#than about claiming land territory or take care of their people in the strip

[dimplecki]

I feel like many of the "free Palestine" people don't know enough about the hamas terror organisation and its history. They are a group of violent radical Islamic people who seek nothing but to destroy Jews and Israelis. (No different than isis) They are not freedom fighters and they do not represent Palestinian people! They weren't elected by their people, they started a violent coup back at 2005 (when Israel army left gaza) and took control over gaza by force. They do not care about Palestinian people and they never did, they sacrifice their own kids for their violent agenda, and all they did for the last 20 years is try to start violent wars and war crimes against Israel and against their own. and not for Palestine. For the sake of killing Jews. So even if you hate Israel and you support the liberation of Palestinian people just remember that it does not include supporing the terrorists group hamas who are behind this current vicious attack. hamas are also holding gaza strip hostage. Don't support terrorism in any form. They are very good at psychological warfare and altering social media opinion. They cater to emotion rather than facts. Please read a little more history if you want to express an opinion

[psychotrenny]

It’s fucking insane to me how normal Yankee Liberals are about Hawaii. As in like the way they just treat it as an unremarkable fact that their nation controls the island. Like the annexation of Hawaii wasn’t just any old example of Settler-Colonialism, the subjugation of a decentralised non-urbanised people that could be just dismissed as mere “tribes” or what have you. Not to say that such forms of “typical” Settler Colonialism are any less abhorrent or disgusting, just easier to justify from a Liberal point of view. Easier to claim that they weren’t *really* using the land properly or that they were an hopelessly and eternally backwards who only really benefitted from their conquest or that they were doomed and dying anyway and their fate was a mere tragic inevitability not worth dwelling on or… Point is all these arguments are all wrong and stupid and cruel but they can serve well enough to downplay or justify such atrocities in the eyes of Imperial Core Liberals.

But like with Hawaii you don’t have that. The Kingdom of Hawai’i was a sovereign state that was internationally recognised as such by the Great Powers of Europe even at the very height of Western Imperialism. Literacy rates were high and compulsory education was introduced in 1841 (pre-dating the US by 77 years), healthcare was given to all Hawai’ian subjects free of charge, Christianity was dominant (so even the most ardent Imperialist couldn’t claim that the people were in the thrall of some “barbaric superstition” that necessitated the “civilising influence” of empire) and it had a well-developed Capitalist economy dominated by Sugar production.  Like even if we take the Western model of statehood as the be all end all of what separates the civilised from the savage (to be clear hear you really fucking shouldn’t, but many people do so for a second that’s the frame of reference we’ll employ) then Hawai’i was very much unambiguously the former.  But that didn’t stop the US from shamelessly interfering it’s politics Indeed those aformentioned markers of Western-Style “civilisation” and “development” came with the price of allow US missionaries and investors to settler in the islands and become very wealthy and influential. For decades the US used the threat of force to influence the policy decisions of the kingdom, going as far as to regularly send warships in a classic display of “gunboat diplomacy”. In 1887 a US settler militia called the First Honolulu Rifles staged a coup where they forced Kalākaua to accept a new Constitution that heavily favoured the interests of USamerican settlers who had grown very wealthy through their investment in sugar production on the island.  It stripped the Monarchy of much of its power and introducing requirements for voting that heavily favoured US settlers; re-introducing wealth/property requirements that were now higher than even, allowing resident aliens to vote and just outright banning any Asian immigrants from voting (which at that point had as much to do with plain racial hatred as it did to any acting threat they might have posed). This wasn’t enough for the Yanks and 6 years later a group of 13 US settlers known as the “Committee of Safety” outright overthrew the newly crowned Queen Liliʻuokalani when she refused to co-operate. It existed briefly as an “Independent” USamerican dominated republic before the US government decided to official annex it in 1898 (similar to what you saw with Texas or California).

While incredibly controversial at the time due to both strategic concerns with the annexation of ultramarine territories and some level of outrage at the shameless take-over of a sovereign nation (hence the time gap between the coup and the actual annexation), nowadays Yanks enjoy their control over the island without the slightest care in the world. They even turned it into a tourist destination, a heavily romanticised one that not only receives many millions of visitors every year but is constantly mentioned in the popular culture the US then proceeds to export all over the world, literally revelling in their land that is by literally any definition (even the most nakedly pro-imperialist) stolen. The land itself is severely exploited to the point of significant ecological damage, the indigenous peoples too are exploited as many of them live in poverty while US investors grow wealthy from their land and labour. Even their very culture is stolen and monetised, the most marketable parts bastardised into cheap kitsch and the rest of it left to rot, only kept alive through over a century of continued resistance from the indigenous peoples. It’s a very common story of course, but I think it stands out with how utterly ghoulish it is even under the most Liberal of consistently applied worldviews. It would be like if in say 2007 someone set up Disneyland in Bagdad. And yet by the vast majority of the US (and by extension the vassals states whose view of the situation is filtered through the lens of US media and propaganda) it isn’t seen that way. Hawaii is just the 50th state, the only state outside North America and in the tropics (hahaha ain’t that a neat little fact. Geography is so fun J), an island paradise perfect to visit with the whole family and yet still as American as Apple Pie. Even many self-described “progressives” talk about it in this way, at most mentioning the plight of the indigenous Hawaiians with minimal though as to how this situation came about. Like while the story of Hawaii is far from unique; even in terms of the US doing colonialism to Westernised peoples you examples such as the ethnic cleansing of the Five Civilised Tribes from the Eastern USA, it still stands out to me with the sheer level of international recognition and Western-style development that the Kingdom of Hawai’i possessed. Like it’s just such an obvious example of the naked greed at the heart of the USamerican empire, and how utterly bullshit talk of a “civilising mission” and “spreading democracy” is. No matter what they may claim, no matter what excuses they may trot out, Imperialist rapacity has no limits.

[beardedmrbean]

Next time make sure you know how to use the English language before pretending you have any single clue about the definitions of complicated words like Zionist or complicated situations like the litany of lies that have been being told about the existence of a independent self governing palestenian state any time in history other than some time in the last 50 years or less.

Here's a abbreviated lesson for you.

The modern state of Israel was created by a mandate of the league of nations, which was the precursor to the united nations. Well before that while the territory was still under Ottoman control there were people purchasing up large amounts of land and settling in as well as making the place livable, since it was very lightly populated at the time as a result of there being all kinds of swamps and malaria and what not in big chunks of that land. Fast forwarding 60+ years and on the official go date the British mandate was set to expire and what should have been 2 nations being born several other nations in the region decided that they were going to destroy one of those nations before it had a chance to even plant their flag.

Those nations lost that war and with it a shit ton of territory, which Israel claimed as theirs through right of conquest which is how pretty much every nation ever has has territorial changes take place.

Ever since then those nations have been trying to destroy Israel and all of the people in it, and they keep losing, and losing territory in the process, most of which Israel has been nice enough to give back.

For some reason no matter how many wars they lose they keep trying to bring down Israel, it's actually pathetic of them when you look at it objectively. It was a strip of land they didn't care about until someone else wanted it.

Like petulant children who don't care about a toy in their toy box until their cousin shows up and wants to play with it and they then throw a giant temper tantrum because mom gave it to that cousin to play with.

grow up, both them and you

Israel would for the most part be very happy to just be able to do it's thing and not have to shoot back at the people shooting at it, all that takes is them to stop shooting at Israel.

I say for the most part because there's assholes everywhere, to pretend otherwise is just foolish.

If any of these words are too big for you to read you're probably out of luck.

[assignmentimprobable]

For people who want to know what’s going on in Palestine, a workup of links across various sources detailing the historical context (which is why some links predate the NOW part of the struggle) between Palestine and Israel. I tried to be as varied as possible with collecting information with some measure of 'good faith' education, but like. My biases are up front, and real, and raw. I'm not gonna shit anybody about where I fall. So take that in mind as much or as little as you like when looking at the links.

Center for Constitutional Rights - The Genocide of the Palestinian People: An International Law and Human Rights Perspective (Pub. August 25, 2016)

https://www.aljazeera.com/amp/program/newsfeed/2023/10/9/israeli-defence-minister-orders-complete-siege-on-gaza

https://x.com/deviIette/status/1718280425640951818?s=20 (Oct 28, 2023)

https://x.com/MSNBC/status/1712911792106602608?s=20 (Oct. 13, 2023)

https://x.com/Raminho/status/1719385390086271164?s=20 (Oct. 31, 2023)

https://x.com/a_leesha1/status/1392969664049946625?s=20 (May 1, 2021)

The Genocide Education Project: Ten Stages of Genocide

What Israel is doing to Palestine? Genocide. There is no right to self defense when you are not only using internationally banned weaponry to systemically wipe a people off a land (while claiming to care about the hostages. Who are also being bombed with the civilians in these attack mind you), but have spent decades in practice of settler colonialism and racial apartheid, limiting the airspace and poisoning land because it isn’t ‘yours’. Argue with the fucking wall.

[never-rpg]

I’LL SEEK YOU OUT, FLAY YOU ALIVE. ONE MORE WORD AND YOU WON’T SURVIVE. I’M NOT SCARED OF YOUR STOLEN POWER, I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU ANY HOUR.

Azalea was once a well respected faerie among a small colony which made their home in a long since forgotten graveyard. One she had been overlooking for 73 years at the least. She believed that by using her magic to protect the tombs, the souls of the dead would provide her and her colony with protection and sustenance. The colony made sacrifices to the dead, leaving trinkets made of animal bones and accessories made from pelts. Azalea encouraged the colony to EARN their offerings. If the dead would provide them with gifts, with meals of fresh meat and furs to keep warm with when ivy no longer sufficed, then they could at least be grateful enough to give back just a little. It took newcomers some getting used to, getting their hands dirtier than they would if it were just harmless pranks or mind meddling. To hunt something three times your size or more, to feel the warm, red, gift of life as arms sink in to a fleshy pool. It was otherworldly. A blessing. A gift for their hard work maintaining the dead’s final resting place.

One harsh winter had proven to be a truly horrific event for the colony. So many lives lost, and for what? Because they couldn't see the beauty in the gifts that laid around them? Azalea made the most of a bad situation, and found safety in the fresh, warm bodies of animals which had passed on in the area. Many of her friends could not bring themselves to do such a thing, and saw her as having a screw loose. It wasn't until when the colony began to dim, and animals became more and more scarce, did things take a drastic turn. She could not tend to the graves as she once had, and many began to deteriorate under the persistent dampness caused by the snow. This winter would curse them, curse her, to death if she did not fight. If she did not fight to survive. As the colony dwindled, Azalea found a new source of nutrients. One that would surely last all winter. One that tasted sweet and soft. After all, to let all of those bodies go to waste, would be tragic. Wings used for stews and quick, dried snacks. Meat harvested for anything she could combine in to something edible, on occasion eating it raw in a pinch.

Once the few surviving faeries within the colony caught Azalea taking the bodies of the deceased, they cast her out, stripping her of her name, adorning her with the new name 'Carrion'. Seeing her as a menace, a threat to their safety. Betrayed by those that she led, Azalea left with nothing more than a small, fur pack and a few trinkets she believed to be from the spirits. Rumors and stories of this island, and it's so called 'protector' had begun spreading its reach to every corner of the land. Azalea would stop to rest at small villages, claiming to just be a traveler. During her visits she would soak up all the information she could about the island, about this 'Peter Pan'. It wasn't hard to follow her journey, simply following the trail of missing people would lead the way. Every now and again, when there was no safety to be found, other than the darkest corners of a giants playground, Azalea would watch the disgusting creatures, disproportionate and awkward. Waiting for them to fall asleep. If she was quick, careful, then she could occasionally secure a meal from whatever skin they exposed, leaving sores upon their visage in the morning.

After many weeks of traveling from colony to colony, Azalea believed she finally had all of the pieces needed to seek out this island, the protector.

The journey was long and trying, but a flourishing sight greeted her tired bones after weeks. The colony upon the island was far too large for her, the noise alone was enough to make her head spin. Having been alone throughout her travels, Azalea had chosen to make lay claim on a new territory. The islands graveyard had become her new home, it was familiar in a sense, and yet, it was new, unknown. Something to discover. She would leave small gifts upon unmarked graves, making herself furniture from the flora around her. Gifts, from the dead, or Peter? After the fire that destroyed the colony, Azalea found herself with a new delicacy, charred flesh. Though it was scarce, as most had been turned to ash, very, very few good specimens remained. Berries and fruits were fine and good, but there was something . . .insatiable that the taste of meat held over her.

CONNECTIONS

✘ PETER: idolizes, sees as a god sent to protect the small folk ✘ BONES: respects, acts as a silent guardian over ✘ FLETCHER: intrigued by, respects their craft ✘ VICTOR: desires, can smell the sickly stench of, it taunts her, hungers her

FACE CLAIM IS KATIE MCGRATH | TAKEN

[subwaysurf45]

Back Into the Swing of Things

summary: Bucky is finally stable and after your friendship turns into a relationship, Bucky asks you to teach him about the little things. (set around civil war)

words:  3355

warning: legit none just fluff!

pairing: bucky x reader

Masterlist

You were sat at the little desk in your room, your music was blasting through your headphones as you nodded your head to the beat. It was paperwork day, the worst day. For some reason it was a busy time or missions which meant mission reports, you liked to just bang them out all at once for one day every couple of weeks. Some people did them right after but the little notes you take in your journal allow you to wait a bit and then do five at once. The plate that used to have a sandwich was now empty, Bucky brought it by because he knew it was your day and if he stayed around you it would most likely lead to Bucky trying to pull you into bed for snuggles. He’d claim you’d look too cozy to be doing work, you'd wear one of his shirts and maybe some pants.

With a sigh you lean back in your chair, a couple pops coming for your back. “Four outta five…” you muttered to yourself as you took the papers and stacked them on the other reports. As you reached for the final one there was a knock on the door, “come in, Bucky.” You called over your shoulder.

“How’d you know it was me?” Bucky slipped through the doorway, he walked over and spun your chair around.

“Your knock is very polite,” was all you said. It was true, he’d knock loud enough to be heard but not too loud to seem demanding.

“Thanks…?” Bucky sat on the edge of your bed, “I wanted to ask you something,” Bucky looked to the floor.

“Talk to me,” You cheered and gave your full attention.

“I have a list of things in my notebook, just stuff I don't get- like understand. Would you mind helping and explaining some stuff?” His face was red and his eyes looked down, it was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

“Sure,” You shrugged and Bucky smiled. He got up and went to get the book.

Debit Card Machine 

Bucky was sitting across from you at a small diner, you went after rush hour to give yourself space and also Bucky doesn’t like crowded and loud spaces. Bucky had gotten a B.L.T. and you got something similar but you’d never been here before so you weren’t exactly sure what was in it- but it was good.

The waitress came by, the uniform was very retro like the rest of the place. It wasn’t way back to the 40’s more late 80’s early 90’s, Bucky had said he liked coming here because of the jukebox even though that was way past his time. He found it easier than an iphone, which was on his list of things to learn.

“Coffee or tea?” the lady asked.

“No, just the bill please,” You smiled at her, she nodded and walked away. Bucky got up and moved to sit beside you because he didn’t want to learn by looking at the thing upside down, the debit card itself was slightly conquered territory but he had the idea.

“And you said this was on your phone as well?” Bucky picked up the card and looked at it, his fingers running over the numbers that were lifted.

“You have to connect your card and all that to your phone so you just hover over the machine and it’ll pay.” You mimed the action of paying with your phone over nothing for Bucky to get the gist.

The machine showed up and you explained all the buttons, the waitress seemed confused because Bucky looked your age, she would have expected a guy to know how this works but she also kept her distance like most waitresses do.

“So you put your card in, the chip end goes in,” you showed. “Then you make sure the price matches the one on the receipt, if it does then you hit ‘ok’,” you did hit ‘ok’. “Then you have to tip, I personally go the percentage route so I’d click the far left button,” It made a sound when you did. “Now, depending on the service you can tip a different amount, I go fifteen percent as a baseline but she was really nice so I’ll tip twenty.” you typed it in, Bucky had a shocked face.

“Twenty dollars, that’s another meal!” He whispered, trying not to let the lady hear; she did.

“Twenty percent, our total goes from eighteen-tirty to twenty-forty five,” You showed the number again, then you clicked okay and proceeded to type in your four digit number. Bucky watched over your shoulder and tried to remember it all, when you were showing things at home he’d take notes and have a couple diagrams to remember it all but his notebook was no longer in sight. You glanced down after giving the machine back to see him rolling the book onto itself under the table, Bucky shoved it into his back pocket when you both got up to leave.

“Do you mind going over it again when we get home?” Bucky asked as he held your hand, the Avenger tower in sight.

“Of course,” you left a little kiss on his cheek.

Cooking Bacon

You didn’t remember reading this when you first went over the list. Granted, there was tons of stuff on Bucky’s list. It seemed he added it on later, like he watched Wanda cook and had a little idea to add. Either way, you both were in the kitchen in front of the stove. You both had aprons on, yours was a nice navy blue while Bucky’s read: ‘kiss the cook’. He wanted the navy one but then lost a game of rock, paper, scissors.

The pan was heating up on the stove, you had the lid ready beside it on the counter. Bucky seemed nervous because of the idea of the grease spitting out at him, he was starting to stand slightly behind you or away from the stove in an area he thought he wouldn’t get hit. “Alright,” you clapped your hands together after feeling over the pan to check the temperature. “We are gonna cook four pieces, so I’m gonna take them out of the package,” You were careful around the stove because Bucky seemed extremely nervous for you. He kept making little ‘peep’ing noises like he was about to say ‘watch out’ or something but decided against it, it was cute.

