#this is what i like about this campaign though. its very build-as-you-go rather than following a set story

[goombasa]

I Read Scott McCloud's Comics Trilogy Recenlty

So yeah, for anyone who doesn't know, Scott McCloud is a pretty big deal in the comics scene, one of the guys who helped to draft up the Creator's Bill of Rights, and has done a lot of major work independently and at major publishers, and near as I can tell, one of the first pretty big creators to actively campaign for the creativity of things like Webcomics. But he's probably most well known nowadays for his non-fiction educational work mostly centered around comic books.

And I finally bought and read all three of them. The ‘Comics Trilogy’ as I've taken to calling cosists of:

Understanding Comics (1993)

Reinventing Comics (2000)

Making Comics (2006)

And this trilogy is incredibly dense with information about the medium, where it was at, and where it was going. In fact, while there are several degrees of separation between each book (about 6-7 years or so), it is very impressive just how fresh and relevant almost all of the information in this trilogy manages to be. Yes, they do show their age in some ways; both Reinventing Comics and Making Comics refer to both the internet and things like drawing tablets as though they were still pretty new and unexplored technology. However, all three of them contain some very astute observations about where Comics as a medium is going and it's really fascinating to see how close to the bull's eye Mr. McCloud was on so many counts.

Discounting that though, these are just interesting to read because all three of them ask you to really examine WHY comic books as a medium work. Understanding Comics for example, serves as a very concise history of comics as a whole and tries to put a decent definition on what qualifies as being a comic (a task that it doesn't entirely succeed at, by Scott's own examination, but it very much gets you thinking on words and pictures, what separates them and how they can be intertwined into a story.

Reinventing comics is more about the potential of the medium and I'll admit, its more philosophical tone on the potential of comics was a bit much for me. I had trouble processing and digesting everything in this book compared to Understanding or Making. I certainly understood what it was going for, and again, this book, out of all three, is fascinating to read with about twenty years of hindsight, as Scott manages to bang-on predicted most of the trends that would come into the medium down the line. Just probably not in the ways he was expecting them to. It's still a very interesting read, but I'll admit, I had a lot more trouble following it than I did the other two books and I had to go back and reread a few sections to full feel like I was grasping the full meaning on a lot of what was said, but it was still a very interesting read.

The third in the series, Making Comics is probably the most straightforward, but this isn't like an online tutorial. Instead it's more like a lengthy instruction manual presenting you with the tools and ideas that can be used to build a comic beyond your skill as an artist. How to letter, how to frame a shot, when you should use captions or sound effects or word balloons. It gives a very detailed overview of everything you'd need to know in order to make your own comics from a practical standpoint. It makes some suggestions on the tools or software to use, but for the most part, it's more about giving you a proper overview of the craft rather than a tutorial for specific tools or software. That's easy enough to find elsewhere on the internet.

I think the reason these books work so well is the way they are presented; They are comic books. They aren't just books that talk about comics, they are COMICS that talk about comics. This isn't even the first time that I've seen this done. Back when I was in middle and high school, I did have a couple of classes that dabbled in using comics instead of traditional text books to introduce their subject matter. In particular, I was introduced to Larry Gonick's books like “The Cartoon History of the Universe” and “The Cartoon Guide to Genetics.” These books are a bit different than that, as yes, they are specifically educational, but they focus specifically on the medium that they are a part of, and I think that does a lot to convey Scott's arguments about just how far the medium can go, and helps to highlight everything that he's talking about with actual real time examples. That's not to downplay Mr. Gonick's contributions to cartooning and comic books as a potential tool for learning and education of course, he's written a LOT of these books over a multitude of different subjects, but one does have to admit, he is very much an exception rather than the standard.

(for an added recommendation, I'd recommend Larry Gonick's “Hypercapitalism” as well, really worth a read on its own)

These books manage to feel timeless in their subject matter and the way that they talk about the medium. Sadly, Comics as a whole today are still struggling to reach a sort of mainstream acceptance as a respectable medium, and yes, we do have big blockbusters for comic characters nowadays, but really, how many people who watch those movies read the comics those stories are based on? And for those that do read the comics, how many books outside of superhero books published by the Big Two do they read? The comics trilogy lays down the ideas of how the medium could potentially be elevated, and while that hasn't happened yet, I am hopeful for the future. If you have never read these before, and you have any interest in comics as a medium, especially what you can find beyond the standard of a super hero comic, I would really recommend this trilogy. Last I checked, I cannot find them being sold as a set anywhere, but all three of them can be found used for pretty cheap. Heck, even brand new, they don't typically go over $15, and I'd say they're worth every penny. Note that this is referring to paperback copies of the books. There are some hardcover versions floating around out there, but those are much harder to find, and consequently are a lot more expensive, at least for Understanding Comics.

[honeybard]

I imagine when Griffin said that their characters were not important to the world at the start of the campaign he wasn't planning on them becoming very important so soon this way

[sgrayonderii]

nom de guerre

SSM21 Day 17: a gentle man

In which some titles are more accurate than others. Samurai-esque AU

It is common knowledge that for a noble title and a swath of land, her mother was sold to a warlord.  

Haruno Sakura had the great misfortune of being born as the daughter of a destitute samurai family. Their master had long been vanquished and their lands long sold to make ends meet. And yet still longed for days yonder. 

But her mother also had the great fortune of being born a beauty, so when the opportunity arose; a passing hegemon looking for a bride, Sakura’s parents took a chance. 

They say that the young warlord was so mesmerized by her mother that he immediately accepted the terms of the expensive bride price and took her as his wife. 

On their wedding day, mother was dressed in her finest robes while her father arrived late in a full suit of blood soaked armor. 

The ceremony itself was a soleum affair. Her parents pledged themselves before the gods and swear to their union.

And so Haruno Sakura becomes Lady Uchiha no Sakura, the wife of Lord Uchiha no Madara.

----

Sarada has faint memories of her father; more often than not her father is sent to the battlefield and only returns a few days to weeks at a time between campaigns. 

The Uchiha clan is one of the important noble families of the Konoha and known for its long history of bloodthirsty warriors. Her father is no exception. 

Whenever he returns home, Sarada hides behind her mother’s skirt. Her father is an imposing demon-like man, larger than life, and taller than a mountain. Someone more suited for stories and legends than real life. 

They call him a man more fearsome than Susanoo-no-Mikoto itself. So violent, so blood crazed, it is a wonder that Sakura lived as long as she did when a male heir had yet to be born. 

Thankfully, it seems that as a daughter, her father pays very little attention to her. Whenever he returns from the borderlands between here and Oto, he barely spares her a glance. 

However, whenever his eyes meet her mother’s through his helmet, he beckons her over. 

“Sakura,” he commands, voice deep and low, “bring some tea to my quarters.”

Sarada always remembers her mother looking angry but determined then. Sakura dutifully follows her husband into the inner chambers. She doesn’t emerge until late morning.

Sarada is usually having lessons during this time, but one day she sneaks out of her etiquette classes to find her mother. 

She searches almost the entire unusually empty manor before finding Sakura in the kitchen brewing tea. Her mother’s clothes are covered in blood and her hands are covering her tears. 

Sarada has never seen her mother sob so terribly before.

From then on, she decides that her father must be an especially cruel man. 

---- 

Whenever her father returns from war, her Papa also comes home. 

Today she finds him on the engawa overlooking the gardens. He is sipping some tea while looking over some scrolls. He appears injured, bandages wrapped around his torso, but otherwise in good health. 

If her father is the devil incarnate, then Sarada’s papa is a handsome devil. 

No wonder her Mama is so taken with him. Sometimes when she is supposed to be asleep, she can hear her Mama fuss over Papa. They hold hands when no one is looking and share secrets no other soul knows. 

Despite the cold manor they reside in, Mama is an affectionate woman at her core and her Papa is receptive to all she has to give. 

And Papa must be someone important too; after all he is allowed to leave and enter from the inner quarters that a normal Uchiha foot soldier could not. 

Sarada pads over to him, he looks up and beckons her closer. 

“Have you been a good girl, little peanut?” 

Sarada scoffs. “ I’m not a nut.” But she holds out her hands anyways. 

Her Papa chuckles and pulls out some dried persimmons from his sleeves. “Don’t tell Sakura.” 

Sarada smiles at their little secret before taking a bite. “What are you reading?” Her Papa allows her to climb onto his lap and drapes the scroll over her. Sarada squints, only understanding a fraction of the words on the paper. She points and reads aloud the characters she recognizes.

“Good girl.” He slips her another dried persimmon.

That is when her mother finds them. 

“Sasuke-kun!” her mama enters the scene in a huff, “I told you to stop that, you’ll ruin her dinner.”

Sarada quickly shoves both persimmons into her mouth. Her papa has the decency to look sheepish. 

“You can’t keep spoiling her like that! She is going to get an upset stomach!” Sakura continues.

“Do you want me to spoil you too?” 

Her mama sputters, all red and flustered. Her hands move to cover her flaming cheeks.

Sarada meanwhile uses the distraction to hold out her hands for another treat. Her gentle papa instead leans down and kisses her forehead.

---

For the past year, her father and his retainers had been defending the borders between Oto and Konoha. After the dissenters were finally defeated, a grand celebration is held in her father’s honor. 

She remembers that her father was hailed as the second coming of Madara, the legendary clan head from the distant past. The comparison is uncanny, both bloodthirsty and merciless but dauntless in the face of adversary. Soon it becomes her father’s mantle; Lord Uchiha no Madara, the slayer of the Orochi. 

Sarada hadn't been invited to the banquet due to her age but that night she is much too excited to sleep. She has never seen so many people gathered in one place in her life. And even though her father’s presence makes her nervous, she loves the tales about his exploits. 

The banquet hall is rowdy and the envoy’s drunken singing could be heard from down the halls. The fuzzy silhouettes of her father’s soldiers line the banquet hall, she has a hard time making out who is who. Everything is quite blurry even with the multiple lanterns.

The only one Sarada could identify for sure is her mother. Sakura’s features are distinct, like a lone flower against the night sky. Her mother sits obediently at the head of the table beside the man that is her father. 

He has forsaken armor this time, but there is still a sword at his side. From the distance, her father doesn’t look particularly like he was enjoying the festivities. 

He appears bored. Perhaps his blood is not used to peace, after all a beast belonged in the wild and a warrior to the battlefield. 

Sakura every once and a while would refill her father’s sake cup or serve him more of the feast in front of him. Occasionally, when her mother would lean over and her father would whisper something into her ear. 

Her mama would stiffen and her face would become strained. At first Sarada can’t make out the expression, until a small smile blooms on her mama’s visage. 

Sarada goes to bed soon after, not quite understanding their interactions. 

---

Her earliest memory of Papa is halfway past her fourth year. 

Father had been back for a few days now, not that she had really seen him. And to be perfectly honest, her father is a scary man and she would rather not run into him. 

But Sarada is also curious so she puts on a brave face and finds herself outside her mother’s quarters.

Peering through the crack in the paper screen door, Sarada spots her mother’s figure and a man she doesn’t recognize. 

Her mama is leaning on the man’s shoulder while he serves her sake with his free hand. Back then, Sarada found it a strange role reversal that a man dressed in such luxurious robes was pouring her mama a drink. 

Sarada has seen some men in her father’s army throw a tantrum when a pretty lady wouldn’t attend to them. Even Sakura during official functions knows to serve her father first before anyone else can even eat.

But this man sat with her mama so nonchalantly and closely, breaking tradition as if it was nothing!

Her shock was audible to where her mother and the man turned to see her crouched by the entryway. 

Sarada felt as if she interrupted a private moment, but man’s expression morphed into something soft and Sakura giddily rushes over to pick her up. 

“Sarada! Come, come! Papa is here, see?” Sakura hands her over the stranger’s awaiting arms. She doesn’t want to leave her mama’s embrace but the man’s is just as warm. 

“Hello little peanut, have you been good while I was away?” 

How is she supposed to answer him? She opts for a nod and reaches for the familiarity of her mother.

“Sasuke-kun…” 

“It’s alright, she probably isn’t used to my face.” He leans over regardless and kisses her mother’s forehead. Then he looks Sarada straight in the eye. “I am you papa.” 

Sarada thinks she likes this ‘Sasuke-kun,’ this Papa. Someone so kind to her mother can’t be a bad man. 

----

As she gets older, Sarada becomes privy to the rumors about the current acting head of the Yamanaka clan. How her son looks nothing like her deceased husband but has the same eyes as the court painter. 

And Sarada has her own theories about her mama and the man that is her papa.

She just hopes that her father never finds out. 

---

Even though her mother is essentially the lady of the house, Sarada still hears whispers of her lineage. Even more so now that Sarada begins wearing glasses. 

Before her father leaves for his next campaign, he gives Sakura his inkan. 

As the wife of the lord, Sakura officially acts as his surrogate in any official business even if some of the family retainers aren’t happy about it. 

Fortunately, many would rather swallow their pride that incur her father’s wrath. 

All except one. 

Uchiha no Shin, a rather minor branch clan member, always disapproved of her father and even more so now that he left his wife in charge of the estate in his absence. 

It all comes to a head when Sakura denies him funding for a rather ill thought out building project. 

“You dirty wench! ” 

Sarada can hear the screams from her room. She rushes to the scene. Sakura is still standing her ground when she arrives. 

“I don’t see any benefit in this strategy and I doubt my dear lord husband would either.” 

“What do you know?! You are nothing but a plaything you stupid bitch, I’ll teach you some manners!” Shin chooses that moment to raise his hand at her mother. 

Sarada feels the anger seep into her bones but her mother chooses that moment to retaliate and punch Shin square in the face herself. 

Shin falls back unceremoniously. Sarada is slack jawed. 

“How dare you!” he seethes. Shin tries to get up only for another person to rush to her mother’s aid. 

Shin’s screams are agonizing and it takes Sarada a moment to realize that not only had her father returned, but he had drawn his sword and stabbed it clean through Shin’s arm, effectively pinning it to the tatami. 

“Sasuke-kun!” 

Sarada blinks once. Twice. 

“Are you alright Sakura?” Her father, her papa asks, completely ignoring their screaming relative. 

Sakura nods and he turns to her as well “Are you okay Sarada?” his voice deep and low but the same kind cadence up close as her beloved papa.

Suddenly her father’s mysterious and distant features that were always hazy to her meld with the papa in front of her now.  

Sarada adjusts her glasses. She feels really stupid in that moment. 

---

This time, Sarada is invited to the banquet. 

It’s an annual harvest festival and her father is the guest of honor. The local leaders once again announce him as ‘Lord Uchiha no Madara’ much to his chagrin. 

“I really hate when they call me that.” Sasuke tells them later when the food is being served and drinks are flowing freely. Sakura is on one side while Sarada is on the other. Habitually he is discreetly putting any sweets that make it his way and the tenderest pieces of meat onto their plates. 

“Anata,” with time Sarada notices that her mother only ever uses this term in public when her father needed more placating than usual, “they are just just in awe of how great you are!”

“I wish they had chosen something different, Madara was such a pain in the ass.” 

“Sasuke-kun!” Her mother tries to be scandalized but can’t help but devolve into a fit of giggles. 

As her father continues to look on adoringly at his wife, Sarada can’t help but agree with him. 

A name like that is unfitting of her gentle papa. 

A/N: Happy Sasusaku month 2021! My brain is mush right now so excuse the multitude of grammatical errors. Thank you for reading!

And just to note in historical Japan, men tended to change their names depending on significant life events. For example, Minamoto no Yoshitsune's childhood name was Ushiwakamaru.

@ssskmonth

[thessalian]

Thess vs Yet More Demos

So while I did finish the main campaign of Solasta: Crown of the Magister, I did also spend a lot of the weekend just plugging away at demos. Because my wishlist isn’t big enough. Thankfully for my bank account, most of these aren’t out yet, and a lot of them are liable to be fairly inexpensive when they are. So here’s my opinion on what I’ve spent the weekend doing.

Catizens: This one’s a weird sort of crossbreed game - social elements like The Sims, but mostly a colony creation simulator. Except with anthropomorphic cats. It’s kind of cute, and has thus gone on the wish list.

Witchy Life Story: Much like I Was A Teenage Exocolonist, I played this one until the demo ran out and then was very disappointed that there was not more game, and even more disappointed that there’s no release date. It’s a fairly Zen crafting / puzzle game with an interesting story element to it that feels a bit like Stardew Valley in its “getting to know the locals” theme, and I will just have to keep an eye out for an actual release date.

Gatcha Garden: This is an intensely Zen kind of game. It’s got a Dorfromantik feel to it in that you get random things in order to make ... well, in this case a garden, but there’s no points system or anything. It’s just, “If you don’t like it, recycle it and try again”. It’s a cute little game, and one I wouldn’t mind having just to Zen out about.

Storyteller: Not quite what I thought it was going to be, but fun anyway. It’s like that whole bit of hidden object puzzle games where some of them have the whole “tell a story by selecting the items / people in the right sequence” sections; just separated out on its own. So that sounds fun.

Common’hood: Sort of a colony sim, of sorts, but with some story elements. It’s honestly a lot better story-wise than things like Stardew Valley - while wish fulfilment of “You’ve been given a farm to get out of your dead-end job” is nice, sometimes you want the hope-punk of the more realistic “Dad died, hospital bills drained all the money, got evicted, but there’s the abandoned factory and people squatting here like me so maybe we can really make something of this” variety. Only problem? First person again. Not the kind of thing I can do to Zen out, all things considered. A maybe, but I can think of better things simply from a health perspective.

Lego Brick Tales: It’s a lot more fun than I expected it to be, though honestly, I think I prefer the Zen of following specific instructions to assemble Lego (not to mention the physical pieces) rather than trying to put together a thing on my own with a computer telling me I did it wrong. Still, the physics are pretty satisfying and the story element’s kind of cute, so it’s a maybe.

Horror Tycoon: Again, different than I expected. I thought it was just, “You’re making a theme park attraction or something and your job is to scare the people and earn money doing it”. Instead it’s “Your entire bloodline made a deal with the devil and you have to build a haunted hous that scares people to literal death and collect the souls or you immediately die and burn in hell for eternity”. So it’s a situation where you kind of have to resign yourself to losing this game if the cops turn up unless you’ve walked a very fine line. So it’s on the wishlist, but it’s going to stay on the bottom even when it does come out.

Now I have to deal with the neighbours apparently deciding that the entire fucking neighbourhood has to share their taste in music. They’re 500+ yards away and I live on an upper floor of a concrete-floored block of flats and I can feel the bassline of their shitty 70s music through the floor. So you can imagine how it sounds. I have a headache (I blame Common’hood, frankly) and I would like them to fucking stop. Instead I’ll just find something to hyperfocus past it with, I think. Could be the Lost Valley campaign of Solasta; I started that awhile ago. Or poke at my Horizon Zero Dawn NG+ game again. Or just something hidden object. Or try one of the many, many unplayed games still languishing in my Steam library. Just with the pounding of neighbours’ music, I don’t know that I could focus enough to hyperfocus on a new game at this point. Why do they have to be so fucking loud?

[mariaiscrafting]

You know, what think I like when you are critical of a content creator is that you know how to separate a fact from especulation, unlike a blog out there that took especulation as facts.

Example, that night when we were critical of Karl, or any instance you have discussed about him, a lot of anons were saying that he gave them clout chaser vibes to them, and despite your opinion, you expressed that those were only especulation and not the truth, and to keep that in mind. That's good critical thinking.

But this blog had some similar anons, saying that he only is friends with the Feral Boys gro clout- In fact, they said the Feral Boys were only in it to benefit from clout and money. And they took it as a truth. I know you instance on them is neutral, but come one, they are friends. All of them. Karl isn't friends with them for clout. Like today Karl was playing golf with salad gang plus Sapnap and George at first and then Quackity and Dream joined bc they had spared time and it all devolved into typical chaos (Poor Corpse and Tina and Brook, had to endure those children lol/lh /j). Like, the stream wasn't planned with the 5/5 yet they joined, missing Karl and just having fun.

Idk, I guess that blog's superiority (They were a SBI focused blog) just irritated me. It's as if they were putting both groups at each other as if those streamers aren't friends or close. They were singing prayers of one while shunning the other based from especulation. Criticissism is fine, in fact recommended to be critical of your interests, but taking rumors as facts to base your crit is yikes. It's as if I wanted to crit SBI and base it only of "Philza hanging only with people younger than him is kinda weird ngl.." or "Sbi doesn't care about Tommy cuz he joined late" like that dumb Tumblr post did or some fuckers in Twitter imply.

The main reason I take so much care to separate speculation from evidence-backed theories and confirmed truths is because I feel like that separation is what distinguishes us from mcyttwt the most. One of the main reasons for mcyttwt's toxicity, imo - for its relentless cancelling of everyone, for its bandwagon campaigns - is that people oftentimes criticize and defend based on their personal feelings rather than rationale or evidence.

For example, I complain a lot about Dream stans on here, but you know the reason I didn't stop watching Dream directly after the cheating scandal broke loose, even though I thought he cheated? Because of mcytblr Dream stans. Mcytblr Dream stans engaged with me in discussion, both publicly and in DMs, about the cheating scandal, and even those who eventually came to the conclusion that Dream didn't cheat accepted the facts and statistics they were given and kept a healthy skepticism throughout the process. On Twitter, Dream stans were defending him before he even made a video following up to the mods' initial accusations because they felt that Dream wasn't the kind of guy to lie or cheat. They were replying to screenshots of statistical analyses from subreddits and to articles from mathematicians and staticians with extremely reactionary responses because of that feeling, which they believed in so adamantly, they had accepted it as fact. The thing is, to believe that Dream didn't cheat in the face of all the statistical and rhetorical evidence to the contrary is, in itself, speculative. Usually we think of speculation as a baseless theory that something is a positive truth- that is to say, that something did happen. But speculation also applies to those theories of someone not having done something, when the opposite has been nearly proven to be true.

