#so i decided to level in legion

[tastycitrus]

i forgot i left my (former) jett inside the jett spaceship map...

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

You know, I love power imbalances. It’s always interesting to write about serfs. But since I value art (Serve the 3rd Legion), I prefer the remembrancers. And I decided to think about which particular remembrancers would be most interesting to write about relationships with the primarchs. Here is the list:

Documentarist (Journalist): Horus Lupercal, Roboute Guilliman.

For the first, it is important to feel his importance and self-centeredness. Write down his story as vividly as possible so that everyone understands how wonderful he is and how hard he tries. How much people should appreciate him and respect the title of Warmaster. Well, over time, you will truly become a personal documentarist when he decides to reveal to you the personal aspects of his life. So this time you have appreciate how wonderful he is.

The second needs a documentarist to record the history of the Imperium. He respects your order. And your personality. Because you are not a sycophant and write everything as it is. In 40k he needs a documentarist so that everyone will start seeing him again as a man and not a god. Alas, you will have to write down even the strangest things, such as “In such year, Guilliman could not lift a piece of paper because his armor was in the way. He joked. Cato didn’t laugh.”

Imagist: Alpharius/Omegon, Corvus Corax, Lion El'Jonson.

Simple and functional. You stay out of the way and photograph important events that can be studied later. And considering your profession, you have quite a high level of insight. And this attracts such hidden and suspicious individuals as these primarchs.

Historiographer (Historian): Magnus the Red, Jaghatai Khan, Leman Russ

The thirst for knowledge and the desire to understand the past will definitely bring you and Magnus together. You will literally be on the same page, discussing many events from different angles.

Well, given the fact that you are a historian, everything is interesting to you. Including a foreign culture that you respect and try to understand. At this moment, Jaghatai Khan is already taking you away on a bike.

And since you know that history can write one-sided personalities, you understand that something deep may be hiding behind the barbarian. You know it's a façade. At this moment, Leman is already throwing you over his shoulder.

Musician: Angron, Mortarion, Konrad Curze.

The way your fingers gently touch the instrument, the compositions you create. But the most important thing is your voice. Reminiscent of the rustling of leaves or the murmur of a river. Feels like fog. The best reassurance for unstable primarchs like these trio.

Painter: Fulgrim, Sanguinius.

These art lovers will love all the remembrancers. But I am sure that they will give preference to painters. Because they paint the real world as they see it. Because they would like to see the world like that and so on. A real space for imagination that knocks primarchs off their feet. And if, in addition to your talent, you also have your own different opinion about art (+ perfection), then at that very second you will have a very artistic admirers.

Sculptor: Perturabo, Dorn, Ferrus Manus.

Well, there’s no need to rant too much here. The first two primarchs regularly play with large-sized Lego. So it will be much easier for them to communicate with a sculptor who will understand them at least a little. But yes, praise from them is also like a stone. Ferrus Manus loves art, but not to the same extent as Fulgrim. A sculptor would be much more suited to Manus's aesthetic views than a painter or musician.

Wordsmith (author): Lorgar Aurelian.

Lorgar is a preacher, so he will be fascinated by a remembrancer with oratory skills. Or more precisely, someone who can turn words into something beautiful. What thousands of people will re-read or listen to.

Vulkan…no idea really. But let's say Wordsmith, because the word has “smith” :)

[zaimta]

彡PAINTING HIS NAILS

parings: laxus, gajeel, bickslow, bacchus x gn!reader

zai's notes: rewatching fairy tail for the 100th time n i remembered bacchus he's so yea <3, n i'm getting back to requests after this one!!

˗ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

˗ˏˋLAXUS DREAYAR

the hardest to convince, you could ask him over and over but he never gives in, he only gives in because you "annoyed him" which obviously ain't true he's just whipped

doesn't even let you pick the color either, he just tosses you the black nail polish because he's aware it's a neutral color

killjoy!!

the two of you lounged on some couches on the upstairs area of the guild, his arm was around your shoulder as he talked to the thunder legion. while he talked to them your mind was elsewhere, you glanced at his hand. you remained silent while you stared at it you didn’t even notice how focused you were, you didn’t even notice the thunder legion going downstairs for a quick bite to eat.

you held his hand in yours as the two of you sat side by side on the upstairs level of the guild. you noticed how rough his knuckles looked from all the punches he would through, and small scars littering his hands. your gaze game down to his nails and you gazed down at your own painted nails and you got the best idea.

“you should let me paint your nails.”

with in a heartbeat he responded “no.”

you groaned “come on it’ll be fun and it’ll look cute!”

“no.”

“i think you should let me paint them, they’ll look so nice too! besides your hands could use some tlc” you looked down at his hands and rose a single brow, a manicure was clearly needed for him. even if you couldn’t do anything about the scars the nails would at least spruce them up a little.

“i’m good.” he rolled his eyes at you but made no effort to remove his hand from your grasp.

you stared at him and he sighed feeling your eyes on him “tell me why i should let you paint my nails?”

“because i’m your s/o and you love me and you would do anything for me” you flashed him a grin and he rose a single brow in return “pleaseee.”

he sighed finally giving in, he his free hand down his face knowing he was going to regret his decision “fine.”

you led him out of the guild abiding “knowing” glances from some guildmates. you walked back to your house and gladly led him into your bedroom where you were going to paint his nails. you walked over to him with your box of nail polish clearly excited

“we can try any color you want maybe we could-”

he cuts you off tossing the black nail polish at you, you catch it easily and sigh “you’re so boring, i was hoping we could do a blue or something.”

“the second it chips you’re removing it.”

"killjoy."

˗ˏˋGAJEEL REDFOX

another hardheaded one

tell him it’ll make him look likea rockstar and he’ll be willing to hear you out

he’ll only go for black you could talk him into grey to match his metal magic but only if it’s a dark grey

you sat across from where he sat in the guildhall leaning close to him with a grin “i just had the best idea ever, you should let me paint your nails.”

he looked at you annoyed “im still waiting on your ‘best idea ever’.”

you rolled his eyes used to his attitude by now “im serious it would be fun! plusss you’ll look like a rockstar, a real rockin' one with a stage presence.”

he rose a brow "what kind of rockstar wears nail polish?"

"a color-coordinated one. come on don't you wanna look nice for your next performance? if you don't like it we can take it off i promise." you silently begged with your eyes.

he sighed "fine if it gets you to stop your whining."

you cheered and grabbed his hand leading him to where you lived, he got comfortable in your bed while you rummaged around for some nail polish in your bathroom. you debated on shades of black and grey but you ultimately decided to bring all of them so he could have some options.

"okay so i have a few colors here which one are we feeling. maybe this one?" you held up a dark grey nail polish "or maybe this one?" you held up a light grey nail polish resembling the color of iron "or maybe-"

"well do this one" he cut you off and picked up the black nail polish

you took the black nail polish in your hand you couldn't complain much since the color would match his overall vibe, but you can't deny you were hoping to at least use some grey tones to match his iron.

"okay we can do black it'll look cute too." you take his hand in yours and smile at him, you focus intently on his nails. you knew the chances of him letting him do his nails again were low so you made sure to make his nails look perfect for the first and unfortunately the last time you'll be painting them.

he watched as you concentrated on his nails, you took great care in making sure you wouldn't mess up some nails it was honestly cute to him he couldn't help but snicker "you're really putting a lot of focus into some nails doll." he rested his free hand on his cheek and smirked at you.

"well duh, i have to make them look nice who knows when I'll be able to paint your nails again. if this is the first and last time i'm painting your nails they're gonna look cute ya know." you spoke while completely focusing on his nails.

he offered a hum as a response and let you finish working on his nails. once you finished his nails he gave you a kiss as payment.

a few days have passed by since you pained his nails, and once he saw them getting old he immediately walked over to your house and barged in "hey." he walked past you lounging on your couch, ignoring your confused expression, he walked into your bathroom then flopped down onto the couch next to you with nail polish removal and the black nail polish in his hands.

"they're gettin old wanna fix 'em up for me doll?"

˗ˏˋBICKSLOW

he’s down for it the second you suggest it

he mainly prefers colors that would match his whole theme any colors that he thinks would throw it off he won’t mess with em

he asks you to do it again once they start looking old he makes you redo them

the two of you were hanging out at your house, he’s at your house more than yours it was like he lived there at this point. you were lounging on your couch mindlessly talking about everything and anything. you looked down at his hands and a light bulb went off in your head

“you should let me paint your nails, we could make them match your babies too.”

he shrugged "okay let's do it."

you flashed him a smile and gently kissed his lips "I'm gonna get the nail polish i'll be right back." you padded off to your bathroom and went through your nail polish basket, you couldn't decide between purples, greens, and some oranges, although you felt like the orange was a stretch. you shrugged and brought him all the colors you walked back to the couch with various nail polish colors in your arms, and you dumped them on the couch in between the two of you.

"i couldn't decide on one color so i brought multiple! you can pick which one you want though."

he looked down at all the colors you bought and settled on a dark purple "this would match my helmet wouldn't it?" he grins and handed you the purple nail polish.

you took his hand in yours and took care in painting his nails, he watched as you painted his nails his great care "you're really focused there babe."

you snickered "well yeah i don't want your babies making fun of your nails because they're sloppy." he laughed along with you and leaned to gently kissed your forehead.