You put in two and then Bucky came over to put the others in, he was so leaned back he could barely get the bacon strips into the pan. On the last strip he haphazardly dropped it in, this caused the grease to spray back. A couple bits landed on your arm but a few more hit Bucky.

“Fuck!” He jumped back as you went to cover it quickly. The lid steamed up in seconds. Bucky was at the sink, washing his arm off. “Does it, like, burn through stuff?”  His tone was so concerned but you couldn't help but laugh at the question.

“No, you’re safe,” you nodded. Bucky came back over and stood right behind you, his chin nestled on your shoulder as you waited a bit. His arms circled around your torso and he also watched the pan, he didn’t know what to look for per se, but he did it anyways. “This should be good,” you stepped forward which caused Bucky to let go. “We’re gonna lift the lid and start to flip them, alright?” You grabbed the tongs and clicked them a few times, it was a thing you always did.

“Let’s go,” Bucky’s voice wanted to sound excited but he was slightly scared.

You lifted the lid and stood off to the side, quickly but calmly you flipped the pieces over and then covered the lid. “So, we give that time, then we'll take the lid off and just move them around and flip them more, you can do that,” You smiled over your shoulder to see Bucky writing something down. It was cute how much he cared about the little things, you’d never been taught how to cook bacon or cooking in general, it was something you just found yourself doing.

Bucky took the tongs and went for it, he lifted the lid and went straight into flipping them. After he found they weren’t spitting back he seemed to loosen up, his shoulders rolled back and he seemed to find a comfortable position. He was looking over to you for any tips but you stood there with a smile on your face, he was actually doing a good job.

You got out a plate and paper towel, Bucky transferred the strips over. He watched you pat them down with a paper towel, this was something you adopted into your life because you weren’t the biggest fan of all the grease.

“This is a big part, so listen up,” Bucky looked over from eating one of his two pieces. “Write this down, never and I mean never pour this grease down the sink- ever.” Bucky had the piece of meat sticking out of his mouth as he scribbled it down, he hummed and nodded to let you know he got it. “There is a can under the sink, grab it for me, please?” You picked up the pan but stayed over the stove, Bucky came back with an open can. There was nothing in it except congealed grease, he seemed grossed out but you were used to it. “Dump it in here after it’s cool but not solidified, just don’t pour it down the sink.” You poured the stuff in and left it on the counter to cool off, Bucky finally bit down on the piece of bacon before handing over your two pieces.

“I think that went well,” Bucky nodded, he leaned against the counter with a tired sigh. You didn’t have to heart to make fun of him for being scared of the grease, he seemed proud of himself. So you just stood beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, “good job, Buck.”

Skin Care

Bucky was the type of boyfriend to sit in the bathroom and just watch you put on or take off your makeup, he was truly put under a trance when he would watch you. In the beginning he’d ask questions or ask what you were doing and why, but now he had watched you so much he’d pass you the tube of mascara as you finished on your brows.

Your skin had adapted to a long and specific routine, this was your time for about ten minutes before bed to fully unwind and have some quiet. You would rotate products and skip over some of the serums each night but there were the basics you were going to teach Bucky: Wash, tone, moisturize.

Before you went to the drug store you asked Bucky about his skin, he really had no idea what you were talking about and half the time he’d shrug it off. “I don’t pay attention to my skin,” was a common phrase. You lightly touched his face and felt his T-zone, he joked that sometimes if he opened his mouth really wide his skin would feel super tight and dry.

“So then you have dry skin,” you said. Thinking of the products to get him, Bucky didn’t have acne, it was more for cleaning the skin and keeping it healthy.

“I think,” Bucky really felt like a pain. He was trying to help you out so you could find good products but all he was giving was half answers, ‘ya, I guess’ or ‘I think so’.

But currently you both were standing in the bathroom, it was right before bed and Bucky adjusted his headband for about the hundredth time. He said it was too tight but you knew he was being a baby about it, his hair was also pulled back into a bun.

“We are gonna wash our face,” You showed how warm the water should be before splashing your face. Bucky copied right after, and awkwardly leaned forward to make sure water didn’t drip on the floor after while he waited for you to move on. “Now we are gonna wash our face, so take that bottle with the blue cap and put a bit in your hand. A little goes a long way,” You added and did the same, both faces in the bathroom were sudsy and ready. Bucky went in first to wash it off, his hands cupping under the tap and collecting as much water as he could before leaning right in to wash off his face. He did it twice.

“Pat dry?” He remembered you saying that before. His hands held the fresh towel, you hummed in response because your face was in water. Bucky patted and gently rubbed around, when you stood up you dried off as well. Both faces were damp, Bucky looked at the little water droplets running down your neck before turning back to the task at hand. “Toner- don't tell me, I know this one!” He grabbed your arm, “red cap?” His face lit up with joy as you nodded, “I got this!” He cockily laughed, he knew what he was doing.

Bucky took the little cotton round and drizzled some of the toner around on it, he passed one over to you before making one for himself. Bucky leaned in and got super close to the mirror, he watched intently as you rubbed your face. He copied, it was like the cotton pad was barely touching his face. The last thing he cleaned was his nose before pulling the cotton away, he scanned over the pad and saw the gross residue.

“Ew, that was on my face?” Bucky was enchanted by the pad, holding it super close to see the leftover dirt. You had already thrown away the pad, it made you giggle to see Bucky so hypnotized by literal oil and dirt.

“Moisturizer, final step for you,” You sang. “I like to pick it up with my knuckle, like this,” You unscrewed the lid and tapped your pointer finger knuckle to the opaque, soft cream. Bucky took his new one and did the same. He wiped it into the palm of the opposite hand, “rub it around, heat it up before putting it on,” He did just that. “You’re a pro, Buck!” You giggled as Bucky meticulously put it on. He was applying it upwards and spreading it evenly around, his fingers gently dancing across his face as the cream worked its way in.

“How do I look?” He turned to you.

“Like you’re glowing.”

“I feel like it,” Bucky laughed and looked back at the mirror. He tilted his head around to see how his skin would look under the light in the bathroom, he seemed to forget you were there and was completely in awe of what he did. Bucky brought his fingers to his face to feel around, the moisturizer had set and now his skin looked full and plump. The pads of his fingers gently tapped his cheeks and made the shimmer on his cheekbones move and twinkle.

“Alright, that’s enough admiring yourself,” you laughed and pushed him out of the way. Bucky stayed to watch you finish up your routine.

Record Player

As a way to say thanks for helping Bucky with over fifty niche things, Bucky decided to teach you how to properly use a record player.

This wasn’t any old player, this was Bucky’s player. No one was allowed to touch it without permission and even though you have never gotten the green light, you asked almost every week. This was one of the only things Bucky could really hold onto, when he touched the dark, stained wood he could almost see himself back in the 40’s; almost.

He once got really mad at the beginning of your friendship, you really didn’t know it was his, you just thought it was a talking piece. Bucky ended up yelling at you, he had just changed the needle and you were running your finger on it to see how small it was. Steve had ran in because Bucky was yelling- it was a whole ordeal that ended with Bucky not talking to you for three months.

But now there was trust and Bucky liked that after that little fiasco you didn’t even think to touch it, he could really trust you and now was a great time to show off his favourite thing. Bucky was all giddy to show his record player off to you, you were grabbing some water before he started and you noticed Bucky was using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe off a smudge before going back to inspect it.

“Alright, let’s start!” Bucky smiled. This man didn’t start with the parts and what they do, he started with the history of it all. Bucky pulled all the facts he knew about record players in general and the vintage one that was sitting in front of the both of you, his eyes seemed to light up with each new fact that popped into his mind. Part of you wanted to check your watch but you also had never seen this man get passionate over an object before, he could get passionate over people- you, Steve, Sam, etc. -but never over this. “Are you ready to play music?” He reached over into his bin and pulled a record you’ve never seen.

“Which one’s that?” You asked as Bucky pulled it out of it’s sleeve.

“It’s just a random one I picked up a week ago for this,” Bucky held the record the proper way. “Thumb on the center and index on the edge, don’t touch the actual grooves because the oils in your hands can clog them up,” Bucky moved his hand around to show you.

“Sorry, what do you mean you bought that record for this? And why does the needle look different?” you noticed the needle looked extremely worn, it looked great and new a couple days ago.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky dismissed it. “So now we are gonna place the record softly,” Bucky placed it down and turned back to you. He talked about the arm and the needle before showing you how to put it on manually and then with the little leaver, after showing them each way twice he stepped back and offered you a turn.

“Seems easy,” you mumbled and took the arm, you were doing it manually first. The movements were extremely soft and slow, when the needle made contact it took half a second before a really grainy sound came through the speakers. It sounded wrong but Bucky nodded, he applauded you for taking the needle off as well. Then you did it with the leaver, right when it was about to touch you thought it looked off so you nudged it a bit- bad idea. The needle didn’t even hit the record and part of the arm scratched the recessed vinyl. “Shit!” You yelled and ripped it off. Causing the record to scratch, the sound and the record itself, there was a shine to the edge. “Oh god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to mess it all up- I really didn’t mean to break it- god, you must so ma- I’m sorry-” as you fumbled over yourself Bucky just started to laugh. “What?” you were about to cry because of the guilt.

“That was a sixties record and a needle that is five years old, you didn't do anything. I bought it because I knew this was bound to happen.” Bucky only laughed at your exasperated sigh, you fell into his hug like a child. “Poor baby,” he mockingly cooed, he found it so funny how you were screaming apologies at him even though it was painfully obvious it was a shit record and needle.

“That was scary, I think I need a nap after that…” you sighed.

Bucky threw you over his shoulder, “thinking the same thing, doll.

[sliptohk]

A Tale of Two Tribes

((I was about to send this but its three pages long. So I’ll snip it beneath instead.))

The Lohro

Proudly tracing their line back to when their ancestors first crossed the frozen seas to Eorzea, the Lohro are well aware that two distinct bloodlines were entwined together beneath the uniform name of their first Matriarch. Its expressed most commonly through the predominant coloration of the trbeswomen. Graced with chestnut hues from their grand ancestor Lohro and slate grey coming from her chosen sister Arentha, their oral histories record their genealogy through the generations. Hunting grounds have changed through the years, moving from the more hospitable woodlands of the Shroud outward further and further with the pressure of other families seeking more land, and the eventual rise of Gridania and its persistent pressure on the tribal Keeper communities that rejected their rules. The deadlier expanses of the swampland they have more recently come to call home resulted in a smaller number of children born to the huntresses. While their numbers diminished initially, they have stabilized once more.

Four key roles dominate the family structure of the tribe: Mind, Body, Spirit, and Heart. The mind typically falls to the most established huntress amongst their number, placing particular emphasis on cunning and survival skills. The body falls to the most prolific living warrior among their number, spear and bow serving as the primary choice of weapons due to their historically limited access to ore. Spirit, or lorekeeper, carries the full breadth of tribal lore onto the new generations with those filling the role tending to possess a significantly vaster wealth of knowledge of their people. The secrets of Menphina’s rituals are known to all tribeswomen, but only the Spirit passes them on due to their keen focus on remembering and reciting the purest recollections. Though seemingly the least valuable to outsiders, the Heart is embodied in their finest living artist. With the great interest in music, dance, carving, and painting that the tribe possesses, they turn to the works of their paragon to lift them up and ignite their pride. While some overlap can occur, particularly between holders of Mind and Body, the intense focus on filling these key positions within their home tends to prevent them from staying equally practiced in others. The matriarch is chosen from the four based on the current needs of the tribe. Presently, Mehhzi Lohro holds this role by way of her position as Mind, despite her advanced age.

The Lohro do not engage in ritual tattooing, though they possess a vast number of patterns when applying their paints. Each chooses the symbols most suited to what they wish in the task ahead, as well as their personalities before going out to engage in battle, dance, hunting, or mating. Color choice serves a lesser purpose, though certain patterns would never be drawn without the appropriate shades. At times, failure to get access to the proper shades have resulted in the activity being entirely forfeited rather than simply being applied with a different color. They see such things as a sign from the goddess that the activity to be undertaken does not have her blessing.

Unsurprisingly, their diet consists largely of wild game, fish, mushrooms, and edible tubers. While they will also collect any edible vegetation they find, or manage to trade for, it forms a smaller part of their diet. Typically a hunt would involve them stalking dodo, crocs, or deer within the wetlands. Few things would avoid a hunting party’s notice as they remain largely opportunistic, rather than stubbornly dedicated to limited sources of food. They subsist on a variety of herbal teas, with only the occasional juices when they find sufficient forage to produce it. The Lohro do not consume alcohol, having no means to produce it themselves. They have few truly sweet things within their land, with most fruits being more watery or tart to the taste. Due to this, they have been known to greatly overvalue such things and conduct poor trades in exchange for simple candies or sweets. Travelers that have shared food with the tribeswoman tend to complain its very blandly seasoned, the tribe having little access to salt, pepper, or other common spices that others take for granted.

Within their family unit, all woman of the same age are considered sisters, while all save their blood-mother is called an aunt. Any older than their mother’s age are simply called grandmother, or any number of greats attached to it depending on their generation. They remain aware of, and differentiate between, their blood-grandmothers, but for little reason outside their careful attention to their family lines. All children are raised by the entire tribe, so while one’s blood-mother does tend to share a unique bond with their offspring, their devotion is still to the family as a whole first and foremost. Outside of their neighboring rivals, the Ooja, a Lohro tribeswoman will refer to any other Keeper huntress as their sister, aunt, or grandmother depending on the age difference. While not sharing nearly the same familial attachment to them, they do consider them equals, provided they respect the territory and culture of their family. Seekers, and the Ooja, are invariably called cousin regardless of age difference, in reference to their oral histories initially referring to those families that formed the first twenty-six Seeker tribes as their cousins.

The Ooja

The offshoot of an unknown Keeper family, the Ooja do not trace their family name back to the frozen crossing. Placing little value on their ancestral line, these swamp dwelling miqo’te direct the majority of their efforts toward the present, having long since settled in the marshes of the Shroud. Unlike other tribes that found their lands shrinking or stolen, they claimed their territories a long time since in search of particularly virulent toxins that could be cultivated from flora and fauna deep within those lands. Due to their poor records, its difficult to tell which families formed the Ooja, or if it were just the single line. They almost inevitably possess the telltale violet eyes of their ancestor, though not always through natural means. Children born with others shades find themselves subjected to an alchemical treatment that forcibly alters their natural eye color to that easily identifiable violet. They share little other traits. While aggressive towards other Keeper women, they retain proper behaviors toward Wanderers and have always maintained a stable population roughly two to three times larger than their rival Lohro.

Personal value within the Ooja is determined entirely by one’s poisoncraft. Whenever a member of the tribe masters a particular toxin, they are granted permission to have a stylized form of it tattooed upon their body with a touch of the poison mixed into the ink. This results in older members, or particularly accomplished ones, having vast gardens or menageries decorating their skin in any number of shades. Its rarely the most talented poisoners that become the matriarch of the tribe, the title instead going to the most talented brewer of anti-toxins. After all, its only proper for their mother to be capable of curing her children should they overestimate their abilities, the miqo’te filling this role tending to be one of the most compassionate amongst them. While they possess warriors and hunters as any other tribe would, they coat all of their weapons before heading out for an engagement. Their neighboring tribes know that the Ooja need only nick the skin to achieve victory, tending to be quicker and more patient combatants. When one needs only a single wound to win a fight they can take their time going about it. The current matriarch is Sehkrah Ooja, one of their finest antidote mixers of all time. She possesses no tattoos.

Ritual paints have little variety among the Ooja, serving to properly honor Menphina when hunting or going to war, but they grow more and more uniform as a tribeswoman grows their collection of tattoos. Generally just a collection of circles, or slashes, that do not cover those symbols of achievement. They believe strongly in the goddess, and follow her rituals strictly, but do not believe other Keepers are beloved by the goddess as strongly as they are. Mockery of Menphina before a tribeswoman usually results in a particularly painful death by vial spilled into the offending parties food or drink, if not outright thrust into them at the point of a knife.

The Ooja eat a similar diet to the Lohro, but will apply poison to any that they encounter. There is no sanctity of guest right among them, tending to dose any food or drink they provide with a concoction of their making. Only Wanderers are spared from this treatment, with most merchants opting not to travel near the tribe’s lands once more if they recover from the initial experience. They actively clash with any who intrude upon their lands, despite repeated attempts to force out their own Keeper neighbors. Gridanians find themselves directly targeted and any victims stripped of valuables or foodstuffs before vanishing into the swamp. Despite rumors, they do not eat any spoken that they kill. Typically, they have access to more foreign foods and spices than other tribes in their region, as they will actively course farther afield from their home just to raid traveling merchants.

All children are raised by the tribe, and taught by whoever will show them what it means to be of the Ooja, though usually the birthmother fills this role. All of the same generation are considered sisters, while subsequent generations being aunts, grandmothers, and so on. One’s position within the tribe is entirely based on merit, one’s bloodline earning them no special treatment. At least in theory, in actual practice direct relatives often work to assist their kin even at the cost of sabotaging the work of others. While rarely crossing a line into truly dangerous behavior, it can lead to loveless rivalries between tribeswoman of the same generation. Or lingering resentments toward older ones. Other Keepers are disdained, finding little sisterhood with their fellows, though Wanderers are welcomed among their settlement. Any that poison a male Keeper are put to death by the tribe, not wishing to alienate themselves with such practices. They feel no kinship toward Seekers.

