every day’ thing)

- Shlatt (a similar situation as Wilbur, but at the bottom because he’s useless as a hostage and currently still dead)

- Dream Himself (okay, so his reluctance to be in the prison makes it seem like he wouldn’t want it to be for him, but if he’s playing like the super long con somehow and the Prison is either to keep threats like the egg out or to make it seem like he’s powerless...)

Maybe?

- Dream XD (wild, and like Foolish, Dream XD wasn’t a lore concept until later in the prison’s development, back when Techno and Phil were building their Anarchy Table, but it would be an interesting twist. Especially because we don’t know if the two have any connection beyond their names)

- Jack Manifold (yeah he died and came back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he died in the first place. Plus he just hasn’t really gotten to Dream with any of his antagonistic attempts)

- Captain Puffy (mysterious past pog. But in all seriousness, she’s seen as being likable and just, doing her best to do the right thing even when making the decision to become a Villain later on with the Eggpire arc. And while she started as a ‘janitor’, she did join the server before the prison began its construction)

- Niki (she’s dangerous now but not to Dream whose locked away and gone from her ire. Also again wasn’t a threat before the prison was planned, though who knows how much Dream knew of everyone’s mental states back when he was planning)

- Fundy (also doubtful, but coder man do be coding, especially with mods now allowed on the SMP. And now with the revelation of his prophetic dreams, there’s a chance this may be the power Dream feared, especially if said powers were in the works beforehand)

- Hbomb (idk he’s got good strategy as seen with Vault Hunters and MCC and stuff but he doesn’t really use it on the Dream SMP as he prefers parkour challenges or just chillin. Perhaps would only be locked up because the Maidbomb is too powerful)

- Eret (yeah they are a monarch who doesn’t like Dream but they really do have no control and no one on their side so unless the Herobrine thing comes into play this one doesn’t make much sense either)

- Ponk (like Eret he doesn’t have much influence over others. More importantly though, all the trouble he’s made so far has been just annoying at worst. His biggest strength is probably how stubborn he is, and how long he’s been around. To quote Eret, “He’s like the John Wick of the Dream SMP.”)

- Antfrost (only if the manhunt series is cannon in the Dream SMPand Dream has flashbacks to when cat boy killed him with a potion like a chump. Though I will say there’s a non zero chance Manhunt is cannon from the comments all the hunters have made during lore bits)

- Hannah Rose and Purpled (TBH both of them are grouped here since they’re most notably physically strong due to their Bedwars experience. But Purpled is rarely ever on, and Hannah joined after prison construction had already started)

- Punz (the only reason the prison would be for him when he knew explicitly about it and could have won is Dream was threatened by his speedrun skills)

- Sapnap (objection your honor that’s too sad. For real, this is probably higher on the Mabye list due to being a big threat, as seen by the ‘I’ll hunt you down if you escape’ exchange he had while visiting Dream. Sapnap makes his decisions based of what he feels is fair, rather then loyalty (a majority of the time anyways) and furthermore he’s one of the people that knows the most about Dream. However, it’s this low because if it’s Sapnap I’d simply cry maybe)

- Mexican Dream (Dream did dislike the guy. However, he lost all his canon lives in the span of one afternoon so how much of a threat was he really?)

For sure not

- Tommy (confirmed by Dream it wasn’t originally for him during the final disk confrontation)

- Tubbo (also confirmed by Dream it wasn’t originally for him during the same confrontation)

- Skeppy (why would he have a prison in Dream’s funky dungeon if he had a better prison elsewhere?)

- Conner, Slime, Lazar, Vikk (simply not on enough for an intense prison lore stream)

- George (too pretty)

- Callahan (too cool. Also part-time is the server)

- Awesamdude (he was recruited to build the prison and be its warden when the time came. Literally the worst person to put in the prison)

- Michaelmcchill (bro he was added today)

[tanoraqui]

In Memoriam, Chapter 5: available on AO3

The final battle of the war was...underwhelming. Breaking through the walls, that was fun. Chasing the people in red and white through the streets of their city, trapping them like ants in a hill that was about to be burned down...entirely satisfactory. But then Wei Wuxian’s shijie told him to stop, because apparently the leader of the enemy had been killed, so all his minions were surrendering.

So? So? What gave them the right to beg for peace! When had Wei Wuxian ever granted it before—when, frankly, had his shijie even asked for it before, except for maybe a few stragglers to be taken back to camp and questioned?

Not that Wei Wuxian actually remembered the answers to those complaining rhetorical questions. He knew what they were anyway.

But his shijie always accompanied him to battle for just this sort of thing: to keep an eye on the greater plan and to hear and pass on any new orders for the other war leaders. Wei Wuxian has never thought to complain before—it was a wonderful way to spend more time with her, and freed up his full attention for destroying his enemies life by life, death by death.

Yet now he was supposed to just stop, when they were still all right there? Little ants waiting to be crushed? He didn’t want to; no one wanted to; traitors, monsters, see how they forget our vengeance already, forget us...

But he was pretty sure he’d never disappointed his shijie before and he sure wasn’t going to start today. Not when the war was officially over and it made everyone so happy. The scowling man in purple smiled for what felt like the first time in ages, and spun Wei Wuxian’s shijie around in a triumphant circle. Fighters in purple and gold and white and dark grey-green leaned against one another and laughed, and found the alcohol and matches, until the red-draped palace burned and they toasted outside its gates. Even the beautiful man in white relaxed, just a little, and leaned ever so slightly back against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

But that night...

No one had gone to bed early, except the people in white. But go to bed they eventually had, exhausted and relieved, all save an obligatory handful of guards on the prisoners and notable treasures...and Wei Wuxian, too, was awake. The lack of death nagged at him. Where was the blood on his hands? They were too cold without it. Where was the sweet satisfaction of slaughter?

And they deserved it, the people in red and white. They did. He couldn’t remember why, but it was a certainty as deep as his love for his shijie and the few other people he knew.

Wei Wuxian slipped out of the fine room he’d been given to share with the man in purple (some instinct left him comfortably sure that the man wouldn’t wake, now that he’d finally fallen asleep), and walked soundlessly toward one of the buildings in which they’d confined the remaining people in red and white. They were located on the far edges of the area in which the victorious army had settled—good. Fewer people to bother him. He wore black in darkness and most of the camp was asleep with wine or relief; no one even saw him until the gold-clad guards at the improvised prison’s door.

Wei Wuxian cocked his head at them in question, twirling his dizi in one hand. He didn’t mind killing them—it’d be a nice warm-up—but he knew that he and they were supposed to be on the same side. It was probably courteous to let them live.

The man looked at the woman and the woman looked at the man and their expressions settled into something best described as, sounds like the problem of someone with more authority, with maybe a dash of let him at the bastards. They stepped aside. Wei Wuxian smiled brightly at them and unlocked the door with a quick talisman, and stepped in.

Here, he was noticed immediately. These people weren’t sleeping with the ease of victory; their wrists were bound with rope and they’d been given blankets but not, perhaps, enough. Their spiritual powers had been blocked and they were waiting to hear their fates in the morning.

“The Demon of Yiling!” one cried in panic, even before Wei Wuxian closed the door behind him. Others took up the cry, pleading mercy or just shouts of alarm, despair, and Wei Wuxian smiled. It was always nice to be recognized.

“Thank you for volunteering!” he called to the first man who’d shouted, and flung his dizi at him overhand as a spear. Driven by resentful energy, it went through the man’s chest in one blow. Being a flute instead of a real spear, it did so clumsily; the hole it left was gaping and raw-edged.

Wei Wuxian whistled and the brand-new corpse broke the ropes that bound it and turned on its nearest companion. They died quickly in surprise, and Wei Wuxian barely had to hum to get them back on their feet and under control...and so on, and so forth.... Within this repurposed warehouse with its talisman-sealed doors, the scum in red and white were further trapped within a vast holding array, simple but effective for not letting anything leave its boundaries.

The screaming began in earnest. Wei Wuxian’s shadows carried his dizi back to him and he sat down on an upturned barrel to enjoy the show.

“Wei Wuxian! Wei Wuxian!” A short woman in red robes pushed her way to the front of the frantic crowd, ducking around living people fighting for their lives and shoving a dead woman out of the way. Wei Wuxian turned the corpse back toward her with an acknowledging smile—if she wanted his personal attention while she died, of course he...

He stopped the corpse, and didn’t set it on the young man trailing after her, either, gangly and anxious-looking. He got off his barrel and stalked forward, shadows drifting menacingly off his robes, though mostly he just felt...curious.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “Why don’t I hate you?” He stood on the outer edge of the array (the dead snarled at his flicker of an attempt to remember, turned back toward him in fury; that was okay, he’d figured out how to examine only his feelings in the moment).

“Why do I feel like I owe you?” He cupped her chin in his hand, tilted it up for closer examination and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What did you do to me?”

“I don’t know,” she said in soft horror. She reached up as though to touch his chest, and thought better of it. “Wei Wuxian, I - do you truly not remember? Anything?”

“Not very much!” It had long-since stopped bothering him. (It had never really bothered him in the first place.) Behind her, her kin and allies were quickly losing their battle, numbers of dead nearly matching the living in little more than a minute. A few desperate people tried to push their way toward Wei Wuxian and the two he was talking to, but he stopped them with thin whips of shadow around their necks, down their throats, filling their eyes. Couldn’t they tell that this was a private conversation?

“It– can’t be just a side effect—” the short woman said, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes. Wei Wuxian’s gut churned at what he recognized as uncharacteristic. 

