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sforzesco · 10 months ago

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What do you mean when you say that Pompey is a lover in a story of inescapable violence? I am extremely intrigued

the Late Republic is a stage of violence intent on gorging itself on this violence, the structure of the system leaves no other outcome.

Pompey is both someone born into this cycle and someone who is an acting hand of violence. He fashions himself after a military ideal, Alexander the Great, he positions himself as Sulla’s successor in the arena of political spectacle (rising/setting sun), he is Rome’s conquering hand.

He’s also, in Plutarch’s biography, intensely aware of matters of love and romance and does not treat them as an idle and casual affair. It is, in some way, an inherent part of his character. He is the ideal of a husband, even if it conflicts with whatever other ideals he’s supposed to embody, and apparently trades in his role as a general to remain in Rome with his wife.

We are told that Flora the courtesan, when she was now quite old, always took delight in telling about her former intimacy with Pompey, saying that she never left his embraces without bearing the marks of his teeth. Furthermore, Flora would tell how Geminius, one of Pompey's companions, fell in love with her and annoyed her greatly by his attentions; and when she declared that she could not consent to his wishes because of Pompey, Geminius laid the matter before Pompey. Pompey, accordingly, turned her over to Geminius, but never afterwards had any thing at all to do with her himself, although he was thought to be enamoured of her; and she herself did not take this treatment as a mere courtesan would, but was sick for a long time with grief and longing. (…) Moreover, Pompey also treated the wife of Demetrius his freedman (who had the greatest influence with him and left an estate of four thousand talents) with a lack of courtesy and generosity unusual in him, fearing lest men should think him conquered by her beauty, which was irresistible and far-famed. But though he was so extremely cautious in such matters and on his guard, still he could not escape the censures of his enemies on this head, but was accused of illicit relations with married women, to gratify whom, it was said, he neglected and betrayed many public interests.

Plut. Pomp. 2

All this won him admiration and affection; but on the other hand he incurred a corresponding displeasure, because he handed over his provinces and his armies to legates who were his friends, while he himself spent his time with his wife among the pleasure-places of Italy, going from one to another, either because he loved her, or because she loved him so that he could not bear to leave her; for this reason too is given. Indeed, the fondness of the young woman for her husband was notorious, although the mature age of Pompey did not invite such devotion. The reason for it, however, seems to have lain in the chaste restraint of her husband, who knew only his wedded wife, and in the dignity of his manners, which were not severe, but full of grace, and especially attractive to women, as even Flora the courtesan may be allowed to testify.

Plut. Pomp. 53

Nevertheless, the marriage was displeasing to some on account of the disparity in years; for Cornelia's youth made her a fitter match for a son of Pompey. 3 Those, too, who were more critical, considered that Pompey was neglectful of the unhappy condition of the city, which had chosen him as her physician and put herself in his sole charge; whereas he was decking himself with garlands and celebrating nuptials, though he ought to have regarded his very consulship as a calamity, since it would not have been given him in such an illegal manner had his country been prosperous.

Plut. Pomp. 55

The messenger, finding her in this mood, could not bring himself to salute her, but indicated to her the most and greatest of his misfortunes by his tears rather than by his speech, and merely bade her hasten if she had any wish to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own. When she heard this, she cast herself upon the ground and lay there a long time bereft of sense and speech. At last, however, and with difficulty, she regained her senses, and perceiving that the occasion was not one for tears and lamentations, she ran out through the city to the sea. Pompey met her and caught her in his arms as she tottered and was falling. "I see thee," she cried, "husband, not by thy fortune, but by mine, reduced to one small vessel, thou who before thy marriage with Cornelia didst sail this sea with five hundred ships. Why hast thou come to see me, and why didst thou not leave to her cruel destiny one who has infected thee also with an evil fortune so great? What a happy woman I had been if I had died before hearing that Publius, whose virgin bride I was, was slain among the Parthians! And how wise if, even after his death, as I essayed to do, I had put an end to my own life! But I was spared, it seems, to bring ruin also upon Pompey the Great."