[sennettyoung]

Palestine is about to be annexed by Israel and we should do something

The Netanyahu government is planning to start the annexation of about 30% of the West Bank from July 1st. This is a violation of international law, coming after years of violations by building settlements on the West Bank. The area Netanyahu has his eyes on has a high concentration of settlements. On top of that the government also plans to take the Jordan Valley. The annexation would further fracture Palestinian areas, which makes a future two-state solution ever more difficult.

Downsides to annexation:

- building settlements becomes easier and more attractive (because annexation officially puts settlements under Israeli sovereignty)

- claiming areas for settlements is often accompanied by land expropriation or destruction of Palestinian civilians’ homes

- settlements are accompanied by separate roads and Palestinians are often not allowed to pass through settlements (or it takes a lot of time to pass humiliating checkpoints). This is a problem because it splinters the West Bank into a patchwork of enclaves. Because Palestinians have to use worse, separate roads moving around the settlements, towns can go from being 10 minutes apart to being an hour apart.

- violent encounters between settlements and Palestinian towns are likely to increase. Peaceful demonstrations are also frequently met with harsh military violence, even against children.

- it becomes more difficult to reach a two-state solution as the Palestinian part of the West Bank shrinks further and further down and is splintered by settlements.

- it will almost certainly exacerbate tensions

- if we allow this to happen, that could well be interpreted as permission to take more land in the future, until the entire West Bank is annexed and the two state solution utterly lost. All Palestinians there would end up living in a state of apartheid.

Sources to read more in detail:

https://edition.cnn.com/2020/06/12/opinions/israel-has-a-lot-to-lose-by-annexing-west-bank-territory-satloff/index.html

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-52756427

https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?v=258664238754275&ref=watch_permalink (long discussion)

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jun/11/israels-annexation-of-the-west-bank-will-be-yet-another-tragedy-for-palestinians

https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/06/explainer-israel-annexation-plan-occupied-west-bank-200627085214900.html

WHAT YOU CAN DO

By all means skip to your country or Everyone at the bottom

United States

I don’t see the US imposing any sanctions on Israel in the next four years to be honest, not now that Bernie Sanders is out of the race. That being said, there’s still a lot to be gained. Under Trump, the US is extremely pro-Zionist, to the point of being a deterrent to other countries. Under Biden, it could at least be more of a neutral than an actively harmful factor. Therefore:

Fucking vote for Biden in November even if you hate the guy, because in almost any policy area he’s better than Trump. You can’t self-righteously abstain from voting, it’ll just put some specks of actual blood on your hands.

Also consider calling your representatives, especially Democrats, because even among them there’s a lot of sympathy for the expansionary ambitions of the Israeli right-wing and reluctance to stand up for Palestinian human rights. Let them know that you care, because the evangelical lobby certainly does.

What to ask:

- for support for sanctions in the future

- for recognition of Palestine as a state

- for conditional aid to Israel in the future (conditional on the end of settlement building)

- for aid to the Palestinians, especially in the Gaza Strip

- for voting in the UN Security Council on the issue to be guided by international law

European Union countries

The EU is a special case because it cannot impose sanctions unless all member states unanimously agree, which is nearly impossible on this issue. However, the Irish attempted to ban products from the settlements, which could be in line with EU law. (It’s called the Occupied Territories Bill.) The government has dropped that idea recently, but please if you are from Ireland, let your voice be heard that this plan should be revived. If your country is already quite critical of the annexation, consider advocating for similar legislation to be drafted in calls or emails to politicians.

If you live in a right-wing country with close ties to Israel at the moment, please advocate for your government not to block measures against the annexation in the EU. The assumption is that the population is pro-Zionist. Make it clear that there are many who oppose expansionism and human rights violations.

In any country that hasn’t already done so: demand the recognition of Palestine as a state. This can be done without a European consensus.

In pro-Palestinian or ‘neutral’ countries: advocate for new trade agreements and partnerships with Israel to be conditional on the end to settlement policies and annexation.

Other countries

- call your representatives or send them a letter/email demanding the imposition of sanctions if the Netanyahu government follows through with the annexation.

- demand the recognition of Palestine as a state if your country hasn’t already done so (many of ya’ll non-Western countries have, props to you!)

- demand the freezing of trade agreements / partnerships if annexation takes place.

Everyone

organise locally churches, campuses, and trade unions are key allies to Palestine. Try bringing up the topic in any organisation of which you’re a member.

take Palestine into consideration in elections at least most European parties have a position on this issue somewhere on their website. Look it up next election season and take it into account when you vote.

volunteer for local pro-Palestine charities there are many and they need you. Many of them collect money for especially Gaza, which desperately needs medicine, clean water, and food. They also provide information to swing public opinion, as well as talking to politicians. Your city probably has one that you don’t know of.

defend all human rights a frequent criticism levied at those standing up for Palestine is that they’re harsher on Israel than other countries. Therefore, and also because you’re a decent human being, stand up for all human rights issues where you encounter them.

take part in direct action this includes only peaceful demonstrations. DO NOT TAKE PART IN ANY VIOLENT ACTION, ESPECIALLY NOT AGAINST JEWISH ORGANISATIONS OR PEOPLE. Moreover, do not levy your critique of the Israeli government at Jewish people or organisations AT ALL. Not a single Jewish person is accountable for Israel’s actions.

parttake in BDS (very much optional) BDS involves the boycotting, divestment from, and imposition of sanctions against Israel until it ends its occupation of the Palestinian territories, the West Bank and Gaza. The idea if best explained on the website, but the basic idea is inspired by the anti-apartheid movement against South Africa. It is not meant as a punishment, but as a coercive measure that will end the moment the occupation does. You can take part by not buying from certain companies supporting the settlements (see Google), not travelling to Israel, or avoiding Israeli / settlement products in the store (the latter should be labelled in the EU (soon)). The extent to which you want to boycott is up to you, and I will admit that sanctions are a contested policy measure.

donate to pro-Palestinian organisations

national / local ones

Jewish Voice for Peace: https://secure.everyaction.com/b5-NLp5380at34y9v7fS5Q2?am={{LastContributionAmount%20or%20%2750%27}}?ms=link

Breaking the Silence: https://www.breakingthesilence.org.il/

https://bdsmovement.net/donate

http://adalah.org/eng/ http://www.alhaq.org/about-al-haq/about-al-haq http://www.mezan.org/en/ http://www.btselem.org/about_btselem/contact_us http://www.thefreedomtheatre.org/ http://www.justvision.org/ http://www.alternativenews.org/english/ http://cfpeace.org/ http://www.newprofile.org/english/ http://www.theparentscircle.com/

sign petitions

UK https://palestinecampaign.eaction.online/stopannexation Everyone https://www.theotherjerusalem.org/petition US https://www.change.org/p/u-s-senate-oppose-annexation-of-palestinian-land Norway https://www.change.org/p/israeli-ambassador-to-oslo-stop-israeli-west-bank-annexation-sign-the-petition?source_location=topic_page US https://sign.moveon.org/petitions/congress-dont-endorse Belgium http://www.stop-occupation.be/ There are wayyyyy more of them! Please look them up in your own language / country, relevant to where your country stands on the issue, and post a link when you reblog <3

signal boost this post and others like it

educate yourself, educate your friends, family, classmates, those at your place of worship, colleagues, any strangers who will listen but be kind, always

[honeybammie]

every day & always › jeon jungkook › pt.2

↳ part one, part three  ↳ when the time comes for jungkook to take over his father’s role in the min gang, he has second thoughts about the man he wants to be, but you’ll do everything in your power to make him stay.  ↳ mafia!au jungkook, angst  ↳ wc: 4,893 ↳ note: i forgot that i meant to post a new part today until like 10 minutes ago so this isn’t edited and i am posting from my phone so i’ll have to go back and fix some things later i’m srry

Yoongi returned the following afternoon, having spent the previous couple of days checking on some of our assets on the outskirts of the city. I heard him whistling down the hall before he waltzed into my office, brown paper bag in hand. His relaxed shoulders meant he would have no bad news, which I was thankful for. Since Jungkook had left the day before, I couldn’t stop wondering what he was going to do.

“You know that whistling shit creeps me out,” I said to my brother, who came right up to my desk and sat on the ledge, welcoming himself to a cigarette. “What’s in the bag? A severed hand?”

He set it in front of me, covering the paper I had been writing. “Open it and find out.”

I glared at him, but he only jerked his head toward the bag. There was no distinct flesh smell filling the room, so I took my chances and glanced down inside. Takeout. A plastic container with noodles and beef inside.

“You’re not funny,” I told him while removing the contents and throwing the bag in a waste bin. When we were younger he once brought me a finger, shoved it in my face while I cried and screamed for him to take it away, and I constantly reminded him that I had yet to forgive the incident.

“I’ve been gone three days and brought your favorite meal and don’t even get a thank you?” he asked, pressing a hand over his heart and pretending to be hurt.

“It’s a tough life,” I said, shoveling bites into my mouth and hardly chewing. I had been so caught up in work that I’d forgone lunch. “Is everything going well out of town?”

He nodded, taking a drag and exhaling a lazy coil of smoke. “Nothing to report here. Did anyone give you a hard time while I was gone? Need to rough anyone up?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, obligated to tell him about Jungkook, but I feared what he would say. “Depends on what you define as a hard time.” Yoongi raised his eyebrows, urging me on. “Jungkook came by yesterday, and he’s having…doubts.”

“Doubts?” Yoongi echoed, like it was a dirty word. I was trying to tread lightly, but it was Yoongi’s job to turn every seemingly small detail into a big deal. There was no such thing as being too careful.

“He’s not sure he wants to be involved in the syndicate anymore.” I stretched the truth further than I should’ve. Jungkook would do anything to leave, but I believed he could still be won over, especially when he was stuck between his own life and someone else’s.

“Those are some serious doubts,” Yoongi said. As my stomach sank, I tried to convince myself that it was just because I had eaten too fast. “What did you tell him?”

“His problem is that he doesn’t want to kill anyone.” More or less. “I told him that if he got over it and killed just one man, we’d never ask him to again, and we’d put him on one of our business paths. I told him that if he leaves, the Park Clan won’t hesitate to come after him and his family. He wants to know if there’s a middle ground, one that doesn’t involve blood.”

“Doesn’t involve blood?” Yoongi laughed, a roar coming from deep in his chest that vibrated my chest, instilled me with the knowledge that I had been right to tell Jungkook there was no easy way out. “He can be a meager associate if he wants, but he’d have to find a soldier to work under. Even so, as much as we try within our means to protect our associates, they aren’t members. The Parks could put a bullet between his eyes and there’s nothing we would do. And we’d have to kick his mother and brother out of their current home, since we provided it for them. They wouldn’t be safe, either.”

I nodded along, having been aware of all of those things. “If he’s an associate, he might put off his fate for a while, but he’s valuable to the Parks. He’d end up dead all the same.”

“He could kill his father’s murderer,” Yoongi suggested, as if I hadn’t already.

“I mentioned that to him.”

“And?”

I backed myself into a corner for this one. If I told Yoongi that Jungkook would be willing to kill his father’s murderer, there would be no need for this conversation in the first place, and if I said that Jungkook wasn’t willing, Yoongi would throw him out on the streets in a heartbeat: no man was worth having who wouldn’t avenge his own family’s death. “He…didn’t say much,” I lied. Right through my teeth. “We had a pretty long talk yesterday, and I think he’s going to consider his options.”

“His options are to kill or be killed,” Yoongi said. I had said so, too, but hearing the words out of Yoongi’s mouth made them all the more real, falling into my lap with a gravity heavier than all the deaths that had come before. We had seen my father’s death coming for months, preparing ourselves in every way possible, but Jungkook’s death was coming out of nowhere. I didn’t want him to die hating me.

“What’re his odds of evading the Parks?” I asked. “If he leaves, I mean.”

“There are none. They’re barely human, that clan, and they’d sniff him out in a day. Even if a miracle struck him, his mother and brother wouldn’t make it out, and the Parks would use them as bait to bring Jungkook back.” Yoongi flicked the butt of his cigarette into the trash, and before I attempted to speak, a dark expression fell over his eyes, a black curtain at the end of a tragedy, when the audience sits dead and still.

“What?” I had never seen this face from him, but I knew it from my father. I was trying to place the times I had seen it.

“If he leaves, the Park Clan will find him. And they won’t just kill him. They will break his bones and cut off his hands and carve out his soul. He’ll spill everything he knows about us, eventually. He’d get people killed.

“Or he’ll run to the federal government—that’s his only hope from the Park Clan. The feds would put his family in witness protection in exchange for information. He’d get the two of us arrested, and who knows how many others.”

In Yoongi’s pause, I remembered where I had seen that look on my father before. It was the face he made when he realized he would have to kill a member of his own clan, and I knew Yoongi’s next words before they spilled over his lips.

“If Jungkook leaves…we kill him.”

A scream bubbled in the back of my throat, begging no, no, no while I choked down promises I had made. To protect. I would have to get Jungkook to stay with us, no matter what it took.

Out loud, to Yoongi, I said, “Okay.”

“You can’t tell him. You know that, don’t you?” Yoongi’s voice was low, dark. It was customary to kill members who betrayed the clan or were even suspected of betrayal. This wasn’t new. We had been doing it for centuries, but the thought of Jungkook being on the receiving end had me dizzy, like I was bleeding out of an invisible wound.

“Of course I know that,” I scoffed at my brother, never showing internal conflict on my face. I hadn’t even tugged on my earring— had I? “I’ll call him in tomorrow and try to get an answer.”

“No.” Yoongi waved away my request. “I’ll talk to him. You’re too easy on him, always had a soft spot. I’ve been hoping it’s still in him to be one of us, but I’d like to see for myself if his spark is there.”

I stiffened because Jungkook won’t sugarcoat his thoughts the way I had to Yoongi. My brother would know I lied, and once he knew that Jungkook had no intention of avenging his father, Jungkook would be stripped of the clan. And his life.

“Have it your way.” I forced myself to shrug, hiding my cards from Yoongi. I had never lied to him, not since we were children. My father stressed the importance of trusting each other above all else, and that if our relationship were ever to cave in on itself, our organization would as well.

As soon as Yoongi left, I found myself digging through files of our member’s and associate’s addresses, flicking past H’s and I’s until I landed on J. I had to see Jungkook tonight.

I had never been to Jungkook’s apartment since he moved out of his father’s three years ago, but I quickly found out he was housed adjacent to the streets where he smuggled and sold drugs, or snuck into busy stores to nab something we needed, a permanent borrowing. A lot of our young soldiers lived in the area, but despite the fact that it was claimed Min territory, I left home in disguise. Long trench fluttering around my calves, bobbed wig, and glasses to mask the top half of my face.

Jungkook didn’t recognize me, of course, and hadn’t been expecting anyone in the dead of night. I heard his footsteps approach, a pause as he observed through the peephole, and then nothing.

“It’s me,” I hissed. “Open the door. We have to talk.”

The lock clicked, and Jungkook swung open the door, rubbing an eye with his free hand. “I was trying to go to sleep. This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” I said, walking past without asking to enter. His living room reminded me of him, black couch and gray walls unwelcoming at first glance, but there was something in the smell and the shape of the room that made the quaint space look like home. He was wearing a black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, his usual color palette, and he still looked like home.

“The get-up is a little tacky, don’t you think? Looks like something out of a bad movie,” he commented as I removed my wig and glasses.

“Honestly?” I threw both onto his couch. “Do you take any of this seriously?”

“What? We’re not in your office anymore. This is my apartment, and I still can’t talk to you like you’re a normal fucking person? I can’t joke about a stupid wig?” He stood in the foyer, arms crossed over his chest, letting me into his house but not any further.

“Your life is on the line, and you’re making jokes.” I was raising my voice already, something I hadn’t permitted myself when we were in my office, but I was desperate. I didn’t even have a concrete plan or a script to go off of, just hoped that he would take whatever bone I threw him.

“I have to keep myself sane somehow, don’t I? If I spent all day thinking how I might be dead in a week, I wouldn’t be able to leave my bed.” He pulled at the roots of his hair, already at the end of his rope. “Are you here just to yell at me? Remind me how I’m an idiot and a coward?”

For a moment, I regretted coming, remembering how hopeless he was, but fear of his impending death kept me from leaving. “I’m trying to save your life,” I said, using all of my strength to keep my voice from wavering. “Yoongi’s going to call you into his office tomorrow.”

“And I’ll tell him the same thing I told you: that I want out.”

“You can’t do that!” I cried, involuntary, and raised both hands to cover my mouth. I wished we were back in my office, where I knew my role and how to practice it over him. This place smelled too much like him and looked too much like him and I was pale in the face of it. “If you tell Yoongi you want to leave, he will let you, and you will die. Your mother and your brother will die. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for them.”

“You’re not supposed to care.” He took one step towards me and stopped, like he hadn’t meant to, like the draw was invisible and he had no control. “If someone who isn’t an official member wants out, you’re supposed to let them go back into the streets to fend for themselves. If a member wants out, you’re supposed to kill them. No questions in either case. The only people you’re supposed to care about in this entire world are the ones who swear themselves to you, and I won’t.”

“What will it take?” I asked. He cocked his head at me—out of pity, not curiosity, I realized with dread—and took another step forward, then another. “You won’t make it out there. The Park Clan will get to you. If you think you can escape them and catch a plane somewhere safe and beautiful, you won’t, and—”

He had stopped, forced himself to, with only one more step between us. Up close, with the tilted window shades casting opalescent moon shadows over his face, I saw the resignation of a man who was already dead. He had let go of my hand years ago, when we stopped running, and now he was weaving his fingers with fate’s.

“The Parks won’t ever get to me, will they?”

My heart stopped. I felt it. My blood ran cold and the room fell apart underfoot, leaving only him and I, suspended together in death.