"i can't focus if you're kissing me bix" you smiled and spoke without taking your eyes off his nails.

he laughed and smiled at you "and what if i don't want you focused?" you looked up at him and sent him a playful glare "do you want your nails to look like a mess or do you want them to look nice?" he leaned in closer to you "whatever gets your attention onto me."

"so needy" you teased while giggling and gave him a soft kiss on the lips "i'm almost done with your nails then I'll be all yours."

˗ˏˋBACCHUS GROH

he was drunk and he was just talkin

he was the one who suggest you even painted his nails when he was playing with your hand and noticed your nail polish and randomly suggested it

he traced along your hands giving them great focus despite his drunken state "let's paint our nails to match it'll wild baby." you giggled at his state "are you sure you want me to paint your nails? you're pretty drunk right now i'd doubt you'd even remember this."

he laughed loudly "do y'a know who you're talking to baby? bein' drunk is my magic." he pulled you off to the stool you were sitting on at the bar and led you home, or he assumed he was the one leading he started wobbling within a few steps so you had to lead him instead.

once you made it to your house you lead him to your bedroom where he could sit on your bed so you could paint his nails "i feel like a nice purple would suit you." you spoke to him from the bathroom raising your voice slightly so he could hear you, he hummed a response.

you hopped onto your bed with the nail polish in hand and took his hand in yours "make em look nice baby i wanna show the guys how wild i am" he emphasized his guilds motto with a small yell and a grin on his face causing you to laugh "hold still so i can do em right."

he grinned at you "come on say it with me baby these nails are gonna be" you playfully rolled your eyes at him but spoke his guilds mantra in unison "wild!"

you laughed and brought your focus back to his nails, while you did his nails he spoke mindlessly. it was becoming obvious that he was just talking so he could stay awake all the drinks he had was catching up to him. once his nails dried he carefully laid down not wanting to ruin your handiwork.

he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and newly painted nails, he slowly sat up groaning when he noticed you sleeping by his side he froze. you stirred in your sleep and slowly opened your eyes.

he leaned down to kiss your forehead "mornin' baby. did we paint my nails yesterday? i don't remember much after the bar." he squinted in thought "or was it before the bar..."

you giggled "yes i did paint your nails bacchus you asked me to do them."

he looked down at his nails and smirked "they're wild baby."

[milksnake-tea]

Hi, can I request from Nanook or Yaoshi

Gn reader

Headcannon or Scenario like them giving kisses/affection to their reader

giving affection

characters: nanook

contains: fluff !! nanook is emotionally constipated tho

a/n: decided to do just nanook this time bc yaoshi gives a lot of affection in a lot of my other works lol, hope you don't mind! ngl not the happiest w this piece but is okay i can always edit it later <3

Alright, I'll be real with you, affection isn't really Nanook's thing. Like, they're bad at it. Real bad at it.

Aeons are often tied to their paths, Nanook especially. They haven't felt anything other than a need to destroy and kill for many millennia. Their hands are made to hurt, not to hold. They didn't even remember that they had a heart before you came around.

So you'll have to be patient with them. Nanook knows that they should show even the slightest bit of their attachment for you, and they do want to, it's just that they don't know how.

They take being emotionally constipated to the next level, but they do try. It starts out with little things, such as letting you hold onto them, or keeping a hand at your back to keep you close. Sometimes, they'll brush your hair back behind your ear, and other times, they'll hesitantly press a soft kiss to your temple.

Nanook isn't a talker, never was. Because of this, they'll rarely, if ever, tell you outright that they love you. Their love comes in other forms, such as protection and physical touch.

Nanook can come off as a distant lover, but the few moments where they choose to let down their walls remind you just how much they care for you.

"You're awfully touchy today," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Nanook's head. The Aeon simply grunted in response, embracing you from behind as they bury their face into your neck.

They pepper soft kisses and nips across your skin, closing their eyes as they drink you in. Their hands are tight around your waist, firm but never overwhelming.

You giggle as they nuzzle their way up to your cheek, nipping at your earlobe before resting their chin on your shoulder. You pet their head, fingers threading through their surprisingly soft hair - unfit for an Aeon of Destruction, but Nanook was never one to care about what they should or shouldn't be.

They hum as you do so, blinking open their eyes, gazing out into the cosmos.

"Too long," they mutter quietly, so quietly that you almost missed it. You looked up at them, silently prompting them to continue. Nanook leans back, bringing you with them.

"Too long since I've last seen you," they clarified, returning their gaze to you. You leaned your head against them, smiling as you twirled a braid around your finger. "I assumed you'd missed me."

"Is that why you're acting like this?" you ask, letting the braid fall back against Nanook's wound.

Nanook's chest rumbled against you as they hummed. "Are you complaining?"

You laugh airily, the faintest hint of a smile drifting onto Nanook's face as they watched you.

"No, of course not." You snuggled your cheek against theirs, kissing their cheek. Nanook seemed to be satisfied that, merely closing their eyes and returning to their spot at your neck.

You closed your eyes alongside them, savoring their presence for as much as you could. You knew that they would have to leave eventually, leaving you with the Legion for who knows how long. They always did.

But that was fine, because it made these moments all the more precious.

[moodymisty]

How do you think various legions would react to a primarch's lover? Especially if they're mostly a regular mortal. We got a hint of it with your Guilliman piece, so I'm biased and wonder what other headcanons you have for how the Ultramarines reacting to Guilliman's lover. Any ideas you have for Angron, Perturabo, and Dorn would be great to read too! 💙❤️💛

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

[ Part 2, Part 3 ]

Author's Note: So, I might've gotten carried away. I decided to just do the ones you mentioned, but I have drafts for the other legions so if anyone is interested in seeing those as well, feel free to say. I hope this is what you were looking for, and that you enjoy :3

Relationships: Implied Perturabo/Gn!Reader, Angron/Gn!Reader, Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader (because of the term 'lady'), Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader (because of the term 'lady')

Warnings: None really apart from the toxicity that's expected of romancing a Primarch, Typical 40kness

➧ Iron Warriors:

Absolutely not lmao. Haul ass if you see these guys look at you funny.

The legion of brutal industrialism isn't going to tolerate their Primarch thinking of anything beyond the scope of their ambitions for war. Part of you swears it's something that's just hard wired into them.

So while you might love Perturabo, his legion does not love you. Asking for respect would be a joke. Perturabo might be able to beat them into not saying anything, but they have to hold their tongues quite hard between their teeth.

Needless to say, your first introduction hadn't gone well. It's not a scene you want to remember.

It's all sort of a cruel irony; Given Perturabo has always had desires beyond being just a war machine, but his legion treats his foray into love with the same horrible attitude that Perturabo has come to viciously hate about them.

It all makes you feel like you're wedged between two massive walls. Perturabo is borderline obsessive over you, but his Legion treats you as if you're a plague upon their Primarch. Neither is willing to budge on the matter. The walls keep squeezing closer and closer together, and you're trapped right in the middle. You sometimes wonder who is going to snap first.

Most of them just actively ignore you, which you won't complain about. You give most of them- apart from a few of the more amicable Iron Warriors- quite a wide berth. The less time around them the better.

Just let Perty be happy, man.

➧ Imperial Fists:

The way Dorn's legion treats you- you would call it suffocatingly overprotective, but Dorn and his legion call it otherwise. This legion takes everything stupidly seriously. If you leave, you are expected to leave with a retinue of guards, and return by a set time. You will be dragged back if you don't. Your location is known at all times, and while it's reassuring at times to feel safe, at time it feels, stifling.

Though, you knew what you were getting into; So you suppose you can't really complain. You can appreciate that they seem to not think too poorly of you, considering your stature. Being a baseline human amongst Astartes and Primarchs isn't easy, but at least they act somewhat blasé about it. Though it might just be their general dispositions.

They speak to you with the level of formality Dorn orders of them, no more no less. Some of them are a bit confused why The Praetorian even indulges in something like romance, but they don't ask questions. As long as it doesn't interfere with Dorn's ability to do his duty. Any doubts are kept firmly to themselves unless they feel it needs to be brought to attention.

They still treat the Lady of the Imperial Fists with decorum, and some, dare say, even enjoy your company. Communicating with them is certainly interesting however given their stalwart nature. Getting one to crack their neutral expression at a joke is a popular pasttime of yours.

You don't mind it all... Too much. To be respected and protected by them, to even have some you would consider friends- or some odd blending of the term, given some of them have begun referring to you as mother- is something that makes you happy and so unbelievably lucky in this galaxy.

So while it's rigid, it at least makes sense. Dorn makes it up to you by building you your own library room. Don't ask why there isn't any windows.

➧ World Eaters:

Babe, your Primarch has a legion named the 'World Eaters', what do you think is gonna happen?

But to be serious, it probably isn't the worst Legion to be pulled into- but not by much. The World Eater Astartes are desperate to gain the eye and approval of their genesire, so if scorning you squanders that, then they will accept your existence and bite their tongues. Somewhat.