For this same reason, I chose not to ignore the anti-technotwt threads with screenshots of Techno's old tweets in them. For me to have simply ignored these screenshots and continued supposing that Techno never expressed bigoted beliefs and/or currently doesn't would have been speculative on my part, and to boot, blatantly wrong, given the evidence to the contrary.

People in this fandom, and in all RPF/RPF-adjacent fandoms need to understand that almost everything they believe about the CCs they watch is speculative, at least to some extent, because of the nature of the content they make. Even if someone, in your opinion, displays evidence of some aspect of their personality - whether that be some form of bigoted, sweet, rude, clout-chasing, or anything else - because of the extremely one-sided nature of sharing one's life through a screen, that theory of ours will almost alwyas only ever be speculation, not a solid conclusion that can be drawn. We will never know these people's true intentions behind something shared to us via the Internet.

That vagueness leads to virtually every viewer creating a different theory in our heads about the CCs we watch, and we can't treat those theories as facts, especially not when sharing them with the rest of a fandom. I'm not a very big blog, but I consider even over 50 followers to be way too many people to spread a theory too, without at least clarifying that what I'm posting is speculation. If I have evidence, I like to list it or, if I can, provide sources; but otherwise, I take care to qualify most things with phrases or disclaimers that will clue followers into the speculative nature of whatever it is I'm saying. This is because theories and "feelings" can blaze through a fandom like wildfire, especially somewhere like Twitter, where so many things are word-of-mouth or based on summary due to character limitation.

You know why mcyttwt was cancelling Andi? Only a handful of original Tweeters under the cancel Andi hashtags actually knew what clips or tweets to criticize her for, or tried to elaborate on that criticism. But because every other mcyttwt user was getting bombarded by their mutuals hate-posting about Andi on their TLs, the "negative feeling" towards Andi grew and grew, even if most people didn't even know what they were supposed to feel negative about, exactly. Our judgement works on a quick trigger on the Internet because of the amount of information we're receiving, and so, even a single bad word against someone you don't have too strong of an opinion on can fundamentally alter your perception of them, usually subconsciously. If the first thing you see about Andi, who you've only seen on a couple LOH's or a couple Punz streams before then, is a tweet along the lines of, "disappointed in Andi for her homophobia and joking about suicide," despite you having no context, you will most likely be pushed to the negative side of her. Thus begins the cycle of hatred, building up and up, leading to you searching for more and more criticism about Andi, whether speculative or not, until you solidly and genuinely believe she is a Horrible Person. It all starts with the vaguest fucking feeling, because that's all speculation has to go off of, and it snowballs into a fucking wildfire across an entire fandom. I'm not about to be another person to let feelings snowball and spread like that.

Now, I don't know what exact blog you're referring to, but as an adamant SBI enthusiast, let me flip the argument many SBI stans have for their speculation upon the genuity of Karl's friendship with the Feral Bois, onto SBI. What do we have to go off of for the genuity of SBI's friendship, anyways? Our perceived brother dynamic between Tommy and Wilbur could very well just be Tommy capitalizing on Wilbur's brand and continuing the charade until now because it's been profitable. Maybe Techno only continues to associate with SBI because he knows how much his fanbase likes headcanon'ing about SBI, so he puts up with streams with them so he can continue to feed his fanbase with dynamics he knows they're obsessed with. Maybe Phil would rather play MC with people his age, and actually dislikes that he's friends with a teenager, but sticks around because he profitted so much off of Dream SMP and SBI-related content. And what could any SBI stan have to argue with me on any of these theories? Just because SBI laughs around each other and seems fond of each other doesn't mean they're actually like that behind the cameras. They so seldomly stream or make videos together anymore, anyways, so maybe they've grown tired of keeping up the dynamic.

Everything I said could be interpreted as utter bullshit, and that's because it fucking is. I don't actually know what Techno wants to do with his life, or how Wilbur and Tommy actually feel about each other, or who Phil wants to fucking befriend. The same goes for Feral Boys. There's nothing wrong with stating your theories or speculation, but to treat them as fact or not at least qualify such posts with the fact that this is all based on your bias and opinion, and no substantive evidence, is irresponsible. Just because you feel like one or more of the Feral Boys is "clout-chasing" doesn't mean you have the right to tout that feeling as truth. I feel a lot of things about a lot of CCs, both negative and positive, but no matter how strong my feelings, unless they have substantive evidence backing them up, I have no right to treat them as facts with my followers.

[inky-duchess]

21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Okokokok hear me out. You wrote watcher Grian and his boys before. How about dad Grian and his two (robot) sons? (That he certainly didn't just leave in closet)

Oh you asked for two robot sons? How about FOUR? :D

…

NPC Grian is tired of his closet. All he wants is a big open space to build rustic houses in peace, but Grian won’t let him. He has to stay here, away from everyone else, as if Grian is ashamed of him. Not that he thinks about that too much. It starts to hurt if he does.

Sometimes, he thinks just some company would be nice. Someone to talk to, to make his life in this tiny room less lonely. He used to put on a different voice and pretend he had a friend with him, but he doesn’t do that anymore. It just hurts too much when he stops talking and realises he’s still on his own.

How much time has gone by while he’s been in here? Days? Months? Years? He can hardly remember the last time Grian visited him. But his orders were very strict, and NPG cannot disobey his programming. He cannot leave the closet.

Do not leave the closet.

He can feel his energy depleting as his battery runs out. It lasts for years at a time so it must be at least that long since Grian visited him last. At least his lonely existence is coming to an end.

Do not leave the closet.

Do not leave the closet.

…

NPG opens his eyes and realises immediately that he is no longer in his closet. Instead, he can see trees. Grass. A blue sky. The sun.

He’s outside.

He sits bolt upright, his programming protesting violently.

“Hey, easy now,” comes a metallic voice. “You’re still recharging.”

NPG glances to his right and finds, to his shock, a robotic-looking version of Grian gazing back at him. “Who are you? How did I get out here?”

“My name is Robot Grian,” he responds. “And I brought you out here. You’d passed out in your closet; I guessed you’d run out of battery. I helped you recharge.”

“Robot Grian?” repeats NPG slowly. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“That’s because I am the second of Grian’s creations, created to fill the void after Grian decided you were of no use to him anymore. And there are others out there who need our help.”

NPG blinks at him. “Really? Grian has more creations?”

“Yes. Two more who need saving before they end up like you and me.”

After a moment, NPG glances away. “I can’t. I have to go back to the closet. I was ordered never to leave.”

“NPG, Grian doesn’t care about you,” insists Robot Grian. “Did you know you recharge using solar energy?”

NPG hesitates. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“And Grian still kept you locked away in a place where you’d never see the sun. That’s what he does, you know. He tosses us aside as soon as we’ve served our purpose and makes sure nobody ever finds out we ever existed. He may have created you but you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to follow his orders anymore.”

NPG thinks about this for a while. Robot Grian’s words ring true; NPG is tired of living in a closet but if Grian had his way, he would never see the light of day again. If NPG ever wants to be happy, he knows he has to be free.

“Okay, so what is our plan?” he asks.

Robot Grian appears pleased at his decision. “As I said, there are two others who have been abandoned by Grian. We go free them then we go to Grian and force him to accept us for who we are.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we leave. He can’t overpower all four of us if we catch him on his own.”

“I see…” NPG pauses again. “If we are truly committed to moving on from just being Grian’s creations, then I would like to change my name.”

“Good idea,” says Robot Grian approvingly. “To what?”

“Rustic House,” NPG replies immediately. “My one true love.”

Robot Grian looks taken aback by his instant and rather bizarre answer. “Okay… What about Rusty?”

“Hmm… A nickname for Rustic House. I like it!” Rusty beams. This is the happiest he has been in years. “What will you be called?”

After a moment, Robot Grian shrugs. “You make up a name for me.”

“Me? Okay. Roby.”

“Whoa, okay, that was quick. Why that?”

“It’s short for Robot,” Rusty explains. “I think it’s cute.”

“Huh.” His new companion considers this. “I kinda like it, actually. And really, anything’s better than having someone else’s name with “Robot” tacked onto the front to differentiate myself from the original.”

“Yay! Are you my friend, Roby?”

Roby thinks. “I guess we’re more like brothers, aren’t we? We were both created by the same person, so-.”

Rusty’s smile widens and he grabs Roby in a hug. “This is amazing! I’ve never even had a friend before, let alone a brother.”

Roby chuckles, before carefully removing Rusty’s arms from around him. “Okay, sure. Remember, we’ve got two more brothers out there who need our help, so we’d better get going quickly, before Grian realises we’re missing.”

…

Roby leads Rusty to a giant box out in the ocean. He digs a hole into it and drops down, landing as lightly as a cat.

Next to him, Rusty falls on his face.

Rolling his eyes amusedly, Roby moves further into the room, which is decorated like the outside world, with a painted blue sky and grass as the floor.

“Who are we here to rescue?” asks Rusty, jumping to his feet.

“Him.”

Roby gestures upwards. Rusty follows his gaze and finds a large robotic shell sitting against the back wall, its face and outstretched arms frozen in perpetual satisfaction.

“Meet Grumbot,” Roby says. “He was created by Grian and his friend Mumbo Jumbo to be a mayoral campaign robot. They eventually blamed him for Mumbo’s loss in the election and abandoned him here, claiming he’s “happy” in this fake reality.”

“We’re gonna save him, right?” asks Rusty eagerly.

Roby nods, encouraged by Rusty’s enthusiasm. “Yes, indeed. I’m not entirely sure if Grian knows this, but the Grumbot you see before you is actually just a gigantic shell. The real Grumbot is inside what you might call its “brain”, supplying the larger body with its energy and knowledge.”

“Whoa…!”

“Yup. Wait there.”

Roby climbs up Grumbot’s outer shell and slips through a crack in its head.

Inside the nerve centre, he finds a smaller version of Grumbot, complete with moustache and Grian-style hair. He is slumped against the wall of his prison, unresponsive, just as Rusty had been when Roby found him.

Roby may be a robot but even he can feel sadness welling up in him at the sight of the little robot, a little over half his size, all alone in this place. He gathers Grumbot into his arms and slips back out through the crack.

Rusty helps him get down, his eyes fixed on the little robot in Roby’s arms. “Is this Grumbot?”

Roby nods. “This is him. I don’t know how he recharges but we’d better get him away from here. It can’t be doing him any good.”

The two leave the giant box and hop back into the boat they rowed here in. As they get further away from the prison, Grumbot starts to stir, as if waking up from a deep sleep. His eyes open just as the boat is pulling up to the dock.

“Hey,” Roby says gently, carrying him onto the shore. “Can you hear me?”

Grumbot blinks at him a few times. “Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Robot Gr-.” Roby almost forgets his new name. “I’m Roby. This is Rusty.”

Rusty beams as he drags the boat from the water. “Hi!”

Grumbot tips his head on one side. “Who am I?”

“Your name is Grum,” Rusty tells him, before Roby can speak. “You’re a robot made by Grian and now we’re forming a gang so we can go beat him up for abandoning us.”

“That last bit isn’t true,” Roby says quickly. “We’re not going to beat him up. We just want him to accept us for who we are. All four of us.”

Grum glances from Rusty to Roby. “Where are my dads?”

Roby winces. He knows he has to break some bad news to the equivalent of a child. “They… um… they left. But that’s why we’re gathering our group together: so we can find our… our dad and make him accept us.”

Grum pauses, digesting this information. “Rusty. And Roby. And Grum?”

Roby nods encouragingly. “Yeah. You’re one of us, Grum. We’re gonna look after you, okay?”

To Roby’s relief, Grum smiles and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome.”

…

Roby leads the other two to the place where they will find the final creation: Grian’s hobbit hole starter base. “I did some recon here a few days ago,” he says as the group make their way inside. “Grian keeps him in a closet, just like you, Rusty.”

“Closets are lonely and devoid of hope,” says Rusty.

Roby nods, unsure of how else to react to that. “Indeed. He was Grian’s original cam account but Grian dumped him in favour of the new one he uses now. That only happened a few months ago though, so he shouldn’t be as low on charge as you two are.”

The closet is located in Grian’s bedroom upstairs. Roby gestures for the others to stand back, before he opens the door.

Immediately, a figure shoves past him and zooms for the door. Thankfully, Rusty is standing in the way and he stops the person from escaping.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Roby scrambles up from the floor and gets in front of the figure, holding out his hands reassuringly. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt you. We’re here to help, okay?”

Now that the person has stopped moving, the others can see that he too looks exactly like Grian, except with bigger, more expressive eyes, which are filled with pain and fear.

“It’s Grifter, right?” asks Roby softly. “Your name is Grifter?”

After a moment, the frightened cam account nods.

“Can you talk to me? Are you alright?”

Another pause. Finally, Grifter opens his mouth and croaks, “Where’s Grian? Wh-Who are you?”

“I’m Roby. That’s Rusty and Grum.” Roby indicates his brothers in turn. “Grian is… probably at his mansion at the moment.”

“Grian abandoned me.” Grifter’s face screws up as if he is about to cry. “I tried so hard to be a good cam account but he replaced me. What did I do wrong?”

“I’m positive you didn’t do anything,” Roby assures him. “Grian has an issue with creating things and then abandoning them when he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore. But now that we're all together, we can go find Grian and make him accept us.”

Grifter slowly looks around at the other three. “You guys were abandoned too?”

Rusty and Grum nod at the same time. “He locked me in a closet,” says Rusty helpfully.

“I was imprisoned in the brain of a larger version of myself that I was forced to feed with my infinite knowledge and energy until I had nothing left inside me except crippling loneliness and a rapidly depleting battery,” Grum says.

The other three stare at him.

“Okay, that’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard,” Grifter says, before turning back to Roby. “And you think we can just get him to accept us?”

Roby nods. “I do. Grian isn’t a bad person; he just doesn’t know what to do with us anymore. If we show him that we have purpose and our sentience has grown, maybe he’ll see us as actual living beings instead of unfeeling robots.”

“You are a robot, though,” Rusty points out.

“That’s beside the point.”

…

Rusty, Roby, Grum, and Grifter make their way into Grian’s mansion. They immediately find him working on something on the foyer, head buried in one of the many chests lining the walls.

For a moment, the group dithers a safe distance away, unsure how to start.

“Dad!” Grum calls unexpectedly.

Grian nearly jumps out of his skin. He sharply turns and his eyes widen as he registers his four creations standing together a little way off.

“O-Oh my god… What are you all doing here…?”

“We wanted to talk to you,” says Roby, taking the lead when it’s clear nobody else will. “You’re technically our father so we want to talk to you about… events that happened.”

Grian hesitates. “You mean… me locking you four away from the rest of the world?”

All four of them nod at the same time, causing Grian to sigh quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt any of you, I just… You all grew far beyond what I expected and I didn’t know how to handle that.”

“You abandoned us!” Grum cries. “You and other dad left me all on my own in a box in the middle of the ocean! How could you think I would be happy there?!”

Grian winces. “I’m sorry, Grumbot…”

“My name is Grum now.”

“We changed our names,” explains Roby. “I’m Roby. NPG is now Rusty. And Grifter is… just the same, really.”

“You changed your names? Why?”

“Because we’re trying to show you we don’t want to be your forgotten clones anymore,” says Roby. “We’re more like your sons. All we want is for you to accept us and love us the way we are. There’s no need to be ashamed or scared of us. We just want to live.”

“We can be a family,” says Rusty out of nowhere. “Right…?”

Grian stares at them for a moment, before giving a small smile. “We can absolutely be a family.”

Beaming, Rusty rushes over to Grian and hugs him. Grum joins soon after, and so do Grifter and then Roby.

“We’ve still got a lot to talk about,” says Grifter pointedly. “About how you made us feel with your abandonment of us.”

“Of course.” Grian nods. “I know I hurt you and I’ll make up for that. Things aren’t going to be perfect straight away.”

Rusty nods. He knows this. It’s obvious that they still have issues to work out but that hardly matters at the moment. What matters is he’s finally out of that closet AND he has a brand new family.

Finally, Grian is accepting him.

[bittydragon]

The Problems Arising (The Election)

Next

Notes: Here it is! This is the start of that big project I told you all about yesterday! This story is based off of the request by @potatonugget7 - “I was wondering if you could do like, the whole Schlatt arc of L’Manburg but with borrower Tubbo?” (Just in case the picture decides to not load for some dumb reason.) (Also, only reason I’m not answering this as the ask itself is purely due to formatting reasons) Let me tell you, this has been a blast to create. I have actually been talking with the person who sent me this ask and they helped me develop the story. Personally, I think this is turning out amazing. I am very excited to share this project with you all and hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“Wilbur, relax! We’ve got this in the bag! There’s no way we could lose this thing, not after all the work we have put into this.”

“But Tommy! SWAG2020 has begun gaining a following and Schlatt’s sudden entrance to the election could send this all for a loop. Can we really still win?”

Tubbo watched as his best friend and his brother argued over what the outcome for this election would be. 

Wilbur had only become increasingly anxious over the results whilst Tommy was completely confident in their abilities to win the election. 

Tubbo wished he could help, but it was rather difficult when he was only a few inches tall. All he could do was sit there and give whatever words of encouragement he could think of to help calm the two humans’ nerves. 

But in this moment, Tubbo couldn’t even think of what he could say. Wilbur was rightfully worried, Quackity had begun to gain a following and Schlatt’s sudden entry to the election threw everyone off. 

Though, Tommy’s optimism had its own truth behind it. The two brothers had put a lot of work into their election campaign, and that isn’t even considering the amount of work they  put into building the country as a whole. 

With all this in mind, Tubbo still had high hopes that Wilbur and Tommy would still win.

“Guys, at this point it’s useless to argue about the outcome, the votes are all in already. Nothing is going to change the outcome now.” 

Both humans went silent and turned to Tubbo, who barely flinched at the sudden attention. He was used to it at this point. He was just happy that they actually listened to him instead of ignoring him because he was different. 

“Though, I do want to ask a favor of you Wilbur.”

Wilbur sent him a questioning gaze. “And what would that be, Tubbo?” Tubbo took a deep breath. He just hoped that they would be alright with this.

“Could I come and watch this time? I could just hide in your pocket!” He took a deep breath as he noticed Tommy was about to say something and continued. 

“I just feel as if I don’t get to see what happens with you guys. Plus, I want to be there to celebrate with you two afterwards!” He sent them a wide smile, which thankfully seemed to calm both of their nerves.

“Of course, Tubbo. I’d be happy to-”

“Wait! Why don’t you want me to carry you? Why the hell did you ask Wilbur and not me, your best friend if I may add.”

“Tommy, I wouldn’t trust you to actually keep me hidden either if I were Tubbo, dumbass.”

Tubbo giggled as Tommy began sputtering out various curses and insults. Wilbur only looked on in amusement. Tubbo enjoyed these little moments with them. 

They were like a family, something Tubbo hadn’t really had before meeting Tommy.

All too soon, their fun was stopped by the distant ringing of a bell. All three of them knew what this bell meant; the time to announce the results of the election. 

They all stood there in silence for a brief moment to let it sink in. Eventually, Wilbur turned towards Tubbo and extended his hand out to him with a smile.

“Shall we?” Tubbo nodded and quickly climbed onto Wilbur’s hand. 

His grip tightened ever so slightly to keep himself balanced as the hand moved upwards. It seemed to take no time at all before he reached the pocket of Wilbur’s uniform and slid into it. 

He began situating himself inside of the pocket as he felt Wilbur lean down to pick up the envelope that contained the final results. 

When everyone was ready, they left towards the podium with a heavy silence hanging between them.

The walk was uneventful and quiet, all three too caught up in their own thoughts. As they approached the podium, they could see many of the citizens of L’Manburg had already begun to gather below. With a heavy sigh, Wilbur walked up towards the podium with Tommy trailing behind him.

As soon as they reached the podium, Tubbo ducked back into the pocket. He’d rather not be seen by others. He’d be content with only listening to the results, they really weren’t something he needed to see to know the outcome.

Tubbo heard faint conversation around him as Wilbur prepared to announce the results that were located in the envelope from earlier. A moment later, Wilbur tapped the microphone and cleared his throat; everyone went silent.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the L’Manburg election results! In my hand are the final votes for the election, the deciding factor on L’Manburg’s next president.” Tubbo felt Wilbur take a deep breath as he lifted the envelope for everyone in the audience to see.

“This envelope contains the popular votes for the four running parties: POG2020 consisting of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, SWAG2020 consisting of Quackity and George, Coconut2020 consisting of Fundy and Nihachu, and Schlatt2020 consisting of Schlatt. With that said, I will now read out the results of the election.”

Silence was all that met Wilbur’s words. Tubbo assumed everyone was anticipating the results with baited breath because even he felt his own doubts creeping in. 

However he shook it off as he heard Wilbur tear the envelope open and pull out the sheet of paper.

A few seconds later, Wilbur suddenly tensed up. It felt so slight that he was sure that no one watching would notice, but Tubbo could feel it from inside the pocket. 

He was confused, POG2020 was the clear favorite, at least, he thought they were the clear favorite. But the way Wilbur tensed up made his doubts increase tenfold.

“In fourth place with 9% of the vote, we have Coconut2020!”

Cheering suddenly erupted from beside Wilbur, and Tubbo made a quick guess that it was Fundy cheering. At least he still seemed happy despite losing the election.

“In third place with 16% of the vote, we have Schlatt2020!”