“You said during our meeting that they would torture me until they got the information they wanted. Later, I realized you and your brother would never let that happen. If I leave, you kill—”

“Shut up, Jungkook. Shut up.” I clamped one hand over his mouth and one at the back of his neck, standing toe-to-toe with him now. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. Every day and always, remember? Remember?”

He didn’t shove me, didn’t even let anger pool in his eyes. He just raised a hand, removing mine from his mouth, and squeezed once before letting go. “Not you, specifically. Maybe Yoongi himself, or another one of your hitmen. Every day and always ends with death. You’ll have kept your promise just fine.”

My knees buckled and met hardwood floor, face in my hands. He hated me for so, so many years, that I didn’t even know what I was doing on his floor, didn’t know why I hadn’t volunteered to kill him myself, but here I was, begging him to change everything he believed in. I hated him with half my heart for being an embarrassment and a coward, and I loved him with the other half because I was one, too.

“I need you to do me a favor.” He sunk down on the ground with me, pushing locks of hair from my face to restore a shred of my dignity. “My mother and brother—I have enough money for two plane tickets to the other side of the world. Give them those tickets. Get them out of here safely, please, so they can have another chance. Once they get where they’re going, they won’t be your problem anymore. Just this one last thing.”

“I can’t. I won’t. Not if you die.” I shook my head, despising myself for telling him no, but his family was the only leverage I had, my only means of keeping him with me. “You join us, and I’ll tell you where they are, and you can make amends and live happily with them in your life. Isn’t that worth it? To live for them?”

“Not if I have to kill a—”

“Grow up, Jungkook. Your father’s murderer is going to die whether you’re responsible or one of our hitmen. His life is already gone, but yours doesn’t have to be.”

He sighed, the sound heavy with so much pity. “Get up,” he said, standing and offering me a hand but I pushed myself up by my own strength because his hand in mine was too much, too intimate. We sat on the couch instead, where I wouldn’t have to rely on my feet to hold me up but could still straighten my back and feign a sense of power. He had done this intentionally, I thought, because he didn’t want to see me weak. He knew I needed to look like I had a purpose. “You’ve always said the best kind of man is one who dies by his beliefs, and the worst is one who lives by others’, and that’s what you’re asking me to do.”

“Call me a hypocrite, then.” I snapped. “Tell me I don’t have what it takes to be boss, or that I’ll never be like my brother or my father. You were right, yesterday, when you said you were the weakness I have never been able to get over, but what you didn’t get is that I’ve stopped trying to.”

He leaned his side into the couch, resting his head on the back of the couch and inhaling, deep, like he wanted to memorize the smell of his life and keep it with him afterwards. “I’m sorry,” he said. That was all. He was done fighting.

I was not. “Do you want to die?”

Jungkook’s eyes fell shut. I remembered him saying he had been trying to sleep before I came, and I had to be tiring him beyond measure. I was ready to repeat my question when he opened his eyes again, only partway, and stared right at me. Right through me. “There’s only one thing I want less than to die, but it’s the one thing you’re asking of me.”

“Could you be happy, do you think?” I copied his position, resting my head close to his and watching him watch me, reminded of when we used to love talking to each other so much that we’d fall asleep unwillingly on the couch or the living room floor of my home, and we’d wake up hours later with a blanket draped over us. “After initiation. If you could run your own club or casino, and find a girl who’s either okay with what we do or is involved in it herself, and have a million fucking kids—”

“I only wanted two.”

“Shut up. I’m talking,” I scolded, but the faintest traces of a smile appeared at the edges of his lips. Breathtaking. “If you could have all that, could you be happy?”

“I said I don’t want to raise my kids with a criminal father. Or put my wife through what my mom did. But maybe if I married within the syndicate, or tried to raise the kids so they could have a better life, then maybe. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. That fantasy’s gone.”

“You won’t kill? Ever?” I asked.

He shook his head, the faint echo of ever leaving his mouth.

“That’s the only thing you wouldn’t do to save your life?”

He nodded.

“Then would you lie?”

I could barely stomach the question, knowing what it would mean if he said yes, knowing that I was ready to keep a secret for the rest of my life if it meant he would do the same.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, fully awake now given the change in pace. No more killing. Just a lie, one lie, one monumental lie.

“I’ll kill him. The man who killed your father. I’ll do it, but we’ll say that you did it and no one will know any better and you’ll be initiated and you’ll be one of us and protected. And you can have the whole world, but no one can find out.”

Jungkook could turn me in right then if he wanted to. Maybe he was part of a covert operation this whole time and his apartment was bugged with microphones waiting for me to confess to the greatest sin of all. A traitor to my own blood. Willing to build a soldier into a king on a throne of falsehoods. I’d be killed. Yoongi would have no choice, and Jungkook would smile over my grave knowing that he had taken me down, like he had wanted all along.

But there was no gotcha, no sudden burst of light or noise or pain, just a silent apartment with a foolish boy and a foolish queen. We had always been quite the pair.

“What if someone did?” he whispered, like he too was scared of spies in the midst of the dust collected on his coffee table. “What if someone ever found out?”

“We die.” No use in sugarcoating since he was already familiar with the concept. “You have to be willing to live with it—the shame, the possibility that we could fuck up and someone could find out.”

“What do you think are odds are of survival?” he asked. An improvement. I could almost see him coming back to life, right there, blood rushing back into his face and the taste of plasma under his skin.

“Fifty-fifty: either we pull it off or we don’t.”

We would be a gang of our own, the two of us, like the old days when we hid ourselves within blanket forts and conspired against evil. Maybe we were evil. My family name would be stripped from me if anyone was ever to find out, and I would be buried—if even—in an unmarked grave far from the generations of Min men and women before me. The tiger with its amethyst eyes would be scraped from my skin, raw, and I would be forced to watch.

But if no one knew— I’d continue having everything I had ever wanted, and Jungkook would have the same with his wife and his kids. Wherever my father was, maybe he’d understand since he had been the one all along who said every day and always and I was only fulfilling the first promise I ever made.

“How do we pull it off then?”

I smiled first, and he followed, easy smiles that wouldn’t last, but we were here now.

“Tomorrow, when Yoongi calls you into his office, you tell him you’ve made up your mind, and you want to kill the man. Whatever he asks, just make him believe you want to be one of us. Talk about honor and duty and vengeance and family—you know how. I’ll write up your assignment and give it to you. The day of the assignment, I’ll say that I’m going out for the day and staying in a hotel or hanging out with strippers or—”

“Strippers? Taehyung’s not good enough for you?” Jungkook snorted.

I pinched the skin of his arm. He slapped my hand. We traveled back ten years for a single moment. “One of these days I’m going to cut off one of your fingers, and you’ll learn when it’s your turn to talk. Anyway. You’ll take my car, head out somewhere remote, wherever I tell you to. I’ll take your car, and I’ll do the job. Then I’ll come out and find you, and we’ll trade cars back, and you’ll tell Yoongi that it’s been done. The news the next day will confirm that he’s dead, and if anyone sees the car leaving the scene, it’ll be yours.”

“What if anyone sees your face?” he challenged.

“Theoretically, there wouldn’t be any witnesses, but…” I trailed off, almost tugging on my earring but not needing to. “I do have other tacky disguises I can put together. A man’s wig, a suit, and a pair of your sunglasses ought to keep any bystanders off my trail. No one will be close enough to tell that I’m not you. Whenever you go back to Yoongi, you’ll just have to be wearing the same kind of suit, and I’ll give the glasses back.”

He was studying me like I was either a madman or a genius, but centuries have proved there’s hardly a difference, the two caught in permanent, blissful embrace. “You think we can pull that off?”

I shrugged. Yes. No. Even if we did it might not be worth it. We might suffocate on our own shame. “Only one way to find out.”

“What do we do after?”

“I start you off working at one of our casinos, I guess, or a strip club, depending on which you prefer and who you want to work under,” I mused. “You’ll have to answer to a few other higher-ups, and you can’t talk to them the way you do with me. Not if you want to stay in one piece.”

“I’ve been working under half a dozen different capos over the years, and they never cut me to pieces.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So it’s just me, then?”

“I’ll start following decorum better when we’re in public, but if you’re ever in my apartment again, I reserve the right to speak informally. I’m still older, after all,” he said. I bit my cheek to hold back a comment about how he could only afford this ratty home because of the jobs we provided him. I didn’t want power over him, not here at least. “I’d prefer to work in the casino, too, if that’s possible.”

“No strip clubs?” I pretended to pout. “You might meet your future wife there.”

“I’ll take my chances, thanks. My future wife could come by the casino, too.”

“Looking to marry a high roller? Fair enough. Your children will be spoiled.”

He shook his head, laughing—laughing. I hadn’t made him laugh in years, and I felt like I had just walked into frigid ocean waters, struck stupid with shock before I eased into calm familiarity. For a moment I even forgot how much time had passed since we had been this way, like the chasm from the last years had never been there at all, but it was, even still.

“Jungkook?” I whispered. His eyes found mine, still crinkled at the edges. “What do we do after? Us. I’m still the same person you hated.” Maybe he did even now, but I didn’t care to guess anymore. All I could remember was Jungkook’s face in my office when I told him Yoongi and I didn’t keep track of the number of murders we signed off on. “After this, I might be even worse, and I’m not going to change what I do. I’ll spend the rest of my life killing people and letting other people kill people and committing a million other crimes to uphold an empire.”

Uncertainty crossed his face again, his confidence from the past couple minutes wasting away. “It’s an empire that I’m a part of,” he said. “You’re not the only criminal.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Your crimes will never be anything next to mine.” I would drown in the same blood that would never touch him. “Will you hate me for what I do?”

“What you do isn’t who you are. Killing people isn’t who you are, it’s just—” He tripped over himself, trying to justify what he desperately hated. “I hate what you do, okay? The murder part, at least. I can live with screwing people out of money or selling drugs. But I don’t hate you. I won’t.”

I didn’t say anything, satisfied with the improvement, but Jungkook must not have liked the silence because he continued. “I don’t…I don’t think we’ll be friends after this, though. You know? We’ll be connected forever between our past and our secrets, but the excitement of all this will fade and we’ll probably have that kind of chummy boss-employee relationship where we catch up once in a while but mostly we just smile at each other when you give me orders.”

He had always been the one in dreamland, with my feet kept firmly on the concrete, so I had no idea what shifted now. All I knew was that I hated his vision for the future, so much so that I reached for my wig, tucking my hair back into the cap in preparation for my exit.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sitting back up. In retrospect, I didn’t know what answer I expected him to give, but I’d hoped for something more than the dull pleasantries exchanged between a boss and a worker.

“You said you were tired,” I pointed out, slipping the sunglasses over my eyes before he noticed my disappointment. “Besides, we have our plan, so it’s time for me to head home.”

He hurried after me to the door, stepping between me and my exit. “What did you want me to say?” he demanded. “That everything will be the way it was when we were young? That we’ll stay up until the break of dawn laughing like the rest of the world doesn’t exist? That we’ll be best friends all over again?”

“Grow up, Jungkook.” I waved him out of the way, pushing the door open myself. The one thing I was good at was talking down to him, but it wasn’t a skill I wanted to have anymore. “I never wanted to be your damn friend.”

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 3

[ OOC Disclaimer ]  | Over the last year HoTN has put together this story ‘In Depths Below’ it began with Lazarius being taken from Kun-Lai Summit, and the chase to get him back from the Hunters hired by Magister Dawnseeker was unveiled.  Every member eliminated a certain threat, the Order banded together to orchestrate the take down,  and accomplished their mission they’d set out to do.  The events here are what happened during.  This is Lazarius’ side, where he was; and what he’d done.  And just how he and a certain new savior became bonded.  Id like to give a tremendous thanks to @zandalaridruidofgonk for the help in putting this together and making it happen.   And thank you to everyone who has offered support and kind words over the last year.  Without further delay, the conclusion of our 2nd fictional collaboration.  In Depths Below. |

[ J ]       Jursol listened to his words, his questions about how far she’d go to protect her family, her way of life, her freedom. Many thoughts crossed her mind in those moments. Memories of how she came to care for her raptors. How she was taught magic that others saw as dangerous, or to primitive. How upon returning home to Zandalar she has only suffered at the hands of others.

The magic she used brought the wrong kind of attention from others. Some days she wondered why she even came back. This man was one of the few who seemed to not despise her. He was also something that fascinated her. Especially seeing how he seemed to be healed already after suffering such damage.

Jursol continued to pet the small raptor as she gave a fanged smile before speaking.

“Freedom not be free. It be paired for in blood, death, suffering. It be something I will never give up without a fight. Dis war be something I want nothing to do with. Dis world be suffering. Dis world be afraid of anything it not be understanding.”

Taking a look around at her hut with a slight smile she spoke frankly to him.

“I be doing anything to protect my freedom, my family, my way of life. Even if it be meaning killing.”

As she finished speaking the little raptor leaped off her to run around the hut. It found a place to rest as she moved to prepare to follow the elf into the jungles. Grabbing a few small bags, and; some vials that were empty to collect blood, before moving to the door to leave.

“If you be healed it be time to hunt.” She seemed eager to shed the blood of those they are after.

[ L.K ]     “We are very much alike in that respect Miss Jursol.”.

Lazarius would make his way beside her. Taking it upon himself to move from the inside of her cabin to the outer jungles that seemed to scream with life. It was obvious he didn’t seem all too bothered by the sounds and sights of the jungle. Unlike most elves that would have probably found dirt and sweat to be unappealing, he was quite comfortable.

“I will need you to lead the way as I have the navigation skills of a drunken dirt farmer. Especially in these unfamiliar territories.”.

[ J ]       As the two walked outside, Jursol noticed the elf seemed very at ease here. She remembered another she met who would swat at every single leaf or insect, and jumped at every sound they did not recognize. Laughing softly at the memory before she took the lead.

“At least you be honest about dis. Most I bet not be wanting to admit any weakness.”

[ L.K ]      His voice cracked as he let a small laugh escape his lips. Lazarius was pleased so far, free from those shackles and bindings, free from the grips of his captors. Hopefully the rest of his order was not irrationally starting a war, God’s only knew his twin must have been livid with him missing...again.

As she was permitted to take charge, he relinquished control to her. Staying close but not too close as to crowd her. He was trying to match her stride but he was absolutely no where as skilled at jungle traipsing as she.

“My views and...thoughts have changed over...the years.”.

He said brokenly as he walked behind her, his voice only loud enough for her to hear under the weight of their steps along the brush.

“My life has... been in the service of the ... old ones since I was only ... very young, but now ... I know that I must balance ... carefully on both sides...”.

[ J ]       As she lead the way with her white raptor near by, she heard a sound in the brush. A simple wave her hand and the raptor took off after what ever it was. A screech was heard as the sounds of a struggle came from the brush. The loud sound of crunching of bones was the last thing heard, before the raptor returned looking pleased. It’s mouth dripping in the blood of what ever poor animal was there. Jursol listened intently to him as she moved branches such out of his way.

“Old ones? Ah you be meaning Old gods I take it. Mmm, yes as with everything balance must be held. As one once be telling me, da be no darkness without light, no light without darkness. Even da shadows need da light to exist. It be hard to be free here in Zandalar. One must follow certain ways, or be shunned.”

[ L.K ]     Lazarius was more thinking out loud than anything, thank the gods they found flat soft ground to walk on finally.

“The people who serve with me, I will do anything to ensure they are free of tyranny, judgement and persecution.”  

He thought to himself for a moment then spoke.  

“Consider that my debt paid in full Miss Jursol, should you ever need somewhere safe... of these jungles come to claim you and the tribes encroach on your lands...should you need an ally in your darkest hour. The Nine...our Bastille, and my wrath...will be yours to use as you see fit.”

[ J ]       A deep sigh escaped her lips as she continued to clear a path. The beach was now close enough to hear the waves crashing on some rocks at the shoreline.

“I tank ya for dat, really. . . I be under attack more den most know.  Now more den evah...”

[ L.K ]     “ We are family...and I will protect the ones who protect me with my life...if that means we can be at peace and do as we wish....Freedom...” he said softly as they came closer to the exit of the forest edge.

[ J ]       Growing silent Jursol pointed to the beach now within sight. Scattered around still were bits of the ship, and maybe it’s contents of anything made it ashore. The white raptor made a sound as it seemed to pick up on something. Scavengers perhaps? Or perhaps others looking for this elf.

[ L.K ]     He reached out and took hold of her scaled flesh with the wrapped edges of his bandages.

“ Wait...”

As he moved up closer beside her, both elf and troll would be in that sneaky crouching position, and from their height vantage looking down at the beach, a small fire with seven figures could be seen huddled about massive piece of drift wood and debris. They had in fact found part of the wreckage of the airship.

“It must have crashed nearby and drifted in the lagoons...”

She could see his eyes flare up at this point had she looked back to him when he spoke. Voided magic’s beginning to drip from the gaps of the wrappings around his fingers, sizzling like a black magma as it hit the ground and slithered back to its master to be reborn again.

“These men are mercenaries, come to claim the price on my head. Their intention was to return me to Quel’thalas and deliver me to a very powerful Magister. They have something very important to me that I need in order to return to my people.”

Lazarius slowly moved a hand toward his shoulder where his robes were not even covering half, she would see the circled serpent branding against his tattooed flesh. The symbol of the Nine.

“I need that talisman...”

[ J ]      After scanning the intruders Jursol looked to the elf. She noticed more and more how he differed from others. He was definitely something else indeed.

Her gaze was locked onto the void magic dropping from his fingers seeming to come from the pours themselves. As it sizzled hitting he ground, her eyes widened in amazement and fascination. It was clearly alive as it even returned to his body.