So spake Cornelia, as we are told, and Pompey answered, saying: "It is true, Cornelia, thou hast known but one fortune to be mine, the better one, and this has perhaps deceived thee too, as well as me, in that it remained with me longer than is customary. But this reverse also we must bear, since we are mortals, and we must still put fortune to the test. For I can have some hope of rising again from this low estate to my former high estate, since I fell from that to this.”

Plut. Pomp. 74-75

I have some vague thought in here about how Pompey was entrusted with Rome’s safety, and that conflicts with his Lover status because you can’t love something more than Rome without Rome deciding to cast you out, and it also prevents him from reclaiming his Soldier role in the ensuing war with Caesar. Doomed by Rome, doomed by Love, doomed by Fortune, etc. but also simply the inevitable cycle of war and violence, the ever turning wheel of Rome.

#ask tag #he’s a weird guy. also a ghost. anyway lovers and soldiers die the same. in a ditch.#if I had to pick between Pompey and Antony I would pick Pompey with zero hesitation

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 month ago

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Okay now that we know Lullaby was on Amazon Lily with Luffy, I’m assuming she goes to Marineford too. Which then makes me think of the whole “Rosy and the Admirals” post. So what I’m getting to is that all of the Admirals are in shock from seeing this kid that looks exactly like the woman they were sleeping with and know had a kid.

Akainu is probably too busy questioning his life choices, especially now that he knows his maybe child is a pirate, to keep fighting, and is just frozen in place.

Meanwhile, Kizaru and Aokiji both take a moment to be in shock, before rushing over to her in panic because she’s in the middle of a war zone. This leads to them both stopping right in front of her and realizing that they were both sleeping with Rosy. This could lead to a fight between them, but I think it would be funnier if, given how well their personalities mesh, they decide to say “screw it” just go full Mamma Mia, accepting that they’re both her fathers. Does this mean that Kizaru is going to Join Aokiji in his midlife crisis? Will Aokiji decide that he wants that stinky warthog Blackbeard nowhere near his daughter? I say yes. I think it would be even better if they join the Revolutionary Army, considering that they can’t be admirals anymore, and they both have issues with the government, so now Dragon is part of the newly formed Dad Alliance, whether he likes it or not.

I am so sorry for the long ask, but I just can’t help myself. Your writing is so good, it brings my creative side out.

Never apologize for sending a long ask, I live for them!

Yes, Lullaby does end up at Marineford despite the Boa sisters' best efforts. Hancock has Sandersonia and Marigold stay on Amazon Lily to keep Lullaby safe and away from the danger. Lullaby, of course, objects to it and does what she does best and sneaks onto the Perfume Yuda before they can leave. Hancock gets a frantic call from her sisters saying that they lost their niece, and she's very close to turning the ship around when Lullaby pops out of a barrel and asks what the commotion is about with a smirk on her face. Hancock is torn between being upset that Lullaby has put herself into danger and feeling a nostalgic pang in her heart because this is such a Rosy thing to do.

Lullaby manages to then also sneak off the ship later because she assumes that Sanji is going to show up at some point to help, and she needs to see for herself that he is okay.

Now by this point, both Aokiji and Kizaru have already seen her. Aokiji saw her when he first encountered the Straw Hats to try and capture Robin. To say that it completely threw him off his game would be an understatement. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing his presumed dead child alive and well and right in front of him. All of a sudden, he very generously offers to strike a deal with the Straw Hats. He's going to pretend like he never saw them, and all that they have to do is let him have Lullaby. That, of course, doesn't happen and they manage to get away.

Then at Sabaody, Kizaru sees her when he's attacking the Straw Hats. He's about to land a blow on Sanji when he feels tiny fists wailing on his leg. He glances down only to completely freeze up when he sees her face. His mind is racing as he puts together who she is, but before he can make any move to grab her, Kuma appears and uses his powers to send her away.

Marineford is the first chance that Akainu gets to see her. He can't believe what he's seeing. The kid that he thought was dead is not only alive, but is also a fucking pirate. He's questioning if this is his punishment for being happy about his own potential child being dead. All he can do is stare at her while being frozen in place. Part of him wants to get rid of her here and now to preserve his reputation... but the tiny sliver of a conscience that he has left is making him hesitate. He's killed people before. He's killed children before. But now that it's possibly his kid... he doesn't know what to do. Can he really look his own daughter in the eye as he ends her life? He feels sick and is paralyzed.