Khârn specifically doesn't enjoy that his Primarch is distracted by such pursuits.

However he's not going to say he isn't somewhat impressed that you are able to stand ground against Angron as he towers near double your height. You would be nothing but a bug beneath his boot if Angron lost control of the nails for even a moment, but Khârn won't scoff at your ability to hold your expression and not completely crumble whenever he turns your way. You seem to understand the Nucerian Primarch well. Not many within his legion can even claim that honor.

Beyond that however, he wants little more to do with Angron's temporary pursuit, same as his battle brothers. Overtime perhaps he might warm a tad, but don't expect it.

You don't spend much time around them at all. You make them angry for shifting the priorities of their Primarch to things as frivolous as love and lust, and they make you sad as you watch them slowly destroy themselves for little more than bloodlust.

A tragedy, Angron and his legion is. You try not to think about it all too much.

➧ Ultramarines:

The Ultramarines have a distinct attitude for you, as Guilliman choosing a beloved wasn't a decision that was taken lightly. It takes time, and while they respect you at first, overtime they'll grow to trust you and even grow fond of you. Titles like Lady of the Ultramarines and Lady Guilliman weight heavy on you, but at least your shock wears off over time. They are still hilariously formal even if they call you titles like 'Legion Mother', and encouragement for them to not act so stiff falls on deaf ears.

They do have their moments where they stop being such terrible sticks in the mud and joke around, and you've noticed they get weirdly prideful if they're the one to make you laugh.

You remember once when Guilliman had left you with one of his lieutenants, you were watching some men getting used to their new Terminator armor. The lieutenant had muttered in disappointment under his breath that one man looked like he had a metal support beam firmly lodged from ass to helm, and you'd snorted into a full laugh. When Guilliman returned, he asked what you'd said when he was gone; Remarking that the lieutenant looked as if he was about to lead a military parade with how puffed he seemed.

There's no time now where there isn't a set of transhuman eyes on you, and part of you wonders the things Guilliman has seen that makes him so willing to splurge such valuable resources.

That's not to say the Ultramarines don't have their doubts about their Primarch's relationship however, at least in a logistical sense. It's mostly thoughts kept to themselves, or spoken by a Captain or Commander to Guilliman in private.

It's not as if they're angry their Primarch is happy, but a normal un-augmented human, one that under the lens of a massive crusade- you are effectively nothing more than a defenseless tool to be used against their Primarch. This behavior and thought process gets dialed up and stays for longer if you're dealing with 41st Millennium Ultramarines, given their zealotry towards their gene-sire's supposed divinity.

The Ultramarines are by far one of the better Legions to 'marry' into so to speak. They are organized, respectful, and many even slowly come to treat you as a sort of respected figure. Many will defend you with everything they have without hesitation. They have their doubts, but you'll admit they are reasonable doubts for them to have.

[ok-sims]

Things in Good Omens 2 I still find weird after maaaaany rewatches

Yep, brace yourselves, it's exactly what's in the title:

Maggie making the spelling mistake ("urgrency") in one of the very first scenes of S2.

It is in the very first scene set in the present day. It is the first time we are presented to Maggie. And the spelling mistakes being very much connected to demons all through the season (specially in The Ball episode, with the note about the "angles" and Shax spelling "T-O-S-T-E", not to mention Furfur mispelling Aziraphale's name in 1941).

It is stands out so much because Maggie's mispelling is never brought up again, but the demons' is. And again, it was the audience's first contact with Maggie (even if she is offscreen). It might be just a callback joke (which does not make much sense to me, to be honest), it might be just red herring, or it might be to reinforce the "Maggie is a mirror to Crowley" theory (which does not make much sense to me either, because while Crowley is/was demon, we never see him making spelling mistakes himself).

I'm honestly at loss about what was the intention here. Seens to specific to be just random, given the demons do it many times. My best guess is that it is pure and intentional red herring, to mess with us. But then again, what for?

Miss Cheng (specially in E5S2, "The Ball")

Since my first watch, the brief scene when Miss Cheng is entering the Bookshop for Aziraphale's thinly disguised excuse to have a Jane Austen ball, she has a very... particular look in her face. It is when the weather is getting darkier e gloomier, resembling Michael Jackson's "Thriller" videoclip, because Shax and her "legion" of demons are arriving. The thing is, Miss Cheng does not look afraid at all, or even like she is suspecting something is going on. Miss Cheng looks suspicious herself! I feel like this scene is off in so many levels. First of all, it did not need to be included at all. So why add this scene to the final cut? Miss Cheng does not have a very clear role in the narrative, while all the other shopkeepers have at least something that not only sets them apart from everyone else, but adds something to the narrative and/or callbacks something else in the series.

Beside the obvious Nina and Maggie, Ms Sandwich brings to the table the comical relief, Mr Brown is there to set the excuse for the Jane Austen ball, Mr Arnold provides the fancy classical music for the ball AND the Doctor Who jokes, Justine is an excuse to bring up Aziraphale's bad French again, and give us a callback to the Bastille scene in S1, and Mutt is a callback to the magic shop shown in the zombie minisode.

But Miss Cheng on the other hand brings none of those things. We don't even get to see what is her bussiness. Of course, her scene discussing Ms Sandwich's work is a delight, but honestly, it could have been any other character asking about Ms Sandwich's job. And opportunity to have Ms Sandwich ask what Miss Cheng's work was there, but it was not taken.

Now, the only other scene Miss Cheng is in focus is in the very end of E6S2, when Maggie and Nina decide to sit down with Crowley to have The Talk. Nina asks Miss Cheng to look after the coffeeshop for a few minutes. Again, seens kinda random to have Miss Cheng there, and I really think this specific scene, by itself, might not have any further meaning. But when viewed along her other scenes (and specific lack of better fleshing out, which was given to all other shopkeepers), it just seens weird. Again, might just be a red herring to mess with us, but Miss Cheng is presented in a very sus way.

Aziraphale not having a replacement

Odd phrasing, I know, but I could not find better words to describe it. We are presented very early on to Shax, who is replacing Crowley in his former job in Hell. Shax is an important character all through the season, yet we never get a hint at who is replacing Aziraphale's job vacancy. We don't even get a hint if there is a replacement, or if it was decided Heaven would not be replacing him. We just get radio silence about who is Heaven's representative in London now, or if something happed to that position and why. Maybe if Shax simply did not exist, it wouldn't have bothered me. But since she does, and it is made clear many times that she has Crowley's former job, it stands out to me that nothing is ever said or even alluded about Aziraphale's former job position.

There are some other things that stand out to me, but these are the more obvious ones to me. I would be delighted to hear other people's takes on these matters, as I might have missed something. Oh well, I guess here is my first piece of Good Omens meta.

[daisymeade]

Joining

day 1 : veilguard 30

9:41

It wasn't unheard of for a Legionnaire to join the Grey Wardens. Rare certainly, but they all knew about the rogue that had the honor to travel with the Hero of Orzammar. That wasn't why Sidrin had decided to approach Stroud at Skyhold though.

This was the second time his bro- the King had sent the Legion top-side to fight their ancient enemy, first in Denerim and now here. He hated the sun, the too thin air, and all this...snow, but these foolish Wardens clearly needed help from a level-head. The dying are desperate and prone to rashness but the dead understand the steady effect of the chisel.

The stone beneath his feet hummed and a flutter of anxiety fluttered through him. When would he lose his Stone sense? Could he save it somehow? He thought about asking Gatsi once he was finished with his task. The hum continued and the feeling ebbed away, replaced with calm. This is what he needed to do. It was important, moreso than he could understand right now.

"Thorne?"

Sid came back to himself, to Stroud staring at him, the Joining chalice held expectantly in his hand. He looked over then. Gwa-gatot. His fellow recruit, the human who'd flooded his own village during the Blight, was dead on the floor. Blood and bile pooled around his face and Sidrin felt a pang of sympathy.

Come on, Sid. You're forty-seven, you've seen plenty of people die. This is just some human you barely met. I should have been paying attention. You're already fitting in top-side. Becoming a soft, sun-touched wimer...

"Thorne," said Stroud again, a sharp edge in his voice now. Danger.

See? He thinks so too.

Sidrin sneered, resisting the urge to snatch the chalice from the hand of this troll-kin who constantly sounded like he had something stuck in his throat, much like the rest of his kinsfolk.

A single Legionnaire saw more death and horror than these top-side Wardens could ever comprehend. Dead men didn't know cowardice or panic.

He would show them a better way.

The potion burned like magma down his throat and the song curdled.

[dateless-bar]

The Great Crusade Café | Concept Design

You can just watch the video which has a detailed description as well as the tour. I used Chinese dubbing with English subtitles, so make sure you have the subtitles turned on while watching.

CAFÉ FOR ASTARTES! | Fan Idle Game: The Great Crusade Café Concept Design

The Great Crusade Café

Productivity Tool& Idle Game Fanart Project (Concept Design Only)

Concept design: Gameplay

[Intro & Setting]

When a user first opens the web page, the name The Great Crusade Café will appear. After clicking, you can start by naming the café owner, which is the role you will play.