Wishing to ask questions she held her tongue for now. There were enemies to deal with now. His words seemed to break her focus on the void magic as she nodded slowly to him.

“Mercenaries dey may be, but like others trespassing dey will die. I guess we be keeping dem alive long enough ta find what you be looking for.”

A sly wicked grin crossed her lips as she licked her fangs.

“Den I be feeding my raptors good tonight. Perhaps even da small little ones can eat some as well.”

Clearly she had no care for the lives on those down there. To her they were about to be a few meal for her family, and entertainment for her.

“When you be ready I be ready.” She said as she studied the mark, burning it into her memory.

[ L.K ]     “There are no reasons to leave them alive... I will strip their flesh from their bones and flay them alive if I need to. The only one I want alive is the one wearing the red cap. He was second in command to the leader I killed on the way down during the crash.”.

Lazarius narrowed his black eyes at the rest of them.

“Elf flesh is delicious...so I have heard from a companion of mine. Your raptors will eat well.”.

Slowly the man rose from the brush and began to pad down his robes and clean himself the best he could.

“Well...how do I look?”. He stated as he gave her a generous charming smile.

“How about we go for a walk dear Jursol? I’m sure they will get quite the shock when we waltz on down and introduce ourselves.”

[ J ]       Looking to spot the one he wanted alive she snarled.

“Den the one shall live, while de others become a nice meal for my raptors. I feel dis will be a great night a hunt.”

In the distance the sound of a raptor calling echoed though the jungles. Jursol grinned even more as she readied herself. Looking him over and quietly laughing at his charming smile, she gave a nod of her head.

“Be looking ready to be teaching a lesson to dem.”

She said as she made a strange animal like sound. The jungles seemed even more alive as the other animals reacted to her sound. As he gave word he was ready she started to make her way down, clearing a path for him as she went. Once they were near the beach Jursol blew loudly into her Death Whistle.

Her hope was that mixed with the sudden uproar of wildlife sounds would throw them off. Perhaps make them a bit uneasy being in a new place, that does seem very unforgiving. She remained hidden until he was back next to her. The raptors hunting call growing louder as they to neared the beach.

"Gentlemen!"

[ L.K ]     Lazarius hollered loudly as he slid down the embankment and onto the beach where he could be seen clearly walking toward the group of seven turned even more startled.

First the death whistle and the sounds of the creatures nearby causing them to reach for broken pieces of metal and wood that they had used to as makeshift weapons, and now this?

"Gentlemen it is good to see that you've all survived our little crash. . ." He raised his hands upward as he offered to show them he was in fact unarmed. These men were not fools though. “Most of you. . .some of you. . .”

They knew that the restraints missing were a bad thing. Or maybe they didn't.

"Now I know none of us expected to get stranded here on the beautiful sun baked beaches of Zandalar but. . .that is what has happened. Suffice to say we should all hope to eventually make it off of this island in one shape or form or another."

Lazarius walked calmly toward the small camp. If Jursol so chose to join him, the introduction to the men would continue.

"This is Jursol, she is a friend of mine. We've actually decided to come down here to see if you fine, upstanding people were alright. And seeing as how at least some of you didn't get picked off by the shark swarms, it goes without saying that you'd probably like to live past breakfast."

"Shut up you fucking mouthy son of a bitch! Light be damned this was why we bound and gagged you, just Shut up!" yelled one of the men watching the Inquisitor coming toward them.

“Marill let him speak. . .maybe he actually has a way out of here." called another.

"No Calleh, we aren't going to let him speak. . .did you forget that Dawnseeker wants him. We're getting paid a shitload of gold to deliver him alive. . .fuck his plan, we take him in and get that-fucking-money."

The man named Marill snapped back, slapping the side of the moronic man who wanted to allow him a chance.

"Now gentlemen I think that is a pretty unwise decision. . .considering the fact that I'm not actually planning on going back with you. So why don't we just all relax and think about this. . .you just tell me where my talisman is. . . and we'll just forget this whole thing ever happened. . .How does that sound?"

Lazarius asked as he grew closer still, walking at the same pace with his hands raised above his head.

[ J ]       Jursol grinned wide as she waited a moment before walking out from the thick jungle. She found the fact they reached for makeshift weapons highly amusing, clear by the pleased look on her face. Her eyes scanned the men as she walked out next to the elf. Hearing him introduce her she gave the men a, very sly, fanged grin.

Hearing the men speaking back to the elf in such a tone as they did, only stood to amuse her even more. She had seen what he can do, and she knew that lack of respect will be the end of them. They need him alive, but he only needs one of them alive. This won’t end well for those men at all. The banter was making her laugh as she kept her hands within sight for now. Staying close to him as they approached the hunters.

“Jo be in mah jungles now. Trespassers be not welcome here.” She said oddly calmly as she grinned more.

“I be thinking you best be tellen him where dat talisman be. That or we can be maken dis a game. I be happy ta help ja meet Ole Bwonsamdi. He be needen some new souls ta rule.”

As she spoke she stretched her clawed hands. A faint humming came from a bag she carried. She had a little surprise for those hunters with her. The screech of raptors grew ever louder as they grew ever closer to the beach.

[ L.K ]     Lazarius calmly continued on his trek toward them, his hands raised, and a smile on his face hearing the troll interact with them.

The men were somewhat in a daze at this point. The sight of the tall elf walking toward them with hands raised high. The sight of an even taller troll beside him. That buzzing, what the hell was that buzzing. The screech Of raptors, why did it have to be raptors! They were panicking and bunched together. Eyes wide and hearts beating.

Lazarius turned toward Jursol and smiled.

“Do you hear that? Thump thump, thump thump...such a lovely rhythm that tempo...”.

Lazarius turned his attention back toward the men.

“My good men...this troll...this beautiful...mesmerizing creature...she will end you.”.

He stopped several paces from them, hands still raised.

“I am NOT kidding, she does not take kindly to strangers who burn fires, make messes and just overall are being rude on her shores...you are being rude, you haven’t even introduced yourselves..”

“Im Calleh!” shouted one of the men as he was swatted by Marill.

“ Shut up... look Kashebahl...no hard feelings or anything but you... you have to come with us, this isn’t personal it’s work...you shouldn’t be so hard on us we’re just doing our jobs...”   one more of the group had called out.

Lazarius paused and nodded slowly.

“Just doing your...jobs. Right well I mean that does make sense, makes a lot of sense...”.

He looked at Jursol and sympathetically offered her a frown.

“That makes sense doesn’t it Miss Jursol?”.

Lazarius would slowly lower his hands and droop his head.

“Do...any of you know what my job is?”.

He asked as his bare toe started to draw little figures in the sand haphazardly.

“ Youre a rich guy!” Calleh borked again like a fool.

“Shut up Calleh!” Marill howled. “ Youre a noble...you move fine art, spice and fabrics. And you..owned a massive manor in Tirisfal.  Look it really doesn’t matter. . .it isn’t personal, it just is what it is. . . ”

Lazarius was tracing a little smiley face as he nodded listening to them. Or wasn’t listening and he chuckled.

“Is what it is. . . Hmm. . . So you don’t know what my job is...”. He continued to draw and extended his palm toward Jursol.   He completely ignored what they’d said to get back to his point.

She could see by the gesture that it looked like he was offering her his hand, but then he swept it away and moved it to point at the men. As if now he was saying, “have at them” which was exactly what he was saying.

“My job...is locating individuals such as my beautiful counterpart here; who share a like minded opinion of the state this world is in...rallying under one banner...forging a future together. . .drawing strength and resolve from one another in order to survive the insufferable garbage fire that is Azeroth and nearly all of its inhabitants. ..”.

All of that was said as she did whatever she was going to do. The only thing Lazarius had told her was to leave the one man alive, he changed his mind and called to her.

“Spare Calleh won’t you...I like him.”

To be Continued in. . . “In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 4″

[tcxastough]

Fallout verse-- companion quests, New Vegas

So I generally have in Danielle’s Fallout verses that she’s a companion/follower for the player character, and like every good companion, they need a companion quest for the player to complete.

Unlike Fallout 4, New Vegas companions do not have a love/like/dislike/hate meter, and thus the only way to get their “trust” value up is to complete tasks in certain ways for certain quests (a prime example for this is Arcade Gannon, but all the companions have this to a certain extent.) The actions you must take are as follows:

-- Hard Luck Blues: In the quest Hard Luck Blues, you will gain +2 trust points if you decide to shut Vault 34′s reactor off without saving the trapped vault dwellers, and will comment that you made the right choice and “Sometimes the good of the many means sacrificing the few”. However, if you decide to save the trapped Vault 34 dwellers and thus dooming the NCR sharecroppers, Danielle will ask why you decided to save a couple of people over saving hundreds of acres of farmland (and the people that eat the food from said farmland); you have a list of speech options to choose from: * “The NCR needs to go back home, this seemed like an opportunity” -- Danielle will comment on how Mr. House or the New Vegas locals could have easily used the land instead once they are pushed back, and you will lose 1 trust point. * “I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I was responsible for their deaths.” -- Danielle will frown and comment on how you seem to have no trouble sleeping after killing other people you don’t even know, hostile or non hostile, and you will neither gain nor lose any trust points (if you activated ARCHIMEDES at Helios One, she will comment that you’re a hypocrite, and you will lose 2 trust points.) * “Not sure, just felt like it.” -- This will garner her to go quiet for a brief period, then comment on your spontaneous decisions and hope you don’t decide to do something stupid with your rash behavior. You will not lose or gain any trust points. * [Speech 45] “I know I can’t save everybody, but I still have to try.” -- Danielle will become contemplative, and ask if trying to save a few people is worth the risk of other lives, and what places value on some people over others. You will gain +2 trust points.

-- Young Hearts: If you finish the quest with Danielle in your party (or afterwards if you speak to Jack with Danielle in your party,) She will comment on your skills as a wingman. You then have the following dialogue options: * “They’re moving a bit fast, in my opinion.” -- Danielle will remark that it may be true, but the wasteland is hard and life is short, so relationships are usually acted out rather quickly. * “They make a cute couple.” -- Danielle will agree and speak of how Jack’s eagerness reminded her of her husband. * “I don’t really care, I just helped out so the Boomers will like me.” -- Dani will chuckle slightly and ask if that’s why you bring her along in hopes of making her more friendly towards you. No matter which option you pick, she will then talk about how she and her late husband met under similar circumstances by him becoming a new recruit, and how quickly they hit it off. After a bit of information pressing, she will both admit to being a former Brotherhood scribe from the Texas Branch and will also explain that the branch fell to a warring tribe that sided with the Legion in order to attack, and that both her husband, her son, and mother and father died attempting to protect the settlement. She then says that she’d like to drop the subject and keep moving. You will gain +2 trust points.

-- The Coyotes: Completing this quest with Danielle in your party will earn +1 trust point as long as you successfully complete it. She will make a quick comment that slavers are scum and deserve death.

-- Come Fly With Me: If your speech is low and you do not have the Black Widow perk, Danielle can speak to Haversham and convince him that he is not a ghoul and to not to sabatoge the rocket. Completing the quest with her in your party will earn +1 if you allow the Ghouls to successfully launch their rockets, +2 if you improve their coordinates (science skill) before launch, and -1 if you crash the rockets into eachother. No matter what you pick, Danielle will respond. “This was such a weird fuckin’ day.” Once the quest is completed.

-- There Stands The Grass: If you travel to Vault 22 with the quest active and Dani in party, she will speak with you and give you another option: Give the research notes to her instead of letting Keely delete them or giving them to Dr. Hildern. This option won’t be available if you have already completed the “I Could Make You Care” quest with using the data as an option to give to the Elder. You will gain +3 trust points for giving the data to Danielle; other options do not affect her affinity.

-- (Misc.): Walking through the Hidden Valley with Danielle in party will have her comment on how the Mojave Brotherhood don’t allow new members, and that she was rejected entry despite her history in the Texan branch. She further goes on to explain that this was how she met Victor and decided to join Mr.House in his conquering of the Strip. Gains +1 trust point.

-- (Misc.): Walking into the New Vegas Clinic with Danielle will cause her to comment on how she barely survived the attack of the legion and how she had crawled herself into the nearly-destroyed Brotherhood bunker’s Autodoc to have most of her organs and right arm replaced. Gains +1 trust point.

--(Misc.): Having Rex in your party will delight Danielle, and claim that she also used to have a cyberdog named Gunner at one point. She also says that, if you ever want Rex to have mounted turrets on his back, just say the word. Gains +1 trust point (only once)

(more trust point opportunities may be added later)

--

Hell Hath No Fury

    After gaining at least 5-7 trust points, Danielle will confide in you that the true reason she came out west was to track down the Paladin that betrayed the Texan Brotherhood by desserting and giving Caesar’s Legion security access codes to their troops, and thus was responsible for the conquering and slaughtering of her family. She knew it was foolhardy to try it alone, and thus attempted to reach the Mojave Brotherhood chapter for assistance. When they turned her down, she was prepared to head towards NCR territory, when she stopped on the road in Goodsprings and spotted a lone securitron, Victor, on the point of disrepair. 

    Being a former Senior Scribe and excellent in robotics and repair, she fixed the securtiron up and even managed to half-way unlock the upgrades in the model that the Platinum chip would have fully unlocked. Impressed with her skills, Victor hired the woman as a repairman and mercenary by proxy of Mr. House, running odd jobs and errands that securitrons couldn’t do. While she never spoke to the man face-to-face, she knew a man with so much power and influence would easily crush the legion forces when they came rolling in.

    While Danielle is fine with awaiting the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, she wishes to personally find the Paladin who betrayed her family and personally killed her husband: renamed Sanctus Militus by Caesar. She has word to believe that the man has gone AWOL, but has no idea where he could be, and asks that you help gather information. After a bit of running around, you will find that Sanctus is hiding in Brocflower Cave.

     Once found, you will discover that the once corrupt paladin is now old and crippled, even older than Caesar, and went awol due to no longer being of any use to the legion. You have a choice to convince Danielle to let the grudge go and leave the man be, with a 50 speech check for saying there is nothing left of him and he isn’t worth the hate, or you can allow her to recieve closure. 

     If you allow her to kill Sanctus, a cutscene will ensue and Danielle will kill the man in a scripted event by stabbing him in the gut multiple times. She will then turn to you and claim that he and the Legion turned her into a monster, (though whether she is refering to the multiple scars and vast cybertronics in her body or her mental state or both is unknown,) but that the memory of her late family is what still keeps her feeling human, and will thank you for giving her this opportunity for closure.         Taking this path will allow Danielle to gain the “Vindictive Justice” perk, which will give you a +2 boost to your Strength and Endurance as long as she is in the party (adds on even with 10 stat)

      If you convince Danielle to spare Sanctus, she will walk out of the cave and wait for you outside. After walking out, she will then comment on how the whole idea was stupid and she wasted decades trying to gain something she would never have again. She then thanks you for allowing her to realize this.        Taking this path will allow Danielle to gain the “Still Human” perk, which will give you a +2 boost to your Charisma and Intelligence as long as she is in the party  (adds on even with 10 stat)

[asongstress1422]

The Fire Dragon's Table

Zutara Fanfic – Part 7 of Bride from the Water Tribe

Summary: Katara was taken to the Northern Water Tribe by her grandmother; she was to be protected at all cost, for she was the last of the Southern Water. Once they got there, the North refused to teach her trying to strip her of her worth and turn her into what they wanted, a calm biddable healer to birth the next generation. They failed. And so as punishment they sent her to be a political bride to the Fire Nation. Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The females were driving Zuko mad.

Everywhere he went a pack of them were waiting to run him to ground. One would think that giving up two meals and the majority of one’s mornings would be enough for the hunters. But no, they still insisted on stealing even more of his time. Conveniently bumping into him in hallways and offering to walk with him, perfectly timed twisted ankles that required his help getting them to their destination. It was getting to the point where he was skulking around his own palace to keep under their radar.

It was humiliating.

A week into the bridal endeavor, after a disaster filled afternoon of meetings, Zuko was relieved when he had been able to slip into his rooms undetected. The two guards bowed and opened the door for him. At the sound of the solid wood closing behind Zuko let out a deep sigh, the exhaustion of the day pulling at his shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to stretch out naked on his bed and ignore the world for one night of full, uninterrupted, deep sleep.

It was a pipe dream though and he knew it. Servants were already setting up the evening meal and the guest of honor would be arriving within the hour. Not enough time for a nap but plenty of time to change and make a small dent in the mountain of paperwork waiting for him before she arrived.

Zuko didn’t care for the fact that both the morning and evening meals with the candidates were served in his room. He would have much preferred to have them in the more formal dining hall. His uncle had pointed out that, at standard, the dining hall could easily seat two hundred, and the point of these particular meals were to get to know the women. That meant letting them into his personal territory, seating them across from him at the low table, and talking to them over the food.

‘Forced intimacy’ his Uncle called it. Zuko understood the ‘forced’ part but if anything the meals were an ordeal. The women thus far fell into two groups: the ones that blushed and giggled the whole time and the ones that looked at him as if he were the designated main course.

Instead of having to play court to the passel of candidates he wished he could get back to work on the things that really mattered, like running his country. Uncle thought this was important though and Zuko respected his counsel. It wasn’t as if things were going well in the ‘running the country' department either.

There were twenty-four representatives that made up the governing body of the Fire Nation. The issues arose from that each one seemed to have their own way on how things should be run. His Uncle, as head of the Kasai House, deferred to Zuko in all things even though he was currently the Regent. A few other members had taken Iroh’s lead, going so far to acknowledge the heir’s point of view before putting forth their own. The others seemed to discount everything Zuko said as if he didn’t have the brains to rub two thoughts together as they vied against one another to try and push forward their own agenda. Then they tisked and scolded if Zuko demanded their attention as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.