When Aokiji and Kizaru see her at Marineford, neither of them are messing around. They are going to get their daughter no matter what it takes. They're in such a rush to get her out of an active war zone that neither of them notice the other until they're both grabbing onto one of her arms to pull her away.

They genuinely don't care that both of them were sleeping with Rosy. She's a sex worker and neither of them were delusional enough to believe that they were exclusive. And frankly, neither of them were in love with her. Aokiji was very fed up with her towards the end, and Kizaru only offered for her to quit and come live with him for the sake of creating a stable home life for Lullaby. However, they are shocked to realize that both of them had been told that they were the father. They slowly start to realize the extent of Rosy's paternity fraud scheme as more and more people just at Marineford try to make a grab for Lullaby while insisting that they are actually the father. Neither of them are happy about this, but they quickly agree to work together for the time being when Doflamingo tries to snatch her up.

You can see Sengoku's hair graying in real time as he realizes that all three of his admirals had baby mama drama with not only the same woman, but over the same child. He accidentally yells at Garp out of instinct.

Aokiji really didn't need much encouragement to leave the marines. He would much rather focus on raising his daughter in peace than deal with any more marine bullshit. Kizaru was more hesitant and only left when he realized that the marines weren't going to be willing to ignore the fact that Lullaby was a part of a pirate crew even though she's only seven. He's so horrified by them wanting to execute her for her involvement that he leaves immediately. He did not just get his daughter back only to watch her be killed for bullshit reasons.

I think that them defecting to the Revolutionary Army makes the most sense. Both of them have problems with the world government, and helping the Revolutionary Army would be the most logical way to possibly fix that. Aokiji does not want his baby anywhere near Blackbeard or the rest of his freaky crew, so he never teams up with him in this au.

Aokiji and Kizaru agree to co-parent Lullaby purely because neither of them want to even entertain the idea that they aren't the father. They have invested too much in this emotionally to risk taking a test that could come back negative for both of them. They would much rather live in blissful ignorance. That, and they both feel like they are some of the best father candidates, especially with people like Doflamingo and Kaido being among them.

#sanji's lullaby #akainu sakazuki #aokiji kuzan #kizaru borsalino #boa hancock

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coreene · 11 months ago

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Gonna leave one more for my boy Gorty and add the others i find interesting to my que so I don't spam you guys.

This is his invitation through the Steel Watch guard:

Steel Watcher: Greetings, old friend. Orin told me you were on your way here, but I scarcely believed it. Welcome back to Baldur's Gate - welcome home. devnote: voice only, no mocap. Voice coming from Steel Watcher. warm

This is the greeting for Dark Urge. The devnote is same in both sentences.

Gonna put the rest under the cut because it's gonna be long.

Steel Watcher: My most esteemed guest, we meet at last. I am Lord Enver Gortash. You are the Prism-bearer, slayer of the dread General Ketheric Thorm. devnote: Polite, formal, smug

Steel Watcher: I welcome you to Baldur's Gate. My city. devnote: a warm welcome, with an edge of warning on 'my city'. As in this place is mine, don't step out of line.

This was the welcome now the following are the answers player can choose and Gortash's responses to them:

1 (if it is Karlach)

Player: Your city? Gortash, you fuck. Steel Watcher: By the Black Hand - I'd recognise that voice anywhere. Karlach! It's been an eternity. devnote: surprised and seemingly delighted

Player: This city will never be yours. Steel Watcher: It already is. Granted, there are a few formalities to complete, but... well, why don't you come and see? devnote: smug

Player: A pleasure to meet you. Could we talk face-to-face? Steel Watcher: Of course, of course. My Steel Watchers are rather adept at keeping the peace, but not entirely suitable for polite conversation. devnote: apologetic, but still extremely pleased with himself and the virtues of his 'steel watch'.