An astonished silence followed the announcement. Tubbo shifted in surprise as well. Schlatt had been such a late entry to the election as a whole, and yet, he didn’t receive the lowest amount of votes. He had actually managed to gain a decent following for only being in L’Manburg for a few days, prior to the election.

“That leaves us with the last two parties: POG2020,” he paused for effect before continuing on, “and SWAG2020.” Silence hung in the air, only broken by a small cheer behind Wilbur that went ignored by everyone. 

“In second place with 30% of the vote,” Wilbur paused, raising the suspense.Tubbo held his breath, hoping that POG2020 came out as the elected party. 

“SWAG2020!”

Cheer erupted from all around, the loudest being Tommy who was standing right beside Wilbur. Even Tubbo couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, they had won the election.

“That leaves POG2020 with 45% of the popular vote.” Tommy’s cheering increased tenfold at the new statement. Tubbo knew that if he wasn’t in Wilbur’s pocket at that exact moment, Tommy would be all over his brother in excitement. 

Tubbo was about to tap Wilbur to show him how excited he was when he began to speak again.

“Tommy, Tommy please settle down. I need to announce one other thing.” Tommy lessened his cheering but Tubbo knew he was probably still smiling like an idiot. They had won, they did it!

“Two days ago, a deal was made between candidate Quackity and candidate Schlatt. They both agreed to create a coalition government based off of both of their respective followings. Therefore, the new party of Schlatt2020 has 46% of the popular vote. Meaning that Schlatt2020 has won the election by 1% of the vote.”

Tubbo could no longer pay attention to everything going on around him, all of the words around him blending into white noise. 

They had actually lost the election. 

Wilbur and Tommy didn’t win when it should have been an easy victory for them. The only reason they lost was because of the new coalition government pooling their votes together.

So what was going to happen now? This Schlatt person was the new president of L’Manburg? 

He had only been in these lands for around a week prior and the people had already decided that they preferred him over Wilbur. Wilbur hadn’t done anything wrong, he had done nothing to cause a dislike towards him. 

And L’Manburg chose a new member over one of the original founders.

Tubbo eventually let himself tune back into the happenings around him and risked a glance over the edge of the pocket as Schlatt began his inauguration speech. 

He hadn’t noticed when they moved down from the platform to stand with the rest of L’Manburg’s citizens. He really was lost in his thoughts it seemed.

He glanced over to Tommy who sent a small worried look back. Tommy had done so much for this country and he was now nothing more than another citizen. 

Tubbo hoped that Schlatt would at least honor Tommy’s contributions to the country at the very least. 

“My first decree, as the president of L’Manburg, the Emperor of this great country!” Tubbo turned his gaze to the podium where the ram hybrid began giving his first decree. 

That first line alone made a small chill run down Tubbo’s spine. 

“Is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot,” Schlatt paused for a minute and his smile grew bigger. “And TommyInnit!”

Time seemed to stop for Tubbo as he registered the new president’s words among the now growing cheers and screams. But that meant they couldn’t be on L’Manburg lands. 

They weren’t allowed to stay so what are they going to-

“Get ‘em outta here!”

Suddenly, Tubbo felt Wilbur jerk as he turned tail to run. He faintly heard him yelling at Tommy to run, over the roaring blood in his ears. 

He ducked into the pocket as soon as Wilbur lurched forward, like he’d been struck by an arrow. 

Tubbo ducked as low as he could in the pocket to avoid falling out in the commotion, especially when Wilbur whipped around to check who was behind him. 

He then heard Wilbur chug a potion and noticed as the effects began taking place, making Wilbur’s body seemingly disappear into thin air.

Before he was completely out of sight though, another arrow hit Wilbur and next thing Tubbo knew he was free falling toward the ground. 

What just happened? 

He attempted to prop himself up on his arms in the tall grass, only to see items littered around him. 

The sound of people running fell on deaf ears as Tubbo attempted to regain his bearings. It had all gone so fast, he wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened.

“Well this is unexpected. The fuck are you supposed to be?” 

Tubbo stared wide-eyed up at the figure that was now towering over him. 

It was the ram hybrid, the one who beat Wilbur in the election. At Tubbo’s silence, Schlatt’s eyes narrowed and he let out a small noise of annoyance. 

Before he could register what was happening, a large hand reached down and snatched him up in a tight fist.

Tubbo began trying to squirm out of the suffocating grip to no avail as he was lifted off of the ground. The fist only squeezed harder, pushing Tubbo’s breath out of him. 

He stopped struggling in hopes that he would be allowed to breathe easier and possibly get a chance to escape. 

One glance at his captor however, dashed all hope that Tubbo had. He watched in horror as the ram’s expression changed from confusion to a sinister looking grin.

“You belonged to Wilbur, didn’t you?” Schlatt smirked and began twisting Tubbo around in his grip. “If that’s the case, you might be useful.”

Tubbo tried to steady himself in the man’s hands but was constantly knocked over by Schlatt twisting and turning him. 

With the implications Schlatt made and the constant twisting; Tubbo felt sick to his stomach.

The movement finally stopped, only for Tubbo to be trapped in a tight fist once more as Schlatt bent down to pick up the potions that Wilbur had dropped. 

He seemed uninterested in most of the things Wilbur dropped when he died, he only seemed to be interested in the potions and Tubbo.

That did not bode well for Tubbo at all.

A few seconds later, Schlatt stored the potions on his person and began walking towards the White House with Tubbo in hand. 

Schlatt didn’t even look at him as he began shifting Tubbo around again, further disorienting the tiny boy. A quick glance at the ram however, heavily implied that he was doing this on purpose.

It felt like forever before they reached the White House, at least for Tubbo it did. He felt dizzy and sick by the time they stopped walking, anymore and it may have caused him to throw up. 

He was so out of it that he didn’t even notice Schlatt creating a small glass box on the table until he was dropped into it.

Tubbo landed on his butt inside the enclosure with a grunt of pain before looking up in fear. Schlatt smiled and propped his head up on his hand atop the table.

“There you go, pet. Just like home, right? Of course it is!” He leaned in, not giving Tubbo a chance to respond. “‘Cause little fucking things like you are nothing more than pets.”

Tubbo scooted backwards, hoping to put as much distance between himself and Schlatt despite the glass enclosure. He shrunk back further as Schlatt laughed at his actions.

Before either of them could do anything else, someone else entered the White House with a loud, excited cheer.

“Eyyyy, Schlatt! Mr. President! How does it feel to have all this power in your new nation?” Tubbo glanced over to see the newcomer. 

He quickly deduced that this was Quackity, Schlatt’s vice president and the reason Schlatt became president. 

Tubbo knew that Schlatt wouldn’t have won if Quackity hadn’t pooled his votes with Schlatt, meaning he already had a bitter feeling towards him.

“So what’s our first plan of action- Schlatt? What the fuck is that?”

Tubbo was now extremely aware of the new pair of eyes on him, the attention was too much. Unfortunately, in his situation there was nothing he could do to escape the attention. 

Tommy and Wilbur at least respected his privacy whenever he felt overwhelmed, these two however, most definitely did not.

“Dunno, but it was sitting amongst Soot’s stuff after he was killed. Brought it back here as soon as I realized that this weird creature could be used against him if he tries any funny business.” Schlatt never took his eyes off Tubbo as he spoke, unnerving the tiny boy even more.

Tubbo switched his gaze towards Quackity and noticed a small unease forming in his expression. It was almost as if the idea of Schlatt using a small person as nothing more than a tool unnerved him. 

It made Tubbo feel a bit of hope for his situation.

“As weird as this is, I’ll be fine with this ‘cause you’re right, it does give us the upper hand against Wilbur and Tommy!”

And with that, any hope Tubbo had left was shattered. The new vice president wasn’t going to do anything to stop Schlatt, he was too loyal to the president.

“That’s what I thought! This is why you’re my vice president! Come now, we have much to figure out with my new country!”

“Yessir!”

With that, they left the room, leaving Tubbo alone in his glass enclosure. He curled up into himself as tears threatened to fall. 

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to escape this situation easily, if he could even escape at all. All he wanted was to end this new nightmare.

He just wanted to be back with Tommy.

[eyayah-oya]

Carry You With Me Always

Buckle up everyone, because I have three prompts today!

Cloneship Week 2021 - Tattoos - @cloneshipweek

Rex/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: very vague references to something bad happening to Tup and Dogma in the past

Ao3 link--Ao3 has some world building notes about Tup, Dogma, and Mom Echo if you want to check those out!

           Lazy days were Echo’s favorite.  They always had been.  Especially the days when Rex didn’t have to be a commander masquerading as a captain.  (Echo still didn’t understand how hard it was to sign off on a promotion for Rex. Skywalker knew how to sign his own name.)  It was the third day of leave on Coruscant, just when the duties required of the commanding officers tapered off to allow them time off just like their men.

           Rex entered the officer barracks with two cups of caf and a datapad tucked under his arm.  He must have recently taken a water shower, as he looked cleaner than the sonics were able to achieve.  For a moment, Echo mourned the opportunity to shower with Rex but they figured there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

           “Morning,” Echo called, their voice deep and raspy from sleep.

           He looked up, though Echo noted he didn’t actual startle. Rex only got that jumpy when he hadn’t been sleeping, so he at least got some rest since the 501st arrived on Coruscant.  That was good.  Echo had been worried when Rex hadn’t shown up the past two nights to the bunk they shared when not on the Resolute.

           A warm smile, reserved just for Echo, softened Rex’s face and filled Echo with happiness.  “Morning, Echo,” he responded.  With ease, he set the two caf cups down on his desk without spilling a drop, the datapad following immediately after.  Then, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he fell onto the bed beside Echo and nuzzled their shoulder.

           “Meetings go badly?” they mused as ran their fingers across the closely cropped blonde hair.

           “Eh, not too bad.  Just long.  General Mundi preached about the value of life again and Gree got into an argument with General Fisto over some obscure plant the 41st found on their last campaign.  I think if they’d been in the same room, it would have become a physical fight.”

           Echo snorted.  “That would definitely be interesting to watch.  What did General Unduli do?”

           “I’m 90% sure she was either sleeping standing up, or talking to General Kenobi telepathically.  Kenobi kept snickering every once in a while, so I wouldn’t put it past them.”  Rex shook his head as best as he could from where his face was smooshed against Echo’s shoulder.  “Anything big happen with the boys?”

           “Denal and Attie got arrested again.  I’m pretty sure they’re trying to court the intake officer in the Corrie’s brig.  I escorted Dogma and Tup around the city the first day and ended up taking them to Tatta. You know, the vod who gives the best tattoos?”

           Rex hummed in acknowledgment.  “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure, but I’ve heard he’s one of the best on Coruscant.  Did Tup and Dogma end up getting any tattoos?”

           “Tup got a little tear below his eye and Dogma got a really cool one over his face.  Kix is gonna have a conniption when he sees that; you know how he is with large facial tattoos,” Echo said with amusement.  “Dogma struggled a bit at first, but Tup talked him through his anxiety and held his hand.”

           “That’s good.  I’ll make sure to pair them up on campaigns.  Aren’t they twins?”

           Echo nodded.  While not numerous, there were several sets of twins in the GAR.  Commanders Thire and Thorn in the Corrie Guard, Kix and Captain Keeli, Tup and Dogma, Lupis and Canis in the Wolfpack, and of course Echo and their twin Fives. Commanding officers tried to keep twins together as much as possible, though it doesn’t always happen, like with Kix and Keeli.

           “You could have warned me they were former Corries,” Echo grumbled.  “Technically I was escorting them, but it was mostly them dragging me all over the city. Although, they did take me to this diner with the most amazing nerf burgers.  I’ll have to take you sometime.  They’re sweet kids, but they also could use a lot more support than the average vod. Something happened to them when they were with the Guard.”

           Rex sighed.  “I know. Fox briefed me on their situation. I won’t tell you what happened exactly—they should do that themselves—but it was bad.  We’ll take care of them, I promise.”

           “Good.”  Echo nodded once and wrapped their left arm around Rex’s shoulder and pulled him in closer. Rex flung his own arm back over Echo. Immediately they hissed as their right pec flared with a stinging pain.

           Immediately, Rex sat up in concern.  “Echo?  What’s wrong?”

           Echo grinned sheepishly.  “Well, Tup and Dogma were really nervous to get tattoos since the Guard isn’t allowed to have tattoos.  And I might have gotten a tattoo to help them be more comfortable.”

           “Really?” Rex grinned.  Without hesitation, he gently placed his hand over Echo’s pec, exactly in the same spot he had left a handprint on their first set of armor. He didn’t have to guess what tattoo they had decided to get.  Echo arched into the touch, the sting sharp and pointed and somehow exactly perfect.  “Can I see it?” Rex asked softly.

           “Help me get the shirt off, and yes,” Echo answered. They surged upwards, ignoring the pain from his tattoo, so they could press a heated and soft kiss to Rex’s lips.

With far more reverence than they usually have time for, Rex slid his fingers under the hem of their loose shirt, trailing over the firm muscles and warm skin. Echo shivered deliciously and lightly sucked on his lower lip, rather than help their boyfriend in any way. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed until Rex pulled away to tug the shirt over Echo’s head.  They helped, lifting their arms over their head to allow the shirt to slide free.

           In the exact same placement as their armor, a handprint had been tattooed completely in a darker blue than they used for their armor. The dark blue color the Rishi eel’s blood had been.  The permanent mark on their skin was a bold proclamation of who Echo belonged to.  A way to inform everyone who they went home to and who they would always go back for.  That day on Rishi was life-changing for both of them for more than one reason. It was the day Echo had lost their batchmates, save for Fives, and the day they had both joined the 501st. It was the day Echo had first met Rex, a young shiny who was in awe of the legendary captain.  And it was the day that began Echo’s journey of falling completely in love with the man behind the legend.

           Rex traced the edges of the tattoo gently, barely ghosting over the skin.  It was still swollen and red from the needle, but that would go away in a couple more days. Echo didn’t mind a little bit of pain if it meant they could wear Rex’s mark in his skin as well as their armor.

           “Do you like it?” they asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

           “I love it.  They did a really good job.  Does it hurt a lot?” Rex asked.

           Echo wobbled his head from side to side.  “A little, but it’s not bad.  Barely noticeable, really.”

           “Good.”  And with that, Rex pressed his hand against the mark and pushed Echo back onto the bed until he was leaning directly over them.  “Because I need to show you exactly how much I like it.”

           They eagerly reached up and wrapped their arms around Rex’s neck, pulling him down against them, though they both were careful not to dislodge his hand from its place on Echo’s chest.  Echo pressed their forehead against Rex’s, letting them bask in the peaceful moment instead of the hurried seconds they only managed to snatch while out on the front.  Eventually, the keldabe shifted to the more traditional type of kissing, their tongues tangling together languidly.  They had all day and the rest of the tenday to relax and enjoy.  They could take their time, and Echo couldn’t be happier.

           “I love you,” they whispered between kisses.

           “I love you, my eyayah.  My Echo with my mark,” Rex answered before diving back into their mouth and showing them exactly how much he needed and loved them.

           Echo shivered with delight, the intimacy of the moment barricading everything else from the Captain’s quarters.  For a time, they existed in a bubble, cut off from the galaxy and perfectly at peace together.

           Then, the bubble popped.

           “Does the Captain really have to know?  I mean, it’s not like he’d be surprised.”

           “Fives, don’t be an idiot.  You know he always needs to know when we brawl with the Wolfpack so he can keep Commander Wolffe from killing us.”

           “But if we go in there, Echo will kill us.”

           “I’d rather die by Echo’s hand than by Commander Wolffe’s! He’s scary!”

           “Oh, lighten up, Jesse!  I wouldn’t mind fighting with the Commander!”

           “ . . . Hardcase . . . “

           “What?  It’s true!”

           “I’m gonna tell him!”

           “Fives, don’t you dare!”

           With matching, heavy sighs, Echo and Rex broke apart and turned to the door.  Yes, Echo loved lazy days.  But those days never lasted long, and they loved their brothers just as much.

           “I’ll go deal with Hardcase’s unacknowledged romantic feelings for Commander Wolffe.  You need to get some sleep,” Echo said, giving Rex a soft kiss on the cheek as they grabbed their t-shirt.  “Think I can make Jesse prefer he’d faced the Commander?”

           Rex smirked and flopped down by Echo’s side instead of on top of them.  “I know you will.  I’ll be here when they’re all suitably punished.  Come back and we can finish what we started.”  His eyes were dark with hunger and love, sending a shiver through Echo.  That was a promise they wouldn’t pass up for anything.

           “I’ll be back after I finish wrangling the children.  I’ll probably drag Dogma and Tup along so they can laugh at Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase,” Echo said with a grin.  They pulled their shirt over their head and climbed over Rex to stand up.  “They could use the enrichment.”

           Rex only laughed.  Lazy days really were the best.

[orangedodge]

@dannybagpipesarecalling​ replied to your text post:

I didn't realize those were Destiny's diaries either. If you would be so kind, can you explain how Emma knows? Unfortunately I haven't read enough comics to know this backstory.

I am glad you asked about this, because it gives me an excuse to post about it while hopefully not sounding like a conspiracy blog. I've been slightly obsessed with this idea since Emma first turned up in House of X, so I'm rather excited that “maybe Destiny's Diaries still exist” isn't just my weird crack canon any longer.

Emma was, in short, the last person who can be established to have control over the whereabouts of the diaries. And as one of the top five telepaths in the world, who has expressly defended that secret from the likes of Exodus and Mr. Sinister, she is capable of preventing Professor X from just taking the information from her. So barring new retcons, if Moira has the diaries now, they had to have been obtained directly from Emma.

That's not enough to say that she turned them over to Moira specifically. She could have given them to Charles or Er—okay, no, she wouldn't give them to Charles. There could be a circumstance where she'd trust them to Erik though. But in that contingency, I think there's enough context to support Emma knowing why they'd want them and for who. To be clear though, I would be less confident about making that assertion if Emma hadn't just opened the “Dr. Moira MacTaggert Memorial Public Hospital” expressly to freak out Charles and Erik, and if HoxPox hadn't already linked them by showing Moira to be worried about what Emma was up to.

(This got kind of long so I thought it'd be helpful to say the important part up front before spiraling down the continuity rabbit hole)

The origins and resulting chain of custody for Destiny's Diaries are as follows: One January, decades ago, Destiny began recording visions of the future in a series of diaries. Filling one book per month, she continued writing for thirteen months. This process was described as auto-writing, and Destiny herself did not have a complete memory of what she had written, nor did she understand the meaning of much of what she wrote.

Nonetheless, the July diary contained a recording of the events leading up to the defeat of Apocalypse, and another diary contained information on the life of Hope Summers, so they've been very relevant to the events of the modern era. It's not explicit yet that Krakoa's founding is also in the diaries, but because we know Destiny had at least one separate vision of Krakoa, and because Moira is interested in reading them, it seems fairly likely that whatever Moira, Charles, and Erik have been doing behind the scenes is also in there.

In the decades since Destiny authored them, most of these diaries were lost, except for five that Mystique kept hold of, and a sixth that Irene hid away herself. After Mystique killed 'Moira,' she sent her five diaries to Professor X, hoping that the temptation of using them would consume his life and lead him toward a ruinous fate. Destiny meanwhile had entrusted the sixth diary to Shadowcat (who Destiny met in 1936, while she was time traveling and having an affair with Moira's grandfather don't worry about it), who eventually became so freaked out by something she read in it that she vanished on a mission, let her friends believe her dead for weeks, and had herself deleted from Cerebro, while leaving the diary to Rogue for safekeeping while she was away.

(That last chain of events isn't incredibly important, I just think it becomes kind of lol in light of current canon)

Rogue went on to take that diary and the research that had been done on it to Storm. Storm and Rogue then formed a splinter team of X-Men, to journey the world searching for the lost diaries, believing Professor X could not be trusted. Along the way a seventh book turned up with a treasure hunter named Vargas (don't worry about him), and an eighth was found by Gateway and given to Rogue in a dream. Eventually Storm tried to get Phoenix to collect Professor X's diaries for her, but they discovered that they had already been stolen (Shadowcat did it).

The rest of the diary hunt isn't really important, just that Kitty eventually ended up retrieving the full set, before she rejoined the X-Men, which only happened after Xavier had left Scott and Emma to run the school. This timeline is important for establishing that Xavier has never possessed the full set of diaries himself, and was not involved in collecting the lost books at any point, nor was he present at the time the diaries were brought to the school and fell under Emma's protection. This rules out the possibility that the set of diaries we've previously seen were somehow forged by Xavier.

Xavier would not return to the school until after losing his mutant powers, whereupon he departed for space on an adventure to another galaxy. He was unavailable, therefore, to have undertaken any telepathic shenanigans, so what happens next actually happened, and is not a psychic illusion. While Xavier was gone, Mr. Sinister recruited Exodus and Mystique, and began a campaign of hunting down precognitive psychics, time travelers, and any other sources of information on the future. Scott, Emma, and Kitty meanwhile predicted that they were going to be next, and came up with a bananas plan to keep the books safe.

X-Men volume 2 no. 203 by Mike Carey (Writer), Humberto Ramos (Penciler), Carlos Cuevas (Inker), Studio F’s Edgar Delgado (Colorist), Virtual Calligraphy’s Cory Petit (Letterer), Will Panzo (Assistant Editor), Nick Lowe (Editor), Joe Quesada (Editor in Chief), Dan Buckley (Publisher)

First they hid the diaries somewhere in parts unknown. Emma then altered the minds of “all of us” (everyone who lived at the mansion at that time) to perceive a bunch of decoy books as the real thing. She then erased Kitty's memory, and her own, so that no telepath would be able to extract the information by force, before they gave each other a series of post-hypnotic triggers so they could restore one another's memories if they ever needed the books again. When eventually Exodus attacked the school looking for the books, they restored their memories, and decided to send another team to the hidden location where they'd buried a mystery box. Emma gave this location to Sam and Bobby, who dug up the box, which was never opened, and which was destroyed by Gambit during a firefight with Sinister's forces before anyone could confirm its contents.