Once he was crowned Fire Lord that would all change, he thought menacingly. When he became Fire Lord in truth they would have to listen to him. Until then he would keep his calm and finish the hunt for a wife that would stand beside him.

As a servant helped him take off the stiff leather mantle, Zuko tried to remember who was going to be there for his perusal this night. Lady Faunten? A second daughter to a prominent earth family and three years his junior. She enjoyed watercoloring. No, she was set later in the week.

It was Lady Zemara he decided as he sat behind his desk separating documents that needed his immediate attention with those he could look at when he had more time. Eldest daughter of the Ohisama House her firebending was considered one of the hallmarks of the clan. She was a high choice of the Fire Sage’s, the Temple of Spirit was situated on her home island. There was something about her though that set off Zuko’s warning bells. Powerful, beautiful, and intense, she reminded him of a more outgoing Mai, his once intended fiance.

He felt a pang in his chest remembering the somber, quiet girl from his childhood. After spending most of his life knowing they were going to be married and learning the hidden facets of her personality, not all of them good, Zuko considered himself half in love with her. He had been so naive, so sure things were going to go on exactly as they were planned. And now she was dead.

Zuko dug his fingers into the ache that settled into his left eye. Agni, it felt like a lifetime since he first heard the news of the failed uprising that had cost both his ex-betrothed and his sister’s life. Rubbing his face he sighed, getting back to his paperwork. Just because things had changed from their designated course didn’t mean Zuko had the luxury of letting things fall by the way side.

Tonight he would have dinner with Lady Zumara and, regardless of any personal trepidation, if she was the best choice for his country he would make her the next Fire Lady. If she was not, he still had another ten Houses to choose a mate from.

Zuko nearly snarled at the servant who came to tell him of his guest’s arrival. He was in the middle of reading a legal appeal sent in by the Jang Hui village, a small fishing hamlet situated in the middle of the river of the same name. They were asking for restitution, claiming that the pollution being poured into the river by the near by military factor was destroying their way of life. Fish spawns were dying out, people were getting sick, and there was no money for repairs or to move.

At the lowered eyes of the attendant, Zuko reeled himself back in. It wasn’t the maid’s fault that there were people out there, his people, that needed help. Zuko thanked the servant, who bowed hesitant before returning to her task, and took a full minute to collect himself before he walked into the main portion of the suite. It wasn’t the Lady Zumara’s fault either he reasoned, that he was constantly being forced to stop and play host. He had made the invitation, she had accepted; placing blame would not help anyone and would only make more hurt feelings.

“My Lady, thank you for joining me--,” the practiced words were already falling from his lips when he stepped into the room, so it was a punch in the gut when the red garbed woman turned and speared him with her dazzling blue gaze. His eyes narrowed. “You.”

Lake Katzka --er, Katara raised a delicately arched brow at the less-than-diplomatic sneer on her host’s face.

“Good evening, Crown Fire Prince.” She bowed, her completely proper greeting setting Zuko’s teeth on edge as it only highlighted his own rudeness.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Zuko couldn’t put an exact finger on it but there was a distinct note of annoyance in her carefully maintained serenity. “I was told to be here.”

“By whom?” he pressed, not putting it past her to make him look stupid again. Wouldn’t it be just great if he affronted one of his own people by seeming to double book her with this water nation girl.

“A note signed by the Regent.” Her eyes were frosty but she kept her tone tightly reigned in.

Her composer irked him. His smile was all teeth when he asked, ever so saccharine, “you wouldn’t happen to have that on you, would you?”

The air itself became cool when she leveled her eyes on him, looking ready to rip him a new one. He waited with bated breath for such an explosion knowing he could use such ungrateful behavior to send her away.

But she did something unexpected. Without another word she turned and marched for the door. Zuko frowned, wondering what her game was. The servants must have been confused as well because no one rushed forward to open it for her before she stormed out.

His jaw dropped. Did she just leave? She couldn’t just leave. She had to make a scene and he had to be the one to send her away. If she just up and left it put him in the weaker position of having his behavior questioned. Why a woman, whose sole purpose in coming here was to marry him, couldn’t stand to remain in his presence.

‘Just let her go,’ his mind hissed even though he knew he couldn’t and stomped after her. She was already turning the corner when he stepped into the hall.

“Lady Katara,” he shouted. He knew she heard him but she blithely continued on,  ignoring him completely. His temper spiked at being forced to march after her. Zuko had already made too many public missteps with this particular candidate and, that he couldn’t smooth things with another water nation woman, made keeping up appearances with this one just that much more important.

He growled under his breath, trying not to think how undignified he looked chasing after the woman, already choking on the apology he knew he would have to give.

“Lady Katara,” close enough now he reached out to touch her arm, wanting to stop her and get her to face him--

Suddenly he was flying through the air.

Nearly twenty years of combative training made sure that he rolled when he landed, gaining his feet nearly as fast as she had tossed him. Instinct sent him into a defensive crouch as he faced his opponent, only to see she was mirroring him. They froze, shocked, as their brains snapped back on.

She was the first one to straighten, her arm’s falling limply at her sides in their heavy sleeves. Her shoulders remained rigid. “What do you want, Fire Prince?”

Her body language clearly stated she was not going to bring up what just happened and her look dared him to comment.

Fine with him, if she wasn’t going to apologize then neither would he.

“I’m here to escort you to dinner, my lady.” He offered his arm in an elegant manner as his eyes dared her right back. If she was committed to playing this game they could act as if this second was their first meeting of the night.

Looking at his hand as if it were diseased, her glared very nearly turned into a sneer when she flicked her eyes up to meet his. She did not take him up on his escort but she did spin on her heel and glide back up the hall towards his rooms.

Fighting a victorious smile he folded his arms behind his back as he trailed behind her.

They were almost in sight of his door when she dropped back to walk beside him, looping her arm through his. He raised a brow, questioning her sudden change in demeanor. She huffed through her nose, rolling her eyes, before pointedly looking at the two guards that were pretending not to watch them walk back.

Zuko sighed, frustrated with the constant need to keep up appearances and annoyed that others had seen the theatrics they were both pretending hadn't happened. At least they hadn’t seen her throw him, he didn’t think his pride could take the additional blow tonight.

He deposited Lady Katz--Katara on her side of the table before throwing himself on his own pillow across from her. Taking this as their cue, the servants started bringing out dish after dish of steaming food. All Fire Nation delicacies. Only the best for the Prince and his potential bride.

Zuko snorted at the thought.

He poured the tea, placing a full cup before his guest. Having fulfilled the very basic of niceties he turned to serving himself from the bowls laid out before them. It had been a long time since breakfast and his tight schedule had not permitted lunch so he was ravanis.

Out of the corner of his eye Zuko watch as the lady picked up her tea and sniffed at it. Scrunching up that little button nose of hers she quickly returned the cup to the table untasted.

He mentally rolled his eyes at the finickiness of women. Jaya Nidhi, the Earth Kingdom candidate he had breakfast with three mornings ago, would not eat anything green. Lady Kimiko had complained at every bite that nothing matched up to the food her personal chef made at Kazen House.

Lady Katara further confused him though when, instead of following him in filling her plate, she pushed it aside and set a book in its place.

Zuko paused in the process of scooping date filled saffron rice. While the others had been picky, they had joined him in the meal. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No.” She flipped the book open.

Setting down the serving spoon he sat back, frowning. “Then why did you join me for dinner?”

“I was told to be here,” she repeated absently, searching through the pages.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes,” she hummed finding her place and settling in to read.

“Then why don’t you eat?” he made a sweeping gesture encompassing the food that could easily feed a family of six.

She half shrugged, “it is spicy.”

He blinked, pulling up everything he knew about this particular candidate which wasn’t very much. “I thought you liked spicy foods.”

Her eyes flickered up to look at him from under dark lashes before returning to the book, “no.”

“Then why did you say you did?” he snarled, not liking that it felt like he had just been scolded.

“I did not.” Not even bothering to look up this time as she turned the page.

“Yes you did,” he insisted, rage crisping the memory, “at the welcoming party.”

“No.” She straightened folding her arms across the book as she leaned forward, a bite to her own words. “I made a statement that you took for agreement.” Her eyes turned cutting, “you do that a lot.”

Zuko physically bit his tongue, something he found he had to do with more and more regularity in his life. He did not like it. He did permit himself a glare. She simply glared back before returning to her book.

If she was going to ignore him he would returned the favor ten fold. He stabbed at his plate, shoving the food in his mouth. What did he care if she starved herself? It wasn’t as if he was denying her sustenance, he though eyes raking the groaning table. If she was going to be stubborn abou--

A grumble followed by a long gurgle broke through the tense silence.

Zuko’s head shot up, locking on the source of the noise. Katara’s fists were clenched on the table, face beat red, eyes wide as she stared unseeingly down at her book, mortified.

He snorted and, trying to cover up the sound, broke out into a laugh, then a cackle until he was bent over clutching his side.

The table jumped as Katara slammed the book closed and surged to her feet.

“No, wait,” Zuko said, still chuckling, as he reached out to catch her arm.

Spinning she latched on his restraining hand. Muscle memory kicked in as Zuko countered, getting her into an elbow lock before she could break his finger. Off balance, half sitting as he was, he was in the worst possible position when she stepped into him, taking the pressure off her arm at the same time she took the both of them to the ground in a tangle of red silk.

Landing as purposeful dead weight she used her shoulder to drive the air from his lungs and break out of his hold. Zuko just managed to catch the elbow strike she sent for his face, using her momentum to roll them over so he was the one on top. Rearing back, he barely missed the swipe of her clawed hand going for his eyes, grabbing the arm and pinning it to her chest. A flood of liquid hit him in the face momentarily blinding him but he was able to catch her other hand and lock it down with the first, keeping him from receiving any more damage while he couldn’t see.

“I commend you, Lady Katara,” Zuko panted exhilarated, using his shoulder to rub the spilt tea their flailing had caused from his eyes. “You most definitely would have made a good showing against Lady Chou.” Vision clear he smiled down at her, wanting to share the elation of a good fight.

Her face was as pale as he’d ever seen it, pupils blown wide and nostrils fluttering with her too fast breathing.

“Get off me,” she snarled as he felt her tremble in his hold.

Sick to his stomach Zuko let her go, scrambling back until he ran into the table and could go no further. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

Without a word her look reduced him to silence.

She gained her feet, every movement tightly controlled. Not sparing him another glance as she sailed from the room regal as a queen.

He set his teeth against the beginnings of a panic attack, selflothing curling in his belly as the door shut so softly behind her. He hadn’t meant any harm, he tried to reassure himself, but it didn’t fix the fact that the lady had no way of knowing that.

Agni, the fear in her eyes gutted him.

He had promised himself he would never make anyone look upon him the way they had his father. He still remembered being on his knees looking up at the man that was supposed to protect him and begging him for forgiveness. Remembered believing for years after that he deserved the punishment he had received at the hands of the mad man.

Zuko’s fist hit the table. The empty tea cups jumped, tipping over. Burying his face in his hand, he dug his fingers into the aching flesh of his scar.

[thelawyerthatwaspromised]

Why Does Jonsa Make Complete Political Sense?

Trying to make sense of the puzzle and how it could inform the endgame.

This is a long one.

*Spoiler* I think it is a Jon Snow / Sansa Stark marriage. Even if you don’t agree that the story has foreshadowed this or that the scenes between Jon and Sansa were written with a romantic subtext...it will be the only logical political solution for the story.

First, a quick refresher on the changes Westeros has already undergone.

Season 1 / Episode 1

Season 3 / Episode 9&10 (post-Red Wedding)

Season 6 / Episode 9&10 (post BoTB and Jon Snow named KiTN)

Season 7 / Episode 1 (colored by alliances. Light blue for the North, Red for the Lannisters, Gray for the Targaryens)

Season 7 / Episode 7

Season 7 / Episode 7 ASSUMING JON’S ALLEGIANCE IS TRULY WITH DANY

So right off the bat, we can make a few observations: 

1.) Daenerys and Tyrion horribly mismanaged their territorial and military advantage. Dany had a much stronger army. She had the allegiance of the breadbasket of Westeros, and she had an ally in Dorne that should have been completely geographically protected and resources that so far have been untouched by the other wars of Westeros. It’s hard for me to even count “capturing” Casterly Rock as it was a trap sprung by Jaime and the Unsullied were forced to abandon it anyway after the Greyjoy fleet hemmed them there.

2.) How does Daenerys not immediately secure the Stormlands to link the Reach and Dorne? It’s essentially leaderless and sandwiched between her two initial vassals. 

3.) How does Daenerys fail to try to ally with the Vale? What a no-brainer of an ally. The reality is that the Vale very likely would have said no, as the Vale is similar to the North as they will never trust a Targaryen, but how was the Vale not even a part of her strategy?

4.) What in the heck is Daenerys worried about Cersie “re-taking” again? She holds no territorial advantage. Highgarden’s resources went over the Lannisters. Dorne is leaderless, like the Stormlands, and cannot contribute to her cause (it’s also unclear whether they would even want to after how badly bungled that alliance worked out for Dorne). The Riverlands are still occupied by the Lannisters, another extremely useful ally tossed to the wayside.

5.) Is this because the show doesn’t care about these other territories? Maybe, but the show has made a point of showing these other places already and explaining their strategic importance. I see it more as a failure by Daenerys to care about anything other than capturing the Iron Throne, and a failure by Tyrion to think about anything else other than removing Cersei from power.

6.) Even if they had captured the Iron Throne in season 7, there is absolutely no chance of a united Westeros because of how they played the game. Dorne is leaderless, killed almost immediately after allying with the new Queen. The Stormlands remain leaderless. The Riverlands are held by the Lannisters and weren’t relieved by the Targaryen forces - why exactly would they be loyal to her? The North is only allied with Daenerys to fight the Night King. The same with the Vale. There’s no interest in the politics of the South. The main point is that at this current moment, Daenerys has absolutely no political influence beyond Jon Snow allying with her to fight the Night King. She only has a strong army. She doesn’t have the loyalty of the people of Westeros.

7.) Dany’s only real political support is from Jon. She is entirely dependent on the North and the Vale for her political power now. That also means she is entirely dependent on Sansa Stark...both before RLJ is revealed but most definitely after RLJ is revealed.

This is where it gets really tricky for Daenerys. She had a great opportunity to win some influence with the other houses of Westeros to back her claim as the Queen.

R+L=J becoming known will prevent that from ever happening.

Could she ever be looked to politically after season 7? She aided no allies. She hasn’t gained any territorial advantage. Cersei Lannister, the most hated person in Westeros by the time she was crowned, has gained more allies since Daenerys landed.

Now the idea of her legitimacy, which was the biggest talking point that she and Tyrion had in her “campaign” is gone. Not only that, but the only person to swear allegiance to her that still has any political power actually supersedes her for the throne.

That covers the territorial game. What about the prominent characters? Who actually holds political influence now?

The Lannister allies

Cersei LannisterThe MountainQyburnEuron Greyjoy Golden Company / Iron Bank

The Northern/Targaryen Alliance

Jon Snow

Daenerys Targaryen

Sansa Stark

Arya Stark

Bran Stark

The Brotherhood (Hound, Beric, etc.)

Gendry

Tormund

Brienne

Tyrion

Jaime

Edmure Tully

Yohn Royce / Robin Arryn

Theon Greyjoy / Yara Greyjoy

Davos 

Varys

The Unsullied

Missandei

Melissandre / Kinvara / the Red Priestesses

So pretty much anyone can see from a CHARACTER perspective that this is not a storytelling fight that Cersei is likely to win. Easy win from a storytelling perspective on who will triumph.

We have the Night King coming and a completely overmatched adversary that only has allies that we don’t emotionally care about or haven’t even been introduced yet. So you’re telling me those are the big finale conflicts? An enemy in the Night King who has no narrative nuance and a few humans that no one cares about?

So I looked at where another conflict could develop. We have the two characters that are widely viewed as the two “heroes” of the story: Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen.

I looked at the Northern/Targaryen Alliance and this pops out: 

There aren’t any characters with political power that are loyal to Daenerys other than Jon Snow right now.

Sansa - loyal to Jon Tormund - loyal to Jon Jaime - loyalties changing. Tried to kill Daenerys. Much more like to fight for Sansa/Jon Edmure Tully - loyal to the Starks, most likely his sister’s daughter Sansa Yohn Royce - wanted to name Sansa Queen in the North. Loyal to Sansa. Theon - asked Jon about saving Yara. Didn’t consult Daenerys. Special bond with Sansa. Loyal to Jon and Sansa. Tyrion, Varys, the Unsullied, Missandei, and the Red Priestesses have no political power.

Why would it matter anyway? Jon and Daenerys will just unite them and it’ll all work out!

R+L=J explodes all of Daenerys’ relevant Westerosi support and shifts the game dramatically to Sansa.

“Oh c’mon, that’s just shipping goggles talking.”

Reasons why thinking this is based on shipping shows your inherent inability to understand narratives and story themes:

The North does not want a Southern ruler

Jon’s claim as KiTN is based on being the son of Ned Stark

The North especially does not trust Targaryens

The is a story of the political fracture of the North and South amidst an existential threat

This is not a story of how the best killers become the best rulers

Jon Snow’s hold on the North will be tenuous after RLJ is revealed

Sansa Stark becomes the most powerful political Northerner due to RLJ and the only way this doesn’t happen is if Bran decides to becomes a political figure

Daenerys’ political stature with every potential Westerosi subject goes down dramatically

THE GAME HAS SHIFTED COMPLETELY

Let’s refer back to the season 7 / episode 7 political map:

The shaded blue area loyal to Jon becomes ENTIRELY DEPENDENT ON SANSA STARK to remain loyal to Jon.