They disappeared when she shook her head as though righting it. She met his eyes with more determination than...really anyone did, ever, though there was also fear in them.

“Yes, you owe me. I saved your....life, Wei Wuxian.” She pushed the tall, timid man forward. “So you’d better spare my....too, or your debts will chase you into the next life and beyond.”

She mumbled a little, in the way people did, but her meaning was clear enough.

Wei Wuxian smiled easily and ruffled the anxious man’s hair. “Sure!” He addressed the man directly. “I like you.” And he did, in a much less complicated way than he did the woman. For her, affection was thoroughly overshadowed by respect, gratitude, a sense of deep-as-a-ocean debt, and a dash of wild terror when she’d reached for his chest. For him, an echo of all that, but mostly simple fond fellow-feeling.

Wei Wuxian nudged some of his resentful shadow energy into the shape of something pointed and dragged it through the outer line of the holding array, breaking it physically and spiritually. None of the other people in red and white noticed—they were too busy dying, or desperately trying not to die, as best they could with their wrists tied and their spiritual abilities locked. Though many lay inert in death—Wei Wuxian had gotten too distracted to keep raising them back up.

He’d finish that later. Something more interesting had come up. He grabbed the anxious man’s wrist and tugged him out of the now-broken array—and the woman as well, to her soft gasp of surprise. Just in time, too, because as he turned around with them, the front door burst open with a furious shout of, “Wei Wuxian!”

It was his scowling man in purple, looking not just angry but worried, until his eyes landed on Wei Wuxian and he relaxed a little. Into only anger. And confusion, when he saw the people Wei Wuxian was holding. On his heels were Wei Wuxian’s shijie and the extraordinarily beautiful man in white, both looking even more concerned (though as usual, the man in white hardly showed it).

“Hey!” said Wei Wuxian. Oh no, his shijie wouldn’t like the killing still happening behind him. He’d hoped no one would tell her, or at least that she wouldn’t see it. Well, there were a few people left alive, even aside from the ones he’d picked out (and they must die, yes, yes, but maybe later? When she wasn’t looking?)

He whistled sharply for the dead to drop their last prey, and pulled the anxious young man and the determined woman farther forward as a distraction.

“Look, I found two that I actually like!” he said proudly. “I’m going to keep them.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXIV: Uprooted

I

As soon as they arrived, I knew something was up. I just didn’t know what. There was also the gut feeling that it had nothing to do with the ones I stayed with. Although that bit, I didn’t have an explanation for.

I went around back and took cover behind Juniper’s workshop. Once the opportunity presented itself and I knew the armed foes weren’t looking my way, I dove into the tall grass, using its thick growth as a cover. Soon, I drew close to the first one; he looked around, off to the side, and seeing it as the perfect opportunity, I leapt forward and flung myself at him. He took a step back, taken by surprise, and tried to fight back, but I tore off his helmet and plunged my knife into his forehead, then kicked myself off of him and landed back on the ground. He let out a scream, and I was sent into a panic as the others were alerted.

No, scratch that. I used the commotion to my advantage.

As they drew near, I grabbed the first fallen foe’s weapon and ducked down. Through the thickets, I caught a glimpse of one of them. I sniped at their leg, and another scream emitted. The other fired a barrage of shells, but I had already swerved around and used the back of the machine gun I held onto and rammed it in the back of the guy’s head. The one next to him was right beside me, alert and ready to shoot. That should have been the end of me.

Instead, I shot into the side of his stomach and knocked him down as well. Soon after, there was only one other to deal with: whoever happened to be in that armored van.

“Looks like you got her. Good job,” a voice over static emitted. Oh joy.

His mood soon changed to fright as I opened the passenger side door.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” I delivered the message, then threw the helmet down on the floor of the vehicle. “Which would you rather hear first?” “Um, bad news?” He squeaked, then slithered against the door of the car. He was some scrawny looking man, dirty blonde, messy. Beat up T-shirt. Braces. Yes, braces. Despite that, he looked to be in his 30s or 40s.

“The bad news is that you didn’t ‘get her’,” I stated. “However, there’s plenty of good news: first off, I may have only killed one of them. The others are unconscious. Second, I may let you live if you work for me instead.”

“Excuse me?” He balked. “Do you know how much they’re –”

“I’ll pay you double,” I interrupted.

“Do you even have the money?!”

I shook my head.

“Not right now,” I looked outside, back toward the house. “Tell me, who was your target?”

Before he could answer, his phone rang. I gestured for him to hand it to me.

“Hey Weatherboy. Don’t mind me, I’m just checking in. You know, I hear the skies are going to clear up soon. I can’t wait to lay out on the beach with my tan and maybe a few crabs pinching me. But enough about me, how goes the hunt? Did you and the men I rented out to you kill Demetria?” He didn’t sound pleasant so much as he did snake-like. However, I was willing to be that his hiss was worse than any bite of his.

My name. So I was the target. But why? Not only that, how did they know my name?

“It’s done,” I replied in a low and monotone voice.

“Ooh? Is this who I think it is?” The delight in his voice grew. “You really are your money’s worth. Tell you what: how about you come to back to my headquarters and we can have a nice, friendly discussion?”

It could have been a trap. I didn’t care.

“See you there,” I replied, then hung up the phone and threw it back to ‘Weatherboy’ over there.

I glanced over to him. He didn’t seem at all threatening, but he could drive, so he could prove useful.

“How much is your boss paying you?” I asked.

“One-hundred thousand,” he answered.

I could use that money as well. Oh well, I wasn’t interested in money.

“Fine. I’ll make it two-hundred thousand.”

“How are you going to get that money?” He questioned. Doubtful as ever, I see.

“Simple: we’ll take it from your boss.”

“Simple?! We?!”

Once again, I looked over to the house. I never wanted any of what transpired to happen. There were many questions I would make sure were answered soon enough.

“Fine. But only because I need the money,” he changed his soon only a second later.

“Good. First, let’s get these bodies in the back of the van. I don’t want them littering my cousin’s home.”

We dragged them back. He complained, though, because of course he did.

“This was supposed to be one simple job,” he grumbled. “Just ‘one little girl’ they said.”

I ignored it. He was allowed to be in a sour mood. I couldn’t hold that against him.

As I dragged the last one back, Ves stormed out of the house, furious. What was said, I didn’t wish to recall. There were no words, and to see her in so much pain...it tore at me. But I didn’t dare show it. Seeing that only solidified my resolve.

Moving on, I sifted through Weatherboy’s glove compartment, pulled out a notepad as well as a fountain pen.

“Can your boss hear us?” I wrote down and showed him what I wrote. He raised an eyebrow, then looked at me.

“No, it’s not wired. If you thought it could have been, why would you even say all those things?”

Ugh. If there was one thing I hated, it was pointing out flaws in my thought process.

“Never mind that,” I dismissed him. “Tell me, Weatherboy, what’s your specialty?”

“Okay, first off, ‘Weatherboy’ is just a code name. If we’re going to work together, call me by my actual name, Wheaty. Second of all, I’m sort of a freelance hacker-slash-surveillance. I can control things remotely, tap into any computer. Not to toot my own horn.”

Wow. I hit the jackpot. OK. I can use this.

We soon rode off, into whatever hostile destination I would soon find myself in. I sat in the back, next to the bodies of the men who drove my cousin’s wife into such sorrow. None of them could wake up and grab me, as they had been heavily sedated.

Part of me was tempted to use the car ride as a means of falling asleep, as I sure knew I needed the rest. But I resisted, both because I needed to be alert so I could plan on my way there, and also because of the nightmares I’ve had recently. No, I didn’t want to get into what they were about. I was sick of flashbacks.

On the paper, I wrote down, then handed him the sheet of paper:

“What’s the layout of this place like?”

“You know, you don’t have to write everything down. I already told you my van’s not being tapped.”

Irritated, I wrote down:

“It’s easier this way.”

He sighed. Just as, if not more, annoyed than I was. Or maybe annoyed with the situation. It could have been both, and like I said, I couldn’t blame him for that.

“OK. So it’s solid white all around. Just a straight corridor. Two floors, one of them full of small rooms. I’m guessing the place used to be one of those private prisons until the boss bought it out and repurposed it. Those guys he sent? They were mere grunts. Who you’re going to meet inside will be much tougher. Can’t just be stabbed or beat over the side of the head. Next, there’s hidden turrets on the floor which will pop out when there’s an intruder. Boss might just want to lure you there, then spring the turrets out as some sort of example. Last, there’s walls which can shoot up from the floor as well. Those are there mainly to trap enemies in, or to protect themselves.”

Hostile architecture. What a load of junk. Figures. You get what you pay for.

“Next question,” I wrote down, “Why was I targeted and how did you find me?”

“Sorry, I don’t know the answer to the first one. I’m guessing these guys just get assignments and aren’t told the ‘why’, just the necessary details. As for how I found you, you were listed as ‘Demisexual’ but I was able to do a little digging. Found school records that matched your appearance. Then I tracked your phone and it brought me to that place. I thought you must have known you were targeted, so you retreated to some place remote.”

Wrong. If I had known, I never would have put Juniper and Ves in danger like that.

There were other thoughts, too, like if they know all this information about me, what’s to stop them from putting other members of my family in danger?

Such a thought was sickening, and I still didn’t know the details, but I cursed myself for being so careless.

I couldn’t dwell on such things. It wasn’t the time. What mattered more was making sure I was as prepared as I could be for whatever was about to come.

“I know you said this van isn’t being monitored, but do you have any means of communication once I’m inside?” I wrote down and showed him the paper.