This was intended by author Mike Carey to be the end of Destiny's Diaries, a dropped plot from a previous creative run, that was vaguely useful at building up to the Messiah Complex crossover, but was a lot more trouble than it was worth to an author who was writing about the X-Men trying to avert a bad future. But there's a lot of room in the story he wrote for the diaries to have survived after all.

I think it's actually really suspicious that the box was accessible to Bobby and Sam at all. Why not drop it under a mountain? Why not bury it under the ocean? Why not keep it phased in a tree? And it's a big red box with a big red 'X' on it. I know the X-Men love their branding and all, but that's going pretty far.

No one actually opens the box before Gambit blows it up either. It could have contained more decoys, or nothing at all. 

And when talking among themselves, Emma and Kitty never actually say that they're sending the X-Men to retrieve the diaries. They say that they know where the diaries are, and then send the X-Men to a place where they've buried something. The intent of the author is clear, but there's room in the dialogue for a later writer to decide that this just was another plan to keep the books hidden.

So for the entire period of time between assembling the complete collection of thirteen diaries, and their seeming destruction, they are never unaccounted for. Only Emma and Kitty knew the full extent of what they did to hide them, and where they were hidden. If fakes were destroyed instead of the real thing, no one would have known.

We could just be in retcon territory, but I don't think so, because it's fine on its own without any direct changes to canon. And really, faking the destruction of the books to cover up their real location makes a lot more sense than believing Emma Frost actually sent Sam to retrieve the incredibly suspicious looking red box that contained the most important object in the world, while half the super villains on the planet were chasing him.

Believing the diaries weren't really destroyed just requires the reader to accept that Emma would lie to the other X-Men, and keep lying to them for years, and that she'd be willing to put Sam and Bobby's lives at risk to protect that lie. Which she was already doing in that story anyway. She was already lying to everyone when she changed everyone's memories. And she—and Scott and Kitty—was already fine with risking everyone's lives when setting up a decoy trap in a school. So that's why I think this works better as a continuation of the existing, known, story of the diaries, and not a direct retcon to what happened.

In conclusion I think Emma knows about Moira because Moira got the diaries from somewhere, and Emma is the person she could have gotten them from. Nothing proves a direct hand-off in, like, a formal standard of proof or anything, but Emma having access to the diaries for so long, and having been wrapped up in this whole weird plot thread���which involves Moira and most of the Quiet Council—is enough to imply the connection in a story sense.

(ETA - For completion’s sake, there is also a weird story I didn’t go into called Chaos War that was published in 2011 where Moira is resurrected and finds a book in the ruins of the Xavier School that may or may not be one of the diaries, and touching it causes her soul to merge with Destiny’s, who then possesses her and guides her through a quest to destroy an evil god. This was an odd story to place in continuity at the time, and has only gotten stranger, given  1. that couldn’t be the real Moira, 2. Destiny is not merged with her soul. If this is in continuity (it’s been suggested that Moira’s golem was the character in this event), and all of the characters are who they say they are, and if the book in question was actually one of the thirteen diaries (and not some other book that Irene also wrote), then it requires Emma to have deliberately left one of the thirteen books behind for “Moira” to find, which if anything only adds to the likelihood that she knows what’s up)

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #497

Top Ten PC Games No One Talks About Anymore

Blimey, Quake is rather good, isn’t it? Have you heard about it? I really hope so, because it’s only twenty-five years old. I mean, Jesus. What’s up with that? Quake is meant to be the future. It’s full of true-3D polygonal texture-mapping and real-time dynamic light-sourcing. Fancy it being a quarter of a century old. That’s ridiculous. “Old” is for things like, I dunno, Space Invaders or The Godfather or I Wanna Hold Your Hand. Stuff that our parents heard about before we were born. It’s not – it’s absolutely not – used to describe something that people bought 3D accelerator cards for. It’s not used to describe a game that popularised online gaming.

But old it is, getting silver anniversary cards and everything. No longer the angry, hungry young tiger, devouring its ancestors and growling at upstart rivals like Duke Nukem 3D – sure, you’ve got non-linear levels, interactive scenery, and toilet humour, but we’ve got grenades that bounce with real physics – Quake is now an aged beast of the forest, resplendent, battle-scarred, weary with gravitas. Quake is the game that shaped the now, but it does not represent the future anymore. In fact, arguably its greatest rival – Unreal – is the game with the lasting, living legacy, its progeny building the next generation of gaming with one of the most popular and impressive engines around, the framework underpinning everything from Gears to Jedi to Fortnite. Quake blew us all away, but arguably it ceded the conflict, secure in its status as one of the most important and influential games of all time. Quake II got plaudits for actually having a proper story and an engrossing single-player campaign (and coloured lighting!), and its immediate descendants such as Half-Life changed the nature of what FPS games could do, but in a funny way it feels like Quake has long since retired. A sleeping titan. It got old.

So it’s great that they rereleased it on modern systems! The version of Quake released last month is basically the game I remember, but tarted up a little around the edges, with texture filtering and dynamic shadows and other stuff that I couldn’t manage on my Pentium 75 back in the day. It plays great – it’s slick as anything, and you go tearing round the levels like a Ferrari with a nail gun, blasting dudes and ducking back around a corner before you get hit with a pineapple in the face. It’s the first game I’ve played in a long, long time that evokes the feel of classic PC first-person shooters of that era – which, y’know, kinda makes sense as it is a first-person shooter of that era. But that style of fast-paced run-and-gun, circle-strafing gameplay has gone out of fashion now, with FPS games usually favouring slow, methodical, tactical combat, or larger-scale open-world warfare usually involving vehicles. Whether it’s a straight-up no-frills blaster like Quake, or a game that takes you on more of a linear, narrative journey, like Quake II, or even just a multiplayer-focused arena shooter, like Quake III Arena, it does feel like a dying artform, like a style of gameplay that could do with a resurgence (and, to be fair, there are games on the horizon that look like they’re harking back to the era, so that’s cool).

But it’s not just first-person shooters like Quake that I feel have slipped from gaming’s shared consciousness. Maybe it’s my age (it’s definitely my age) but there seems to be quite a lot of games that were a big deal twenty or so years ago that are utterly forgotten now, whereas some – Doom, Duke Nukem, Command & Conquer, Age of Empires – are often namechecked or rebooted (even before the full-on 2016 reboot, Doom must have been one of the most re-released games of the last thirty years). But there are lots of others where sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that remembers it. And that’s where this list comes in: inspired by the excellent re-release of the Quake franchise, here are some other great PC games of that general era that I feel still need shouting about, even if I’m the only one doing the shouting. Maybe they don’t all need a full-on remaster or whatever, but it’d still be nice if they got a bit of modern gaming love.

No One Lives Forever (2000): coming at a time when most FPS games were still Doom-style blasters with little in the way of real plot, NOLF was different: stylish and funny, genuinely well-written (as in the dialogue), with interesting objective-based missions and a cool female protagonist. It skirted similar ground to Bond and the then-white-hot Austin Powers franchise. Two games were made and then, as far as I’m aware, it evaporated into a mess of tangled rights, hence no sequels or remakes. A shame, because it was great.

MDK (1997): the next game from the people who made the multimedia phenomenon that was Earthworm Jim, MDK was a really cool slice of sci-fi style, all sleek level design and intriguing features. It had a supremely bonkers plot which bled through into a game with a sense of humour, but mostly it was the run-and-gun gameplay and innovative use of a scoped weapon – possibly (don’t quote me on this) the first sniper rifle in a videogame. An even wackier sequel followed, but despite its cult status, that was it.

Star Trek: The Next Generation – Klingon Honor Guard (1998): it’s probably fair to say that Star Trek has not had as many great videogames as Star Wars, perhaps because Trek’s historically straightlaced earnestness just didn’t translate as well as bashing someone up the chops with a laser sword. Honor Guard shook things up by casting you as a Klingon, showering levels with pink blood and going Full Worf. It was the first game to licence the Unreal engine, and had a cool level where you walked along the outside of a ship like in First Contact. Also: shout out to the Voyager game, Elite Force (2000), which was another really good FPS set in the world of Trek, with intriguing gameplay wrinkles as you fought the Borg. It also let you wander round the titular starship between levels. Trek deserves more quality action games like these.

Earth 2150 (2000): the nineties on PC really saw RTS games come down to those who liked Command & Conquer or those who liked Warcraft, but as the decade drew to a close other titles chased the wargame crown (including Total Annihilation, which would have made this list, except I feel like the Supreme Commander franchise is a sequel in all but name). 2150 was notable for its Starcraft-like mix of three factions with contrasting play styles, and its use of 3D graphics and the ability to design and build weapons of war that could lay waste to armies and bases with spectacular results. I think the genre has ossified into something more hardcore, and this was probably an inflex point where idiots like me could still get a handle on things.

Midtown Madness (1999): Microsoft has a history of building up great racing franchises and then abandoning them, but their “Madness” line of games in the late nineties/early noughties was terrific and much-missed. Back when tooling round actual 3D cities was still new and exciting, this was a no-holds-barred arcade racer, with some gorgeous shiny chrome effects on the cars, and very nippy handling. It was great fun smashing up VW Beetles and the like. It was surpassed, I guess, by Project Gotham on the Xbox, and sadly the whole franchise was then forgotten, despite the ascendent Forza franchise mostly shunning city driving.

Commandos: Behind Enemy Lines (1998): part tactical war game, part puzzler, Commandos was famous for its gorgeously intricate graphics and its difficulty – I mean, it was way too hard for me. But its beautiful top-down design and its slow, methodical gameplay was compelling, as you evaded Nazis and solved missions with a team of unique units with special skills. Sequels followed, and western spin-off Desperados, but there’s not been a true follow-up for quite some time, despite promises; and few games have echoed its style or look.

The Pandora Directive (1996): okay, so really this is just a placeholder for an entire subgenre of game that appears to have been forgotten: interactive movies. I know, there are flirtations with this from time to time; and many of these games featured obtuse puzzles and relatively little gameplay strung between FMV scenes. Pandora was great though; a first-person 3D game with loads of old-school adventure aspects, as well as FMV, it was a noir-tinged detective story but set in the future. The Tex Murphy series (of which this was the fourth instalment) has had sequels – the most recent one was sadly cancelled only this year – but many other games of a similar ilk, such as Phantasmagoria and even Wing Commander – have fallen by the wayside. With in-engine graphics now allowing the fluidity and expression of cinematic renders of old, shooting movie inserts doesn’t seem like it’s worthwhile; but I still always loved a point-and-click game that featured digitised actors milling about. Toonstruck, anyone?

Marathon (1994): before Halo there was… Marathon! Back when I used to lug my Pentium round my mate’s house so we could play different games on different machines side-by-side, he’d bang on about this Mac-first series of games, like Doom but better, with an intricate plot and complex levels. And y’know what? He was actually onto something. There’s a style and an earnestness to the Marathon franchise, along with many concepts that would be refined in Halo years later. With Bungie now seemingly committed to Destiny, and Halo in Microsoft’s hands, I’m not sure what could possibly become of this, their forgotten FPS forebear, especially as it shares so much DNA with its offspring.  

Outlaws (1997): LucasArts are famous for two things, really: their Star Wars games and their adventures. But they made loads of other stuff too – including this intriguing Western shoot-em-up. Back when Western games were rarer than Western movies (which were rare at the time), this quirky and difficult cowboy-em-up saw you rounding up outlaws in typical oater locations such as saloons, trains, and mines. It had great music and a really intriguing set of weapons, including (don’t quote me on this) the first sniper rifle in a game. Sadly Outlaws’ success could be described as “cult” and it never got a proper sequel. and, weirdly, despite the success of Red Dead Redemption, we’ve never had a bit Western-themed FPS again. Which is really odd.

Soldier of Fortune (2000): I pondered whether to include this one, as if I’m honest I’m not sure I want this licence brought back. But I can’t deny the game was a huge deal and has seemingly been forgotten. A relatively gritty and realistic combat game with a huge variety of excellent real-world weaponry, its big hook was its incredibly detailed damage modelling, that could see you blowing limbs off enemies, or splitting open heads, or disembowelling them. Whilst its OTT violence made headlines, the granularity of its systems meant you could be more tactical, shooting weapons out of hands. But really its biggest controversy should be its association with a big old gun magazine.

There are many, many other games that nearly made the list - I almost had a Top Ten of just FPS games, for instance. Little Big Adventure was here, till a sequel was announced the other day. Hexen and Heretic I think still have a place in FPS history. Toonstruck, although without a sequel, was only really a cult hit at the time, and I feel the people who’d love it already know about it. I do tend to overthink these things, y’know.

So maybe not all of these could make a comeback, but all the same I don’t think they should be forgotten, and it does make we wonder what games will fall by the wayside twenty or more years from now. That game about the big green space marine dude in a mask – what was that called again…?

[an-autistic-with-personhood]

ALRIGHT I need to throw the story about my very first D&D session into the void. Be forewarned that I, a humble ADHD, do not know how to summarize. Tagged as "Dembledee plays D&D" if you want to block or follow

Part 1/?

Some background: My oldest sister and I created our first ever characters last weekend. Extreme props to my sister's friend for helping us build our characters, independently making a third for my sister's boyfriend to occasionally join, drawing color portraits of said characters, and setting up our entire first session in the span of a week. And, as DM, also wrangling the attention of two very distractable sisters (a monumental task). Sister's character is an elf rogue named Andralia, mine is a caribou-centaur druid (with antlers) named Seren, and the boyfriend's is a goblin we knew almost nothing about.

Andralia doesn't have much backstory yet, but she's a guild mercenary doing undercover guard work, with a secondary job as a tailor. She's a bit of a misanthrope, but extremely loyal once she bonds with a person. The small caravan she is helping guard is led by a gnome known as "the Captain," and is accompanied by a second guard, a satyr named Jeshua (rhymes with Joshua). Now Jeshua was designed to be the most insufferable showoff, but too capable to be called on it (he rips his shirt off at the slightest chance he gets, and commissioned Andralia for some easy-to-tear shirts). Seren left her noble family because she's rather introverted, speaks extremely bluntly and can't read a room to save her life, and would really rather just live independently in the freedom of the outdoors. All that was known of the goblin at this time is that he has a fantastic reason for disappearing in the middle of a battle if sister's boyfriend doesn't want to play a particular session.

Seren had been out on her own for about six months, roaming the countryside, before discovering and following a set of extremely weird tracks. Scales littered the area, and upon closer examination, the prints appear to by made by something more like hands than claws or paws. Meanwhile, on the road, Andra-lia notices something emerging from the woods. It's a fox. Bursting through just behind, though, is an oarfish scuttling onto the road with enough human arms along its sides to basically classify it as a human centipede.

Andralia attempts a history check to figure out what this thing is, gaining only the knowledge that it's weird and she doesn't like it. She then ducks into the covered wagon and points out to Jeshua what she thinks might be a potential blind spot. He gives her a thumbs up and a cocky grin, rips off his tear-away shirt, flings his scabbard off his sword, and charges at the beast.

DM: It opens its mouth, revealing several rows of undeniably human teeth, and... *DM makes a sound that a creature with human vocal cords and no idea how to use them might make. The memory of this noise made me snort hours later*

Jeshua immediately misses his first swing and gets his arm broken. Rushing in, Andralia strikes with a dagger to land her first attack of the campaign, resulting in a nat20 that does a very respectable amount of damage.

After a flying scabbard nearly made a field goal between her antlers, Seren emerges onto the road and makes a history check to identify the monster. It's a fae from the dreamworld, and based on the skin tones, the human parts appear to be from quite a few different people. She charges in and strikes out with her spear, going miserably wide before an arm knocks the weapon aside. At this point, Jeshua is having just a miserable day and would like to be anywhere but here.

Having just witnessed two rather pathetic attempts to attack the fishipede, and with the thing's front pair of hands closing around her throat, Andralia slashes with a dagger and manages to slice first an arm, then neatly between neck vertebrae, and on to slash the other front arm. The creature's head, cleanly decapitated, sails through the air and into the Captain's lap before dissolving back to the dreamworld with the rest of the body.

Picking himself up, Jeshua trudges over to retrieve his scabbard, ignores the other fighters as he approaches the Captain, and delivers an irate "I quit!" With his broken arm still hanging useless, the satyr storms off down the path.

The Captain finally dismounts from his perch on the wagon's driver's bench and approaches Seren. He tells her that he seems to be down a guard, and that he'll give her a sack of howling rice as payment for her services. Seren eventually agrees, and scouts ahead of the caravan until she finds a good place to camp. Andralia is just fine with this, as she's not too impressed by (nor trusting of) this random centaur from the woods. The party settles for the night, and the Captain goes to sleep immediately, letting his guards do their jobs. Andralia's watch passes uneventfully and she passes it to Seren, sitting under the stars to trance.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit

Summary: As a rule, Vader did not really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested.

AN: This fanfic is almost 7.000 words long do yourself a favor and go read it on AO3.

X

“Why are all the engineers tearing through the ships?” Vader asked the officer in charge.

Truthfully, they hadn’t been sent on a campaign lately, but the Emperor liked to whimsically assign Vader and his ship to pointless random battles, so they always had to be prepared to head into combat and couldn’t afford all their Fighters to be in repair. Frankly speaking, most of the TIEs never saw any repairs. They were just scrapped and demolished. He supposed he should be glad his mechanics had enough sense not to start working on all ships simultaneously.

“They are fixing the life support and shielding of the TIEs, my Lord.”

The what.

“The TIE-Fighters don’t have deflector shielding,” Vader stated.

The Head Engineer nodded nervously and stood up straight. Vader hadn’t picked them for nothing. Their predecessor had been a weak sucker-up who had seen it fit to either doesn’t inform Vader about crucial decisions and changes or had bothered him about every little detail. This new one knew how to do their job or at least it had seemed like it up until now.

“We are aware, my Lord. But there was this video explaining how to easily make some changes to the TIEs and I saw it fit to ensure we reduce our damages,” they replied.

“What video?”

The Head Engineer fetched a datapad from the nearest table and searched through a couple files until they opened one, revealing a video. It appeared to have been posted on the holonet one and a half weeks ago and already had an impress number of views and comments. The entire video was several hours long, and had gained a few Reaction Videos as well.

The thumbnail showed a blonde boy, roughly fifteen if Vader were to guess, wearing a half undone overall and a tank top, standing next to a slightly older boy and an assassination droid, a severely damaged TIE-Fighter lying in the sands behind them.

Vader hit play.

The video started, showing the blond boy of before sitting in a makeshift workshop, a pair of goggles lying around his neck.

“Welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting,” the teenager in the video said. He took a sip of water from the metallic canteen he was holding, drinking slow and carefully the way only a desert dweller did. “A couple weeks ago some sleemo commented that I’d never be able to improve any Imperial ships since I’m just Outer Rim trash.”

The boy took another sip, then set his canteen aside to reach for some parts that looked like they belonged to a half-finished droid.

“And I suppose you did have a point that the things I fix won’t ever reach the level of an Imperial TIE because I wouldn’t build such trash in the first place.”

The teenager’s face was fairly blank, but laughter could be heard coming from whoever was behind the camera, likely the other boy.

“So, to prove that I can do better, I sold a lot of speeders, ships and droids, repaired more terrible freighters than I can count, won several totally legal races and placed a couple of very fortunate bets in the palace of Jabba.”

The boy paused, then he smiled widely and, together with his cameraman, yelled “Boonta Eve Classic Champions!”

When he was done laughing, the boy continued talking. “Anyway, the point is, I made a lot of money to buy a lot of trash.”

The screen turned black and when it returned, it showed the image depicted in the thumbnail. The blond boy climbed on top of the TIE and smiled victoriously.

“So in today’s episode, I’m not only going to prove all you disbelievers wrong, I’m also going to drag the entire Tie-Fighter Program through the sarlacc pit. I’m Luke, the man recording is Biggs, my helper over there is HK-77 and this is Scrap Hunting.”

The first few notes of a song start playing and the channel’s logo, two suns overlaid by a speeder, showed up. The Head Engineer proceeded to stop the video, the screen frozen on the image of the boy grinning mischievously.

“He proceeds to begin to completely overhaul the damaged TIE he bought with alarmingly low cost and high efficiency within a few hours and, frankly speaking, embarrasses me. Some of the things Luke does never occurred to me and it should have, I went to one of Coruscant’s best universities-“

They sighed and put the datapad down. “Either way, we are now making changes to our TIEs. I apologize for not having informed you before, my Lord, but I assumed you’d approve of our Fighters being the most advanced on the field.”

The Head Engineer didn’t look like they regretted their decision, but they had obviously resigned themselves to whatever Vader decided their fate would be. They were loyal to Vader and his command. Vader needed people like them on his crew, not more of the Emperor’s spies.

“You presumed correctly,” Vader said. “Finish outfitting the TIEs you already began taking apart. I will watch the video of this Luke and see what exactly he has to say about the military.”

The Head Engineer saluted. “Yes, Sir! I won’t disappoint you!” Then they turned around and marched over to where the others had stopped working to watch their exchange and told them to get back to work.

Vader, meanwhile, took the datapad and returned to his own rooms. He had a video to watch.