If Cersei Lannister falls...it gets even uglier for Daenerys.

It’s entirely plausible that:

Riverlands return to the Tully’s - loyal to Sansa, possibly Jon, not Daenerys

The Reach goes to Samwell - (assuming he is done with the Night’s Watch) he would be the rightful heir. Loyal to Jon. Father and brother burned to death by Daenerys.

Stormlands - could go to Gendry. It’s at least plausible. It wouldn’t make sense for any other character to serve in that role in the present time anyway. Loyal to Jon, pre-existing relationship with Arya, son of Robert Baratheon. No loyalty to Daenerys.

Iron Islands - returned to either Theon or Yara. “You’re a Greyjoy, and you’re a Stark.” Loyal to the Starks. Maayyyyybe lingering loyalty to Daenerys...but why would they?

Westerlands - good chance only one of Tyrion or Jaime survive. If it’s Jaime, loyal to anyone but Daenerys. Most likely loyal to Sansa through Brienne and Cat. If Tyrion, maybe he remains loyal to Daenerys - even though there were layers and layers of seeds of doubt shown between Daenerys and Tyrion...but this remains her best shot for support long-term.

These are all plausible because, as yet, the show has presented no other realistic options for rulers of these different regions and it’s unlikely that the show will strip them all of political power in the “breaking the wheel” sense.

Where is Daenerys’ claim as Queen? Where is her support? She’s not the heir and she doesn’t command the loyalties of these different houses.

Let’s look at another version of the map...this time assuming Cersei falls, the houses that control those regions, and their primary loyalties.

Jon as the Targ sigil, Sansa as the Stark sigil (I know it’s the white wolf version, shut up), and Dany as....herself.

The North - the Starks

The Iron Islands - Jon or Sansa, highly unlikely Dany

Riverlands - Sansa

Vale - Sansa

The Reach - Jon

Stormlands - Jon

Dorne - unknown. Generously saying maybe Dany.

Westerlands - unknown. Generously saying maybe Dany but only if both Tyrion survives and her relationship with Tyrion survives.

So a union which two characters would automatically make the most political sense?

Assuming a combined Targ/Stark sigil...here’s how the map looks.

Before, the Reach and Stormlands would be most likely for Jon --  the Riverlands and Vale would be most likely for Sansa, the Iron Islands would be potentially for both while Dorne and the Westerlands would be unclear.

Now, you have the North, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Crownlands, the Reach, the Stormlands solidly united with the Westerlands and Dorne still to be determined.

So, if you still think this is based strictly on shipping goggles, this is a definitive theory that logically reconnects Westeros and repairs the fractured relationship of the North and the South. If you are unable to see why this makes sense and how it could happen, it’s more of an indication that you are not willing to look at the political groundwork the series has put forward so far. 

This is logical, this is plausible. This is NOT irrational shipping. This is why Jonsa makes complete sense.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Toward Safe Harbors (Part 5/5)

Two days later, they cross the border into Bucky’s kingdom, sneaking around the guards. They have to keep quiet to avoid detection, but Bucky whispers stories of the group into Tony’s ear at night before they fall asleep.

There’s Steve, who Tony has already met, as Bucky’s personal guard follows him everywhere. Given Steve’s cold shoulder to Tony and Bucky on the way back, Tony goes ahead and assumes that Steve isn’t happy about the current situation.

Beta Sam Wilson is the trainer of the hawk, Redwing. He’s part of a ranger unit but frequently gets pulled for special assignments with Steve and Bucky, so his absence at home isn’t unusual. He’s polite enough to Tony, but he spends most of his time handling Steve.

Then, there’s Natasha, a null. She’s his father’s agent, Bucky admits without additional clarification to what she does, but she has great tracking and stealth skills that when she volunteered to help, Bucky couldn’t turn her down. She even laid a false trail for Tony that made it seem like Tony was turning and heading north, back to Stark lands.

Then she returns, and Tony admits he was more relaxed with her gone.

Bucky continues to hover over Tony as they head for the capital, which Tony doesn’t mind as much as he should. His stomach certainly appreciates the extra attention as it gets used to food again, and the added warmth from Bucky at night lets Tony sleep better than ever.

The reminder that he’s being selfish doesn’t quite go away, but Tony buries it. These moments with Bucky have always been rare, and now it’s a luxury to be able to spend entire days with Bucky. Even as they have to keep the talking to a minimum to prevent any sound from carrying, having Bucky at his side relaxes a part of Tony he hadn’t realized was tense.

Still, the end hovers over Tony’s head. When they reach the capital, everything will change again. If he gains everything he can from these moments - nipping Bucky’s fingers when Bucky tries to feed him another strip of jerky, curling up tighter against Bucky at night - it will not be enough, not ever, but it will be better than nothing.

Finally they arrive at the castle, sneaking back in around the side rather than waltzing in the front doors. Bucky shouldn’t have left, and Tony guesses officially Bucky never did. Bucky also shouldn’t bring Tony here, to the castle, but the prospect of a warm bath and soft bed has Tony swallowing the alarms in his mind.

Natasha has no problem voicing those concerns, and Bucky has no problem ignoring them, so Tony doesn’t need to say anything.

(Watch out for the break!)

Tony stumbles behind Bucky, the dark servants’ passage not helping his already bleary vision. They’d traveled through the night, being so close and back in familiar territory - at least for the rest of the group. Still, Tony thinks the rest of the group should’ve noticed where they were headed before Tony is suddenly being pulled into a brightly lit, gilded chamber.

A chamber with thrones. Occupied thrones.

Natasha hisses, venom in her voice, and Tony darts a look back to make sure she isn’t lunging for him. Her face is settled into a blank mask, and Tony second guesses what he’s heard.

“Mother, Father. May I present Omega Anthony Stark?” Bucky introduces, voice smooth. He bows and Tony hurries to follow him.

Tony comes up out of the bow and looks to Alpha King George Barnes, who is not looking back at Tony. Instead, the Alpha King is looking at the rest of the group behind them, or more specifically Natasha, Tony notices. A frightening glare from the king has Natasha bowing her head, apologetic and guilty. Tony’s mind races as his mind jumps from conclusion to conclusion.

Then Alpha King George finally levels Tony with his attention, glare still in place.

“Omega Stark,” Alpha King George says. “What a surprise.” And an unpleasant one, given his expression.

“We are glad you have been found safe and well,” Omega Queen Winnifred smoothes over, but her gaze is not warm as it takes in Tony.

“I am grateful for your well wishes,” Tony ventures carefully. “And your hospitality.” What was Bucky thinking, announcing Tony in the throne room and officially declaring Tony’s presence here? And announcing Tony after they’d been traipsing through the woods all night, not having bathed properly in days, in borrowed clothes?

“I ask for safe accommodation and asylum for Omega Stark,” Bucky declares, lips teasing into a smirk. “Here, at the capital, until such time that his circumstances have changed.”

Bucky’s parents share a look that has Tony’s heart sinking.

“I imagine Omega Stark will be eager to return to his homeland,” Omega Queen Winnifred says, soft but not apologetic.

Bucky’s eager energy evaporates. “What?”

She continues, “We are aware that his intended is anxious to see him returned, safe and well. We would be happy to deliver news of your location and imminent passage to put his worry to rest.”

“His intended,” Bucky spits, “ is a -”

“You will not speak of one of our most trusted allies this way,” King Alpha George interrupts, voice booming and drowning out the rest of Bucky’s sentence.

Silence descends throughout the room, and Tony takes note of the number of other courtiers and servants scattered throughout the throne room, observing this mess. He holds back a sigh and tilts his chin up as he addresses the monarchs. He doesn’t dare to glance at Bucky.

“I am grateful for the peace that has always existed between our two kingdoms. I would hate to be a disruption,” Tony says, measured and sure. “I would ask for the ability to craft a private message to my intended, to go with the news of my location.” He didn’t have anything he wanted to say to Hammer, but at least he’d know the precise moment that the message left the castle.

Bucky shoulders jerk out of the corner of Tony’s eye.

Tony’s easy acceptance is rewarded with a small smile from the Omega Queen. “It shall be done. And before your own departure back to your home, please accept our full hospitality.”

Tony bows again. “Your kindness is appreciated.” He then turns, sensing the dismissal.

“Omega Stark is pregnant,” Bucky declares. “The child is mine.”

Tony stills, dread rising up his chest like nausea.

Bucky takes the half-step needed to be beside Tony, and grabs Tony’s wrist. Tony can’t put together the motions to pull away as Bucky raises his wrist and kisses the skin over his pulse point. In the throne room, with countless witnesses, and no way it isn’t getting back to Hammer, Tony notes faintly. “Any offspring of mine should be raised here, in the castle, in our lands. Not in an ally’s territory, no matter how trusted,” Bucky argues.

“Oh?” King Alpha George challenges. “You are so sure that the child is yours?”

Tony feels the question like a punch to the chest but takes care not to show it on his face. Bucky stills next to him, and Tony is afraid to breathe.

“Do you have proof?” King Alpha George presses, his face blank. At least he doesn’t enjoy humiliating people, Tony notes while numb. This is to protect his kingdom and that makes him a good king, Tony reminds himself, even if Tony had dared to hope for an easy salvation when Bucky had appeared in the forest. “Your reputation precedes you, Omega Stark. You seem to have many alpha friends, and particularly the captain of your guard.”

There is no proof. There are ways to confirm that an omega is pregnant, but not to confirm the alpha. An unfair loophole, Tony thinks, as he is dismissed from the throne room. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, head still held high as whispers follow his exit.

Bucky remains behind, his raised voice echoing until it’s cut off by the king.

“This way,” Natasha directs, motioning toward the left as Tony finally makes it out.

Tony silently tails her as he tries to compose another plan. If Natasha is leading Tony to his death, than none of this matters. Otherwise, can he escape from the castle and still disappear on a ship bound out to the sea? Or will Hammer declare war for suspecting that Bucky helped Tony escape? Will Hammer do that anyway since Bucky is claiming to be the father of his intended’s child?

“Is this when you kill me?” Tony finally decides to ask, sick of his own thoughts. “Lock me in the dungeon, or toss me off a tower, or -”

“As you have been publically found, it is our duty - my duty - to see that you return home,” Natasha explains as takes another corner. “Alive,” she adds.

“Ah, yes. Bucky’s performance means that you can’t kill me now,” Tony says, wishing he was happier about this prospect. Now he has to return to Hammer and at the very least his child will be killed. “You must be so disappointed.”

Natasha doesn’t even twitch. “Do you accuse every null you come across as trying to kill you?”

“Only those whose job it is to kill me before I’m found by the Prince,” Tony tosses out, waiting for any kind of reaction from Natasha. “Does Bucky know about your order from the king? I’m guessing not. And I guess I should get some treats for Sam’s bird because if he hadn’t found me I’d probably be dead in a ditch rather than here in the castle causing trouble, hm?”

Natasha takes another corner so suddenly that Tony misses it and has to backtrack.

“Here is your room,” Natasha says as she gestures to the door. “Someone will be by shortly to resolve any requests you may have. As Omega Queen said, you have their full hospitality during your short time here before returning home. Alpha Thor Odinson,” Natasha introduces, nodding to the muscular blonde standing there, “will make sure you’re undisturbed.”

“Or make sure I don’t try to leave?” Tony hazards as he eyes Thor’s biceps.

“Of  course you may leave your chambers,” Thor says with an easy smile. “I will be happy to accompany you anywhere on the grounds.”

“Great,” Tony replies with a twisted smile. “My endless gratitude.”

Natasha has already disappeared. Tony shivers and then enters into the chambers.

Still, a hot bath and fresh clothes put Tony into a better mood. He can almost forget the humiliation back in the throne room. Now, how does he escape without casting suspicion onto Bucky or any of his family?

A knock on the door, and Tony sighs before composing himself. He opens it to find a frowning Thor, an angry Bucky, and an exasperated Steve.

“Omega Stark, Alpha Prince James wishes to enter,” Thor gravely informs Tony.

Tony lifts an eyebrow.

“If you are uncomfortable by his presence, then I shall happily keep him at bay,” Thor explains.

Tony looks at Bucky and can’t hold back the smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “Uncomfortable isn’t the right word for it,” Tony says, working to keep his face blank. “Thanks but Alpha Prince James is cleared for entry.”

Tony stands to the side and lets Bucky pass inside. “You coming too, Alpha Rogers?” Tony asks sweetly.

“No,” Steve sighs. “I have to go make it look like Bucky locked himself in his own room.”

“Have fun with that,” Tony offers before he closes the door. “I’m guessing you aren’t supposed to be here,” Tony observes as he turns to face Bucky.

Even with their journey in the woods, this is the first time in three months that they’ve been alone together. Bucky sweeps Tony into his arms, and Tony melts. Bucky has not bathed or even changed clothes yet, but Tony clutches at him anyway.

“I can’t send you back. I can’t. I won’t,” Bucky whispers into Tony’s hair.

“You told everyone where I was. You told your parents. What were you expecting?” Tony asks with a bitter laugh.

“I didn’t want to dance around this. I’m tired of the lying and the secrets. You’re finally here, finally can be mine. I didn’t…” Buck gulps. “I didn’t expect them to react like that.”

“Bucky…” Tony sighs.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Bucky says and lays a kiss on top of Tony’s head. “I swear they’re not usually like that. They’ll grow to love you, I’m sure of it.”

“Bucky…”

“Don’t give up,” Bucky warns, drawing back to look at Tony’s face.

Tony licks his lips. “Maybe we should make the most of the time we have left, yeah? The bed looks comfy.” He’d thought his time with Bucky had already expired when Hammer had wanted to move up the wedding. All of this, every second more, is a bonus. Don’t be selfish, Tony reminds himself. Don’t be selfish - well, more selfish than he’s already been.

Bucky steps back from Tony. “You’re giving up? Now? When we’re finally together again?”

The rejection and building anxiety - how much time do they have left before someone discovers them? - make Tony’s words harsher than he intends. “For how long? You’re the idiot who announced to everyone that I was here!”

“What else was I supposed to do? Hide you away forever?”

“Yes! Or sneak me out on one of your ships, or let me live in the woods, or something, anything else.”

“Sneak…?” Bucky asks, his gaze piercing. “Do any of your genius plans have us staying together?”

Tony swipes his hand through the air. “Can you change my name, face, and entire history? You’re a prince, act like one! In what situation do we ever end up together that doesn’t lead to war?”

Bucky barks out a harsh laugh. “You sound like my father,” he comments, his voice strangled. He turns away completely, his back to Tony.

Tony waits, counting his heartbeats. He wants to reach out a hand, he wants to touch. Bucky’s back is too rigid, Bucky’s body too still. Tony stops himself from moving. He recognizes the start of the end, and he doesn’t want to make it harder on Bucky.

Bucky turns back around, his face blank. “It is my child, isn’t it?”

Tony flinches, unprepared for Bucky’s doubt. Unable to answer, he stares as Bucky scoffs and walks toward the writing desk in the corner.

“War is coming for my people either way,” Bucky explains, voice flat. “It’s why my parents are so keen on not upsetting Alpha King Justin. We need the alliance. The tribes in the southern desert are finally managing to band together, and one of our spies just returned an hour ago with this.”

Bucky tosses a pouch onto the desk and it lands with a soft smack. His eyes meet Tony’s for only a moment before Bucky looks away and heads for the door.

“I wanted you with me, at my side, facing this. That was my plan.” Bucky opens the door. “Careful,” he tosses over his shoulder, but not meeting Tony’s gaze. “I’ve heard that has some nasty effects when mixed with fire.”

Tony stares at the door for a moment, with it now closed and Bucky on the other side. Knowing the end had to come, that it was coming, that the end is now here, hasn’t made Tony more prepared for dealing with it. He rubs his chest where it aches, his airway tightening on each breath. He focuses on Bucky’s parting gift so that he doesn’t do something stupid, like cry.

“Well, kid. What do you think your father left for us to play with?” Tony muses as he opens the pouch.

Tony discovers a light gray powder that’s coarse to the touch. When he sprinkles some of it onto a lit candle, the flame jumps high and scorches his fingers.

“Well then.”

Tony throws a small handful of it into the hot coals in the fireplace. The powder catches fire instantly, erupting into a large, bright flame before it dies out.

Tony’s mind races. Since when have the southern tribes been gathering? Why Bucky’s territory? How has he not heard of this? His own kingdom needs to be warned, and his own lands need to prepare for the influx of demands of armory and weapons to defend their border - and Bucky’s borders, in kind, given their alliance.

He stops himself from throwing another handful into the fireplace, just to see, because he will need the rest to practice and fiddle with. He will need to design defenses against it and weapons using it. He will need to figure out how to make it, he needs to talk to Obie.

At least, with war on the horizon, there will not be time for a wedding.

Thor is the best, Tony quickly decides. Rather than wait for Bucky to come back - because who has time for that and what if Bucky just doesn’t? - Tony had opened his door and asked politely if Thor would take him to see Alpha Prince Bucky.

Thor happily agreed to escort Tony, and now Tony doesn’t need to try to sneak around a foreign castle trying to find Bucky and probably run into one of Natasha’s knives. There’s a reason Bucky had always snuck around to see Tony, rather than vice versa.

Thor nods and smiles to everyone they pass in the hallways, while Tony does his best not to make eye contact with a single person while still keeping his head up. No doubt everyone in the castle has heard about him and that meeting in the throne room by now. His hands drifts to his stomach before he forces them back to his side.

“Here we are,” Thor announces. He knocks on a door flanked by two other guards.