He hummed and mulled it over, then came to an answer.

“That’s going to be tricky. It’s got sensors, not to mention that any unauthorized radio signals are blocked. But...I’ve got a solution,” he then reached back and handed me a pair of contact lenses. I was confused, but took them anyway. Hell, I probably needed them given that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house.

“Yeah, yeah. I know most communication devices are ear pieces, but those would be too obvious. With this, I can track where you are from the inside, plus we can communicate. Not only that, but it emits a low enough frequency that it should go undetected. However, it would still be tricky, as they’re likely to notice something’s up the second you tell me something. So you’d have to find the right opportunity.”

I smiled. Not that I was really in a good mood, but I just couldn’t help but marvel at how well things were lining up. At once, I put the contacts in (really, I didn’t know how I managed such a feat with those guys in the fields, considering how weak my vision must have been) and thought it over.

That just means you’ll have to work fast, Weatherboy.

“We’ll use code words,” I wrote down, and listed my plan.

He then seemed hesitant.

“Are you sure about all of this?” He asked after a quite audible gulp.

I nodded. There was no question.

For the remainder of the ride, I was silent. There was nothing more than needed to be said. Any more to say than necessary would have just been a bother. Sure, there was the issue of my knife. If there was anything like metal detectors, that might have been a problem. But I couldn’t prepare for everything. I’d just have to do my best with the resources available.

“Well,” his voice oozed dread. He was even less confident now that when we were on the road, “we’re here.”

He announced just a few hours after we had departed. From that, I could infer that this headquarters wasn’t all that far from where my cousins lived. That was even more worrisome.

I jolted up. Against my better judgment, I must have dozed off near the end. Those guys who shared the space with me were still sound asleep. Good.

“So,” I yawned as I opened my mouth to speak. It sounded foreign. “I’m going in alone. See you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he urged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was genuine concern. How odd considering that not only did we just meet, but he also was tasked with taking my life not too long ago.

It really did look like it used to be a prison complex. It had its own barbed wire fence and gate, as well as a barren dirt field both in the front and back of it. To my surprise, I entered without any such greeting. I expected armed guards out front. I also expected to be escorted once inside. That didn’t come either.

How careless of them. Either they’re overconfident or just stupid. Either way, I shouldn’t complain.

Inside was pristine marble. Sterile, like a dentist’s office. But longer and more haunting in its uniform nature. Up above was the second floor, just as I had been told, along with many cell doors. Really, they couldn’t even be bothered to refurbish the cells and turn them into decent room spaces? How lame.

Further down the narrow corridor, I spotted him: a wide balding man in a tuxedo with a monocle and heavy grin. He looked like his name would have been Igor or something. He sure had a wicked smile. Seated at a desk in the back with a computer to his side, he had his hands folded. Beside him were several, not just two, three, or four, but well over a dozen armed men in heavy metal armor and helmets that didn’t seem so easily removable.

Real deal, huh? We’ll see.

I approached his desk, looked down at the man who seemed just like a caricature of a capitalist pig.

“Greetings, greetings,” he announced, jovial and repulsive.

He wants to act all friendly. Well, I’ll put on a show for him, then.

“Oh wow, what is this place?” I looked around and did my best to sound astonished.

“You like it?” He flashed me a grin. “It’s still a little under construction, as you can tell. Soon we hope to be one of the greatest organizations in the world. We’re known as Custodians United Notorious Technicians. We specialize in taking jobs requested to us by powerful individuals. Oftentimes we clean up the messes that others would regrettably make. Well, I say ‘we’, but I only hand out the contracts. Everyone else does the work,” he worked up an obnoxious laugh with tons of snorting.

Wow, what a –

“You know, you should really consider changing the name of your group. Just saying,” I pointed out.

“Why? Oh, never mind. We’re not here to argue semantics, are we?”

“No,” I smiled back, “I suppose we aren’t. I’d like to know instead why it is you sent people to kill me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just your average girl in her mid-twenties and trying to find her place in the world. You know, typical coming of age story, except I’m already an adult. But hey, I’m totally aimless.”

He laughed his obnoxious laugh once again.

“Well, I don’t know about that ‘average’ part. We were certainly thinking so. You see, the man who ordered the hit on you said you’d be an easy job. However, he also seemed to want to kill you for quite petty reasons.”

“Excuse me? A man wanted to hit on me? Did you tell him I’m not interested.”

I heard a snicker from one of the armed men. How unprofessional. As high-spirited as the boss was, he ignored my comment.

“Our first attempt was supposed to be much more discrete. We sent someone to shoot a deadly poison dart at you, but apparently it was intercepted and the one we sent ended up being killed by someone else instead.”

That dinner date. So that’s what it was. I was the target.

He continued.

“Now, as you know, our goal was to kill you, but after taking care of some of my men, I’ve got a different offer for you: you can join us instead, and your sole mission will be to kill a certain individual. After that, you will be free to go on about your life.”

“Gee, mister, I don’t know about that one. I’m kind of a pacifist, you see,” maybe I should have considered his offer. But I was already set on my own mission.

“Quit playing dumb,” he scolded. Jeez, not so cheerful now.

I shrugged.

“All right. Who’s the target?”

“You mean you’ll accept?” He tilted his head.

“No. I just want to know who you have in mind.”

He twirled his sausage fingers and looked ever so delighted.

“You see, when we made that first attempt on you, a witness described who you were with, her mannerisms, and then our interest soon changed.”

“Hey,” I scolded right back, “who a lady goes out with is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. You see, we couldn’t believe it ourselves. Are you familiar with Rhea Flection? She used to be a member of the group which inspired ours, and she had quite the reputation. Her final mission ended in her death, or so it should have. It would appear that not only is she alive, but you know her. So while we admire all the work that she’s done...we want her out of the picture. She was part of an old era, and it’s time for a new generation to take up the business.”

Of course. It always comes back to Remora. I could never escape it.

“So, what do you say?” He leaned in and asked.

What do I say...what do I say…

Rather than dignify his question, I burst into laughter.

“Who?” I shot back.

“You know who. You were with her. It would seem you have some interest in her.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

“You mean Rhea Perlman? Danny DeVito’s wife? I don’t know why you brought her up, but I don’t like her as much as Danny DeVito. I get what you’re thinking: she’s a woman, so I should like her, right, just ‘cause she’s a woman? I mean, I do like women, and women are neat. They’re just so…women,” I was getting a little ahead of myself. That’s okay. That little distraction should have been enough to give Weatherboy all the time he needed. “But really, Danny DeVito’s my favorite. Like, oh my god. I’ve got the biggest celebrity crush on him. Have you seen that hunk of man? Everyone always thinks that Matilda was his best movie, but I’d argue Junior was his magnum opus. I mean, how do you top it? Such cinematic brilliance. But really, he’s just the type of actor who can make anything he stars in great, just by being in it.”

“What...what are you going on about?” He sat, baffled at my rant. Little did he know that ‘Danny DeVito’ was one of the code words.

“You’re really not making this easy for me,” Weatherboy complained.

“Oh, come on. It’s no secret that I’m known as Danny DeVito’s #1 fan. If you did a little more research about me, you would’ve known that. Hell, it’s probably on my profile you’ve got on me.”

With that, he gave a suspicious look and turned to his computer. Once he gave a good look, his eyes grew wide, then he turned to a look of pure rage.

“What’s going on? All of your information’s changed! It says your name is ‘Danielle DeVito’, your address is somewhere in New Jersey, and your age is 69.”

I had to stifle back another laugh. Out of all the things he could have changed my info to…

It doesn’t really matter, though. It’s less about what it says and more about what it no longer says.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve got your information backed up.”

He scrolled on his computer and although I couldn’t see the screen, I didn’t have to. Soon he growled in frustration, and I knew whatever dirt he had on me was long gone.

“What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” I sneered at him, “you should really protect your files better.”

It went without saying that ‘protect’ was another code word.

“Deploying the walls now,” I heard Wheaty’s little voice.

Walls shot up in front of the guards and blocked them in place. On the other side, another wall. Soon the space in front of me grew more narrow, and more important, it was just ‘the boss’ and I.

“What’s going on?!” He slammed a fist against his desk.

I leaned up to him, pulled out my knife, then jammed it into his palm. He let out a shriek.

“Guards!” He called. But they couldn’t do anything. They were trapped in. Considering how tough the walls were, I’d say he only had himself to blame.

“If you wanted to kill me, you could have. Hell, I probably deserve it. But you do not go after my family,” I leaned my face up to his, and breathed out a low, rumbling growl. Tears filled his face, along with snot, and his face contorted to a low hanging frown.

Just as swift, I pulled out my knife and blood trickled out from his palm. I sheathed the knife, then walked away.

“Holy shit!” Weatherboy, okay, Wheaty, exclaimed.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I dismissed his shock.

As I walked away, I noticed the portly leader of his failed organization get up and try to charge after me.

“Wheaty. Deploy a wall behind me,” I ordered. He did just as I commanded, and the wall shot up from the floor and I heard the pathetic excuse for a boss slide down. Next, I heard pointing. Along with the pounding of those many men, it really grew quite bothersome.

I can’t just leave here. This whole organization has to go. They don’t get any more chances at my life. They don’t get to threaten my family ever again. It simply cannot be allowed to exist.

My back to the wall, I gave the next order:

“Deploy turrets on the others. Now.”

Despite how immediate his response was for everything else, I sensed hesitance with this one.

“Are you sure about this?” He questioned, nervous.