Then, as the owner, you will be asked to choose the tasks you want to undertake in reality for today. The default name here is John.

The purpose of this web page is to provide users with a leisurely and comfortable café white noise. It allows you to enjoy such an atmosphere whether you are reading or translating WH novels. Additionally, café-themed white noise has been proven by studies to increase efficiency for people. Therefore, you can also use it while working or painting miniature models.

After setting a task, you can officially enter the management of the café within the game. Don't worry, you can change the current task being undertaken at any time, just below the time displayed in the top right corner. And if you feel that the display of time might make you anxious, you can also turn it off in the settings.

[Coffee System]

After today's business starts, you can choose to make a cup of coffee for yourself first. By clicking on the coffee cup under the coffee machine, you can make a cup of your favorite drink for yourself.

Recaff is precisely the coffee beverage commonly found in the "Siege of Terra" series of novels. And various other drinks also have their unique origins.

After deciding which type of coffee to make, we can choose options like the milk to use based on our personal preference.

This will result in a steaming hot cup of coffee.

After each cup of coffee is made, hovering the mouse over the coffee cup icon will start a 2-hour timer. However, after one hour, the steam on the coffee cup will disappear. And when the timer finally reaches zero, you will know that two hours have passed. Setting a 2-hour timer aligns with the time unit of the Pomodoro Technique. If you want to use the web page as an efficiency tool, you can make good use of this feature.

[Character Visiting]

After making a cup of coffee for yourself, naturally, various characters will be attracted to the café and its aroma. They usually greet you directly and place their orders. But sometimes, you will need to guess their preferences based on the characters' personalities. If you have read many related novels, you will have a unique advantage in this aspect.

For example, people from Caliban would drink black tea. Commanders stationed on Terra, on the other hand, prefer bitter coffee, among other things. Additionally, some special drink recipes need to be purchased or unlocked through gifts from characters.

After fulfilling the characters' needs, their Trust will increase.

Subsequently, they often spend some time in the café, and during this period, you can engage in conversation with them. As the Trust increases, the topics they bring up will also vary.

For instance, Loken might talk to you about Mr. Sindermann's lectures, while Argel Tal could bring up his friend Khârn. Ahriman might mention that the café was recommended to him by his human friend Gaumon.

This often unlocks more characters. After all, the café's reputation is always spread by word of mouth among friends.

And some rarer characters, I mean, like a Primarch, might require the trust of everyone in the legion.

After increasing trust levels, besides more conversations and characters, there will also be an important matter.

Once trust levels reach their peak, characters will give you a variety of gifts, including decorative items. For example, members of the Thousand Sons always like to give you various books, regardless of whether you can understand them or not.

But you can use some of them as decorations inside the café.

This can sometimes be key to unlocking rare characters. Of course, you can also purchase various decorations and drink recipes at any time from the itinerant merchant in the upper left corner of the screen.

And if you complete the current task setting and change the task, most of the characters present will express encouragement and approval towards you.

[Bulletin Board & Character Book]

Each character stays for a different amount of time. Many of them are very busy with numerous affairs. However, you can find clues of their visits on the bulletin board.

Almost every customer who has visited the café leaves something behind on this bulletin board. For example, stickers, messages, or even advertisements.

Hovering the mouse over specific items will display detailed explanations and descriptions.

You can also find information about the visitors in the customer notes, where all guest information is recorded.

However, characters that have not yet been unlocked will be displayed as "unsigned".

[Weather System]

Additionally, some sufficiently important characters, if they are very satisfied with your café, they will grant you access rights.

This privilege allows you to open cafés in different areas, such as on battleships, Terra, the Hive cities, and various other places.

As time passes, the ambient light in the café will also change.

This also means that some special characters will only be unlocked at specific times. If you go from noon to night, you can see the nighttime view of the Hive city outside the window. As time progresses from afternoon to night, you can see the nighttime view of the Hive city from the window. And when midnight arrives, the starry sea above the deck will leave you in awe. In the central area of Terra, mornings always face the unchanging snowy mountains.

[Vinyl Records Player]

While running the café, you can always spin your vinyl records. This allows you to change the background music and even import your own favorite tracks. If you don't like the ambient chatter or the sounds of the coffee machine and cups, you can also turn them off here.

The above is a brief instruction for using "The Great Crusade Café".

The project is a purely conceptual design. As Games Workshop does not allow fanart creators to engage in programming or development. It is currently only presented in this form to everyone. It's worth mentioning that this design was inspired by a series of excellent projects, including VA-11 Hall-A, Coffee Talk, I Miss My Cafe, and Neko Atsume, etc. That's also why I chose to use a pixel art style in the project.

At the same time, I'd like to thank the pixel art artists who collaborated with me. Without you, this demo video wouldn't have been possible.

Finally, thank you for watching. If you enjoy research and artistic creations related to the Warhammer theme, feel free to follow my Youtube channel and X.

May your day always start with a great cup of coffee : )

[scribefindegil]

Obsessed with the POV choice in Imperial Radch as well, both because Leckie does some really wild stuff with how expansive the strict first-person is able to become due to the worldbuilding and who her narrator is, and because it's SO entangled with the central thematic concepts of identity. In the first book flashbacks when the narrator is still a warship, "I" can encompass so many things, and sometimes explicitly refers to different facets in the narration--is "I" Justice of Toren, or One Esk, or a specific segment, or Breq narrating from twenty years in the future? "I" isn't simple, isn't unified, and while this is most literal and obvious with Breq/One Esk/Justice of Toren and Anaander Mianaai's split factions it's true constantly throughout the work at every level of scope. Individual characters struggle with internal conflicts and hit their breaking points--what is it that makes someone decide they have to disobey orders and make a stand or they won't be themself anymore? How do you know who you are if you've been forcibly changed (Tisarwat) or if the world you knew has moved on and become unrecognizable (Seivarden)? How does a character on a colonized world navigate the split identity that comes from the pressure to assimilate to the dominant culture? And then there's the Radch writ large, all the Radchaai so deeply invested in the idea that there is only one true concept of Radchaai society, of civilization, but of course there isn't! It changes based on location and over time, and Breq muses that the Radchaai empire would be largely unrecognizable to the isolated sphere of the Radch itself. In these books, even if you aren't the last remnant of a destroyed spaceship and its legion of bodies, "I" is such a complicated concept and the narrative never lets you forget it.

[merymoonbeam]

people call elriel cliche because of 3x3. I mean where are all the sisters ending up with brothers books I am seem to be missing???. anyways... but if elriel is endgame it means sarah wrote the books that well that they are all fated.

like from this first acotar quote:

“May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters,” said the pale-robed young woman directlyin our path. (acotar)

to these:

“My father,” Rhys said, swirling his wine once—twice, “saw that his son had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned.” (acomaf)

He gave her that grin I realized likely meant trouble was coming, but said to me, “No. I don’t—not beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.” Rhys sat forward like he’d object, but Cassian forged ahead, “Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a halfbreed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” (acomaf)

Amren shook her head, hair swaying. “Nothing is a fluke. The Cauldron’s power flows through Nesta, and could use her as a puppet without her knowledge. It wanted those weapons Made, and thus they were Made. It wanted Rhysand to have them and thus the blacksmith brought them to you. To you, Rhysand, not to Nesta. And do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own. Feyre alone doubles your strength. Nesta makes you unstoppable. Especially if she were to march into battle wearing the Mask. No enemy could stand against her. She’d slay Beron’s soldiers, then raise them from the dead and turn them on him.” (acosf)

especially to this:

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

which this quote directly parallels to Feyre questioning in acowar, questioning who decides it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.” “I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …” (acowar)

all these quotes hinting that it is all "not a fluke" . Maybe it is all for a reason you know.

also if you don't get it...being mates is not even the question here. it is not even about that. it is about who is fated to be together when we all know sometimes mate pairings are wrong:

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

[bl4z33467]

(Cracks knuckles) Alright folks I remember how to draw

Fat fuck Vulpes by yours truly, Blaze Lander. Inspired by the lovely drawing by @yourmateyoya ,egged on by @legions-top-dog , and because i force you to deal with all my shitty drawings, @noomycatz

Yes, once again, i have put too much effort into a shitpost. Roughly 2 hours as I reused a canvas on ibis paint for a 5th drawing lmao

Yall can burn me at the stake later lol

Process below hehe i like to ramble

And just because i like to talk about my drawing process for characters with complex outfits, this is how my lobotomy brain does it:

First i do silly fun colored sketch. I use different colors to differentiate the "skeleton" from the, euh, fleshy bits, and the clothing. You can see lots of lines that would not be shown in the final product so it makes it confusing to look at.

Next i do a clean sketch.

This is where i clean up everything before doing the final lines. I use one color and a thin brush to make it easier to line over. Here i add any extra bits (like the top football armour) and "render the physics" as i call it, so properly drape cloth and the uhhh squish of stupid fat fuck vulpes' boobs and stomach. I also will balance the drawing here by flipping it and redrawing or using the drag tool.

Next is lining.