Steve cracks the door open and loud voices drift out into the hall. Steve’s eyes widen as he takes in Tony. “Uh, now might not be the best time…”

“Who is it?” Bucky yells from inside.

“Omega Stark requests an audience with Alpha Prince James,” Thor booms back before Steve can stop him.

“Request denied,” a woman’s voice calls back.

“These are my rooms, I’ll choose who I’ll have in them,” Bucky replies, his voice getting louder. Then Bucky replaces Steve and opens the door wide. “Audience granted,” he says, his gaze stripping Tony. His face is flushed, his muscles tense, and yet he offers Tony a small smile. “Tony. Come in.”

Tony enters, drawing a large breath, to find Steve shaking his head and Omega Queen Winnifred standing in the doorway to a further room. If her gaze in the throne room was unwelcoming, this one is frigid.

Tony bows, his heart racing.

“Well, Omega Stark? For what purpose do you seek a private audience with my son?” she asks.

Tony turns from her and faces Bucky, cutting his losses with Bucky’s parents. He gestures to the pouch tied to his belt with the blasting powder Bucky gave him. “I opened your gift. It’s really something. We’re all in trouble unless…” Tony licks his lips, tries again. “I can serve you better not at your side. I need to go back to my lands, prepare the forges. Work with it and get you defenses against it and weapons using it.”

Bucky’s face falls, just a moment before he closes it off. “I understand.”

“With this news, there’s no time for a wedding. Maybe... maybe things can change,” he offers. Weak. Selfish. Coward. Tony’s brain hisses at him as he looks at Bucky’s face. This has to be the end, and yet Tony can’t help but hope.

“Our answer coming from Stark lands? That is convenient,” the queen snorts.

Tony’s spine straightens. “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

The door swings open and King Alpha George strides through. “I should’ve known Omega Stark would end up here. At least this is the more proper place for a row. Rogers, out.”

Tony notes Steve look for confirmation from Bucky - receiving a small nod - before Steve closes the door, leaving himself on the other side.

“This is what it should’ve been to begin with, rather than that scene you threw this morning,” the king levels at Bucky.

“Some things shouldn’t be hidden anymore,” Bucky replies, and stands next to Tony.

“I absolutely agree with you. Omega Stark, would you like to start the confessions?” the king asks.

“Is there something specific you would like me to confess to?” Tony asks. He had, at several points, drafted a marriage proposal in his head to beg these two to let Bucky marry him. Clearly he’d been deluding himself when he thought he might have had a chance.

“How about why the southern tribes have Stark weapons?” the king returns, the same blue eyes that Bucky possesses burning a hole in Tony’s soul.

“They don’t,” Tony fires back.

“I trust my sources far more than I trust an ambitious snake like you,” the king replies.

“Your sources are misinformed. We don’t trade with the tribes,” Tony defends.

“Neither of you told me this,” Bucky exclaims, looking from his father to his mother, but puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“You’re compromised,” the queen replies, nodding to Tony. “You wouldn’t listen then, and you’re not listening now. The only one benefiting from this mess is Stark.” She turns to her alpha. “He graciously offered to provide us with weapons and defense.”

The king snorts. “And what price will we be expected to pay, I wonder? History will not look kindly upon you,” he declares with a glare at Tony.

“Enough! You two are the ones who aren’t listening!” Bucky shouts. His hand squeezes down on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony wonders if he can feel the slight tremble in Tony’s body.

“Open your eyes, son,” the king says. “Recognize ambition and manipulation. He’s on the brink of instigating a war that will let him sell weapons to both sides. He is the chosen mate of a king, and yet he plays with you. To what end, except to make you loyal to him and his weapons?”

“Tony can help us. Especially with that powder,” Bucky starts.

“Do not speak of it,” the king warns as he eyes Tony.

Tony waits, but Bucky doesn’t inform his father that he already gave Tony a sample of it. Tony hopes they don’t notice the pouch of it attached to his belt.

“So, Omega Stark, do you have anything to confess?” the king mocks.

A mix of hot and cold rushes through Tony’s body, but he holds back the shaking. Instead, he smiles. “Nothing that you would believe from my lips,” he says lightly. Then he continues, strengthening his voice. “But here it is anyway: I confess that I’m in love with your son. That is why I had an affair despite being promised to another, and why I am carrying his child. There should be no Stark-forged weapons in the south. If your spies speak true, then I must find the traitor. I want to avoid war, not cause it. Stark lands are rich and fertile enough. We don’t need to spill blood for profit.”

“A pretty speech,” the king returns, unmoved.

“Return me to my lands, and I will prove my ‘pretty’ speech true.” Before, he had wanted nothing more than to leave his lands and kingdom behind. Now, when he wants to return, would be the time for Bucky’s parents to decide not to help get Tony back home.

The king and queen share a long glance.

“Then prepare for your departure,” the king decides.

Within the hour, a messenger is dispatched to Alpha King Justin declaring Tony’s journey and estimated time of arrival, and the very next morning, Tony leaves the castle with a contingent of guards. Tony had meant ‘return me to Stark lands,’ but he’d been overruled and would be returned to Hammer directly. That doesn’t work for him and his plans, but now he has thousands witnessing him leaving the castle under the order of the Alpha King and Omega Queen so they should appear blameless when he disappears again.

Tony’s mind raced with his list of things to do. He needs to talk to Obie about searching out the traitors in his lands, and he also needs to get Obie on board with producing the blasting powder and generating defenses against it. Then, as breakfast of yogurt and apples reminded him, he needs to figure out where those figs came from. The drier desert climate would yield plenty of figs, but Tony needs more proof than Hammer blathering on about new opportunities while trying to seduce Tony with rare fruit. If Hammer had opened negotiations with the southern tribes, then did he already know about the attack on Bucky’s kingdom? Did Hammer have a hand in it?

Tony, impatient, slips his guard detail after a half-day. He’s sure he’s slipped the guards - Bucky and Steve taught him a few tricks - but then a familiar hawk circles above his head.

“Am I in trouble?” Tony asks when the group of them catch up to him, Sam leading.

“Yes,” Bucky says, walking right up to Tony. “I said I wasn’t letting you go.”

“Figured that one wouldn’t let you out of the castle,” Tony says, nodding at Natasha.

“The king will be displeased, but Bucky agreed that I get to end your life if you move to harm him,” Natasha informs him dully.

Tony hums. “She’s fun. I can see why you brought her.”

“Ooh, I like this one! He’s funny,” chimes in a man that Tony hadn’t yet met. One who is very well tanned for being so late in the fall season, and Tony suspects the desert sun was involved.

“That’s Clint. Ignore him,” Bucky says with a grin.

“Spy?” Tony asks, eyebrow raised. It would be good to question Clint over what he saw concerning how the tribes were using the blasting powder.  

“Don’t give him too much credit,” Sam grumbles as he watches his hawk, Redwing, soar farther west. “We should get moving in case someone noticed Redwing’s movements.”

“Aw, Sammy. Don’t be sore just because my eyes are trusted more than your fat pigeon’s.”

Steve rolls his eyes and moves to lead, Sam and Clint squabbling behind him,  but Tony hangs back with Bucky for a moment. Natasha keeps her eye on them as she slowly trudges on.

“Your parents are going to kill me when they notice you missing,” Tony worries. “They already hate me and think I’m a traitor.”

“I believe you when you say you aren’t a traitor,” Bucky says, and something in Tony’s chest loosens. “I’m here to help you prove it. And because I happen to love you too, you know.”

Tony ducks his head and starts following the rest of the group. “Oh, do I know? You could stand to say it a few more times, that is if it’s true and everything.”

Bucky tugs him back, all the way, until Tony falls into Bucky’s chest. One of Bucky’s hands rests on Tony’s stomach which is becoming more and more pronounced each day. “For me to do that, you’d have to stick around,” Bucky whispers.

Tony swallows. “I could do that,” he offers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony confirms.

Bucky rewards him with a deep, searing kiss that warms Tony from the inside out.

“Gentlemen? If you could, we have a war to prevent,” Natasha says. Her voice is low because she’s walked back to stand right next to them.

Tony startles, but Bucky keeps a hold of him. “Let’s get moving then,” Bucky says with a grin. He nips a kiss at Tony’s throat, where in the future Bucky’s mark might (will) go. “We have a traitor to find, a war to stop, and a wedding to plan. Our wedding,” he clarifies. “Hopefully before we’re sleepless parents, too.”

Tony grins so hard it hurts. Then he turns to Natasha. “As a clarification, if I bite him in return would that fall under the ‘hurting Bucky, can kill Tony now,’ agreement?” Tony asks.

Natasha growls, and Tony scurries forward with an even wider grin.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #13: Wax

The waters lay still as ever, the call of birds silent thoughout the foggy expanse as night held claim. Only the ignorant traveler would think that land was lifeless, though. Scale-kin croaked and sang their songs until the screech of a hunting owl silenced them for a spare few moments. Gliding about on soundless wings as it surveyed the hunting grounds it shared with the Lohro tribeswomen. An arrangement neither took issue with.

It was not frog or turtle that Fen hunted this night, looking over the faded leather map that her aunt had lifted from an intruding band of adventurers, but some small bit of Keeper history. There were tales of the Whispering Canopy tribe tied to the stories of her own family long before time made them nothing more than legend. How these travelers had managed to find themseles that ancient scrap of leather was a mystery in itself, but a marking in the corner had drawn the entirety of her family into the hunt. Poring over the few written records the tribe maintained had provided some semblance of clue where to start, taking careful pains to skirt their neighbors' territory when their path directed them near.

It would hardly do to get into a needless skirmish when they had no quarrel. No, it was best to keep to their purpose.

Huddled about each other in the sheltering twist of a willow, Chiku tapped one of her nails against the edge of the landscape, "This seems the place, save new growth."

"Seems so, mother."

Squinting into that enveloping murk, Fen gestured toward a leaning oak that yet lived even as the earth below was ever so slowly failing to hold up its weight. Slipping away the map, the two rose once more even as the third of their party skipped out across the boughs. Eir knew how best to be careful, sure-footed as an aldgoat as only the faint rustle marked each leap and landing. Softly touching down upon the tree, she paused with hands out and ears raised and twitching for the warning creak of protest from the precariously balanced oak. When none came, she gestured the two over with a quick sign.

It looked little different than any other area they passed, any helpful markings that lost people would have left long since faded or overgrown, but time could not fully mask the similarities that stretch of land bore to the faded ink upon the page. The only thing left was what lay beneath. Chiku did not hesitate, stripping herself down to only belt and knife, legs tensed as she peered into the dark waters in search of any dangers that may await even as Eir fastened a loop of woven vine about her waist. Hefting a large rock, Fen hurled it a good ten yalms off to splash down into the waters, an invitation to any water-dwelling predators to make themseles known. No log resolved itself into a greedy croc, though at the very least it silenced the frogs once more.

"Be mindful not to tug too hard and force the breath from me sister." The dark-grey Keeper grinned before leaping out with legs leading to slip almost soundlessly into the depths.

Eir nudged her niece with a shoulder even as those sharp eyes stayed focused on the faint ripples that marked Chiku's entry, "We well know your mother could speak even without an onze of breath in her lungs."

The young inventor snorted in amusement, but added nothing more. It wasn't as if she could rightly deny it. They simply sat and waited, doing their best to blend with their surroundings should any unwelcome visitors traipse through. It had barely been a handful of minutes before a few tugs quivered through the vines. Niece and aunt gripped the rope, taking turns as they pulled and reached to smoothly pull the bedraggled miqo'te out of the still waters, a cask secured in her hands. She blew water from her lips with a quiet huff, head shaking to dry the curls as best she could manage before they hauled the Keeper back up to the tree.

It was as well maintained as they had come to expect, those stagnant waters not leaving the faintest touch of rot behind. Gaps left in the ends to ensure it lay waterlogged and sunken beneath the surface. Prying it open with the point of a knife, Chiku removed a few carved symbols, and a thickly coated length.

"What do you suppose this is?"

Fen snatched it up greedily, digging a fingernail in as she scratched away that ancient layer of protective wax. There were few things her moon-blessed kin would preserve so meticulously. Hard metal began when that coating ended, runes carved into the flat of the blade as a dagger began to emerge. Everyone who ever made that swamp home well knew what those markings entailed, even as they were left to wonder if they were simply evoking that ancient city or if it truly belonged to them.

Mhach.

Even as she let herself be distracted, Eir and Chiku did not. Several more wax-sealed treasures lay within, among more pieces of their kin's history. Looked over and secured in their packs before her mother donned her clothing once more, albeit a bit damper now despite the rigorous attempts to dry herself with moss and leaves.

"Was there anything more?"

"Much more. But far too heavy to lift alone."

"We ought to get more help then."

"Once we have a careful look through these, yes."

"Of course. It will keep, whether wax or wood."

They practically had to pull Fen back to her feet to make the long journey home, peering over that weapon avidly. The mysteries of just what ore they used, and what methods were employed to craft so fine a weapon as to last through the ages so well. Possibilities expanded in her mind, how well served her family would be if she could unlock those secrets.

[mitigatedchaos]

how can your brand of nationalism solve the nagorno karabakh situation

(This ask was received on other media and moved here due to the predicted length of the response.)

I don’t have well-formed intuitions on the relative predilections of Armenians and Azerbaijanis/Azeris, so I’ll answer more generally.

There are multiple possible routes in the general situation of regional separatism that are compatible with my view of Nationalism.  The best choice depends on the conditions within the territories involved.

The following are major considerations:

Culture

Each cultural act takes up space (in memory) and time (out of a limited lifespan).  (Often, the supporting structures required take up physical space and resources as well.)  Therefore, it has an associated cost.  Often there are economies of scale both in the social and the physical manifestation of culture, where the dominance of a single culture creates time and resource savings and reduces the uncertainty of social interactions.

Culture will thus tend to homogenize whenever there are not barriers which prevent this.

These barriers include:

visible markings such as race

religion

cultural mechanisms which act to prevent cultural intermixing (such as prohibition of inter-cultural marriage, or racism)

time and space (including geography)

language

Culture is pretty much always encoded in laws on some level, due to difficulties with making two laws operate in the same space, from enforcement to physical buildings.  Successful cultural replication would also bias in favor of cultures that use state power to preserve themselves.

In order to maintain its perception of legitimacy among the population, a state must therefore have a sufficient level of cultural unity.

This does not necessarily mean racial homogeneity.  American Liberal Capitalism can socially atomize cultural identities and strip away conflicting elements, but is itself a culture which is dominant in the area in which it rules.

Bringing about cultural unity will generally require some sort of cost - it may be an economic cost, or a dispreference cost, or even a price that can only be paid in blood.

Geopolitics

How much pressure is the region under from the outside?  

The greater the pressure from outside (e.g. risk of invasion, blockade, etc), the more important a larger polity that can field a more powerful military is, and thus the greater cost one should be willing to pay to obtain that larger polity with sufficient cultural unity to successfully field that military.

How fragmented is the region economically?  What level of division can it sustain?

Every law incurs a cost to learn, remember, and enforce it.  Where there are many laws, this “artificially” increases the price of economic activity generally, potentially making an area poorer.

There is a trade-off - smaller divisions can have laws more closely suited to their cultural preferences, assuming that their population preferences are not evenly distributed.

Additionally, the control of strategic resources makes for greater de facto military and economic sovereignty, as the ability of outside states to punish the state is relatively diminished.

Just what resources do we have available to work with?

Some options are a lot more expensive than others.

What to Do About It?

Full Intermixing, New National Formation

Not always practical.  Can come at a terrible cost.  However, through the deliberate sabotage of barriers to cultural homogenization, over multiple generations a new synthesis culture may emerge.  May require some serious mythological synthesis, other times may just migration, depending on just how durable those barriers are.

Civic National Formation

Relative weakening of the identity elements that constituted the reason for ethnic separatism in favor of a new national mythology placing a civic national state and its ruling ideology as identity above existing ethnicities.

Autonomous Region

This allows the preservation of access to strategic resources and unification of various commercial while local cultural laws are allowed to differ, decreasing the desire for separatism.

(This apparently was rejected in the conflict the Anon mentioned.)

Unified Regional Federalism

Unify the whole area under a single federal government with weak powers, such that control of strategic resources and the ability to wield a military backed by a larger GDP.  Risky, if sufficient cultural homogenization does not occur.  May be the framework under which ethnic separatism broke out into violence in the first place.

Regional Treaty

Sort of like Regional Federalism “Lite,” a trade of control over territory might involve a complex treaty where certain tasks, such as region-scale infrastructure for access to sea ports for economic reasons, is handled by a new international organization without full surrender of local sovereignty.

Just Pay People to Move

Don’t force people to leave, don’t fine them, don’t jail them, just give them a large sum of money if they leave.  If the sum is large enough, the area will gradually depopulate without killing/jailing/etc anyone until majority control shifts.  May not be effective depending on the level of attachment to the region.  Offsets some costs of the migration on the receiving regions (as the money will pay for new housing/etc), which should reduce resistance from them.

There are obviously other approaches.  I’m a bit tired right now and don’t feel like enumerating them all.  Also, some of them are far more unethical and I don’t support them.

Other Considerations

One needs to be careful when it comes to the incentives regarding ethnic control of land.

If control is awarded purely on ethnic dominance, this incentivizes causing various kinds of harm, including forced migration and just plain killing everyone already there and replacing them with your ethnicity.

On the other hand, if control be obtained just by minority ownership having been held previously, this encourages wiping out all potential future claimants before they can make a claim.

There aren’t really a lot of good answers, since the trade-offs all tend to be pretty costly to different actors in any given scenario.  (Generally, I favor separatism over war and regional autonomy over separatism.)