X

Luke had not planned on becoming famous with a video titled Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit. In fact, he had never expected any of his videos to gain the kind of following and attention they had even before that particular one. In all honesty, it had just started with him making a recording of how he fixed vaporators without taking them apart completely so his friend Biggs could do it as well. He’d just posted that on the net and kept going. First about droids, some more rambles about ships and a while back he’d finally been allowed to go to the shipyards on his own to earn some extra cash.

But then he had found HK-77 in a dumping ground. The droid had been severely damaged, but not so much that Luke couldn’t fix it. Assassin droids were intelligent, much more than any other ones and Luke could honestly use some extra hands around the farm and when he was repairing speeders. Biggs had recorded bits of Luke working on the droid, cut it together and uploaded it and people had loved it. His videos got more clicks, he got more subscriptions and here he was now.

Usually, Luke didn’t let comments get to him, but one obviously core-world spoiled bastard had discredited Luke’s skills without having any idea how terrible the Empire’s priced Fighters actually were.

“C’mon,” Biggs said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “One last project before I leave for the Academy.”

Luke had also been trying his best to avoid thinking about how much he was going to miss his best friend. He wanted to leave with him – though not to be a common TIE-Fighter pilot, Luke wasn’t suicidal – but he couldn’t leave his family behind when they needed him.

“Alright,” Luke agreed, blushing. “Where are we going to get a TIE, though?”

Turned out that a TIE had crashed a while back and a junk dealer had picked it up. Unfortunately, despite its terrible damages, it was really expensive and Luke didn’t have that kind of money. It took a lot of work to scrap it all together – and he had been grounded for a month after winning the Boonta Eve Classic, but being the second human to ever win after Anakin Skywalker, his own father, had been worth it – but in the end Biggs and Luke had poured their funds together and bought the TIE.

And then the fun had started.

X

Vader sat down at his desk and pulled up the video again. He skipped to the moment the Head Engineer had stopped the video and hit play.

“Okay, first things first,” Luke said. “TIE’s were not made to be repaired. How do I know?”

Luke crawled into the pilot’s seat and opened the panels beneath it. “Because this is where the Empire would store the hyperdrive navigational systems, theft prevention protocols and life support, if the TIEs had any!”

He disappeared beneath the panels and began taking out the machinery, handing it to the HK-77 droid. Tatooine’s junkyards had always been a treasure chest, but finding C-3PO there had been astonishing. An assassination droid was worth much more than a mere protocol droid. Vader would have to check if the boy talked about how he’d acquired it somewhere.

“What kind of moron designs a ship that doesn’t have that?” Luke spoke up, his voice echoing. “I know who. They’re called Sienar Fleet Systems and go back to the Clone Wars.”

Luke stood up, and placatingly held up his hands. “I know, the Empire also made some pretty cool ships. I won’t lie, I’d kill to get my hands on the schematics on the Devastator, but the security of Kuat Drive Yards is too good.”

Luke paused.

“Not that I’d ever attempt to get a better look on them.”

The video zoomed in on Luke’s face and his frankly speaking terrible poker face in what was supposed be a comedic shot. Not many people would have the guts to admit they’d attempted to slice into KDY’s security and Vader doubted it was idiocy on the boy’s part. The youth was interesting and it became apparent rather quickly that he knew what he was talking about. He would certainly make a good asset to Vader’s crew, should he sign up.

“Point is,” Luke continued. “They cut all these extra measures out to lose weight and mass produce these TIEs with the lowest costs possible. However, even out here on Tatooine we’ve got ships with really small and efficient support systems, so I’ll dig through this mess down here and make some space for life support first.”

Luke then pointed on the rather large box standing next to him. “All I need for that is in this box. I uploaded the schematics to my usual server. It’s free to download, but I’d be very thankful if you could leave me a tip because I am broke until I’ve gotten this project done.”

Vader only skimmed through the next hours as Luke was working on taking the TIE’s insides apart. He explained what he was doing more or less coherently. It was clear he was lacking some of the terminological knowledge needed to describe the precise measures he took, but he was a rather efficient worker.

“Not sure yet if I can get my hands on a hyperdrive that won’t blow up on me, but we’ll see,” Luke said during the last minute of the video. “Theft prevention, however, I can work with.”

The video cut again and by now only the last beams of sunlight were illuminating the sands.

“Check this,” Luke said and pulled back his arm, a hydrospanner in hand, and threw it at full strength at the outer shell of the TIE. Upon impact, the TIE began blaring alarms.

“Nailed it,” Luke declared confidently while the HK-77 next to him gave him a thumbs up and presumably his friend behind the camera, held his thumb up in front of the recording as well.

“And this concludes part one of-“ Luke began to speak, only to be interrupted by a man’s shout.

“LUKE SKY-“

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, eyes wide. “Stop recording, Biggs, stop-“

The video ended and a couple of suggestions popped up, all with equally unserious titles such as ‘Killing it with a Murderbot’, ‘Repairing a hyperdrive but your arm is broken and All Stars is playing’ and ‘Garbage Summary of Republic/Imperial Ships’. The most recent upload was titled ‘Status Update: Scrap Hunters vs. Guardians.’

Vader decided to play it.

X

The channel’s introduction started to play against and soon after there was a recording of the black-haired boy playing.

“Hello, fellow Hunters,” the young man said, smiling widely. “I’m Biggs and unfortunately, I have to do today’s video by myself.”

He closed his eyes and in fake serenity added, “I hope you’ll enjoy it despite the lack of our overly bright mechanic and resident murderbot. Don’t worry, I know you’re all not actually watching this for me.”

Biggs sat still as writing appeared in the upper corner. I’m also just here for Luke. Hit me up at @darkestlight if you feel like it.

“Anyway,” Biggs continued and the writing disappeared. “This short video is just an update on our current situation. First of all, we’re super happy to see that so many people enjoyed our newest video. The next parts will be uploaded as soon as we can get our hands on the items we need, which might take a while given that Luke has been grounded from working on the TIE for the foreseeable future. If you have any questions for him though, feel free to drop him a message @skyseekerpilot, he’s still got access to the holonet.”

From out of the camera’s reach, he pulled a piece of flimsi, showing off the account’s name and a small doodle of what Vader assumed was meant to be Luke.

“Written by yours truly,” Biggs said and set the flimsi aside. “We’re thinking of doing a Q&A in the near future to bridge the time between the actual next update. Feel free to send us any kind of question! That being said, don’t miss us too much!”

The video stopped and Vader almost found himself being disappointed. The youth had certainly talked a lot about unimportant things, it was clear that he was a mere aid to Luke. Perhaps contacting the boy about his ideas would be worth it.

X

Luke was bored out of his mind. Honestly, he hated being grounded. Nothing new to tinker with, only work and endless hours of chores and browsing the holonet. He supposed he could work a little more on his schematics, but he didn’t really feel like it. Sitting down and actually sketching what he was thinking was always the most difficult part of the process. Most of the time, Luke just knew and could figure out what he had to fix. He worked by instinct alone, but that didn’t really help others so he had to write things down properly.

Annoyed, Luke flopped down on his bed again. He hoped that Biggs at least would be allowed to come over again soon. It was just so boring without anyone around.

“I could get rid of the problem,” HK-77 offered from where it was sitting in the corner.

“No, thank you, Hagekay,” Luke replied. “I guess I’ll just check the ‘net again.”

He took out his datapad and began skimming his usual sites. He watched the video Biggs had uploaded and looked a little though all the comments they’d already gotten. Their channel had really blown up in the past days and a lot of people seemed quite eager about the possibility of a Q&A, already shooting off questions. Luke switched over to his page and saw a steady amount of questions and comments come in. A lot of them were rather personal, but one caught his attention.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick asked:

You pay a great deal of attention to enhancing the pilot’s safety and protection in the events of a crash, but how do you intend to make up for the lesser maneuverability? The added weight will lower the TIE’s speed to 1,112 KPH and in actual combat, the added speed is necessary. If one considers the lack of deflector shields, the TIE becomes much more vulnerable, to a degree that even your additions will not work. I’d like to hear your suggestions as to how you would solve that problem.

Reading the message, Luke began to smile widely. Fighterfan had obviously sat down to do the proper math. Luke, admittedly, had only done some rough calculations but his result had been almost the same and he’d immediately began searching or results.

Easy, he wrote back, grinning like a madman. I add deflector shields and modify a hyperdrive of the Interio Class. ;)

Luke knew that his holonet connection wasn’t exactly the best. There was a reason Biggs was the one who uploaded their content. Sometimes, especially before, during and after sandstorms, Luke could forget doing anything with his datapad. So when he got a reply barely thirty minutes later, he knew that the other person must have replied immediately.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

The Interio Class hyperdrives are slow at best and do not work at all at worst. I take it you intend to break it down so far that it cannot actually do a hyperspace jump but still accelerates much faster than any other engine?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

Exactly!!! :D Should push the speed back up to 1,200 KPH despite the added weight! I’d also suggest changing the wings to bent-wing solar arrays, but I don’t have the materials for that right now :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

While the flight controls were designed to be intuitive and easy to learn, very few people would be skilled enough to fly a ship with the modifications you are proposing.

Luke smirked. It would be dangerous indeed, but he’d be able to make it. He’d stretch out his senses, feel the vast expanses of space around him, the million planets and stars and he’d rush right past them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

I could. :)

X

Vader hadn’t been sure what to expect of his conversation with Luke. The boy certainly proved that he was bright and clever. Not just intelligent, he knew exactly what his modifications would do to the TIE- Fighter. Despite his excessive need to tag emojis onto his every message and add exclamation marks, actually talking about ships to somebody who couldn’t care less about Imperial regulations was almost enjoyable. The boy’s suggestions were refreshing and unorthodox and a few of them even puzzled Vader for a moment until he was able to follow Luke’s train of thought.

Soon he found himself looking forward to the boy’s messages, even if he couldn’t bring himself to care particularly much about the daily life of a teenage moisture farmer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that he was almost a little annoyed Luke was still a child and therefore couldn’t accept a job offer. Well, Vader would simply have to wait a little longer to get his hands on his next Head Engineer. Until then, messaging him while pretending to listen to some Moffs blab away about the Death Star yet again, would have to suffice.

He had learned nothing but patience in the past years.

X

“Welcome back to Scrap Hunting!” Luke announced excitedly. “As you can see, I have returned to the land of the living!”

“He’s still grounded,” Biggs said next to him. “I’m just allowed to visit now.”

Luke rolled his eyes and lightheartedly punched his friend into his side. “Don’t make fun of me. I was incredibly lonely.”

Biggs smiled and messed up Luke’s hair in return. “Sure, whatever you say. Anyway! We collected a lot of comments in the meanwhile and decided to do the promised Q&A about ourselves. Luke, if you’d do the honors to read the first question.”

“Sure!”

Luke reached for the datapad in front of them and started it up. He spent a few moments scrolling through it, then stopped and began to read out loud. “For Biggs: In the video repairing Hagekay you said that it keeps threatening you. Does it still do that?”

“All the time,” Biggs replied seriously. He raised his hands in a what-can-you-do kind of way and then dropped them again with a sigh. “Literally. I don’t think this droid likes anyone but Luke and the mouse droid keeping the house clean.”

Biggs frowned and looked around as if he were searching for something. “Where is Emmy? It always seems so eager to clean up after me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe got lost in Aunt Beru’s closet again, wouldn’t be the first time. Alright, you do the next question.”

Biggs took the datapad from him and moved on to the next inquiry.

“What the kriff is your title song?” Biggs read, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Just let it die please.”

Luke on the other hand immediately jumped up in excitement. “Oh! It’s every fifth note of my favorite song so it doesn’t get taken down for copyright reason. I’ll put a link in the description.”

“Question #3: Where do you live?” Luke stared straight ahead into the camera. “Tatooine, Outer Rim desert world. Do not recommend unless you can survive without a lot of water.”

Beside him, Biggs nodded. “Indeed, not the best place to raise your children. Question number four: Could you upload Hagekay’s original programming?”

The two boys looked at each other and finally shook their heads while staring suspiciously at the camera again. “What could you possibly need the programming of an assassin droid for?”

“Next up: How old are you? And how long have you been working on projects like this?”

Luke frowned and turned to Biggs. “Didn’t we say that before once?”

Biggs only shrugged. “No idea, you talk a lot when you’re working.”

“You love to hear me talk,” Luke replied teasingly. “Well, I’m seventeen and Biggs is nineteen. I’ve been doing repairs on droids for as long as I can think. Speeders and ships are new additions.”

“Same for me,” Biggs said. “You can’t grow up in the middle of nowhere running a moisture farm and not be at least a half-decent mechanic. Okay, next question: What was your favorite project so far? Hmm, I think I enjoyed ‘Hagekay vs Emmy with a viroblade’ the most. You?”

Luke chewed on his lip and paused, deeply lost in thought.

“The TIE-Fighter,” he said eventually. “Even if I wasn’t so sure about it at first. That reminds me! I don’t know how many of you have seen the bits of the conversation that aren’t private, but you should seriously check out Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick. The ship modifications he speaks of are the best and a couple of them will definitely end up in the TIE, credit given, of course. When we’re done with this video, I’ll go right back to replying to your thoughts about navigation systems because I totally agree-“

“Alright, alright,” Biggs interrupted, clasping his hand over Luke’s mouth. “Nerd out with your new best friend somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Luke huffed and, going by the way Biggs quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth and wiped it on his shirt saying “ewww”, had licked it.

“What are you? Five?” Biggs complained.

Luke laughed. “Compared to your mature six? Alright, next question-“

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about a way to solve the take-off issue yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Noooooo (TT^TT). It’s so stupid, why does anyone design a ship that lacks landing gear? I mean, I get it, these were built for space combat but it just seemed unnecessary that you need an extra start up. What do you do when somebody crashed on a planet? Leave them there????

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. TIEs are viewed as expendable, due to their cheap production costs, as are their pilots. The Empire prefers quantity over quality.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That just seems incredibly short-sighted. What kind of person doesn’t go back to save their friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are wrongly presuming that TIE-Fighter pilots have friends.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

So you don’t have any friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh gosh I’m SO SORRY! I didn’t mean that, I just wanted to ask whether you were TIE pilot bc you seem to know the ships so well and I didn’t want to be rude

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I’m sorry!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Super sorry!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. I was stuck in a briefing and couldn’t reply. You mustn’t worry. I do not have any friends, nor do I want them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off and I’m sorry for overreacting. But you really don’t have any friends? Doesn’t that get lonely? Biggs has been gone barely a couple weeks and I’m already going crazy. I miss him a lot.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are too dependent on him, Luke. You do not need him.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I do! He always had my back, ever since we were small. And even if you don’t want any friends, you can be sure that I will consider you mine. No expectations of course! But I really enjoy talking to you and I have learned so much since we started talking!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have also found our talks to be pleasant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yay!!!!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You wanted to ask me whether I am a TIE-Fighter pilot. I own a TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

WHAT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

REALLY???? THAT’S SO COOL THEY ONLY STARTED MANUFACTURING THEM LAST YEAR. How fast does it accelerate? Are the stabilizers really that improved? No wait tell me about the hyperdrive which did they go with? Does it use a Class 4.0? I would have built in a Class 7.0 but they’re more expensive and hard to really stop correctly if you’re not like a great pilot ooOOOH WAIT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU are flying a TIE/AD!!!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. Which ship do you serve on??? Please, please, please tell me about the Destroyers I’ve been wanting to compare them to Republic ships since FOREVER but I couldn’t find any good sources pls I’ll pay in an extra special videos

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Give me a few hours.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU ARE THE BEST!

X

Vader could not fathom what was wrong with Luke. Nobody wanted to be friends with Darth Vader, certainly he had never given the boy the impression that he was interested in such a relationship? He had merely strived to see what the boy was capable of. He shouldn’t supply the boy with more in-depth plans to his ships and yet he found himself downloading the corresponding schematics. It had been a while since he had been able to carry on a conversation that was actually on his level and engaging as well. Luke was only improving and Vader wanted to keep him. Good personnel was hard to come by and Luke was something different entirely.

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have sent you the plans we talked about. Have you ever considered signing up for the Imperial Academy?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yes, but I can’t go this year because my uncle still needs me on the farm :/

 Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I am able to get you a contract as civilian consultant. You’d be able to work from home.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What? Is that really a thing?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

If you give me your personal data, I’ll send you a contract.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Thank you!! It’s Luke Lars! My ID is T-LL-2187-A23. Also, uploaded a new video for you :D Hope you enjoy my misadventures!

X

Luke was sitting on his bed, HK-77 standing beside him, holding out various tools while the mouse droid Emmy was sitting in his lap.

“Hello, everybody and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting! Today is a special compilation dedicated too @thatsaneattrick, who basically gave me an early birthday present. So, sit back and enjoy a compilation of the things we usually cut from our videos! I’m Luke, my helper today is HK-77 and shout out to Biggs who is currently studying a couple of planets away from me!”

The video cut away to start showing the first in a series of rather short escapades featuring at least one member of the trio.

-

The first video showed Luke working on the TIE’s wings, singing underneath his breath. “This was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to be functional, functional at all.”

-

The next video depicted Luke working in the background while Biggs and HK-77 were staring intensely at each other, Emmy stuck between them, driving forwards and backwards like they were trying to keep the two from fighting.

“Where did you hide my hydrospanner.”

“I did no such thing, Biggs.”

The recording blurred as Biggs threw himself on HK-77.

-

It was dark. The camera slowly focused on Emmy attempting to drive up to the TIE fighter but getting stuck because of the sand. Two giggles could be heard.

“We have to help Emmy,” Luke whispered.

“Yes, wait- oh, Em’s gonna fall over-“

The video slowed down as Emmy tragically fell to its side and couldn’t get up again.

“It’s so kriffing clumsy, like a baby,” Biggs laughed.

“It’ll get there someday.”

In white writing, the message Hasn’t Happened Yet showed up.

-

“Luke, what are you?”

Luke sighed and looked downcast. “A good mechanic?”

“Then why is the TIE’s cockpit smoking?”

“I was just taking a look at the repulsorlift antigravity field- oh, kriff it’s burning.”

“What!?”

X

Ever since Biggs had left, Luke’s conversations with Fighter became the most fun part of his days. Sometimes, replies took a little longer depending on how busy and far away Fighter was, but their talks never failed to bring a smile to Luke’s face, no matter how standoffish Fighter acted.

Luke checked his messages again, hoping to catch a new message from Fighter. Sadly, none were in his inbox, only something from a stranger.

Lord Vader @ImperialCommand: Consultant Contract

Luke frowned.

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about my job offer yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Job offer? You were really serious about that? O.o

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Of course, did you not see the attachment I sent you?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I never got a message with a job offer, so I thought you were joking!!! The only thing I got was a message by some guy pretending to be Vader. Didn’t even bother to open that, who knows what kind of virus I could have caught. -.-‘

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Someone pretended to be Lord Vader? Surely nobody would actually be so ignorant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Idk! I had to go on his holo page and it seemed legit but there’s no way the emperor’s slaver would ever message me I’m not that naive

…

Fighter?

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You would do well not to spread such rebel propaganda anywhere others could find them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Rebel propaganda???

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Do you mean the ‘slaver’ thing?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That’s not propaganda, that’s what Vader is. I know your serve in the Navy, and probably met him once or so. I can’t judge what kind of superior he might be, but his behavior is that of a slaver.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What do you know of slavery, child?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I live on Tatooine, remember? Hutts control everything. And my father was a slave, that’s why I have to go by my uncle’s last name, least of all somebody thinks I’m a runaway just cause my father’s name was ‘Skywalker’.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What was your father’s name.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

His name was Anakin Skywalker, he died towards the end of the last war. Freed himself as a child and became a navigator on a spice freighter. I don’t know much more about him, my aunt and uncle only met him once for my grandmother’s funeral and that’s it. I’m sure he was a good man, though. I just know it.

X

The boy, Luke, was living Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. Vader had known his last name was Lars, had even seen him mention Owen and Beru multiple times, but he hadn’t made the connection-

Quickly, he pulled up the files he had made on the boy. It said in his documents that he had been adopted by Owen Lars and Beru Whitesun Lars, no mentioning of his biological parents anyway. Vader hadn’t paid any attention to it because it happened often enough on Tatooine. Newborns were smuggled bought out of the slave quarters so they’d get a better life. The boy could be lying, of course, but what would he seek to gain from this ploy?

Anakin Skywalker was dead and everything he had held dear had burned with him, his Master had seen to it.

But hadn’t the boy’s smile reminded him of his dear wife? His excitement for ships, his brilliance- Vader had assumed that some of his stories might have been exaggerated, but maybe he had performed all those death-defying stunts indeed and it was the Force which had saved him.

Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.

It was impossible to think that he had managed to find him through mere interest. The Force must have led him to his son.

His son.

His Master had lied to him, deceived and betrayed him.

Snarling, Vader left his rooms behind and marched towards his personal hanger. He had to go now, reach his son and protect him before the Emperor would diminish his light.  Vader would make them pay, all of them, every single person involved in keeping his child from him would be destroyed.

X

The past weeks had not been particularly interesting or happy for Luke. Ever since his discussion with Fighter, the other man had completely cut their communication. No matter how many messages Luke sent him, he didn’t reply.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Fighter didn’t say much about his background, but if he was skilled enough to be trusted with a TIE/ad, he had likely grown up on some Imperial Core World, surrounded by the Empire and Vader’s image and didn’t see things the way some Outer Rim kid would. It was too bad that their conversation had stopped. Even if they couldn’t agree on the Empire’s policies, ships were still ships.

He’d miss talking to Fighter.

Luke dragged himself out of his room to go in the kitchen for lunch. He had halfway crossed the homestead when a man in a dark robe hurried down the steps.