For this drawing, i used a 9.0 digital pen with a taper. Its my standard :þ. I kept my pen at the same size for this piece. Sometimes i line the outside darker to make the drawing stand out more. I decided not to as i wanted to give the drawing a more "serious" tone. (How serious can this be though lol-)You may notice on the arms little bits of the lines are missing, thats because i gave him some arm hair. I like make little details like that show over the lines. But since the one shading technique i used works with clipping masks, i had to but the arm hairs on a layer lower than the line art. Next is colour:

I colour in the drawing with midtones. Simple as. I tried to stick with warm colours besides his eyes, which are grey blue. Idc if they arent, im too lazy to google it. I mostly use flat colors but i did make his shirt a gradient. Next is do simple cell shading:

Depending on how i feel i shade with or without the colours in the back. I went with a sorta "non decrepit" light source here. Didnt want too much intensity. I used a deep marronish orange on a multiply layer on 45% opacity. Soft shading/lighting next:

I get intense with the soft shading. I use the airbrush with a deep maroon to add dark gradient and airbrush with a light pink to add a bit more depth. I usually use less light and more dark because im evil i like the intensity. I keep the layer the same amount of opacity and multiply it with the darks and soft light for the lights. Next are the shine highlights:

I use the dip pen hard with a taper to add light highlights of white on shiny bits like metal and eyes. I uses pure white, set the layer to 25% opacity, and use normal blending.

I also shade the lines because it makes the lines softer. I use a clipping layer on the line art, set the whole thing to a dark grey, and airbrush in darker and lighter parts. (I felt like a picture wasnt needed cuz its hard to notice.

For the background, i used a dark red i stole from the cell shaded layer, drew a vine pattern with the kaleidoscope ruler, and added a vignette. Vignettes are my cheat code for background hehe~ it makes the subject stand out while keeping suave, seriousness and formality. To make a subject pop out more, put the vignette behind the character but in front of the background. For more intensity but it on top of both.

Also- I usually draw with a level 10 stabilizer (i got shaky hands) but i drew with a 2 stabilizer so im surprised it came out so smoothly-

Also i gave him goggle tan lines because if i have to have them from playing tennis with sunnies, so does he.

[silverwings22]

Forget-Me-Not Blue, In Red (Commander Fox One-Shot)

SFW, but injury, Order 66, and angst

This idea hit me out of nowhere, and I don't know if it'll turn into anything bigger like my Tech one-shot did. But have fun with it!

He’d woken up to the truth a little slower than some of his brothers, but Fox had woken up eventually. The Republic, the war, the Empire, it was all a farce put together to turn the galaxy upside down in someone else’s image. He and his kin had simply been the bullet in a loaded slugthrower, and the order had been a finger on the trigger. 

Order 66. 

He’d been aimless afterwards, watching things shift around him. Smoke belched from the burning Jedi Temple for days, while he and the Coruscant Guard ensured order. There were riots, there were planets resisting… then there were TK troopers and suicide missions as clones were phased out. Squad by squad, legion by legion, until no one was left between him and the chopping block. He’d always thought he’d go first, before the younger brothers. The shinies, the ones he looked after and protected. He’d always taken the first week of any posting when a new delegate requested a clone guard detail, so he could see what they were like. The bad ones got older, hardened brothers who could take it. He’d never let little brothers suffer under someone like Palpatine… that’s why he’d stayed so long. He could have transferred, there was one posting he’d always wanted… but he stayed. He took the abuse, the bruises and scars, the unexplainable gaps in his memory, the injuries that looked like lightning strikes on a planet that didn’t have lightning… 

He’d done it for his brothers. Now, most of them were gone. Some turned up dead, on missions or in the barracks without explanation besides a cold look from an Imperial officer. Others just went missing. There were rumors, whispered between clones, of a place you could go and words you could say. If you went, you didn’t come back. Like tales of fae on Stewjon, the mysterious Other Ones would whisk you to a new place. What it was, no clone had returned to tell. Some were willing to risk it. After a year under the Empire, Fox was willing to risk it. 

It was a derelict hangar bay in the lower mid levels. The instructions had said come alone, with only what he could carry and to give up the rest. “I’m looking for a ride home.” He said quietly, just enough he hoped someone heard. He hoped someone came, and it wasn’t a trap to weed out the traitors among the clones. His only answer then would be a blaster bolt to the chest for treason-

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.”

“Fox?”

The sound of footsteps made him turn, and he found himself looking at 501st blue paint on the white standard armor. Jaig eyes were on the helmet, covered in tally marks to represent fallen brothers… he knew that armor. His comrade, his friend, his brother. “Rex?”

“Fox.” Rex pulled his helmet off, revealing his blonde buzz cut and a new scar on the right temple. “I was hoping you’d show up one day.”

“The reports said you were dead.” Fox reached for his arm with unsteady hands, clasping Rex tightly. If the captain noticed his hands were shaking, he didn’t comment. 

“It’s better if the Empire thinks that. Come on. You’re safe now, vod.”

When Rex took him off Coruscant, Fox was whisked to a field hospital. He wasn’t even sure what planet he was going to, Rex apologizing when he told him the secrecy was needed. “There’s a chip in your head, vod. That’s why you carried out the Order. We have to take it out, and make sure you’re okay before you decide what you do with the rest of your life.”

“What have other clones been doing?” Fox asked, sitting blindfolded in a seat of a shuttle beside him. 

“Some decided to keep fighting. There’s a resistance, mostly clones but with some nat-born help. Others have been retiring. They’re exhausted. I can’t blame them… some go to a place a couple friends of mine found, called Pabu. Others have settled on Pantora. Senator Chuchi’s been helping us.”

“I can’t go to Pantora.” Fox said, too fast and he knew it.

“Did something happen, Fox?”

“I did something… during the Order. Something unforgivable.”

Rex patted his brother’s shoulder. “We all have regrets. It wasn’t your fault, it was the control chip in your brain. We’ll get it out soon, and you’ll be free. I promise.”

Fox wanted to call his brother a liar. He’d never be free from what he’d done. He wanted to confess right there, but his jaw locked and his throat closed at the memory of the night the Republic fell. “C-can I tell you?” He finally managed to rasp. “You should know… who you’re saving. What I’ve done.”

“You’re my brother, Fox. That’s all that matters.” Rex said it kindly, but Fox didn’t feel like he deserved any of it. “But I’m listening.”

Fox nodded, fists clenched in his lap. With the blindfold on, he could imagine every word he spoke as he stuttered out the story. The worst thing he’d ever done, the reason he had to get out of the Empire.

Kandri Chitose had been Senator Riyo Chuchi’s personal assistant, a golden-eyed beauty who always wore her rose-pink hair in a set of twin buns held with golden pins. He’d met her when Chuchi requested a clone detail for her, and Fox had arrived for his customary week-long observation. 

Most delegates, even the nice ones, didn’t address the clones at first. Most were nervous being around military personnel, and didn’t know how to break the ice. Some were intimidated. Many just didn’t view the clones as people, and acted accordingly. 

She’d offered him a cup of caf before he was fully in her office. “Good morning!” She’d been balanced precariously on a stool, set in a rolling desk chair, trying to reach the bag of caf on top of her office shelf. “Hold on a moment, I’ll make us both a cup if you’d like. My menace of a brother came to visit and he put my caf all the way up here! Do you like caf? I have tea if you’d prefer.”

“Do you need help, ma’am?” He could only watch her on the tippy toe of one foot, blue calf disappearing under her red dress. Her favorite color, he’d find out eventually. 

“I think I’ve- aha! Got it.” She clambered down with a smile. The gold tattoos on her face formed a bar over her nose and triangles on her chin and cheekbones. “Now then. I’m Kandri. What’s your name, and please don’t tell me a CT number. I get mixed up with numbers, but I’m good with names.” 

“Commander Fox, ma’am.” 

She held out a hand to shake, and her nails were painted red. He’d remember that polish forever. “It’s nice to meet you, Commander. Caf or tea?”

“Caf is fine, but you don’t have to go to the trouble-”

“It’s not trouble. There’s creamers in the fridge by my desk, pick whichever you like.” She headed to the caf maker and got it going with deft fingers. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever put creamer in caf.” He frowned, but took his helmet off so he could at least enjoy the offering she was so insistent on giving him.

She wrinkled her nose. “To each his own. If you ever change your mind, it’s right there. Here’s the sugar. Now, I know they didn’t tie up a Commander like you to babysit little me, so you must have stuff you need to get done. Can you do it here, or should we go to your office after caf? I can work anywhere. Riyo just has me drafting her speeches today.”

By the end of the week, Fox almost didn’t leave the posting. She made him caf every morning, and let him get work done. When there was time, she asked him about himself and his brothers. And he’d tried every creamer in her fridge.

He assigned her a shiny, because he knew she’d be good to his little brother. She’d given him her comm frequency and told him he had an open invitation to have caf in her office, and to call her if he ever needed anything.

Fox infamously didn’t like people. He liked Kandri after that. 

He didn’t intend to call her. He felt bad as he dialed the frequency, but it was 0300 and he had no one else to call for help. She hadn’t asked any questions, just showed up at the senate building in a red peacoat over her white nightgown, feet in a pair of ballet flats. He was on the bottom of the stairs with a broken foot and gash over his eye. Kandri had pulled his weight, armor and all, onto her narrow shoulders and helped him to her office so she could take a look at him. She’d cleaned his cut and put a bacta patch on it, then tried to argue with him that he needed to go to the hospital. 