“Yes. Just put a wall in front of the desk.”

“...OK…” His hesitance still showed through.

Soon I heard the turrets come up with their mechanical whirring. They fired without hesitation, an immediate hail of bullets and shells.

Their screams erupted, shot after bloody shot. Splats against the walls. Endless shrieks. Coupled with the intense drumming of the turrets, it bled through my ears and wouldn’t let me forget the sounds. It wouldn’t go away, and considering how tough their armor was, they wouldn’t go down so easily. But they were trapped, no way of escape. Even as their pounds against the walls begged for release. Sooner or later, they would be reduced to several bloody chunks. Just as that boss must have already been.

It all made me sick to my stomach.

I did this. I gave the order. All these soldiers, or assassins, or whatever they called themselves. They could have had family of their own. Children, friends, people who they cared for. And I took that away from them. There’s no room to regret it, though. They would have taken those things away from me, or anyone, with no hesitation. I couldn’t just let them live. But –

Any one of them could have been like Remora. Forced into it. If that’s the case, I just took away any hope they could have had of freedom. Worse? Even though I feel justified, I hate it. I hate that I so easily took away their lives while I’m standing back and waiting for it all to end. Yes, Remora did something similar with her own group, to ensure her survival. Took out the entirety of her old organization. She claimed she didn’t feel a thing, didn’t care. But I? I feel everything. Every scream. Every bullet. Every piece to hit the ground. I can see their faces, see their horror in my head, even if I can’t see how it actually is. I’m so close to it.

I lifted up the collar of my shirt underneath my hoodie and held it up to my mouth. I felt like I was about to throw up. That noise, their pain, their deaths, it wouldn’t go away. Air seemed to fill with smoke. Or maybe it did behind those walls, and I just imagined the smoke around me as well. It was suffocating. I grew dizzy, lightheaded, and it seemed like I was about to pass out as I slid down against the wall and dropped to the floor.

You know, maybe Remora didn’t care, but that must have been for the better. It’s worse to have the capacity to care and still commit terrible acts. No doubt. I was worse.

“Are you okay?!” Wheaty shouted into the receiver.

“Of course,” I winced as I lifted myself back up. My voice was harsh, but for whatever reason, he seemed worried. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know it’s over now,” he let me know. Despite that, I still heard the rain of bullets. Then, I rubbed the sides of my head and a few seconds later, silence, save for a small sizzling sound.

“Good. You can put down the walls now.”

He did as I requested, and I retched upon seeing the damage I had done. That boss was a bloody mess, sprawled up on the floor. Those dozen or so guys to my left were also piled up on the floor. Their sight wasn’t so gruesome, as their armor obscured most of it, but chunks of their armor had broken off and red exposed flesh showed through.

I walked across, minded where I stepped, then went behind the former boss’ desk. There was a room I didn’t notice before, but I did now.

“Hey, do you know if this room’s locked?” I asked.

“It doesn’t appear so.”

I turned the knob. Sure enough, it opened up.

Inside was a large safe of money, all piled high against the walls. On top of that, however, was a stack of weapons and strange glowing minerals. Too bad none of those weapons were used on me. Maybe if they were, I’d have been long gone. If only.

“Come in. I’ve got the money,” I told him, “try not to mind the dead bodies.”

I sifted through the safe. Any other opportunist would have taken whatever money they could get their hands on. I never said I had my priorities straight.

Those minerals and weapons interested me, but I dare not take those, either. I had no idea what either of them were capable of or why they were kept in a safe. Still, I made note of it. While I had no intention of returning to this place, it might be useful to remember such things for the future.

It took a few minutes, but he showed up. When I saw him, he looked just as disgusted as I was. Couldn’t blame the guy. I noticed some serious eye baggage and he was slumped over. It must have taken a great deal of strength for him not to throw up then and there.

“What a mess,” he sounded exasperated.

“You’re telling me,” I replied, then handed him the cash. He took it, then looked up, dejected.

“Hey, take care,” he sounded glum, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Thanks.”

“And by the way...no offense, but I hope we don’t ever meet again.”

“I don’t blame you,” I echoed the sentiment.

He waved, then walked off. Before he got far, I called for him:

“Hey! What about the contacts?”

He shrugged.

“Keep them. I’ll disconnect the signal later. I’m more worried about where I’m going to drop off these guys in the back of the van.”

Fine enough by me. He served his purpose. I’d get rid of the contacts myself sooner or later. Though the fact that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house was a concern. First, I had some unfinished business before leaving the place: I had to figure out who ordered the hit on me, then pay them a visit. To that end, I checked on the computer for any information I could find. Sure enough, I found what I was looking for and then some.

II

I’d have departed right away if not for what, or rather, who stood in my way: some robotic figure with silver steel armor and a thin helmet with red pointed earpieces on each side with a shape which reminded me of the head of a dragon. It had a red, see-through visor, but I couldn’t quite make out the face on the inside.

Whoever you are, I really don’t have time for this, so if you could just step aside, that would be great.

“What do you want? If it’s a fight, I’d advise against it, else you end up like those guys over there,” I pointed my thumb behind me.

“You’re welcome to try. But I already withstood those bullets,” came a deep and feminine voice which held a similar dark timbre in her words as I now held.

“So what do you want, then? Are you here to kill me? Finish the job for your boss?” I threw my hands out. I really didn’t know why this person wouldn’t just move.

“I never worked for them. I just infiltrated their headquarters to gather information,” came her flat reply. I watched as she turned her attention toward the pile of corpses. “Though gruesome, they’re no concern to me. However, I will make sure to give them all a proper burial.”

How touching. Real touching.

“What information did you find?” I tapped my foot.

She looked around the building, then back at me.

“Did you know that this place has technology which can harm angels? Or, that’s one name for them, anyway. Now, why such a place would need such technology is a concern in itself.”

“Uh, excuse me? Angels?”

“You’re right; it doesn’t matter. This world has its own problems. It doesn’t need some otherworldly being wreaking havoc.”

Then why mention it at all?!

“I just found it interesting. That these people would try to recreate such a terrible organization. ‘Janitors’, they used to call them. Killers and stalkers and thieves. If nothing else, I must commend you for making it so they could not develop further.”

“Uh...you’re welcome?”

“Back there, you knew who Rhea was, didn’t you?” She asked at last, her question made the hairs on my skin stand on end.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I know who he was referring to. But she died. So tough luck.”

“I see. Of course.”

Gee, this is Cronus all over again...shit. I never wanted to think about that. That place or that sicko.

“What about the name ‘Remora’?” Her question changed to one I recognized. My heart sank, and it felt I had stared into the eyes of Medusa herself as I stood in place, like a stone.

“That drew out a reaction,” she noted. “I take it you do know her.”

Fuck. Now I got my own body betraying me. Bad body.

Thinking fast, I scoffed.

“No,” I deflected. “I was just surprised. Like, who the hell would ask me if I knew the name of a fish? I’m not even interested in fish, so you’re lucky I even recognized that name at all!”

“Actually, that’s the name of a person,” she corrected. As if I even had to guess.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a person,” I shot back. “Who names their kid that? Rather, if nobody named them that, then why would they name themselves that?”

“You can come up with whatever excuse you want, but I could tell by your reactions alone that you know who I’m talking about. Now tell me where she is,” she demanded.

Look, Miss Power Ranger, even if your assessment is correct, I really have no clue where she could be.

“Why do you want to know, anyway?” I grimaced. It felt like I was giving up the game, but what else could I do?

“Because she killed my father. She needs to pay her due,” she stated. So direct, too.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I probably killed plenty of fathers just now. Not that I know, but just a guess.”

“Yet none of them were mine.”

Well, she was focused, at least. Had to give her credit there.

“So? You think you have the moral high ground? You think as long as you get revenge on one person, that no one else matters? Satisfy your desires, everyone else be damned?” Anger rose in me. But not about the subject of revenge, no. I was pissed that out of all the people she wanted to kill, it wasn’t me.

“What’s your point?” She accused.

“Hey Inigo Montoya! If you had any sense, you’d kill me!” I clenched my fists and shouted. “Why wait for someone who doesn’t matter when I’m right here!”

“If it’s retribution you see, you will get what is owed to you in due time. I have no need to intervene.”

There was nothing I could have said to provoke her and worse yet, she got what she wanted out of me: confirmation that Remora was someone I knew.

Frantic, I looked around and noticed a large rock. Or rather, it was loose debris from the floor. I grabbed it and threw it at her. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“If you want to know where Remora is, you’ll have to go through me!” I shouted once again.

“Why are you defending her? She’s a murderer,” through her confusion, I sensed the slightest bit of irritation in her. Yet that raised a good question: why was I defending her? She was no longer in my life and neither of us cared about the other. So it shouldn’t have mattered.

I took a step back.

“I-I’m not,” I struggled to get out the words. “I’m just not feeling very cooperative!”

I grabbed another chunk of debris and threw it her way, and that time she deflected it and tossed it aside like it was nothing.

“Enough!” She shouted. “Tell me where I can find her and quit with this nonsense!”

Ha. Finally I got a rise in her. Sorry, Miss Sentai, but nonsense was what I was good at.

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?”

“No. I have no interest in doing so.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m not going to tell you anything otherwise.”

Behind me was a gun which belonged to one of the corpses. If the turrets didn’t do the trick against her like she suggested, then I doubted such a weapon would either. But that wasn’t what I was hoping for. I just wanted to piss her off.

I grabbed it and I had to use both hands due to its heaviness. It was a miracle I could even pick it up at all, but I attributed it to the adrenaline in me. As soon as I picked it up, I opened fire.