“Luke!” He said and threw back his hood, revealing himself as Old Ben Kenobi.

“Oh, hi, Ben! Is everything alright?”

Ben shook his head and a pained expression crossed his face. He looked like he was in a hurry, but Luke could feel the fear lingering in the air.

“We need to go, now,” Ben said hurriedly. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Beru went into the city and Uncle Owen is out working on the vaporators,” Luke replied slowly.

Ben’s behavior was confusing him. He’d known the older man since he could think. He had never said a thing, but Luke knew he was the one who had made a lot of the model ships now proudly displayed in his room and made sure the Tuskens stayed away from their homestead.

Ben was a nice and kind man, carrying a lot of grief. He was a little strange, but not mad. If he was worried about something, Luke figured he should as well.

“Then there is no time to get them,” Ben said and took Luke’s hand. “We must hurry.”

“Ben, what’s going on?” Luke asked and let himself be pulled along to the homestead’s entrance and out into the sun. “Why are we running?”

“We need to go before he’s here-“ Ben stopped abruptly and stared right ahead.

A black demon stood in some distance from the two of them. He looked like the monsters out of the stories Luke had been told as a child and now knew to be real. Lord Vader.

Ben let go of Luke’s hand and took a step forward, keeping Luke behind him.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice was deep, mechanic and artificial. “I have finally found you.”

“So you have, Darth,” Kenobi replied and ignited a lightsaber of a light blue color.

Vader followed suit, his blade an angry red and soon after they were clashing against one another, whirling up the sand. Luke hadn’t known Ben could fight like that, keep every move so fluent despite the ground he was standing on. He met each of Vader’s aggressive strikes with equal strength.

Luke felt like he was suffocating.

He had to stop them, he knew it. He didn’t know why or how, but if he didn’t do anything, the desert would swallow them up.

“What is going on!?” Luke shouted. The two fighters turned to him and it occurred to Luke only then that shouting mid-battle was probably not his smartest move, but what else was he supposed to do.

“You have been deceived all your life, young one,” Vader said. “Kenobi stole you from me, kept you hidden so you wouldn’t inherit your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Luke repeated. “I’m sorry, what are you even talking about.”

“Your father-“

“Was a good man,” Ben interrupted, his words as sharp as a knife. “And you ruined him.”

“You left me to burn!” Vader screamed. “You said you loved me and you left me behind for Sidious to take and remake as he wanted. You took my son from me and let him grow up on the Force-forsaken planet! You stole years from me, months of being unaware of who I was talking to.”

My son, the winds seemed to echo Vader’s words, dancing around Luke’s small frame. The weight behind them almost seemed to push him over.

“Father?” Luke realized. The wind roared in agreement, rushed through Luke’s mind as a barely comprehendible mess acknowledging an impossible truth.

X

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Going on a galactic roadtrip for the foreseeable future! :D

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

(Somebody please get me off this ship they keep glaring at each other it’s so awkward)

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Pros of having parents: You don’t have to pay for lunch Cons of having parents: Lunch is ration bars

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

If not for the laws of this galaxy I’d have a glowing sword to cut through durasteel with

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I love discovering I have a godfather who is also a pirate while being held hostage by said godfather. 5/10 experience

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have the power of the Force and Hydrospanners on my side!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Turns out HK-77’s programming was not as thoroughly deleted as I thought. My bad.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

TIE-Fighters still suck. New video tomorrow together with @thatsaneatrick

X

“Hi!” The video showed a young blond man standing in what appeared to be a huge hanger. He was a little older than he had been in the last video uploaded on the channel.

Next to him sat an older man whose skin was as pale as ash. Many scars covered his face, the only part of his body that was actually visible. The rest was covered by dark robes. The third member of the group was another man with snow-white hair and beard. He sat in a safe distance from the ship behind the other two, reading through a datapad while drinking a cup of tea. All three of them carried lightsabers and it was practically impossible to ignore them.

“Welcome back to another episode of Scrap Hunting!” The blond continued. “I know, it’s been a year but I was pretty busy.”

He glanced at the man beside him and leaned slightly into his side, as if he were seeking comfort.

“Today we’re finally concluding our series ‘Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit’. Unfortunately, the original TIE-Fighter was lost, but Father crashes so many that we could easily start from scratch with a new one. The focus of this episode is finally adding the safety that prevents the twin ion engines from moving an energizer out of alignment so that the recharge systems won’t become ticking time bombs. Henceforth, we dedicate this episode to Darth Sidious, alias Emperor Palpatine. My name is Luke Skywalker. The man in the back is my Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-“ The old man looked up from his datapad to wave at the camera and then continued on reading “-and my helper today is my Father.”

Luke paused and smiled softly while the scarred man put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. The gesture seemed almost a little possessive, would certainly be like it if the man’s touch weren’t as gentle as a feather.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, his blue eyes shining as brightly as Luke’s, but much colder in nature. “And I’m coming for you, Sidious.”

The video flashed black, then brightened again, depicting a round emblem of two wings settled around a sword.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “For Peace.”

Some more stuff involving humanity and the Drev war.

WARNING: this may be graphic? It wasn’t meant to be that, but I just thought I should warn you there is blood involved. 

She definitely had not intended come. She wasn’t a soldier, and the idea of the war made her sick to think about, she knew it needed to happen, but that didn’t mean she lied it. The Runi weren’t exactly known for their war practices. In fact, in their history war had only been talked about as a theoretical possibility based on the idea of outing a poor government structure, but since the rundi had never had a poor government structure, there was no need for war.

But this was different, the Drev had only recently managed space flight, and because of their nomadic clan-like life no one had assumed their planet was inhabited . There was no infrastructure, and with the volcanic activity…. Well.

They generally tried to avoid meeting new species when they were at this point in space travel development. However, the Drev were smarter than they first appeared. They had had the ability to go to space for a long time, but never bothered to test it because it just wasn’t important to their culture. When they finally had left their planet, they ended up running into a Tesraki ship, which was trying to requisition precious metals from one of their moons. 

Contact had been made peacefully enough with linguistics experts from the GA appearing and easily figuring out the Drev language.

It was a simple thing, very straight forward.

But the Drev just couldn’t fight their baser instincts, and that was to make war. After a slight insult based on cultural misunderstanding, the Drev leaders had promised to turn their sights to the stars conquering and fighting where they went. The GA had made a decision to push to destroy the technology that would allow them to do such a thing, but based on atmospheric composition, and the way they had hidden their technology deposits, this was about more than carpet bombing their facilities.

They had to actually go in.

And that was determined to be harder than they intended. The Drev War practices may have appeared primitive, but their tactics were not. They had been losing the battle, and even with the augmentation to their army with human troops and technology, they were being pushed back every day.

Officers were threatening to pull back off planet and just wait for the Drev  to leave before blasting them to bits, but Drev shield technology was actually rather advanced and would take more than  a little work to destroy.

Now she was here, having landed in one of the desolate lava fields before being secretly transported by hovercraft towards the very back of the front line. They could have landed closer, but the amount of ash towards the front was unprecedented and there were warning against trying to fly in such conditions 

 Her arrival was kept quiet, as she was ushered into what they had dubbed the FOB (forward operating base). Humans in strange patterned uniforms marches past in groups carrying their strange explosive sticks their heads covered by helmets and their face by masks. Little flakes of ash were falling from the sky and coating the ground in a thick layer that covered her feet as she walked.

The soldiers themselves were smeared with the ash, and blended heavily into the background making it difficult for her to make them out. 

Large tents had been set up, and she could hear the strange guttural chant of human voices from inside. A tent flap was pushed back, and she looked inwards to see ash stained humans sitting around fires talking and interacting with each other.

Guards stood on lone vigils at the corners of the camps.

They had made it some way onto the base before being met by a familiar face. The human admiral was looking somewhat worse for wear, his face was covered in a layer of stubble, and his skin was covered in a layer of grime. His eyes once so gleeful were cold and hard almost haunted.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral…. How goes the battle.”

He man turned motioning her further into the camp, “I’m afraid not very well. We had assumed based on their more primitive war practices, that this would be an easy fight, however with the thick clouds of ash visibility is drastically reduced, and our ranged weapons become…. Almost pointless. They are generally right on top of us before we know they are there, and in that case they have the advantage. Their tactics are swift and brutal, they don’t necessarily aim to kill for some strange reason, but to brutally incapacitate usually by taking off limbs.”

She felt herself grow uncomfortably sick, “They take of limbs?”

“Yes dismemberment seems to be their favorite war tactic if they can manage it, and because we can’t see through this damned ash, not even our drones can, they always seem to have the upper hand, we've been pushed back almost constantly over the past month, and our soldiers are in pretty bad shape.” he walked further into the camp explaining how things ran and how the battle was fairing. 

From his accounts, though he did not say it.

Not well.

The line had pulled back, and there were only three bases in operation aside from this one. Communications were being stalled do the volcanic activity, and that included satellite communications. They had no GPS no radar, and the drones wouldn’t fly in such thick ash.

All together it was as the human had put it

 ‘a shit show.’

He motioned her to follow after him.

“There is something…. I think you need to see.” Nervously she followed after the human’s long powerful strides easily able to keep up on her own long legs, but finding she was nowhere near as graceful as the human. 

She watched him quietly from behind noting the slight slump of his shoulders and the weary way in which he walked feet dragging through the ash leaving long trails behind him. Had the human been so droopy before?

She couldn’t remember. 

She wasn’t aware that humans could wilt?

They made their way past a group of men heading back from patrol. They were covered in ash and conversing quietly amongst one another. Her translation software had only so far a range, but she thought she heard them speaking about dismemberment.

They walked past another set of tents before stopping by a more established building.

He motioned her to step inside with him, and together with her guards they walked inside. Greeting them was a troop of humans and a Tesraki wearing HAZMAT gear.

They were ordered to gear up in protective covering before stepping into a second room where they were hosed off from all the ash. Spinning tendrils of dark ash spun towards a drain in the floor until the outside of their suits were relatively clean.

He paused before the door turning to look back at her from behind the surgical mask he wore, “What you are about to see ...is the epitome of the cost of war.” With one hand, he pushed the curtain aside and they stepped into a long, dark room lined from beginning to end with dozens of mats spaced evenly over the floor, and on each one of the mats lay a body.

She froze in the tent staring suddenly caught by the sound.

Soft moaning.

Keening

And the horrific wheezing gasp for air.

Other humans wandered through the triage tent tending to their wounded with soft words.

The man’s face had twisted into an angry snarl, “Fo the past few months the ash has restricted our access to supplies. Our ships can’t land for fear of gumming up the engines. We have been unable to replace our lost equipment, and so have only rudimentary medicine in order to treat our wounded.” He stepped up a row of wounded shivering under emergency blankets faces covered in light layers of sweat.

“This will be the first supply run we have received in weeks  and with it the ability to take some of our wounded back to where they can get proper medical attention. Infection has been rampant despite our best efforts. Without modern technology, it’s like we are living in the goddamned dark ages.”

“Did you not bring these supplies when you first started the campaign.”

The man sighed in frustration, “We did but we, ‘I’ was overconfident. Our first three outposts were overrun by those beetles and with it most of our medical supplies.” he motioned around the room, “Those you see here are the men and women who managed to survive despite proper medical attention.”

The Rundi chairwoman tried not to look, tried not to see the horror that was in front of her, but there was no use, there was no turning away from that which she did not want to see. She glanced down at the humans splayed on piles of blankets and shivering with fever. She didn’t know much about humans, but she was vaguely aware of their ability to fight off infection by heating their bodies to unusual heat in order to burn off the infection.

It was supposedly an unpleasant process.

The human paused kneeling down next to one of the bodies pulling a blanket over the chest of a shivering human, “We ran out of painkillers two days ago.”

She was unable to keep her eyes away falling on one of the humans to her side. What she saw nearly had her running form the tent in shock and horror. The human that lay before her…. Was missing both of its legs. She…. at least she thought it was a she, opened feverish eyes mouth opening and lips trembling before her eyes rolled back. Bandages dark with ash and stained with red were tied about the stumps of her legs.

She lay on the floor quiet and unaided by medical technology.

Technology they should have had 

Her vision widened finally forcing her to take in the view around her to match a symphony of moaning agony, guttural animal sounds to signify their pain. Whimpers and groans and weeping that died away only to be replaced by more.

The pitiful wailing of the dying.

“We are losing men, and we are doing it fast. A good portion of what we originally sent to you have either died or are in states like this.” A moan from her side, and she looked down to find a young man missing an arm, a rag covering both of his eyes. A yellow liquid stained the cloth.

She felt sick.

“With the transport you brought us a lot of our people will be able to get off and get medical attention. We have people moving them now. If all goes well, most of them should live.”

“And…. what about these?” She asked trying to keep her mind of the scene. A human just to the side of her missing an arm and a leg lay moaning pitifully on the ground. One of the hazmat dressed humans sat next to him gently holding his remaining hand.

The human didn’t appear to be doing anything medically relevant, but gently using their thumb to rub slow circles on the palm of the man’s remaining hand. It seemed strange, but that simple motion seemed to calm the human.

She was greeted by the feeling of horrible sadness as she looked.

“These…. Well. They have graciously volunteered for something special.” 

They had almost reached the end of the tent now when, looking down at the floor, something caught her eye. The rundi chairwoman pulled to a stop staring at one of the humans. He was laid in the shadow of the tent at a distance from the lights. A roll of blankets had been propped up under his head and the stump of one of his legs, or what used to be his leg.

It was the right leg, and it had been severed an inch or two above the knee. A rag wrapped around the stump of his leg was red with blood. 

His breathing was ragged and labored coming in forced gasps against what must have been excruciating pain, his face screwed up in agony

But it wasn’t that which had caught her attention. 

“I…. I know him.” She stammered, stepping forward, “I know this one.”

The agitation in her voice must have been enough to rouse the human, who opened his eyes bleary and out of focus. 

Even in this dim lighting she knew those eyes, a shade of bright, emerald green.

The young man turned his head blinking as he tried to focus on her, on her voice. His lips quivered his hands twitched at his sides, “Chairwoman?” He croaked. 

The admiral hurried forward kneeling next to the young man as he began to shiver breathing growing more ragged, “Shhh lieutenant, it’s alright.” With surprisingly gentle hands, the man adjusted the boy’s pillow laying one hand on his shoulder, again making that slow rubbing motion that had been demonstrated earlier, “Shh, just relax, don’t try to talk ok.”

She stared on in confusion, and the admiral looked up, “You know him?”

She nodded her head in horrified confusion, “He…. he piloted the jet that saved my planet from an asteroid. He was….. He was one of the first humans we met. I I could be wrong.” She stared onwards knowing she wasn’t wrong.

The man looked on sad, “Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be on the frontline. The atmosphere has too much ash, so all our pilots were thrown back into ground divisions at the rear of the line for administration. When the Drev pushed back they were all that was left, and were forced into combat.”

The admiral looked up at her hand still trying to comfort the young soldier, “We were-”

“Admiral.” The boy’s voice was thick, slurred straining. She didn’t know much about human language, but the way he said the word made the admiral respond, and he leaned forward quickly cutting off and turning his focus.

In those few moments his breathing had grown more ragged.

“Yes.”

“It ... hurts.” His voice came between bursts of air forced from his lungs, a hutch as the muscles in his abdomen contracted and released, “Please…. Make it…. Stop.” Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead and his head arched back. The rest of the body followed suit writhing in slow agony, the remaining foot kicking at the ground in a show of the most visceral agony she had ever seen.

She was sick.

The admiral leaned in using one hand to pin the boy to the ground to stop the writhing, the other hand to the side of his face, “Hey Hey, look at me…. Look at me. Shhh…. There we go.” the young man let go of the contraction on his neck and looked the admiral in the eye face still twisted in pain.

Little droplets of fluid rolled from the eyes and down both sides of his face.

The two humans sat on the floor together, one gently wiping moisture from the other one’s face. His remaining foot grew still and went limp against the ground tilting outward. 

Speaking so softly she could barely hear the admiral continued, “You’re gonna be alright kid. The ash is clearing up, and we got a troop transport in. You can go back home, we will get you some painkillers, get some rest, and you can go home…..just a few more minutes.” He dropped one hand back to the kid’s shoulder patting it gently. He turned to look for one of the attendings when, A shaky, clammy hand reached upwards grabbing the admiral by the arm.

He turned to look down.

“I…. I said I would do it.”

His voice was forced, it seemed like every time he was asked to speak the pain only grew worse.

“You don’t have to lieutenant. No one will blame you.” “NO!.... I said…. I would… do it.” His hand quivered and then fell back to his side eyes squeezing shut.

The man kept a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at the chairwoman who had been forced to look away unable to keep eye contact with the scene. He motioned one of the other attendees over to him, and she took his place. With soft hands she slid next to the young man resting his head in her lap posing no more than a comfort to the human as he sunk back into his pained trance.

Murmuring softly and gently stroking a gloved hand through his hair.

Outside in the air though it was ashy and grim, she could finally breathe staggering to the side feeling as if she was about to fall over.

The admiral followed her.

“Why… why did we have to see that.”

The man’s face was stern and unyielding as he held a palm out to face the building, “Every last man and woman inside that tent was willing to DIE for you, for peace, and now….

Now they have volunteered to do it again.” 

[365days365movies]

March 7, 2021: Onward (2020) (Part One)

Finding Nemo.

That’s my favorite Pixar film. Real talk, no arguments, and today’s movie? NOT dethroning it. This movie is so hard-wired into my brain, that the second I typed the words of the title, the theme song ran through my head, where it lives rent-free. It will be a cold day when I don’t find an excuse to shout “NEMOOOO!!!! I HAVE TO FIND MY SON!!” at any opportune moment. I will never stop swimming. Whenever I catch a Chinchou or Lanturn in a Pokémon game, I name it “Goodfeeling’sgone”.

SHARK BAIT OOH HA HA

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE DEPTHS OF MY LOVE FOR THIS MOVIE.

...Ahem. So, yeah, I love FInding Nemo. For the record, the sequel ain’t bad. And also for the record, there’s only one Pixar movie that I consider to be bad, and it’s the one you’d think. You know, the one about ageism. The one where somebody dies by torture? The bad spy movie?

...the second one about cars?

Which means, YES. I DON’T THINK The Good Dinosaur IS THAT BAD! Not exactly good, but its gorgeous, and just kinda boring, not outright terrible. That Styracosaurus, though...that dude is great.

Anyway, off of Pixar for a sec, huh? What about fantasy? I’m a big tabletop RPG nerd, and I’m currently the GM for a Pathfinder campaign, a Pokémon RPG, and a Mutants and Masterminds game, while also playing in a Pathfinder game as well. Yeah, I’m a busy dewd. But what I’m saying is, this movie should be preaching to the choir for me. I’m a Pixar lover who plays RPGs. I’m ready for this. I’m ready for CGI Bright. Which is another way of saying, I’m ready for a version of Bright that doesn’t suck.

So, why haven’t I seen it until now? I mean...COVID-19. This film got FUCKED. But, no matter! It’s on Disney Plus, I’ve got Disney Plus, so let’s get this baby STARTED! Let’s get updated on some Pixar! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

OK, immediately digging the soundtrack over the Disney logo as we jump in here! Very ethereal, very fantasy, very LotR, I LIKE it, I LIKE it! And then...long ago, the world was full of wonder!

We get a view of the world of olde, with magic and many mystical, mythical creatures living together and adventuring. However, as magic wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to use, it eventually gave way to technology, fading away in a world now very similar to ours.

Basically, it’s about the same as our world, except for a few different races, and the fact that dragons are basically dogs, and unicorns are basically raccoons, which is fuckin’ fantastic.

We enter the home of teenage elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) and introverted now-16-year-old who lives with his mother, Laurel (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and his older brother Barley (Chris Pratt). Barley’s a tabletop RPG nerd who’s also a fan of the magical past. Said obsessions cause a strain on his relationship with Ian, and with that of his mother’s boyfriend, centaur policeman Colt Bronco (Mel Rodriguez).

After a discussion about Barley’s recent attempt to protect an old magical monument from destruction, he accidentally damages the sweatshirt that Ian is wearing, which was owned by their late father, Wilder. Ian rushes out, flustered, despite Barley’s attempts to bond with him. Well, looks like we have a sense of the plot for this one.

On his way to school, Barley stops to get some food when he meets Gaxton (Wilmer Valderrama), an old college friend of his father’s. From Gaxton, he learns things about his father that he never knew, like that he was bold and standout. From there, Barely pledges to try and be more self-confident, like his father.

Whiiiiiiich, doesn’t exactly work once he gets to school. He fails to stand-up to a jerky guy at school, he fails in his driving class, and he fails to ask other high school kids to his birthday party. But to be fair, Barley helps a bit with that last one when he shows up with Guinevere, his busted-ass van with a unicorn painted on the side. Which is supposed to be uncool...but I kinda dig it, not gonna lie.

After that, Ian completely flubs the invitation bit, confusing the people he was talking to, and disappointing himself in the process. He gets a ride home with Barley, and goes home to talk to a tape recording of his dad. Which is...beautifully sad, and somehow very easy to identify with. So, yeah, it’s gonna be that kind of Pixar movie.

Ian talks to his mom about his father at his age, asking if he was ever unsure. She says yes, but couples this with a surprise: a gift from his late father, who died of a terminal illness shortly after Ian’s birth. The gift is for both Ian and Barley, and was meant to be opened when they were both over 16.

She gets it from the attic, and they unwrap it, where it’s revealed to be a wizard’s staff. Which is weird, because Wilder was an accountant. In a pocket of the wrapping cloth, there’s a letter written by Wilder with the narration from the beginning of the film (that “Long ago” bit).