He feigned embarrassment and told her he’d fallen down the stairs. Kandri had put her hands on her hips and stared him down, her hair out of its buns and falling in gentle waves down almost to her waist. He’d never thought about how pretty she was until then, in her pajamas with no makeup, golden eyes bright with worry. He eventually did let her take him in her skycar to the garrison medbay across the city sector, where she’d sat with him until a clone medic set and put his foot in a boot. Then she’d driven him to the barracks, taken one look at how many stairs he’d have to manage, and shook her head. “You can sleep on my couch, Fox. Call Thire and tell him you’ll be out until you’re better.”

“I can’t let everything pile up on him, Lady Chitose-” 

“Then I’ll pick up your datapad tomorrow and you can call it light duty. But you need to rest, or your foot won’t heal right. And please… just call me Kandri?”

After his foot healed, he made time to see her more often. She always had a cup of caf and a smile for him. Sometimes she picked up lunch for herself and Senator Chuchi and “got an extra” that always coincided with something he’d mentioned wanting to try or liking before. He watched her, bit by bit, moderate herself for him. 

If he mentioned that a certain phrase reminded him of the senator that threw a full cup of hot caf across the room at him or a brother, that phrase disappeared from her vocabulary. If he mentioned a delegate who mistreated clones, she stepped between them and her shiny guard the next time they met in the hall. Fox noticed, if he didn’t see it live he’d find out on security holo review later. Bit by bit, she showed him she was safe. She was kind. She could be trusted. 

Eventually, he started letting her visit his office after hours, when he was catching up on things and no one else was there. She sat in the chair by his desk, moving it closer day by day… until one day she was sitting on the desk corner itself. His helmet was sitting beside her, and her hand rested lightly on it. 

“Fox?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you get that scar across the bridge of your nose?” Her voice had been so quiet, so fretful and hesitant. Like she was afraid she’d scare him off.

He paused, stylus in hand, and looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I see how many other ones you have. Your hands, your arms under your blacks, your chest… when you stayed at my apartment, I could see there were so many…”

“I’m a soldier, Kandri. Scars are a part of the job.”

Her pink eyebrows furrowed, red painted lips parting as she fixed her eyes on him. “Fox. I know you didn’t fall down the stairs that night.” 

Fox stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do.” She slowly leaned a little closer. “I see you. The first one to step between your brothers and danger. The last one to back down. You didn’t even flinch when that Zillo creature attacked this building, but you twitch when we pass certain senators in the hall. You look around when you hear the Chancellor’s voice. And you’re a clone commander, the most graceful and battle-ready people in the galaxy. You didn’t fall. Someone pushed you. Tell me who.”

“I can’t do that.” He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. 

“But they hurt you.”

“I’m a soldier. A clone. We’re meant to be expendable.”

“That’s not fair, Fox.” Kandri kept leaning in, though her hand on his helmet tightened its grip. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve it.”

“Lots of people think so.” He swallowed hard. He had an idea of what she was going to say next, and he wanted to hear it just as much as he didn’t. Once the words came out of her mouth, he’d never forget them. They’d mean too much to him.

“I would never hurt you.” Kandri whispered. “But I know you can’t believe that. Too many people have already let you down.” 

He’d never been more seen than that moment, in the light of those golden eyes. There was no formality or procedure to hide behind. He’d already let her in too close, he couldn’t close the door again. “I want to believe you.” He admitted. 

“Would you let me try to prove it?” 

The galaxy had moved much too fast when he nodded. “... how?”

“Like this.” She’d kissed him, so soft and sweet and unlike anything he’d known since the day he came out of the growth tube. She pulled back after a moment, checking his expression for hesitation or distaste. When she found none, her cheeks flushed indigo and she slowly reached up to cup his face in both her hands. He closed his eyes when her thumbs stroked under them, tracing his scar and temples, where his black hair had started to gray far too early even for a man with accelerating aging. “I would never hurt you.” She said softly. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” 

He was one of millions of men, made to die indistinguishably as numbers on a strategy board. He’d accepted it in his exhausted way, told himself he’d do what he could for as long as he could to keep the vod’ikase safe. But for a moment, under Kandri’s soft blue hands, he felt like he might actually matter. He didn’t quite believe, but he wanted to.

Her second kiss was on his forehead. He adored her after that.

Stolen kisses during caf time turned to sneaking out of the barracks into her apartment, or either of their offices. Riyo Chuchi wasn’t stupid, she knew there was more than a friendship and simply let Kandri off the hook early some days. If her skycar was still at the senate building when the Senator left… she didn’t say anything. 

Fox knew he was in love with her when she had to go back to Pantora for a month with Chuchi. She’d kissed him goodbye in an alcove behind the barracks, promising she’d be back soon. He’d missed her every single day, and thought about comming twice an hour at least. Only the reality that they both were working stopped him… but he found himself thinking about her constantly. Every petty jab from a senator who viewed him as barely more than a droid was easier to take when he imagined her rolling her eyes and whispering what an asshole she thought they were. Even the innate dread he felt whenever he was in Palpatine’s office eased slightly if he distracted himself with the thought she was coming back soon. 

The Chancellor had noticed. Fox should have realized that was odd. There was no outward sign, no change in behavior, he’d been sure of it. But Palpatine had looked suspicious, like he’d both anticipated Fox’s discomfort and felt slighted by its absence. He’d been worse than ever after that, but Fox ignored it. It didn’t matter. The job, the Republic, wasn’t his entire life anymore. It was just an assignment, something to get through so he could go back to where he wanted to be. Kandri waited on the other side of whatever shitty day he was having, with open arms. 

When she’d sent him a message that she was back, he’d asked Thorn to cover for him for the first time in his life. His brother had been delighted, grinning like a moron. “Please tell me you have a date. And please tell me it’s that cute Pantoran girl with the buns.”

“That’s classified.” Fox had left his helmet in his office, he was in such a rush. He never forgot equipment, and failed to give a fuck when he realized what he’d done. He’d get it again when he went back to work. All that mattered was getting to her apartment. 

Kandri had met him at the door, in a red sweater over her day dress, and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.” She’d whispered, snuggling into his chest. “It’s good to be home.” He’d understood then, that Pantora wasn’t her home anymore. He was, like she was his. He’d spent the whole night in her arms, lighter than he’d felt since he was a cadet. She was almost asleep on his chest when he kissed her rosebud pink hair and murmured. “I believe you.” 

Kandri had smiled, looking up at him in the dimness of her bedroom, the city lights from the window casting dynamic shadows across her face as she smiled at him. Her fingers trailed over the bridge of his nose. “I love you too.” 

“Execute Order 66.” 

When the Order went out, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His head was in a vice, his thoughts muddled and discoordinate. He’d walked out of his office with other members of the Coruscant Guard, up to Palpatine’s office. The window had been broken. There were dead Jedi, traitors. The 501st was marching on the Temple, and he was to catch any who escaped them. 

All Jedi had to die. 

It had been a blur. His boots on the ground, orders given, the sound of breathing in his helmet, and then he’d turned down into an alleyway. 

Two kids, barely more than ten or twelve, were clinging to each other. They were dressed in brown robes, with beaded braids by their ears. Next to them were a pair of Pantoran adults, a male and a female. They were comforting the padawans, clearly trying to help them. When he turned the corner, the woman stiffened at the sound of his boots. Before she even turned around, Fox had recognized her red dress. “Kandri.”

“Fox.” Kandri’s eyes were wide, but she looked relieved to see him. “What’s going on? These padawans said the Temple was attacked! We were out walking-” She took a step towards him, but froze when his blaster lifted. 

Run, Kandri. Run. Take the padawans, take the other Pantoran. Run. Memory begged her, but she hadn’t. She’d pushed the other Pantoran and children behind her. “Lofi… take them and go.”

Lofi. Her brother, the one who hid her caf. She talked about him, he was a disability advocate and teacher at the fiber arts college at Coruscant University. He was blind. She was so proud of him. They were twins. Fox remembered all the facts but he couldn’t lower the blaster. 

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.” His own voice had said, dull and uninflected, like he was complaining about the pre-programed weather and not pointing a blaster at her. 

Kandri’s eyes watered up with tears. “Fox… please.”

“You are a traitor to the Empire.” There hadn’t even been an Empire yet, but he’d said it like it had existed for decades. 

The tears spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. There were freckles across her nose, darker blue and barely visible in the dim alley light. A constellation all his own, or it had been. “I love you.” She whispered, because of course she had. What else could she have said, in the moment before he pulled the trigger? Before the blaster bolt struck her dead in the chest and she collapsed backwards, head slamming into the pavement. Sprawled on her back, one bun coming loose and dipping pink hair into a puddle, knees tucked together and one foot bare where the blast had knocked her right out of her shoe. 

He’d ripped his helmet off and vomited immediately, tears in his eyes. 

He’d shot her. He’d killed her.

Kandri. 