Of course, it all bounced off, but it served its purpose, and she took a step forward, then ran after me.

Good, I thought, let the chase commence.

It didn’t go how I expected it to, however. Flame emitted from the soles of her metallic shoes and she propelled herself forward.

Rocket shoes? Seriously?! No fair.

I picked up the pace, threw the gun up to the second floor, and hurried up a ladder.

Maybe I could find an explosive, escape through a window, and leave her in the rubble. Wouldn’t that be grand?

Once up, I grabbed the gun and opened fire. It stopped her in her tracks, but not even a crack or a dent showed. Even as I unloaded more bullets, nothing. Once the thing was empty, I just threw it down. Maybe its weight could crack her visor at the very least. Do something.

Nope. Just like before with the debris, she swatted it away.

Come on! I have to do something!

On the wall, I found a fire extinguisher. I grabbed it and as soon as she landed at the second floor, I squeezed the nozzle down beneath her.

Maybe it obscured her vision, or stalled her, I wasn’t sure, but a great cloud formed and I saw it as an opportunity to charge forward and ram the extinguisher into that stupid helmet of hers.

To my surprise, two things happened:

1) First, I saw the silhouette of her helmet and cracks began to form in her visor.

2) She grabbed the extinguisher, crushed it in her hand, then tossed it aside. I’ll be honest, it was kinda hot.

After the smoke cleared, I saw the anger in her eyes, and her helmet came off to reveal a woman with short, auburn hair and dark brown eyes. Let me rephrase: her helmet didn’t ‘come off’ so much as it unfolded or something, back into her suit.

“What are you, Iron Lady? Don’t you know that billionaires can’t be superheroes? It’s an oxymoron!” I teased.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but you’re really trying my patience,” she replied through grit teeth.

Heh. Now that your helmet’s down, you’re vulnerable.

I reached into my pocket and unsheathed my knife. In a desperate attempt at...something, I lunged at her, my aim was for somewhere on that pretty face of hers. Instead, she grabbed my arm and tightened her grip enough for me to drop my knife.

Jeez. Her suit’s not just for show. She really is that strong. When it came down to it, what did I have to show for myself? I could take down men almost twice my size, but Astro Woman over there? No chance.

She lifted me up until I had to look down just to see her face. She looked up, bared her teeth, and seethed with repulsion.

“I know this isn’t appropriate for the situation, but I just wanna say that I’m kinda turned on right now,” I informed her. I wasn’t being serious, and I doubt she was even my type, but I really just wanted to get on her nerves.

“Disgusting,” she replied, and I propelled my legs forward and tried to knock her down. However, she didn’t even budge.

“Pathetic. It seems without someone there to help you out, you’ve got nothing.”

“Yes, please, degrade me more,” I groaned, rather annoyed, myself, as I tried to struggle free from her grip. At least she helped me out with that, as she swung her arm back and sent me flying toward the nearest wall where my back slammed against it and I fell.

“At least I know she’s out there, somewhere. I can find her on my own. You weren’t even worth my time,” she spat down at me.

I watched as she walked away, and I tried to get myself up, but I was just too sore. Loathe as I was to admit, she was right: I wasn’t nearly as badass as I propped myself up to be. At least my family would be safe, that was what mattered. Remora, on the other hand? Fuck. She might have been right about that, too. Whether or not I should have, even if she didn’t need defending, I really wanted to keep her safe. I hated that part of myself, along with the part of myself that committed such atrocities, but I couldn’t shake either part of me.

It took a while, even a great deal of strength on my part, but I struggled back up, and limped on ahead. That delay really did put a damper on what I was looking forward to the most: dying.

She was a distraction, someone who I never accounted for, and because of that, I was late for my final confrontation. But soon, I would pay them a visit, and at last, I would find the release I so desperately craved.

III

For whatever reason, the one who ordered the hit on me was staying at a hotel just a few miles away. Maybe it was for the sake of convenience. Convenient for him, or convenient for me, I wasn’t sure which. It didn’t really matter, anyway.

It took a few more hours, no driver to take me and I refused to try to hotwire a car I knew I couldn’t even drive. Ha. Within just a few minutes of walking, I regretted not trying to hijack something. I was too sore. That fight took more out of me than I wanted it to. Maybe that was for the best, though. It would give me less of a fighting chance. Whoever it was who wanted me dead, I decided I would just give it to them. There was a good chance that whoever they were felt too weak to fight me, but it shouldn’t have been a problem if I didn’t resist, right?

So I walked, all bruised and with a bloody lip, awaiting my end.

By the time I reached the hotel, it was daybreak. Few cars occupied the parking lot. White line dividers looked more animated. I imagined that the paint was fresh. In my delirious state, I tried to bend down and slide my finger across it. But I couldn’t even reach that far. That mysterious armored woman sure did a number on me.

I looked up at the tall, golden building. Despite its extravagance, it looked a little rundown and beat up. Just like me. Holy hell, I just couldn’t do humor anymore. I couldn’t even humor the idea of humor.

I pulled out my phone. It wasn’t very kind of me. I had months to deliberate and I didn’t send so much as a hello. There was no indication that I ever wanted a friend. That I even wished to reach out to one. Pathetic, I thought to myself, about myself, as I reached for that crumpled piece of paper and entered in the digits. Within a few seconds, I texted:

Me: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

Then I texted her the address and set the phone back in my pocket. Once I pushed open those glass doors, I knew there wasn’t any going back from it, and honestly? I didn’t want to. Rather than fear, I wanted to enter that room and get it over with. Let them end me.

I staggered up to the front desk, a kindly young woman stood there, big brown poofy hair. Her gold plated name tag read ‘Janis’. If that was one of the last memories I were to have before I departed, was it worth it? To have such a memory? I didn’t think so. That fuzzy carpeted lobby, its red and black diamond pattern. That was also not worth noting.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She smiled all wide and asked in some grating robotic voice. Weak, I answered:

“I’ve got someone expecting me in room 811,” I told her. Rather, I’m expecting them.

“Oh, of course. He told me he’d have a guest. Go right up, the door should be unlocked for you,” she gestured toward the elevator.

Well gee, if that’s not suspicious at all. Someone really was expecting me.

“Thank you,” I mustered out the words. Even if she was in on it, whatever ‘it’ was, I still tried to use my fucking manners.

Rather than use the elevator, even if the rest of me pleaded with me not to walk so much, I took the stairs. Yes, I wanted to get it over with. End it. But at the same time...I felt confident that I could take my time. My breaths were labored, and I just about collapsed a couple of times while on my way up, but that didn’t stop me.

Once I stood in front of room 811, I turned the handle and entered:

It was a darkened room, only a dim lamp to illuminate. It was also a cluttered room, with very little space to walk around in. Tall dressers and cabinets occupied the walls. Above it were tin figures of tigers and dragons and many miniature globes. I allowed the door behind me to close into place. When I stared ahead, I noticed a wooden desk and a puffed up black swivel chair with its back turned to me.

Only the second man behind a desk I’ve encountered in the past 24 hours. Lucky me.

“So you’ve arrived,” a gruff, gravelly voice spoke. Despite only meeting him once, long ago, I recognized his voice. It was different from how I remembered, but there was no mistake. Then, when he turned around, any room for doubt was erased:

Jerry Mander.

He wore a pinstripe suit with thin black and white stripes. Black, disheveled hair covered the top of his head, and a pronounced stubble worked its way upon his chin. In a strange way, he reminded me of Ray, only Jerry had no glasses. Neither did I. To think my final moment would come without my glasses on.

“I figured you would after the first attempt was foiled. I told them that you weren’t to be underestimated, but they didn’t listen. Oh, no,” any sort of humor or joy was devoid from him as well. Whatever happened to the two of us, we were like two peas in some broken pod. “They told me not to worry about it. That they were professionals. Ha. Like I wasn’t?”

So I had a name and face. But the motive was unclear.

“Let me guess: you entered their lair and took them all out?”

I didn’t answer. I just let him talk. That’s what he wanted, right?

“You don’t need to tell me the details, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He wheezed out a laugh. Again, devoid of anything resembling humor. “Just my fucking luck. I mean, I knew it would happen, I just knew, but I paid good money, and look at what good it did me.”

Truth be told, I thought he was kind of goofy when I met him. But all of those details about him were fuzzy. He took a treasure from Sunny, tied her and I up, but I broke free. That’s it.

“Just so you know, there are two small laser cannons hanging from the ceiling. Any sudden movements, any attempt on my life, and they’ll fire.”

Good. Can I just step forward and get this over with?

“Now, answer me: do you have a gun hidden in your pocket that you planned to shoot me with?”

I shook my head.

“Good,” he then reached under the desk and pulled out a revolver. “However, I’ve got one. You won’t be taking it from me, either. It’s just you and I. Understood?”

I said nothing in response.

He fired his revolver and I felt a sharp pain hit through my left shoulder. It spread and I reached my right arm to cover the wound as blood soon leaked through both my sleeve and my palm. I tensed up and howled, doing my best not to shed any tears.

“ANSWER ME!” He roared.

“Y-Yes! Understood!” I cried out. Then, I hissed and seethed. I scowled and snarled at him with the intensity of a wolf whose paw had just been stepped on.

“Good. You’re going to answer me when I speak. You owe me that much after what you’ve taken from me. Do you know what I’m referring to?”

“No,” even in my pain, my delivery was low, if a little hoarse.

“Let me refresh your memory, then.”