Also included is a spell, written by Wilder so that he could see who his sons grew up to be. This “Visitation Spell” would appear to be a way to bring Wilder back for 24 hours. Barley, being the magic-lover that he is, tries multiple times to cast the spell with the staff, but fails to do so, much to his and Ian’s great disappointment.

However, when Ian tries to read the spell out of curiosity later, the staff begins to react, and the spell begins to work. Barley comes in as this is happening, and the spell works...halfway. It starts to fail, and Barley offers to help, but Ian pulls the staff away, and the spell stops as the Phoenix crystal inside it shatters.

Looks like another bust, but it’s not a complete failure. And if you’ve seen literally any trailer for this movie, you know what happens.

Although it’s just his legs and feet, it’s still Wilden Lightfoot (Kyle Bornheimer...technically). The boys decide to try and complete the spell, but need another Phoenix Gem to do so. According to Barley’s “historically accurate” TTRPG, Quests of Lore, they will be able to find one by accepting a quest from the place where all quests start: the Manticore’s Tavern. And so, the quest begins!

The brothers and their half-dad board Guinevere and drive to the Manticore’s Tavern. On the way, Barley convinces Ian to practice some spells from the games rulebook, but they don’t work because Ian’s not invoking his passion (or his “heart’s fire”, as Barley calls it). Meanwhile, Laurel figures out where they’re headed, but doesn’t know exactly why...yet.

After the journey, they make it to the Manticore’s Tavern, which is now essentially a themed Chuck E. Cheese’s restaurant, owned and managed by Corey (Octavia Spencer), a very overworked manticore. Which is pretty great, not gonna lie.

They try to get the actual map to the Phoenix’s Gem from her in order to conjure their Dad, but she no longer sends adventurers on dangerous quests, mostly because she doesn’t want to get sued by any injured adventurers. When Ian argues with her about this, she IMMEDIATELY DIVES INTO AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS/MID LIFE CRISIS!

It’s, uh...it’s kind of amazing. Having completely lost it at this point, she basically tears down the entire building with her bare hands and fire-breath. Unfortunately, the map to the Phoenix Gem is burnt in the process of Corey’s literal meltdown. However, as Wilden’s about to be crushed by a couple of falling beams, Ian taps into his heart’s fire.

Nice. They get out of there, and head out for the Gem, using a child’s placemat replica of the real map to make their way to a place called Raven’s Point. However, rather than just follow the goddamn map, Barley decides to go on much more dangerous road known as the “Path of Peril”, once again following the “call of adventure” and his gut.

Which...yeah, Barley’s not really considering the reality of this whole situation, which fits his personality. He’s a dreamer, despite the rational and reasonable solution in front of him. And, in case you weren’t sure, I’m pretty sure that isn’t a good thing.

Ian points out the correct point that what actually matters is that they send enough time with their father, and they do indeed take the straightforward path. Good! Barley listened to Ian’s suggestion after all. However, they hit another snag when the car breaks down, completely out of gas. Problem.

Meanwhile, Laurel makes her way to the Manticore’s place, only to find it on fire! She meets Corey, who tells her that she’s met her boys, and told them about everything...except the curse. Also, there’s a curse. Laurel, who is the best movie Mom ever, tricks a policeman interviewing Corey to diverting his attention away from her, and smuggles her into her car to help find (and maybe rescue) her sons. 

Stuck off the freeway without gas, a desperate Ian asks Barley if there are any spells that can get them more gas. They concoct a plan involving a shrinking and growing spell, but that immediately goes wrong as Barley tries to instruct Ian, only frustrating him further, and causing him to fumble the spell and hit Barley with it, making him tiny. 

They decide to head to a gas station, where a group of pixie bikers has just arrived. This backfires when Barley, lacking basically any common sense, ends up insulting the biker leader, Dewdrop (Grey Griffin) and her ancestors. Nice one, Barley. As they escape from the pissed off pixies, the tiny Barley is unable to drive, forcing the driver’s anxiety-riddled Ian to drive, overcoming his fears from earlier by force, being chased by the pixies all the way. It’s a pretty good sequence, to be honest.

Well, they escape the Pixies...but not the cops. And I think that’ll be a good place to pick up in the next part! See you there!

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 23 - Broken Promises

“Oh? A change of heart?” As expected, the Galvus patriarch looks equal amounts pleased and surprised, and of course, arrogant. “Though I knew you would eventually wisen up and come to me, I had expected you would take a bit more whittling down.”

Shrugging, you keep your voice as neutral as possible. “As the election draws near, I realized that I have an opportunity that is not presented to many. Do not be mistaken, you have yet to win me over,” you pause, crossing your arms across your chest, “in fact, you must win me over. I want to follow you on your campaign trail. I want to see if you are truly as great as you claim to be.”

It was risky, tackling his pride head on like that, but it was the only thing you could think of. If the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, Varis would happily rise to the challenge. However, unlike his son, there was nothing Varis believed in more than his own hype.

You stand there, pinned beneath his stare, the warm glow of his office darkening his eyes to a genuine gold. Seconds tick by as he studies you, and part of you is sure he is thinking about your decision from every possible angle. You’re unsure whether to bait him, to mock him for hesitating and not giving an answer immediately, but that would make you seem not only desperate, but suspicious. You opt to stare right back, arching a singular brow confidently.

He chuckles then, clapping his hands together as he stands from his seat. “You drive a hard bargain, Honey.” He purrs, crossing his arms behind him, circling the desk to walk toward you. He towers over you just like his son, sighing deeply as she shakes his head. “I show you my facility, my wealth, my intelligence...and still it is not enough.” He is not stopping, you realize, beginning to back away to keep distance between the two of you. He pursues.

Your back hits a wall, grunting as you nearly knock something over but with swift reflexes, he slams his palm on the stand you nearly tipped over, righting the opulent vase back to a standing position. He does not retract his arm however, instead shifting it to brace against the wall, leaning slowly into your space.

“This was not permission for you to get near me.” You snap, pushing him away from you. Even for the few weeks you had guarded him he had never gotten so close, your heart pounding in your chest.

Varis can hear how your heart drums, but misinterprets it completely. Giving you a sleazy grin, he maintains his distance for now. “Very well, Honey. I will allow you to be my bodyguard. I suppose one could understand your line of thinking. What better way to prove one’s abilities than to become the greatest leader the world has ever known?” Retreating to his desk, he leans against the front, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. “Due to your recent experience guarding me, slipping back into my routine will be easy, and Livia will once again return to Zenos.”

Gritting your teeth, you turn away from him heading to the door. "I'll be here first thing in the morning."

"Excellent. I look forward to it."

Wrenching the door open, you step out into the hall ready to scream. It wasn't fair to have this responsibility thrust upon you, to bear the burden of doing the right thing. It would be so much easier to just duck your head and follow orders. To stay by Zenos' side and follow your relationship wherever it took you.

But you couldn't go on knowing Varis could very well come into power. There was no telling what someone as awful as he could do being a world leader. As long as Varis did not deviate his schedule much, you would have plenty of spare time to yourself to retire to your room and compile your proof in secret. You would pay closer attention this time, writing down names, organizations, locations. You would put a stop to him.

You would make sure Estinien’s death was not in vain, that Cid could finally be free of his guilt.

That the truth of Minfilia was brought to light.

Your only hope was that everything worked out in the end. This was a huge risk you were taking, with no sign of a clear outcome.

When morning came, and it was time to rise, you dressed and ate breakfast, dread already pooling in your belly, but kept your head held high. As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you had to get up. This had to be done...for everyone.

“Good morning, Honey.”

Varis meets you by the grand staircase as usual, suit pressed and hair braided neatly, sitting atop his shoulder. “The campaign trail has yet to start in full, but there is much to be done before then. We will still be going to the office today to sort other matters--”

“What is he talking about?”

Flinching, you turn to find Zenos standing at the top of the staircase, eyes guarded. Guilt shoots through you; how could you have forgotten to warn him?

“Oh? Did she not tell you?” You wince as Varis throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you snugly against him. “Honey has decided to finally join me as my bodyguard.”

What you would give to never see the betrayal in Zenos’ eyes ever again.

“Zenos,” You begin, but he’s already storming off. “Zenos!”

You try to run after him, but Varis holds you back. “Let me go!”

“We have to get to the office.” His voice is suddenly cold, eyes glinting with restrained anger.

Glancing back up the stairs where Zenos had gone, you bite down hard on your lip, turning away as much as it hurt. Someday, you would make it alright, or at the very least, sit down with him this time and maybe try and explain. You had to do this. He just didn’t understand that right now.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Satisfied, Varis doesn’t release you as he guides you out of the door, and down his path of no return.

The first few weeks start off gaining Varis’ trust.

Despite your prior time stuck with him, it is almost like starting anew. Whenever there is something he doesn’t want you to see, he makes you wait outside the door to his office, usually calling Rhitahtyn to have someone in the room with him. It’s fine for the most part, as you can’t stand to be near him more than you have to, playing games on your phone or checking the news.

For when you do get to stick around, organizers of all kinds flit through his office, showing campaign commercials, flyers, internet ads. Alerting him to check his emails to approve of drafted speeches, to sign off on money to buy material, vendors coming to try and sell their product and what they could bring to the table for his bid for Prime Minister of Hingashi. What surprises you most is how well Varis handles it all, not looking overwhelmed for one second, balancing several plates with calculated ease. Were he not a monster, it would actually be admirable.

But Varis is a vain monster, something you learn quickly. It is a delicate balance of learning how to stroke his ego, but not in a way that makes it seem like you’re trying too hard. The best way you’ve found is to compliment him in a way that makes it seem as if he has taken you by surprise, gaining your favor in small chunks rather than big, flashy shows of his wealth. Something he was not used to, given that many women had probably fallen at his feet the first time they had stepped in one of his many luxury cars.

It works, slowly but surely. Like a trained puppy, he begins to live for those small bits of praise, seeking your approval and somehow, beginning to value your opinion. Just barely past a month does he begin bringing you along to his outings, where you get to see how he really looks out in the field.

“We have a temple to visit today.”

It’s still unbearably cold, snow blanketing Kugane in a sea of beautiful white, never failing to have you marvel at its beauty. Remembering you had been spoken to, you clear your throat. “I was not aware you were religious.”

He scoffs, as if genuinely offended. “Only you savages believe in such myths.”

Rolling your eyes, you continue to watch the city grow a little smaller on the horizon, having come out to one of Kugane’s more historical temples. Despite the cold, you can see several monks outside training, cleaning, or praying, looking like the picture of absolute serenity. As the car pulls around on the loose gravel, you spot who must be the head of the temple, dressed just like the rest with no visible indicator of his station aside from the staff that he carries. He looks fairly young as well, considering you see several monks around that could easily be his senior.

Pulling to a stop, you hop out the car, Varis following soon after. The chilly breeze bites at your skin, making you tug your peacoat a little closer against you. The monks descend the stairs, coming to a stop just as you meet them at the bottom.

"Good day, Sir Varis. The kami welcome you to our temple." The leader bows, prompting you to do so in return. Varis does as well, shocking you, thinking he would be too high and mighty to have good manners.

"We graciously accept your warm welcome, Widargelt.” Varis extends his hand in an offer to shake it and the monk accepts, giving him a welcoming smile.

“I will admit, I had not expected you to come out here personally. I thought you would be too occupied with other matters to visit us directly.” Widargelt continues, giving you a single glance before refocusing upon Varis.

“It is nothing to make time for what could be my future constituents.” Varis smiles, the expression so genuine it startles you. You didn’t think he could smile so warmly, and it looks strangely good on his harsh features. “Especially given that I had heard that your temple grounds had been threatened to be torn down and paved over for land development.”

At this, Widarglet immediately looks heartbroken, turning back to the aged temple. “It is so, Sir Varis. I am not as old as the elders living here on the temple grounds, but still I feel a deep bond with this land. It is sacred, preserved by generations of monks with teachings that feel as old as time itself. That a few wealthy businessmen want to tear it down just to build monuments to their greed tears at my soul.”

Varis flashes Widargelt a sympathetic look, nearing the bulky man, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “I would hear your plight, Widargelt. Please, if it isn’t too much to ask, I would like to walk around your temple as you tell me of your troubles.”

As the two men begin to saunter off, you follow a safe distance behind, unsure what to think of Varis’s change in behavior. It shouldn’t surprise you, after all, Zenos was able to become the perfect celebrity as soon as he stepped in front of a camera. Watching Varis however, leaves you confused as if you had somehow misread him like you had done his son. Was it possible he really was trying to be a decent leader?

Keeping an eye on their conversation, Widargelt bemoans how businessmen for years had offered him land and money, bidding higher and higher for him to give up the temple. While old, it was not officially protected by the government due to old arguments and forgotten clauses from a time long past. Thus, had Widargelt and the monks before him fought to keep the temple with nothing but pure will.

The businessmen had had enough though, going to the government and making a case that would allow them to use eminent domain to get what they want. It was dirty and underhanded, and Widargelt felt at a loss, for he knew if their temple fell, what few others remained would have the same fate befall them. Varis listened intently the entire time, nodding and offering his own legal advice, proving that his boasts about his education did ring true. With legal knowledge on his side, he would not merely be a businessman trying to play politics, but also have a legal background to work with.

“So will you be able to help us, Sir Varis?” Widargelt pleads, coming to a stop, overlooking the gardens at the back of the temple. It truly is a serene picture, with monks tending to the many bonsai trees and lush waterfalls, training by the naturally bubbling streams.

“To the best of my ability, should I get elected Widargelt.” Varis smiles, patting Widargelt on the shoulder once more.

“Of course, Sir Varis. I will let the other monks know what we spoke of today, to help inform their decision in the upcoming election. I’m sure other temples will listen to my words, and thank you for your help in preserving not just our culture, but our history.” Widargelt bows deeply, rising back up with a smile.

“Of course. I will make sure to let the proper staff on my team know of your plight, so that even when I do become occupied with other matters, one of them may always serve to remind me to give you the attention you deserve.” Varis grins, extending his hand to shake. Widargelt accepts eagerly, looking genuinely thankful and on the verge of happy tears. “We must take our leave for now, my friend. I hope that we may speak again soon under less dire circumstances.”

“Certainly, Sir Varis. I cannot be thankful enough.” Releasing one another’s hands, Varis begins to make his way down the steps to leave. Giving one last nod at the monk you follow him, still unsure about all that you had seen. From the looks of it Varis had seemed as if he would actually make a decent leader. He may crave power, but perhaps he also had issues with how his home had run things, and wanted to prove he could do it better. You still could not forgive his crimes, but had you misjudged him all along?

“Where to next?” you ask, reaching to open the door to the car, allowing him to slip inside. Following after him, you close the door, allowing the driver to start the car and pull away from the temple.

“To a homeless shelter.” Varis states simply, too occupied with dialing something on his phone. As he brings it to his ear, you pretend to be more interested in looking out the window, watching the clouds drift by.

“Gaius? Yes it went well.” Varis laughs, relaxing into his seat as you head back toward the city. “Yes, all the things we had heard about the land development were true.” He is silent for a moment before continuing to speak. “How much were they offering?”

Your brow furrows at that, keeping your face angled toward the window just in case you couldn’t control your expressions. What was he going on about?

“28 million gil you say? That is not an impressive offer, to say the least.” Varis mumbles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “The land is too picturesque for such a measly offer. I am willing to continue negotiations concerning offers for it, but only if they are willing to make a better deal.”

Is he really--

Taking a deep breath, you reign in your temper, staring hotly out at the barren landscape as you pass by. This wasn’t the worst thing he had done, and honestly, it should’ve been expected given that he was trying to be a politician. Representatives making promises they could not keep was nothing new, and for Varis to be the same as the rest of them is pretty in character. Keeping the details of the temple fresh in your mind, you remain quiet the entire way to the shelter which lies back within city limits.

Coming to a stop, you put on your best mask of boredom and let Varis step out from the car once more. As he steps out, you are approached by a small group of people, and as much as you hate it, immediately move to push the strangers off as they approach.

“Do not worry, Honey, they are supposed to be here.” Varis calls to you, the picture of calm as the group shuffles past you. Taking a closer look two of them are holding professional grade cameras, while another seems to hold a duffel bag full of supplies. “I’m glad that you made it on time. I trust you all have been informed as to what image I would like to present?”

“Of course, sir. All of our pictures will be ready for review at your earliest convenience. “

“Good. You’ve already been given clearance for photography, so head inside. I will enter shortly.” Varis orders and the three nod, trekking inside the building as if he had lit a fire under their ass. Just as they leave, a small auri woman appears, a small tote in hand. “Ah good, I was worried you had forgotten.”

“Never, my lord.” The much smaller woman chirps, coming to a stop before him. “If you would bend a little my lord, so that I may touch up your face before you go inside. The camera should catch your good side.” She grins, and Varis does as she asks, bending just enough for her to pull out a powder puff and begin touching up his face, giving him a slightly softer look. “Wonderful. I’ve lightened how sharp your angles are, which should give you a slightly more amiable appearance, my lord.”

“A job well done, as always. I appreciate your work.” He smiles, grinning wider as the woman seems to swoon slightly. “I must make my appearance now, so I will be seeing you another time.” Waving goodbye, he heads inside with you not far behind.

Stepping inside, it looks nicer than you would have thought, the architecture incredibly updated and the interior remarkably clean. What shelters you remember visiting in your youth were often dilapidated and barely held together, making you wonder by what means this one was in such good shape. Varis seems strangely at ease for being surrounded by the lowest societal rung, greeting the homeless as he passes by them in the halls and shaking their hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the photographers from earlier snapping pictures, the shutters so quiet that no one Varis preoccupies himself with notices their picture being taken.

Just like the temple, Varis is the picture of philanthropy, breaking bread with the homeless, listening to their troubles, offering a shoulder to cry on for people who have fallen on hard times. Promises of building more shelters, raising the employment rate, abolishing anti-homeless architecture. You can see hope begin to light within the eyes of the people, even the employees, captivated by the sheer charisma Varis emanates.

Just before you depart, Varis shows off a large check, both in size and the amount being donated.

The shelter is overjoyed, happy tears being shed as a promise of fresh beds being donated access to more food for the kitchens is promised. Varis continues on with his promises of more supplies all the way out the door, leaving a group of thankful people in his wake. Following him out to the car, you hop in after him, silently watching. As you ride back home, your curiosity gets the better of you, turning in your seat to face the pompous CEO.

“That shelter looked a lot nicer than others I’ve seen.” You start nonchalantly, as if to just make small talk. “Most of them usually look run down and on the verge of collapse. Have you been donating to that place for awhile?”

Clicking his tongue, he throws you a sly grin. “I suppose you could say that.” As you arch your brow in confusion, he continues, “It is a nice shelter because it is mine. I had it built about a year or so ago, but funneled the money to a representative to have it under his name. This allows me to make charitable donations without my money being handed out to the poor.”

Your jaw drops, but once again he misinterprets your disgust for awe. “It is quite ingenious, isn’t it?”

Scoffing, you turn away from him again, not believing what you’re hearing. “Wow.” You whisper, unable to fathom how someone could be this fucking vile. “It is...something. Most people would not think to do that sort of thing.”

“Of course not. Most people are not me.” Varis preens, seeming to be satisfied with gaining your favor. Remaining quiet all the way home, you remember to keep the entire day fresh in your mind, making a bee line for your room and locking the door tight. Pulling up the false bottom from your drawer, you begin to scribble in your notepad about all that transpired, wanting to make sure Varis zos Galvus paid for every single one of his crimes.

Somehow the election seems closer than it seems further away, despite being several months down the line. You had to get more evidence before that time, but given that it took over a month to get you to this point, you couldn’t afford to waste anymore time. You had to do something to get Varis to begin trusting you, something that would lower his guard and give up more information. How you would get the information out to the authorities would be hard, given that Varis still kept you on a tight leash, but not so tight that you probably couldn’t sneak off to a new station on an off day.

Stress begins to eat away at you, affecting you mentally just as much as it is physically. You train in the evening since you can no longer train with Zenos, learning your lesson to not lose your edge in any way possible. Without Zenos being your boss Lyngsath no longer prepares your nutritious meals, and you give the chef an embarrassed smile as you request for him to keep the menu you had grown to love. Varis’ offerings of saltier and fattier foods had begun to make you sick, disrupting your focus.

Your routine had suffered, no longer having to wake up in the morning to train and start the day with Zenos. Some nights you would suffer from insomnia, pouring over your notes and what Varis’ end goal could possibly be, being too tired to even do things such as take your daily vitamins or birth control. Not that the birth control mattered. Not like you were getting any, and your sexual frustration had started to take its toll as well.

What did you give someone who had it all? As Varis was more than happy to let you know, there was nothing material in the world he could not obtain. Women threw themselves at him. He had cars, money, property.

But he didn’t have you.

“Var--” you begin, clearing your throat as he turns to you with an annoyed look. “Lord Varis.”

Immediately, his expression lightens.

You stand in his office at the high rise, his own room nearly three times as large as Zenos’, and that was saying something. Just like his son, he left you to your own devices, content to do his work quietly at his desk. “Now that I’ve followed you for so long, I’ve realized that you do have the makings of a...fierce politician.”

He seems to glow at your compliment, somehow sitting a little straighter. “Is that so?”

Swallowing, you make your way toward his desk, not breaking your stare off for a second. “Indeed. I’ve found myself watching, wondering what you could possibly be running for. You make plenty of promises for the common man, but you also look out for the upper rung as well.” You pause, running your fingers along the back of a couch. “What could a man who already has so much, possibly want? What would becoming prime minister of Kugane do for you? Your name is already known. You are already on the verge of a technological breakthrough with your research in aether. And yet, somehow I cannot pinpoint your goal.” Tilting your head cutely, you give him a clueless look. “What could it possibly be?”