He wished she had run. He’d never have seen her again, and she’d have thought he was a child-hunting monster for the rest of her life but she would have been alive. Instead, she was dead in an alleyway. And Fox should have called it in, but he couldn’t make himself get any closer to the corpse of the woman who’d only this morning had been alive and sneaking him a breakfast pastry from a Senatorial banquet just because she knew he liked cinnamon. 

Fox had left her there, because he couldn’t make himself look at what he’d done.

When he finished the story, Rex just let him squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry, vod. I’m so sorry.”

After the chip was removed and he recovered, Fox didn’t know what to do with himself. He refused Pantora, he was hesitant about Pabu… so he decided to join Rex’s fight. Senator Chuchi was helping Rex, and it was a fight worthy of going to battle again. It was something he could imagine being proud of eventually, if he could ever be proud of anything he ever did again. 

No matter how much his vode assured him that the chip had forced his hand, he still remembered he’d been the one to pull the trigger. He’d hunted those padawans. He’d declared Kandri Chitose a traitor. He’d killed her for the very thing he’d fallen in love with, her willingness to stand between someone and what hurt them. She’d been willing to save someone. She’d saved him, and those padawans, and her brother. 

He couldn’t save her from himself.

“The base here is staffed with mostly clones, but there’s a couple civilian volunteers. Trace and Rafa Martez own the hangar you came to, you’ll see them. There’s a couple mechanics, one really smart and obnoxious droid technician, and a cleaner.” Rex explained, walking Fox in. “Don’t eat anything Howser says he cooked. Don’t stand near Gregor if he says he’s got an idea…. Anything else he should know, Vik?”

The bearded clone beside him, with gray eyes and a tired expression born of a place Fox had only heard whispered about, “Tantiss”, nodded. “Be nice to Kitty. Every clone in here will punch you if you make her cry.”

“Kitty?” Fox frowned. 

“She’s the cleaner. A couple of the guys who defected like you did found her barely alive on their way out. She had a sucking chest wound, but they had some spare bacta and managed to save her. She doesn’t talk, we’re not sure if she can’t or just won’t. But she makes little noises like a tooka, so we started calling her Kitty and she seems to like it.” Vik explained. “She looks after everyone, especially the new guys who just got out of the Empire. She likes to bring people food.” 

Fox nodded. “She sounds nice.”

Rex smiled. “I keep trying to get her to leave base, to see if we can find out who she is. She doesn’t seem to remember anything… but if anyone so much as mentions it, she hides. I found her in a walk in freezer once.”

“She didn’t get sick?” Fox frowned. 

Vik shook his head. “Pantorans can take the cold better than us.”

Fox winced, but nodded. 

“Here she comes. Someone must have told her we had a new arrival.” Rex nodded. 

Sure enough, coming from the back of the base was a Pantoran girl with pink hair tied into a messy braid. She was wearing what looked like clone blacks bottoms and an undershirt, with a gray poncho tucked into her belt, and too-big boots, while very proudly carrying a tray of fruit. Vik smiled as she got close enough to make out the details of her face. “Hey, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty made a definitively tooka-like purr-myrr sound and held up the tray towards him. 

Rex nodded. “She’ll get upset if you don’t at least eat a little.” He whispered to Fox. “She keeps this place spotless, and we give her little odd jobs outside of that to keep her happy.” 

Fox nodded, turning back towards her as Kitty walked up with her tray. Just as her boots stopped, inches from his own, he dropped his helmet to the floor.

There was a constellation of freckles across her nose, sitting under liquid gold eyes that looked back at him with a guileless smile. She wore no makeup, no gold pins in her hair, but Fox’s mouth went dry at the sight of a ragged blaster-burn scar peeking just out of the top of her shirt. Her braid, pulled over her shoulder, was tied with a tattered ribbon in a bright, cheerful red. She held up the tray again, squeaking at him curiously with tone instead of words. 

“Th-thank you.” Fox whispered, taking a piece of melioruun. Kitty kept squeaking until Rex and Vik took a piece, then trotted off after Howser in the distance. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Vik frowned.

“You don’t need to take her off base to know who she is.” Fox whispered, the fruit dripping juice down his gloves when he unconsciously squeezed it. 

“You know her?” Rex glanced over at Kitty again. He’d been trying to figure out what to do with a girl who could barely seem to look after herself, but who was determined to try to look after the clones fighting for their lives against the Empire.

“I’m the reason she can’t talk, or remember.” Fox swallowed hard. “It’s her.”

“Her?” Rex frowned.

“The one I told you about… Her name is Kandri Chitose.”

[txttletale]

So because I've played Minecraft and want to not spend hours doing a menial task I'm an awful colonialist capitalist who feels that murder is good for material gain?

I'm asking this in total good faith because if that's not the case I think I need to start questioning my level of reading comprehension because this is the only meaning I can extrapolate from that post.

And because (to me) such a statement seems so otherworldly that it's almost incomprehensible, could you please explain

that is indeed not the case! to be quite blunt, i think you are reading a moral judgement on forms of engagement in my post that isn't present. obviously, minecraft isn't real life--killing things for resources in minecraft is not morally equivalent to killing things for resources in reality.

when i say 'the systemic incentives of minecraft encourage the players to recreate colonial extraction', the implicit critique there isn't 'minecraft is an agent of moral corruption turning its players into colonialists', but rather 'the underlying normative assumptions that minecraft is built on from the ground up are extractionist ones'--which once again, i don't think is particularly interesting to look at as a moral condemnation of mojang--rather, i think it's interesting to look at as illustrative of the larger societal context that produced minecraft.

this is because all media texts have ideological content baked into them from the outset, in the assumptions they make about the world. here's a very obvious one: in sim city games and their imitators, building police stations reduces the 'crime rate'. now this is, uh, not very realistic--but that doesn't mean it happens because EA/Paradox devs sit down at their big evil legion of doom table to say 'and now, how can we propagandize for the police?'--it happens because 'police stop crime' is a fundamental assumption about our society that most people don't think to question. they didn't decide they wanted to portray the police in a favourable light--they just thought this was an obvious and common-sense way to portray why cities have police departments.

and again, this doesn't say anything about the opinions that players of these games have about the police--it does imply something about what the developers think about the police, but that's not a particularly interesting thing to analyze--what it does, much more interestingly, is imply something about what the widespread societal assumptions about the police are that lead to this kind of mechanic being uncritically included.

so when i say that minecraft's systems (even, like in the case of mob farms--which, by the way, i know are not in fact intended by the devs or a core element of the game experience, part of why i made the post is that i found it interesting that this was an entirely emergent player-driven advancement of the game's extractionist logics)--incentivize extractionist behaviour in the game, i'm not interested in saying anything about the game's players or developers, but rather at examining how the core ideological assumptions of colonialism & extractionism are normalised to a saturation level in general culture such that they are reflected even in fairly inconsequential forms such as the structures that games take.

[malwaredykes]

To: LUCKY 38 PRESIDENTIAL SUITE TERMINAL

From: Leigh Stasik

Subject: BIG DAMN BUGS

Hi there everybody!

So, it's day 5, and Joshua Graham continues to get on my nerves. I've received a lot of clear signals that the feeling is, of course, mutual. I don't think he's very happy about what I've been doing—or, more accurately, what I haven't been doing. Because he really, really wants to put me to work, in the sense that I'm to run errands for him, and I don't wanna do that. He doesn't agree to help me find a way back home, though, until I help him resolve his business. This, indeed, is a very unsatisfactory situation, as I am essentially being held hostage by the man, and I'm not pleased about him trying to act all kind and compassionate about it. I think he thinks he's doing me a great favor by “humoring” my “condition” (hahaha!) insofar as he hasn't gotten outwardly mean or violent about it. He's a hateful little man, quite homogeneously so with the Legion past of his that he claims he has long since abandoned and healed from. I in turn feel rather hateful whenever I have to listen to him go on and on about the love burning within and without him… Love for what? Vapid goof. Disgusting. I'd mess with him more, but I don't want to upset people here. But oh, how I want to mess with him. At least I know that if he tries to harm me, he won't last very long. I sure do love to hurt those who think themselves indestructible. Am I right? Who's with me?

I went out into the valley with Waking Cloud today, to disarm some traps set up by the White Legs on one of the bridges. She's so sweet! Not going to lie, I'm still a little surprised I managed to make friends here; it's not like I was going out of my way, as I had my own tasks to tend to, and didn't want to bother anyone.

But, anyway. Around noon the sun got reeeeaally harsh, so we decided to sit in the shade for a little while, right by the river, dipping our legs in the water. There's something about the smell of fresh flowing water, right above its surface, when the sun and the heat pull vapor out of it. We talked about a bunch of things. I think I've mentioned this already, but she's a midwife; we discuss medicine a lot, which is fun. She's taught me a lot about local herbs, their properties, and how to get the best results when preparing them. I told her about my hopes for cultivating some of Zion's plants and fungi back in the Mojave. In the end, she asked if perhaps I could stay in Zion. Gosh… What a touching suggestion. But I have family at home! I've got a dog and an eyebot to put through college! But I will return one day, I'm sure. I hope so. Maybe any of y'all wish to come along?