I glanced down at the floor and noticed the blood that had dripped down.

“Look at me,” he ordered. I didn’t feel like a rebel, but I sure hated being ordered around. Still, given the position I was in, I did so.

“You see, I was a business man, and Sunny was a competitor of sorts. My men and I would try to get to ancient treasures before her, and she’d try to get to them before me. Sometimes, I’d capture her and gloat as I took the treasure for myself. At times when she’d get the treasure, I’d shoot at her, alongside my loyal followers. Sometimes when she was captured she’d break free and take the treasure back. It didn’t really matter much of the time who won, save for the fact that I still won sometimes and I was well respected among my employees. That’s how things were, and should have been until you showed up one day and shot my foot.”

So that’s what it was. Something I had long since forgotten, he’s held a grudge for.

“I didn’t know about all that,” I told him. It was the truth. I was naive, wanted to impress others, wanted to look badass. What else could I have said?

“Of course you didn’t. You probably thought you were playing hero. You didn’t know the relationship Sunny and I had, the history.”

“You can still have that,” I told him. For whatever reason, I didn’t know. He didn’t seem like he wanted a pep talk.

“Wrong!” He raised his voice to a shrill bark once again. “Do you know what happened after you shot me?”

“No.”

“Of course not. How could you? Well, let me tell you: I could hardly walk without limping. I had to use a cane. I was out of commission for months. Then, many of my employees resigned, having lost respect for me. The few that I had weren’t enough to cut it for the tasks I took on. Every little opportunity, every assignment brought with it a loss. Morale sunk with each passing day. It was like meeting you brought forth a bad luck that I could never scrub my hands clean of.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated myself. That time, it sounded like a plea. Not for my life, but...something else that I couldn’t grasp.

“Shut up. You’re not telling me anything that I can’t already tell just by looking at you. Do you know the last assignment I had before hiring someone to kill you? No. Don’t answer me this time. You don’t, so let me tell you: I had a theory that Sunny had amassed some kind of army of short people to take me down. So I hired a strong kid who I thought couldn’t be beaten. My men and I then ventured into a cave in Switzerland for an ancient block of Swiss cheese. Do you know what – no,” he ground his teeth, then continued, “Sunny arrived, along with this kid that fought the one I hired. It was a joke, a total farce. We lost. More than that, it made me into a joke. It was humiliating.”

That must have been Tigershark. Even if I didn’t know the exact situation, there was no way Tigershark was to blame for any of this.

“It wasn’t the kid’s fault,” I told him.

“You’re right: it was yours. See, after I suffered that lost and the last of my henchmen had left me, I stewed in my mansion. Oh, poor me, right? I’ve got myself a fancy mansion. Wrong. That no longer mattered to me, as I couldn’t do much of the things I enjoyed. It was empty. No one wanted to hang around me. I was a total laughingstock. So I got to thinking: what was the root cause of all of this? Who was responsible? Because it wasn’t Sunny, and it wasn’t no damn kids. No. It was you.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think I could.

“How funny, too. I was obsessed, and from that obsession, I was able to dig up some dirt on you: Demetria Root. ‘Demisexual’? Give me a break. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a virgin.”

You’re not wrong, but that seriously has nothing to do with anything.

“I remember something you told me, back when you pointed that gun at me. How I told you that you shouldn’t risk it, that you didn’t even look like you knew how to fire one. Do you remember what you told me?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Something to the effect of, ‘I don’t value my life all that much. I’ve got less to lose.’ But as it turns out, you’ve got family. You’ve got people who are willing to protect you, judging by the fact that the person who tried to shoot a poison needle at you got killed. Plus, you’ve got people you’re willing to protect. But do you know how people like Sunny and I are able to do what we do? Because we don’t have family. That, or we keep that shit a secret. We don’t make ourselves traceable. Don’t you know why heroes have secret identities? It’s because of that.”

Of course. I was careless. Time and time again, and now it was time to pay the price.

“So the roles have reversed: I’ve got less to lose, as I’ve already lost most of what I had. I spent all my money just so I could get a chance at ending your life, and that too failed. Now here we are, you and I, and neither of us will leave this room until one of us dies. If it happens to be both of us, so be it.”

But if it happens to be you, Jerry? I began to think, but had to stop myself. I wanted to let him kill me. So I couldn’t bear the thought of him risking his own life, even if both of us died, that wouldn’t be good enough. I had to be the only one.

“You don’t have to do this,” I spoke up. “I know how it looks. You’ve got nothing left. You don’t know what to do with your life anymore. So even if things could be better later on, you couldn’t imagine what those things could be. So that’s what you choose: to go down doing what you know. At least it would be on your own terms, right? But you have no idea the impact it could have. I’m telling you this right now.”

“Are you begging for your life? Is that it?” He grunted.

Wrong. I’m begging for yours.

I went on.

“It may not seem like it. It may seem like you’ve been reduced to a joke. But after you die, people will talk about you, prop you up. Some will speak fond of you, some will wish they had killed you themselves. Some will wish for what could have been. What could have happened if you and them became friends. Some would be glad you were dead, or even joke about you, yes. But they would be talking. Stories would be passed around about you. People would be fascinated by you. ‘Oh, that Jerry Mander. What a legend. I wish I could have met him’, they’ll say.”

“Enough!” He snapped. His voice darkened to a near-demonic growl. “Do you know what my original name was? Ben Dover. But that name too was a joke, so I changed it to the much more dignified Jerry Mander. From that, I was infamous. I had an empire built up. Once, I learned that there was a man already named Jerry Mander who wrote a book criticizing capitalism. What a joke! I’m a capitalist. But you know what? I kept it. I loved the irony. However, all of that was a thing of the past. Long since gone. Once it was fun and Sunny and I laughed, two foes foiling the others’ schemes. But no more.”

“That’s the thing!” I argued. “You’re Sunny’s enemy, not mine!”

“No. You’re just a bad omen. A nightmare. Once you’re extinguished, my world will be less gray.”

“Fine. So I am. But Sunny is a sun! She’s bright! Just throw me out the window, get rid of me, go back to your old life!”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” He accused.

You’re right. I don’t. I just want to care again. I’m sure I did, once. I’m just trying to remember what it felt like.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” My voice darkened as well.

“No. You can’t,” he confirmed. Maybe if I was more powerful there could have been something else I could have said or done. Not a physical power, but...I didn’t know what. It might have just been that I was the wrong person.

Still, I stood in place and watched as he got up from his chair and pulled out a cutlass from a large pot next to his desk. I didn’t notice it before, it must have been obscured by the shadow. Or it could have just been convenient not to have noticed it.

“You deserve something more personal than just a shot to the head, or the heart. I’m going to tear you open. Watch you bleed out in pain. Watch you beg for your life, beg for mercy. But it won’t come.”

Fine. Then just do it already.

Sure enough, he leapt at me and slashed forward, and on instinct, I tried to jump back, but there was little room to move and the flesh on my stomach felt the sting of a long cut. It was shallow, or so I thought, as I just winced at first, but then a swell of blood spilled forth and I shifted from holding onto my shoulder to holding onto my stomach. Either way, I winced, and the pain was in multiple places.

“Good...hit…” I shook and raised my free hand up to give him a thumbs up.

“Even now? Even now you treat me like a joke?” His face was beet red.

You’ve got it all wrong. Damn it.

He lunged at me and I fell to the floor. By all accounts, I should have died. Those lasers should have detected my movement and hit me. He should have rammed that cutlass into my heart. None of what should have happened, happened.

No. No, no, no.

Instead, when I fell, I found myself, against my wishes, pulling out my knife to block the sword. I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t want to. His sword got stuck in the wood floorboard, and the lasers? They hit his back. He fell on me, and to add insult to injury, the knife I pulled out to block his sword, something I didn’t even want to do? It had struck his heart.

I shut my eyes tight. Something welled up. Something that felt like tears. But no, they didn’t even come. I wasn’t even allowed that.

My shoulder’s bleeding out, my stomach’s cut open. I should think about that. Even if I make it down those stairs and out of the hotel, I’ll pass out, no, die from blood loss. Yeah. That’s right. Then I would be free, free from whoever it was I had become.

I shoved him off of me and pulled out the knife. No signs of life. No breaths. No last words. How terrible.

I left the room. Shambled, limped, whatever you wanted to call it, down those many flights of stairs. At any moment, I would collapse –

– Truth be told, I should have died long ago. Back when I was confronted by those gang of guys who wanted to assault me, maybe worse, I shouldn’t have been saved. Even if she wasn’t even thinking of saving me, Remora prevented what should have happened.

When I encountered Cronus and that strange creature at the mansion, either one of them should have taken me. Eaten me alive, devoured me. Ripped me apart. Whatever. It could have been said that I lost my sense of self there, but maybe I lost it long before that.

There were many other moments, but the fact was that I had lived through them all. None of them were deserved. Yes, I had a family. I wished them all to be safe and well. There were people who cared about me, but the bottom line was: I never deserved any of that. I wasn’t worth it.

Those were my thoughts, as were many others along the same lines, as I made my descent. Were any of them correct? Some may have even contradicted themselves. There wouldn’t be any last words coming out of me, nothing memorable. Just a bunch of jumbled up thoughts.

As luck would have it, I made my way down. Pain oozed, even if it was the last thing on my mind. Part of me didn’t want to die, wanted to keep going, but didn’t know what for.

Using the weight of my unharmed shoulder, I shoved my way out of the glass doors and stepped into the parking lot. Commotion, possible panic from the front desk agent, followed. It all came out as static. Once outside, I collapsed.