Varis studies you for a moment, eyes roving up and down your body, desire evident in his gaze. However, he still seems to mull whatever he has to say in his mind. As you near the desk, you sway your hips, watching as his skepticism is overcome with lust. “I suppose my plans would elude you, wouldn’t they?”

The last thing your bodyguard uniform is is sexy, being a simple pantsuit and all. It doesn’t seem to matter to Varis at least, who is looking like he is willing to climb over his desk to get to you. Deciding to save him the trouble just in case he does, you sit yourself upon it, maintaining an aloofness that you hope is attractive. “It’s up to you whether I remain in the dark, Lord Varis.”

Rubbing his chin, he sweeps his eyes over you once more, lingering at the curve of your rear upon his desk. “Very well. I will let you in on my innermost workings, Honey. You do belong to me from now on, after all.” Leaning back in his chair, he steeples his fingers in his lap, smirking slightly. “You were on the right track, looking at what I could possibly be using aether for.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small cube, tossing it in front of him.

A hologram of his factories shines before you, eyes hurting a bit as they adjust to the sudden brightness. “As you know, aether is the very air, water, land. It is renewable, and therefore endless. How does this differ from already existing renewable energy?” The image changes before you, shifting to show several scientific diagrams. “The specifics would be lost on you, but in short, it is the same logic that you gain more nutrients from a raw carrot than one you have cooked. By harnessing aether itself, we are tapping directly into the source, the nutrients so to speak.”

“And you are using this to revolutionize renewable energy?” You ask, sounding as hopeful as possible, knowing he was about to say something absolutely deplorable.

“For the masses, yes. This will revolutionize and rethink how we use energy. We might even be rid of ceruleum entirely.” Grinning, he waggles a finger. “But that is thinking on too small a scale.” The image shifts once again, showing different bits of weaponry, from tanks to jet fighters to guns. “Aether as a source of energy will mean that industrial output will be produced at rates unheard of, once thought impossible. Already, my teams are working on improving upon pre-existing military technology…” He chuckles to himself for a moment, “...To sell the highest bidder of course.”

You can barely hide your fear, hoping he does not sense it as you stare in horror at the images displayed before you. “And...how does this fit into your plans for Kugane as its leader?”

“Ah yes...with my technology, Kugane will be begging to keep me as their leader. The city has suffered under shifting leadership. Garlemald in its glory was a nation to be feared and respected. We brought civilization to savage societies the world over, only possible through the power of the iron fist of the emperor.” You jolt as he smashes the cube, disrupting the image instantly, sending the lights scattering. “A seat that should’ve been mine. A seat that I intend to hold permanently.”

Turning away, you know you can’t control how you look right now.

He was mad.

Reaching up to clutch your heart, it's racing inside your chest, pounding from the terror you feel just being in the same room as this monster.

“It is why I require all staff to address me as Lord Varis.” You hear him hum behind you, hitting a button on his phone that will summon a janitor to clean up his mess. “They should get used to calling me such when I do ascend to my seat of power. One, that I hope you will be there to see, Honey.”

Swallowing, you clutch your chest a little tighter, forcing your best smile on your face. Turning to him, you grin with clenched teeth. “Of course, Lord Varis.”

“The very fabric of the star is beginning to fray. We must do something--”

Is this...a dream?

“The sacrifice of our people is too high a cost! Why save the star if they are not there to see it?”

The sky is burning, shades of reds and oranges glowing overhead. The air smells of ash and fire, and strangely of some sort of meat…

It is to your horror you realize it is the smell of burning flesh.

“It is not permanent! We can bring back those who were sacrificed! By His will!”

Skyscrapers reach high in the sky, though you are not familiar with their style. Even as they begin to collapse and burn before your very eyes, they are still beautiful and...familiar.

“We could’ve avoided all of this in the first place if you had listened! I told you our power of creation had to come from somewhere! It is a finite resource and it is destroying the star!”

Your own voice…?

The world shakes beneath you, a horrid screech fills the air. Your eyes widen as a terrifying creature surfaces from behind the building before you, staring you down as throngs of people try to flee past you.

“I won’t stand for this!”

Your voice continues to echo in your head.

“There must be another way!”

Gasping, you jolt yourself awake, lungs stinging as you nearly hyperventilate, drawing in icy, cold air.

“Honey, please breathe.”

Gentle hands cup your face, soothing in how warm they are despite the bitter cold. As your eyes begin to focus you find yourself looking at swirling red ones, a mote of worry in them as their frostbitten hair blows in the wind.

Reaching up you grab tightly to his wrists, needing something to ground you in reality. The dream had felt so real, as if you had actually been there. The heat of the flames upon your skin, the piercing cry of the monster before you ringing in your ears, never had you had a nightmare so vivid and clear.

“Are you alright?”

Elidibus looks to be genuinely concerned, using his warm hands to heat up your icy ears. Turning slightly you realize you had dozed off at your favorite spot on the grounds, underneath a pagoda in a far corner of the gardens. On your days off it would be your place to go and center yourself, or simply enjoy the sun, but for now served as your place to think and plot with a little less worry of being watched. As far as you could tell, there were significantly less cameras out here, at least ones you could see. Snow blankets the landscape, nearly pristine and untouched if not for your few footprints left behind.

Eyes sliding back to Elidibus, you blink a few times, saying nothing as you gather your thoughts. “What are you doing out here?”

Releasing your face, you let go of his wrists as he stands to his full height once more. “I could ask the same of you.” He frowns, brows pinched together. His worry for you makes you feel a little guilty, forcing you to look away in shame.

“I was just...thinking.” You grumble, shoving your hands in your coat pocket. “I always come out here. Even now that the weather’s grown cold. It’s a good place to organize my thoughts.” Frowning yourself, you take note of his attire as he moves to sit beside you. “Aren’t you cold?”

Taking account of how he still stands in his perfectly white suit trimmed with gold, he gives himself a once over before shrugging. “Immortality leaves you immune to many things.”

Tilting your head, you give him a small smile. “Feeling comfortable, are we?”

“You’ve always been quick as a whip. In fact, I would say this is probably the most you I’ve seen in quite some time.” He beams, snowflakes landing in his near violet hair. “What has you stressed?”

Pursing your lips, you turn away from him, staring out into the falling snow. “I can’t tell you. As...familiar as you feel. You work too closely with Varis.”

Elidibus follows suit, staring out onto the landscape, the wind howling in your ears. “Is that so?”

Growling you give him a heavy shove, baring your teeth at him. “Of course it is! He’s a fucking monster! Even you have to see that, Elidibus!” You snap, unable to explain why you feel so strongly, so betrayed. “How could you possibly stand to work with him?!”

“For the same reason you are, I’m sure.” Elidibus responds without hesitation, red eyes seeing right through you. You gasp, shocked into silence knowing he’s already figured out your game despite you not breathing a word to him about it. “While I did expect you to take action, I did not expect you to do so by partnering yourself with Varis. As usual, you have always surprised me.” His expression softens slightly, finally looking back to you. “As usual, you are one to admire.”

While your heart floods with warmth at his words, you remain focused on what he had said. “Are you...also using Varis?” you ask quietly, eyes pleading for him to tell you, that for once he won’t be so cryptic.

By the smile on his face, you know he’s going to deny your wish before he even opens his mouth. “In a way yes. As I had said, we are not so different, Honey. Varis is merely means to an end.” His expression darkens slightly, turning back toward the mansion sitting upon the hill. “Though, my reasons are hardly so noble.”

By the tone of his voice, you don’t know what he means, and honestly, don’t want to find out. If anything, he’s made you aware that he knows of your plans, but will not interfere. In a way, maybe he’s on your side. “I see.”

Elidibus gives you a comforting pat on the hand before standing, looking every bit as ethereal and ancient as you know him to be. “Though I must keep my interference to a minimum, that does not mean I do not worry about you, now that I have found you.” Peering at you from over his shoulder, he fixes you with a sly look. “That said, I think you should try repairing your relationship with the young master.”

Embarrassment washes through you immediately, somehow feeling like a parent being chastised by their child. “He doesn’t want to speak to me. He doesn’t want me.”

“Anything worth having must be worked for.” He responds, turning to lay a gentle hand upon your shoulder. “Varis has poisoned anything he has touched, including his own son. If anyone can get through to him, it is you.” Giving you a knowing smile, he squeezes you gently. “After all, even your reasons are not entirely noble are they? Even you are a little selfish.”

You want to save him.

Nodding, you take a deep breath, standing to your feet. “You’re right. Thank you, Elidibus.”

Before releasing you, he gives you one last comforting squeeze. “You will find the right path. You always have. That has not changed about you.” Turning once more, he begins to make his way through the snow, his white suit blending in until it seems like he vanishes into the scenery, like he was never there at all.

Sighing, you decide to take him up on his advice, staving off the nausea you can feel as your nerves begin to eat at you with every step you take back toward the mansion. You had no idea if Zenos was even here, and if he was, where he would be. Maybe you could catch up to him another time.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, you trip on a root hidden beneath the snow, falling face first into the frozen fluff. Sitting up as you spit dead grass and frigid water out your mouth, you grumble at the universe, knowing a sign when you saw it. Picking yourself up, you hurry into the mansion, running to change and get out of your clothes now that they have been bogged down by snow. You would make a point to talk to him today, but you needed time to even think about what you would say. A good workout was sure to get the blood pumping and thoughts flowing.

Changed into a pair of biker shorts and a simple tank top over your sports bra, you head to the personal gym, breathing a sigh of relief as you realize it’s blessedly empty. You were nowhere near ready to confront him quite yet, and could use a few more precious hours of solitude to work yourself up to the idea.

You begin by slipping into your yoga stretches, the motions fluid and practiced after Zenos had all but beat them into you with weeks of repetition. In moments you find your center, entering a zen state, body shifting into each position without thinking. Eyes closed, the white noise of the room begins to fade away as your thoughts turn inward, looking deep within yourself. You finish just under ten minutes, taking a moment to decide what to do next, gazing at one of the far walls. Perhaps running through katas with a sword? It had been a minute since you had the chance to practice your weapon skills.

Heading over to the wall, you run your fingers across the intricate scabbards, admiring the craftsmanship beneath your fingertips. You and Zenos had never practiced with real swords of course, making you wonder if these specifically were for show in the room. He seemed fond of collecting them, keeping several of them in rotation whenever you went to visit other gangs.

Just as you begin to admire another, you hear the door open, thinking it to perhaps be a maid coming to clean. Once your eyes land on a mop of blonde hair however, you find yourself desperately wishing it was.You forget to breathe as you make contact with blue eyes, finding they do not look upon you with the same affection they once had.

“What are you doing here?” Zenos seethes, glaring at you with enough malice to make the room feel like it's as frigid as it is outside. He begins to stalk toward you slowly, eyes never leaving you, slinking with all the grace of a predator creeping in for the kill.

You keep even steps with him, forcing the two of you to circle each other, hands gently raised in a show of peace. “I didn’t know you were coming. I had been doing some training, I thought you were out,” you quickly explain, voice trembling, “a-and I’d like to talk.”

“There’s nothing you could say that would be worth hearing.” He growls, trying to close the circle tighter, the hairs on the back of your neck raising as if you are standing face to face with a storm before it grows into a tornado, threatening to destroy all in its path.

“I...Zenos, please, just let me explain,” You beg, throat straining in your effort to not cry, finding nothing of the man you once knew in those eyes. He looks as if he hates your very guts, and truthfully, with how long you had been from his side without saying anything, with how you promised to stay by him--

He just might.

“What is there to explain? Want to tell me how I’m not good enough for you? I hope my father’s dick is worth it.” He spits, growing angrier with each word, the air charged with tension.

Setting your jaw, you try to stand your ground. “I’m not doing any such thing with your father! I only want you--” you scream as he suddenly rushes you, bending backwards at the knee to barely dodge his right hook. Keeping with your momentum you back flip away from his leg sweep, nearly stumbling in your effort to dodge another fist. “Zenos!”

Through talking, Zenos pursues you like a man possessed, murder in his eyes as he gives you no quarter. Gritting your teeth you go on the defensive, blocking his shots, being forcibly reminded just how hard he can hit. It wasn’t to say he totally held back, but the two of you had agreed to never use your full power on one another so you wouldn’t wake up aching and sore each morning. You hadn’t felt this strength since he had first recruited you, your heart pounding furiously as he shows you just why he was feared by all.

His strikes are precise, calculated, leaving minimal openings for you to exploit. Due to the two of you sparring with each other so often, you know all of his favorite moves and what he’s willing to try, but so does he where you are concerned. Any surprise attack you want to try is immediately rebuffed, but you can see his mounting frustration as you give no opening for him to exploit. “Zenos, stop it!”

“I’ll stop after I’ve killed you.” He murmurs, though you can hear the rage in those words no matter how softly he speaks. “I’ve tired of my father taking what does not belong to him.”

Your heart lurches at that, wishing you could just tell him everything. There were too many risks, too many unknown factors at stake. What if he considered you being a cop an even bigger betrayal? What if he--

You’re given no time to think on the possibilities as Zenos comes at you harder, his strikes vicious and fierce, doing everything in his power to break your guard. You up your defense, feeling a buzz in the back of your head that you knew had always been there when you fought, but paid little attention to. The harder he came, the slower his attacks seemed, beginning to move in slow motion before your very eyes.

Yelling with each strike now, he let his frustration show, doing his best to make you falter. “Why are you so strong?” He roars, and somehow his intent to kill is less frightening than watching him lose his cool. You had never seen him this emotional, this vulnerable, this crazed. “Why can I never beat you?!”

“I don’t even want to fight!” You snap, finally finding the opening you need as his guard breaks with his emotional outburst. Grasping him by his wrist as he strikes out, you strike him hard in the sternum with your palm, surprising yourself with your strength as he slides back along the floor, looking shocked himself.

You both stand there in silence, you, looking at your hand, unsure where that sudden burst of strength had come from. Turning to Zenos, he hangs his head, his curtain of hair blocking his face from view. Still keeping your guard up, you think about approaching him until a maniacal laugh bubbles first, building into a crazed crescendo. Drawing himself up, you gasp as his eyes glow a fierce red.

His sclera has gone black, and you faintly notice his tattoo faintly glowing from beneath his shirt, the air feeling charged with a strange energy. True fear fills you now, not at whatever power he is harnessing, but the fact he had hidden it from you all this time. Licking his lips, he stares you down, his frenzied eyes mixed with violence and admiration both. “Oh the things you do to me…” he chuckles, stalking toward you once more.

The buzz in the back of your head turns into an insistent hum now, the back of your neck tingling as if in response to his power. Once again you keep your distance, not allowing him to get any closer to you, hands still upraised, ready to block. “Z-Zenos,”

“As much as I hate you right now, I cannot deny that I am overjoyed.” He snickers, cracking his knuckles before doing the same to his neck. “I haven’t used the Resonant in a long time.”

Your brows pinch together in visible confusion, too many questions wanting to burst forth. At the top of the list being are you okay?

“I’ve dreamed about this. Practically stroked myself raw of what it would be like to truly unleash my full potential in combat.” He grins, his lips pulling in a disconcerting way. “As aggravating it had been being unable to beat you, not knowing the source of your strength, you, a mere mortal…”

Your heart stops as he’s suddenly before you, your eyes too fast to even catch it.

The way he moved--

It wasn’t possible--

“W-What,” you tremble, backing away from him, eyes wide as saucers. “What’s going on?”

Howling with laughter again, Zenos bows, arms outstretched. “Why do you look so afraid? Unable to come to terms with the fact you’ve been fucking a literal monster?”

Despite your fear, you won’t stand for those words. “You’re not a monster!” you cry, more scared than you’d like to admit.

“Oh? You were so convinced before.” He grins, using the same inhumane speed he had before to sock you in the gut, stars dotting your vision as you swear you feel the literal wind knocked from you. Stumbling back you fight to catch your breath, unsure what to do. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

“Zenos,” you wheeze, the humming turning into a full on roar, the burning sensation on the back of your neck increasing, eyes unfocused as you try to regain your bearings. “Zenos, please,”

“Please what?” He taunts, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Please stop? Why should I when I finally have the battle I’ve craved for so long?” He hisses, red eyes narrowing upon your beaten form. “I had refrained from using this power because I wanted to beat you with my own might. I wanted to surpass you with my own strength. I knew that with this power, I could hur--” he pauses, frowning slightly. “Because I knew I could break every bone in your body.”

“We don’t have to fight,” you beg, voice small and afraid, knowing you are pleading in vain, but trying anyway. You can see the pain in his eyes, can see that he is lashing out and communicating the only way he knows how. His blows show his anger, his pain, his fear. Guilt slows your movements, bringing your fists up, eyes sliding closed for just a moment.

Hear…

No.

You refuse to use this borrowed power on him. You refuse to not show him the same grace he had been showing you all this time, while you had used your blessing to stay one step ahead of him.

Feel…

No, no, no!

Even as he nears you, even as he rushes you down, you fight against the burning sensation on your neck urging you to call forth on that ancient power. Even as your bones feel as if they will break, as if you’re losing feeling in your limbs, you refuse to do this--

Not when you hurt him.

“I’m not going to fight you!” You yell, blocking one of his attacks, growing weaker and weaker by the second.

Frowning, his fists clench tighter. “Then you will die.”

Relentless, he pursues you breaking your form until he knocks you into the ground, pouncing on top of you like a couerl. His hands lock around your throat immediately, your own weakly grasping at his as he begins to tighten his hold on your neck. “You promised.” He whispers, growling low. “You promised.”

Tears begin to leak at your eyes, thinking that maybe, you did deserve this. You did break your promise to him. He had confided so much in you, had cherished you in a way no one else could. That for even all his faults, you had dared to imagine a future with him. A future where he didn’t do his father’s bidding, a future where the two of you could be happy.

You had let all the trust you had worked so hard to build between the two of you go to waste.

Going limp beneath him, you accept your fate. If anything, at least you had died by his hand. In your heart, you had found out the truth, even if you could not make Varis pay for it. Cid would be heartbroken to hear about this, but maybe he would understand.

“Z-Zenos,” you rasp, vision darkening around the edges as you gaze up into his pained red eyes. “I-I’m s-sorry.” you whisper, feeling his grip on you get tighter. Your vision gets darker, it gets harder to breathe. Your breath comes in small gulps, no longer able to even try your futile attempts to pull his hands from your throat.

As you lose consciousness, the burning on your neck ceases, Zenos’ eyes going wide in shock. You believe you see the beginning of tears in his eyes, but your world goes dark before you can find out.

Your world is black, no matter where you turn. There is no end, and you wonder if this is what death is truly like.

Cold, empty, alone.

Exhausted.

At least now, you can rest. Though how disappointing is it that you don’t even get the glory of seeing what comes after death? Unless, this is it of course. You had killed men after all. And even the ones you didn’t kill, you had maimed so far beyond repair that surely you had racked up enough bad karma in just over a year than anyone had in their lifetime.

You don’t get to see Minfilia. Tell her you had found out what happened to her in the end. That you were ready to avenge her, but your own heart was too weak.

Do you truly think you have no strength?

Of course you don’t. You spent your whole life fighting to learn the truth and had died because of it, accomplishing nothing.

You are stronger than this. More than this.

Ha. If you were, you wouldn’t be dead.

So many people need you. Are you truly going to give up?

Why wouldn’t you? All you had brought was suffering. To Minfilia, to Ardbert, to Cid, to...to…

They would be sadder without you. They would be miserable without you.

He would be sadder without you. He would be miserable without you.

You need to wake up.

My Warrior of Light, you need to wake up.

Gasping as you regain consciousness for the second time that day, you shoot upright, finding it is still dark. You feel like you’re still in that dark place, except you feel something soft beneath you...a bed?

Reaching behind you, your hands come into contact with the lamp on your nightstand, flipping the switch to let light into the room. The alarm on the bedside table reads that it is nearly 3AM, but the clouds block the moon from the sky.

You’re alive.

Checking yourself over, you find that you feel no aches, no pains, as if you hadn’t battled to the death with Zenos hours ago. But has it been hours? How long has it been?

A little more awake now, you notice the humming again, the burning sensation from earlier now tingling on the back of your neck. Jumping out of bed you dash into the bathroom, grabbing a hand mirror from the vanity. Angling it to where you see your reflection in both mirrors, you see the edge of a tattoo peeking from the back of your shirt, the markings intricate and unnatural. A distant memory tries to surface, but your head hurts trying to bring it forth, and so you let it be.

Just as you let the memory slip through your fingers does the tattoo cease glowing its angry red, fading back into your skin as if it were never there at all. No matter how you run your fingers over your skin it does not appear, and for a moment you wonder if you were hallucinating. Something deep within tells you otherwise, that it is there, just like your powers, waiting for you.

Feeling as mentally exhausted as you are physically, you splash some water on your face, your mind an empty space as you drift back toward your bed. Stepping back into your room, you raise a single eyebrow as you notice a folded note upon your desk that you know had definitely not been there this morning.

Crossing your room to reach it, you pick it up, twirling it in your fingers as if you would find some strange magic on it. Given how the day went, you wouldn’t be surprised, but it is fortunately just a plain piece of paper. Opening it up, you immediately recognize the handwriting folded within.

The next time I see you, I will make sure to kill you for good.

To anyone else, it would be a serious threat, but all you can feel is hope.

Because somewhere inside, Zenos had it bad for you just as much as you did for him, and couldn’t bring himself to kill you.

You would find a way to get you both out of this mess.

That was a promise you were determined to keep.