Soooo… We pressed onwards and then I saw them. A small pack of cazadores, nothing unusual for me, though their wings had a yellow tint to it, much paler than the bright orange I'm used to. Cloud was shocked by my nonchalant reaction, how I just pulled out my rifle and got ready to dispatch the creatures if needed, and I didn't understand until one got a little closer. That thing was huge! At least twice the size of the cazadores you'd see in the Mojave! And its chitin was a lot thicker, so it didn't go down with one or two shots. That was crazy. We did manage to hunt down a few, and the two that remained fled. Upon closer inspection, everything about these cazadores was bigger and more messed up. The stinger, the poison glands… Geeze. I wonder if the increased size comes from better air quality. Higher oxygen levels in the atmosphere did cause bugs to evolve larger in prehistoric times. I kinda want to try and make turbo out of these, but I don't think that's wise. I don't have the proper equipment with me to test the precise contents of this venom, and I can't exactly do a taste test. Oh well.

Ronnie-honey, aside from the surprise gift I can't wait to show you, I have a few mechanical tchotchkes for you to take a look at when I get back. You might be able to make sense of them, because I sure can't. I pulled one of them out of this airplane wreck I stumbled across. Well, you'll see.

Raul, Cloud gave me this recipe for agave candy that she makes for her kids. It takes time to prepare, but it's genius. I am so making it for you. And that's final. No ifs or buts. I mean, I'm gonna make it for everyone, but especially you.

Anyway. I need to get a good night's sleep this time. So, write to you later! Love you all! Take care!

Leigh

[gecskeleton]

i read a fic years ago that loosely covered this concept but sadly never finished it (to my knowledge. it is now lost to the sands of time) and recently i’ve been rotating it in my mind again: what if vulpes realised that without the courier’s help caesar would surely succumb to his illness. maybe not before seeing to the legion’s second and final attempt at conquering the dam, but their chances of success on that front wane by the second. he knows his position within the legion depends almost entirely upon caesar’s partiality. he knows that with caesar gone lanius would have no impediment to succession of the throne which would bring their organisational differences to a nightmarish unavoidable head. vulpes would basically sooner abandon ship than pledge loyalty to that particular man-made monster. so he decides to cut his losses and make a deal with the courier: they personally (with or without arcade’s involvement) see to caesar’s death in a manner that sort of kind of still carries “honour” (whatever that means to him is up for debate) and vulpes will take care of the rest. lanius will have to be a group effort with the courier’s allies. of course, a courier who wasn’t willing to aid the legion in the first place is bound to have some doubts. like if vulpes is the last surviving member of caesar’s inner circle then wouldn’t that just leave the role open for him? if they’re going to level the foundation of the army it has to be permanent. vulpes has to make very clear where his allegiance lies. which, obviously, is with himself. the AMICUS MEUS, INIMICUS INIMICI MEI quest where you’re like 85% likely to be double-crossed by that insufferable twink

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: @commodoreprocrastinator this is your fault, now deal with the repercussions of your actions. Part 1 of 2. I hope it's romantic enough even though it's the cardboard cutout primarch and only my second time writing him. ¯\_( ❛︠ ⍙ ︡❛)_/¯

Summary: Your knight returns after what has felt like ages apart, and decides to take part in a secret moment alone.

Relationship: Lion'el Jonson/Gn!Reader (no pronouns are used in this, but it does have a very princess/knight vibe so fair warning)

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word Count: 1305

Lion El'Jonson strides down the halls of the Invincible Reason with purpose.

The ceramite boots of his armor hit the ground louder than that of an astartes, and any one he passes by stops their task and gives a respectful bow of their head. He doesn’t demand them to bow and kiss the floor, but he expects a level of decorum from his legion. They are expected to as sons of The First; As Dark Angels.

As he walks, rain pattering down against any surface exposed to it, Lion'el sighs.

Belath had proven more than timely with his updates as to the legion’s current effectiveness, which the Primarch appreciated. He will always find one of the astarte's finer qualities to be his lack of verbose speech- his ability to get to the point. But even in it's simplicity, it had still proven irritating when he had something else on the mind.

Travel to the Fortress Monastery had proven both as unexciting and lackluster as his drawing and discussion of strategic plans had been.

He arrived during the night, the moonlight spilling through the massive glass windows and mullions forming patterns along the stone floors. The Lion breaks their design as he walks through them, a hand resting on the pommel of his shortsword. His greatsword rests on his back, overtop of the dark emerald green cape that flows behind him just brushing against the floor.

He goes higher, traveling up flights of stairs made of solid stone. Some have runners of ornate, hand woven cloth, the design in a dark emerald green embellished with golden thread. All of it- every tapestry and mural, bears the symbol or at least the color scheme of his Legion.

Higher again, until he’s far beyond where most astartes and serfs typically tread. The rug that runs down the hall is much more worn, having taken an unknown number of years worth the footfall without being replaced. There aren’t many souls who come up here, for there isn't much reason for them to. The Lion's personal quarters reside in these halls, and unless he calls them they have no need to ever step foot here.

He turns one corner, and at the end of the hall lies his destination. 

He can see two Astartes guarding the door, as he had placed them. He had placed trust in the elder of them to choose another marine to serve as his parallel in guard along with two others to rotate with. A young astartes is beside him, clear by the different regalia and symbolism he wears that gives it away to only one familiar to their legion.

Lion stands between them, his hand adjusting once more on the pommel of his sword.

“Take your leave.”

He speaks plainly to both, and they nod their ceramite helms before walking past. Once the Lion can no longer hear their heavy power armor trudging down stairs that even made of full stone complain as men so heavy walk on them, he places a hand on the door’s handle.

He pulls it open; Winged helm in his opposite hand. Not moments later does he hear a voice call his name sounding both surprised and excited.

“Lion?”

At the call of his name he looks forward, seeing you leaning away from the window. Your hands had been leaning against the sill, watching whatever had been of interest below. More than likely the sea of Dark Angels all returning, a sea of dark green. You've always had this odd sort of of fascination with it all. He steps closer, and you turn to fully watch him come to stand right in front of you. 

After a moment’s waiting, the massive Primarch slowly lowers to a knee. He sighs as he does so, as if irritated by a request you hadn’t even made. You take the invitation to come closer, as you gently press a chaste kiss against his lips. You feel his beard brush against your skin, the top half of his blonde hair pulled back. He doesn't sigh in discontent that time.

“I missed you. Are you ok?” 

The Lion finds your overt concern pointless, but somewhat endearing. He’s never had someone so overt in caring about his wellbeing. Though even if it’s pointless, he can’t expect you to shed the emotions you’ve shown for so long. He can and has as a Primarch, to a mortal they are interwoven into your very being.

“Yes.” 

He glances over to a massive table filled with stacks of books. They’re scattered about, some open and some stacked in piles of an unknown organizational system. He’s not surprised you took interest in the massive collection. 

Your hands have stayed hovering in front of your chest most of this time, though now they move forward and hesitantly reach for him. He allows you to touch his jawline as you come closer. The rough scruff of his beard tickles your palms, and you'd laugh if you didn't think he'd be almost childishly insulted by it.

“How long are you going to stay this time?” 

Lion knows that you aren’t expecting any actual answer; He cannot give you one, nor will he. The moment an uncontacted world is discovered, he will leave. It is his duty and his purpose. No matter even if he has other thoughts on his mind, thoughts of you, they cannot impede his goal. 

“Long enough for the legion to rest.” He pauses. “What do you want?” 

He always asks this, only able to show how he feels about you in these silent gestures. You don’t say anything nor blame him, as despite him being far older than yourself, you can clearly tell this sort of thing is entirely uncharted.

It's been a bit odd; He's many years your senior, but it often feels like you're the one showing him things.

You can't avoid smiling this time, though it's abit more guilty that perhaps Lion was expecting.

“I would love to watch your men spar again, but they've only just stepped foot on Caliban." Lion gives you an unimpressed look.

"You would ask something of my Legion instead of myself?" Your hands are still on his chest armor, and your fingers brush across the giant aquilla in a slightly flustered gesture.

"But, you’ve said your men aren't strong enough for you to duel them.”

He remains one of if not the best duelist that the Imperium has ever seen, and despite how diligently and strictly he has trained his Dark Angels, none of them have the natural prowess he has to be a true fight. It's simply in his nature as a Primarch.

Lion, in an extremely rare moment, softens his face with a hint of amusement. He raises and armored hand to gently hold your jaw, and brush a small bit of a hair away from your face. His massive hand overtakes much of you, but he's surprising gentle despite it. He uses a small bit of his strength however to pull you just close enough to give you a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“When we arrive to Terra, perhaps I can proposition one of my brothers for a duel then. I am sure at least one of them will be eager to accept.” 

A fight between Primarchs? You had never considered yourself bloodthirsty or violent, but something about it makes your heart race- eager to watch. Perhaps it’s what his men feel shortly before a battle, or when they begin their training each and every day.

You smile at him, and grasp at his gauntlet. It's the closest you can get to any sort of intimate gesture, with his armor still on. He looks at you with the most relaxed face you've seen on him in awhile, as you speak.

"I would love to see that."