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Haunted Castle Chapter Three: Rhythm

The castle was dark enough that Luigi soon gave Bowser Jr. the spare flash light for some added illumination and so he could stun ghosts if needed. It meant if the one currently attached the Poltergust malfunctioned or broke, there could be some issues. It was unlikely though, the Poltergust had come a long way from that first shoddily built repurposed vacuum E. Gadd had given him for his unwanted debut as a ghost hunter. And he could always take the flashlight back if it did, not to mention Gooigi’s flashlight couldn’t break because it was part of them so it would probably be fine. And besides the added light made it easier for him to vacuum and tidy up as they started exploring the castle properly.

“Are you two really… cleaning right now?” Bowser Jr. finally asked after longer than expected.

“Yes,” Luigi replied not looking up. After taking out the three ghosts in the room, he’d taken to tidying one side of the room – probably – sleeping quarters for Bowser’s minions based off the bunkbeds evenly spaced out that filled the room – while Gooigi took the other side. They’d learned from him so naturally they did what he did while ghost hunting even if they might not know exactly why Luigi did things this way. But regardless the two of them made a good team and had coordinated wordlessly on this.

“Why?” Unsurprisingly Bowser Jr. was not very happy.

The main reason was because it eased Luigi’s nerves to tidy up a little as he went, making the spooky place slightly more bearable though it did serve a practical purpose too even if he’d rather it didn’t. “It brings out any ghosts that are hiding. King Boo shouldn’t be expecting us so we don’t want to be seen and have our presence reported back to him.” And the room was a mess, cleaning it up a little was relaxing. Also, ghosts liked to hide money and precious gemstones in things, so Luigi could justify it from that angle too even if he didn’t need the money. So far neither he nor Gooigi had found much but if needed he could still use it as another excuse to justify his actions without anyone trying to tell him that it was a waste of time because he needed this. Saving Bowser and company was important but he couldn’t do that if he was one bad scare away from having a panic attack.

“Um… okay then, I guess that makes sense, sort of anyway.” Good, Bowser Jr. was dropping it. He even adjusted his flashlight to help illuminate the room better. “Why are we even stopping here though? We need to rescue my dad and… everyone else and they’re clearly not here.”

Checking every room was another one of those things that just made Luigi feel better. Knowing what was in every room meant no surprises and lessened the chances of a ghost coming up behind him that had been hiding in an unchecked room. Bowser Jr. had come to him for help and he was going to do things his way. “Got to root out all the ghosts. They could sneak up on us otherwise or go tell King Boo we’re here. Also, King Boo likes to leave his paintings in various places for decoration.” Though it was often guarded by a big strong ghost, dealing with them always sucked. “So we should look around for them.” He didn’t like it but he’d proven himself capable of handling said big strong ghosts. … He really was a professional ghost hunter at this point, huh? He knew what he was doing and had a system for it that worked. Now if only he wasn’t afraid of ghosts, then it’d be a viable career path.

“Well… you’re the expert so, okay. Hurry up though.”

That only made Luigi want to take longer but… he wouldn’t do that. He wanted this to be over with sooner rather than later and even if it wasn’t his brother he was rescuing this time it was still an important rescue mission. So having not found any ghosts or anything else, they quickly moved on.

The next room, another midsized room filled with bunkbeds, they checked had another small group of low tier ghosts loitering within and a couple more hiding in various places; scary but quick and easy to handle. Bowser Jr. as promised, hung back and stayed safe out of the way, letting Luigi and Gooigi take care of it. Having him along still wasn’t ideal but at least he wasn’t going to get in the way or do anything more dangerous than just coming along was. … Which honestly was more than could be said of some of the Toads Luigi had had to escort to safety during his previous ghost busting ‘adventures’.

After that, Luigi quickly fell into the rhythm of going through, checking everything, and sucking up any ghosts that showed up or popped out of things – money too because it was there so he might as well. So far there was nothing new and thus now that he was in the thick of it, he was about as fine as he could be in this situation. Gooigi being there the whole time and Polterpup popping in every so often helped a lot too. Heck Bowser Jr.’s company and not wanting to embarrass himself in front him lest he get laughed at again helped a little as well. He almost maybe didn’t need to do the normal cleaning routine to ease his fears but he did anyway because it was familiar and rooting out hidden ghosts was a good thing no matter what.

Eventually Bowser Jr. broke his rhythm though. “Up ahead a little is a closet to the right.” he said after a long period of silence, making Luigi jump a little before turning to look at him. “In it is a secret passage that leads to the basement. Which is where Kamek’s lab is. From there are more secret passages and stuff which will let us quickly access my dad’s room which is where King Boo defeated him and turned him into a painting. I don’t know if the painting Papa’s trapped in is still there but we can check, right?”

Luigi would’ve preferred to keep going on his level, they seemed to be exiting the barracks part of the castle, and clearing it out entirely before ascending to a new floor. But also, Bowser being the biggest prize gained from this venture meant King Boo most likely kept his painting close by which meant if they found it, they’d find King Boo.  It wasn’t an encounter Luigi was looking forward to but defeating King Boo would end the adventure and the sooner that was done, the better. It was unlikely King Boo’s portrait would still be there but… “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to look.”

With no further words needing to be spoken, they resumed going down the hallway. And soon there was indeed a door to the right. Inside was a broom, a bucket, a dustpan, and a single bottle of a cleaning spray with its label partially peeled off. There wasn’t a single thing about the tiny space itself or any of its contents that implied that there was anything secret hidden in it. Luigi almost didn’t believe it because normally when he found a hidden thing, there was something about the area that seemed off. This just seemed like a forgotten closet.

Bowser Jr. strode inside and gestured for Luigi and Gooigi to join him. It was a bit small but they all fit reasonably well. If Gooigi was bothered by being squished into the door a little, they didn’t show it.

“Don’t watch,” Bowser Jr. said, facing the rare wall. “You don’t need to know all of the castle’s secrets.”

Luigi didn’t bother arguing and just looked away. Gooigi, ever compliant, did so too. There were a few seconds of silence followed by a click and then the sound of stone moving. Luigi waited until it was done before looking over. The entire back wall had moved, revealing a tiny room with a wooden trap door taking up most of its floor space.

“You go in first in case there are ghosts on the other side,” Bowser Jr. said as he pulled it open, revealing a dark hole and a ladder leading down into it.

To his credit, Luigi only trembled a little as he tiptoed closer to shine his light down into it. There wasn’t much to see, the hole didn’t allow for much view of the room below. There certainly didn’t seem to be any ghosts immediately present though so…  He carefully holstered the flash light onto the side of the Poltergust and started down. There was just barely enough room for him to fit with the Poltergust on his back.

The ladder was old and rusty. He didn’t trust it one bit as it creaked and groaned every time he put weight on a new rung. But somehow, he made it to the bottom without mishap.

Stepping away from it, he hurriedly pulled out the flash light again and switched it on. He was in a bare stone room not much bigger than the closet above. There was no visible exit or means of opening one; another secret for sure then.

Gooigi made a sound from above.  Before Luigi could even glance up at them though they splatted down on the floor in front him. Apparently, they’d chosen not to bother with the ladder and just jump down instead. The impact was enough that they lost some of the form in their legs but they quickly shook it off, even giving Luigi a thumbs up.

Luigi almost wanted to scold them for being reckless when they were so fragile. But they were made of goo and thus it’d probably take a much longer fall to damage them. Instead, he looked up to watch Bowser Jr. descend. Which took maybe a grand total of five seconds because not even quite halfway down he decided to jump off too, giving Luigi another spike of anxiety because who did that? Luigi of course reached out to catch him but was a bit too slow and a bit too far away.

It didn’t matter though because Bowser Jr. stuck the landing. He even did a little satisfied giggle before turning to one of the bare stone walls. “Turn away again,” he said, his tone that of someone used to being obeyed without question; a bit annoying but not unexpected.

“You shouldn’t jump off ladders,” Luigi said as he obeyed. “It’s dangerous.”

“Ugh, you sound like Papa and Kamek except worse because all I did was jump off a ladder.”

“It’s dangerous.”

Bowser Jr. didn’t reply. If Luigi had to guess, he was probably rolling his eyes. Whatever though, he was only Luigi’s responsibility until at latest Bowser was saved and King Boo dealt with.

A few seconds later there another sound of grinding stone. Turning back around to look once it was done revealed that it led into another closet, this one completely empty. Stepping around Bowser Jr. and past Gooigi, Luigi took the lead once more.

The closet exited out into… what had to be a store room judging based off the wall of crates in front of him a lot of which had the Bullet-Bill logo printed on the side facing him. Meaning this was likely a room full of explosives. Great, another thing to be anxious about. It’d probably be fine though, right? They’d been fine down here this long after all.

On the other side of the wall of boxes indistinct noise could be heard. Motioning for silence from Gooigi but mostly Bowser Jr. as the two of them fell in behind him, Luigi tiptoed over to where the wall of crates ended, allowing him to peek around them at the source of the noise.

Ghosts, naturally; a bigger group of them than any Luigi had had to deal with so far on this adventure but far from the biggest group he’d ever had to take out. They were all turned away from him, seemingly looking at and perhaps arguing over something on the wall that Luigi couldn’t quite make out through them. … He could easily sneak past them to the other side of the room.

He shouldn’t though, right?  He didn’t want them sneaking up on him later and they needed to be cleared out. But… he was just trying to pass through right now to whatever secret passage led to Bowser’s room. So maybe he could justify sneaking past for now and coming back later? …

There was a bark at his feet. It was Polterpup. Where he’d suddenly come from was unknown but… looking back up, Luigi flinched and maybe even squeaked a little; all the ghosts were looking at him and they weren’t happy to see him.

[Pretend the first boss fight is written here. It starts as a group of ghosts and then the boss comes out. It isn’t difficult or all that special, the first boss never is.]

Turns out the thing the ghosts had been looking at on the wall was a portrait. Which wasn’t unusual by itself, the stronger ghosts tended to either be put in charge of or gravitate to the portraits, but the fact that it was a portrait of boos was very odd. There were five of them, the foremost of which had a flag on its head.

It was strange and didn’t make sense. Why would King Boo turn some of his boos into a portrait? I didn’t really matter though as long as they stayed in the portrait. Luigi had no desire to investigate further lest it be trap. But as he turned away…

“The boo squad!” Bowser Jr. said as, the cost clear, he was able to come out from behind the crates. He ran over to join Luigi and Gooigi standing near the portrait. “They’ll be a great help. Now how do you work the dark light thingy or whatever you called it?” He looked down to start fiddling with his flashlight, quickly finding the right button because there weren’t many.

“No, no, no,” Luigi said, quickly stepping between him and the portrait. “Don’t do that!”

Bowser Jr. gave him a genuinely confused frown. “Why not?”

“They’re boos!” A whole group of them too. With Gooigi he had a good chance of being able to handle them but he’d rather not if he didn’t have to. “They’re what we’re here to fight.”

“They’re Papa’s minions though. They’re loyal to him and thus me too. If that wasn’t the case they wouldn’t be in a painting. Trust me, I know them.”

“I’m not risking it. We can free them after we deal with King Boo, okay?” It was far too much to risk and Luigi would rather have nothing to do with boos regardless of who’s minions they were.

Bowser Jr. scowled. “I didn’t ask your opinion on the matter. They’re basically my minions so I’m going to free them.”

Luigi had to physically grab the flashlight to keep him from switching on the dark light and stepping around him. Bowser Jr. unsurprisingly didn’t let go though, yanking back on it with a growl instead. Luigi was going to stand his ground though and yanked right back. He was the professional ghost hunter here, he was calling the shots and Bowser’s minions or not, he refused to risk freeing the boos right now.

“No,” he said, proud of how firm he was in it. “Not happening. You came to me for help so I get to…” A boo laughed behind him, making him cut off with a small yelp. And he surrendered his hold on the flashlight as more boos swooped in to surround him and Bowser Jr.

He snapped around to confirm that yes, they were from the portrait. Gooigi was just switching off their dark light, turning to face him and give him a thumbs up. Of all the people who’d disagree with his stance on this, he never would’ve suspected Gooigi. They had indeed come a long way from the near mindless blob they’d been when E. Gadd had first introduced them. Which made them all the more mysterious.

“Thank you for coming to rescue us Young Lord,” the boo with the flag, clearly the leader of the group, said.

“You’re very welcome.” Bowser Jr.’s smug filled voice matched his grin as Luigi turned back around to face him. “Now uh… report. Yes, report to me about what happened.”

“King Boo invaded the dungeons. When we approached him, he asked us to betray Lord Bowser and join him in taking over the castle. We didn’t of course, we would never betray Lord Bowser. There wasn’t much we could do against him since it was only us and one other unit there at the time and thus, we got turned into a portrait. However, we were aware inside the painting so we sort of know what happened but not all of it.”

While he spoke, Luigi very carefully sidled his way out of the ring of boos. The fact that they were loyal to Lord Bowser and therefore technically allies here didn’t make them any less scary. And in his opinion it still hadn’t been worth the risk. He glanced at Gooigi, intending to give them a disapproving look but… he couldn’t mad at them. They had to have their own reasons for trusting Bowser Jr.’s promise that these boos were worth freeing and their judgement on it had turned out to be right.

“My dad’s been turned into a painting,” Bowser Jr. said in reply. To his credit, his voice barely faltered. “So have most of if not all the minions in the castle, all of the Koopalings, Kamek and all his Magikoopas as far as I know. I had to go out to get help from a professional ghost hunter. I know he doesn’t seem like much right now but Luigi’s beaten up King Boo three whole times now which is why I went to him. Now you guys are going to help us. Stay hidden and find where King Boo put all the paintings and then report it back to us so we can save everyone. Also, if you find where King Boo is hiding out, report that to us too. Same with anything else that you think might be good for us to know.”

“Understood!” Flag Boo lifted one of his little arms in a military salute. “You guys heard the Young Lord,” he said, addressing his squad now, “it’s time to help save Lord Bowser again.” He then sprouted off quick orders of who was going to search what floor/area. As soon as he was done, the boos scattered, zooming off in different directions.

As soon as no trace of them remained Bowser Jr. stuck out his tongue to blow a raspberry at Luigi, even lifting a hand to make an L by his head. After how competently he’d just commanded his dad’s underlings, it was almost kind of funny.

Not in the mood to deal with him right now, Luigi looked away as he shook off the chills being around so many boos had given him. Wordlessly, he started for the general direction of he hoped would be the store room’s exit, trusting the other two to follow him.

~

Sorry for skipping the boss fight but I just couldn't write it. Like I said though, I'm hoping the finale will at least sort of make up for it.

[kingfrumpkin]

kingfrumpkin’s New and Improved map of auradon!

aka i hated the other one and well...

there’s obviously more cities but i got lazy  and didn’t want to include them. i tried to make everything as accurate as i Could but its kind of hard when i shaved down 85% of italy, split the UK into england and scotland, turned belgium and holland into denmark, etc etc

read below the cut for all my changes and explanations for things!!

starting off with New France:

i tried to keep auradon city + area the same, put it in southern france bc thats what beauty and the beast is based off of in location

changed cinderellasburg to cinderstead bc i hate the name cinderellasburg with a passion

her castle is there it looked too ugly making it a separate landmark

cinderella’s manor is the one where she grew up and inherited after lady tremaine was kicked out; it’s their like summer/country home

auroria is the same bc its an ok name tbh

not technically france but briar cottage is the one she grew up in with the fairies

and paris is there for the aristocats and the hunchback and esmerelda, etc

I ALMOST FORGOT THE ENCHANTED LAKE

i regret making france so big but its too late now

New Germany:

i decided to use grimms brothers german ver of snow white bc yeah sure okay even though disney likes to make everything french

i changed charmington to snowblaen bc thats so much cooler are you kidding me

her castle is there too

the dwarf’s cottage and the mines are to the south and they’re in the woods too i just didn’t feel like putting geographical markers

i kept corona the same tbh. realized the castles on an island. fucked up

also realized that tangled’s rapunzel was probably more mediterranean but it was TOO LATE

there’s a forest probably separating snowblaen and corona

grimmsville is there somewhere

ENGLAND:

ok so london is there for rodger & anita & the dalmations, then the peter pan kids, and whoever else is in london idk

oxford for alice in wonderland

sherwood forest, yknow, robin hood

SFU is there too

camelot was theorizes to be in great brit? idk i read sources that said that so. yes

Liberated Scotland:

merida is there

yep

Partial Louisiana:

they only had the bayou in the original map? fucked up. tiana worked for that restaurant

i had a whole plan for an America Island that was louisiana, misourri (lady and the tramp) and floria (dumbo) but it looked ugly and so i scrapped it

back up to New Denmark

i just kinda. repurposed holland and belgium to make New Denmark

i started to see that ariel mightve been french and started crying

anyway i made port ariel for the city bc thats SICK

her castle is nearby and then theres atlantica in the water yay

Reduced Norway:

man disney has no idea how they want arendelle to look like huh

i honestly just kinda slapped everything there

southern isles off the coast. the label is too far way but IDC

i repurposed iceland for it

atahala is somewhere

The Forest(tm):

the wooland creatures gotta go somewhere

its where bambi lives

Italy but 15%:

did i have to include pinocchio? probably not. nevertheless its there

Greece:

the gods are there. yep

i just put mt olympus wherever i wanted to

Polynesian Islands:

i didn’t want to fuck with these too much. not all of them are there tho sorry

.052% of Africa:

i really needed only 2 countries for africa its so small i

disney make more african stories challenge

anyway .. pride rock. yep. i was too lazy to map out the other locations for the lion king

tarzans home in the congos...............................i should have swapped those two countries in their positions huh. oh well

back around to Small China:

i really just took inner mongolia and made do bc i didnt want to take All Of China

and its, like, supposed to be ancient china anyway?

anyway i tried to make the locations of the few landmarks i put accurate but its probably not. better than what disney had

Arabia?:

disney PLEASE pick where the fuck aladdin takes place i beg of you

i took saudi arabia and went with it tbh

tried to keep it the same

i was going to map out all of the cities but the lore around them was?? weird??

ill probably map out more of it later when i do a 2.0 ver

also “”quirkistan”” sounded racist???? but its like some store based in india so

Neverland..........aka ireland

ireland had the resources to become neverland

its north of england bc, yeah. its north of england in the story???

it made NO SENSE!!!! WHERE IT WAS!!!!!!

also skull island is there

last but not least...Isle of the Lost:

i just took part of new zealand and shaped it until it was unrecognizable

i drew the magic bridge and how it would appear bc sure

WATER!!!!

i tried to keep most of the waterways the same and just named the ones that were on the OG map

ursula’s strait is now a bay im sorry

hooks bay is now a channel bc it wasnt a bay but idk what else to call it. i think its too wide to be a channel but whatever i guess