Player: I'm going to find you, and I'm going to kill you. Steel Watcher: I admire your audacity... but it'll be the death of you. Ketheric had an army of corpses and a crumbling tower. I have a city and an army of steel. devnote: genuine on first phrase, but the threat/warning on the latter phrase is much more serious than any admiration Steel Watcher: It would be better for us both to resolve our differences amicably, and I have the perfect venue for a face-to-face meeting. devnote: reasonable

And this is the end of the conversation:

Steel Watcher: Allow me to formally invite you to my inauguration. Make your way to the ceremonial hall. devnote: smug, but the invitation is genuine. This is no trap.

That last note made me realize that if he wanted - he could have easily attack the player at his inauguration. He kills a bunch of patriars after that so he clearly doesn't give a fuck about making a scene about that.

It is his turf, filled with traps - he has the absolute advantage. So why doesn't he just do that? Why does he offer an alliance? Only to get Tav to kill Orin? He is such a confusing and complex villain.

#Gortash #Enver Gortash #bg3 Gortash #Lord Enver Gortash #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 devnotes

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josefavomjaaga · 6 months ago

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"All those promises have gone up in smoke..."

As mentioned several times already, when Eugène in June 1805 received that glorious post of Dork on Duty Viceroy of Italy, he did so quite unexpectedly. And while Hortense casually mentions that Eugène being elevated to such honours had caused quite some "humeur" in the family, in particular from Murat, the freshly chosen viceroy himself was equally exasperated at being thus abandoned to the hostile Lombardian wilderness left alone in Milan.

He actually had received Napoleon's promise for two trips to Paris every year. We know what became of it, the first time Eugène would return to France was in late 1809, to see his mother leave the Tuileries. If he already suspected as much or not, in any case he also, before the French court said Arrividerci and returned home, demanded from everybody who would listen that they absolutely needed to write to him!

At least that is what can be guessed from a passage in a letter to his sister Hortense, dated Monza, 9 August 1805. (There is a -minor?- caveat to this letter: it's not an original, but apparently a copy, from a notebook in Hortense's possession. The original seems to be lost. A caveat because I have already seen in other places that whoever put together these copies, and for whatever purpose - yes, I am looking at you, Madame la Reine! - in some cases has taken quite some liberties with the original text.)

[...] Would you believe, my sister, that since I took leave of Mama she has not written to me or even sent me any news of her? You wouldn't believe the pain it's causing me. She cried so much when she left me, she told me so many times that she would lose her only support […]

… and then someone showed her the latest fashion catalogue on the way back to Paris and everything else was forgotten. Come on, Eugène, you should know your mum by now.

But it's not only her.

[...] Madame de la Rochefoucauld had promised to write to me. Bessières was supposed to write me a line every morning; I have only received one letter from him so far. Clarke never sent me a word. In the end, all those promises went up in smoke. My good Hortense, Lavalette and my friend Duroc are the only ones who have not forgotten me. [...]

His righteous indignation at such treatment clearly audible, echoing through two centuries. And it is indeed a bit astonishing to see Eugène, who had been generally well-liked, even admired during the Consulate, so quickly abandonned to himself. Maybe it's just how royal courts work, or at least how Napoleon's court worked: if you are not there, under the eyes of the Master, you're unimportant.

Or maybe Eugène, 24, out of his depth with his new task, overwhelmed with work he was not used to and did not cherish much, desperate at having to displease somebody whatever he did, exaggerated. A little. His desperate pleas would seize rather quickly a year later, after his marriage.

But there's still some time to go until then. And before it happened, best buddy Bessières who had promised to write every morning and now could not be bothered, surely would hear an earful!

Milan, 24 July 1805 [...] It is very wrong of you, my friend, to write to me so little, to forget me like this, and to not answer my letters at last. Every officer or courier returning from the great army has been questioned about your health and each one tells me: Marshal Bessières sends you his compliments, he will write to you with the first courier. And they all arrive with the same message. You have no more good reasons to give now that you are in Paris, so I commend myself to your friendship. Your faithful friend Eugène N

Your faithful and rather pissed-off friend, I might add. [Emphasis in the original text, btw, underlined] Eugène doubles down on it the next day:

Please be convinced, my dear Bessières, that the only soothing tonic I can have is news from you; I am flattered that I will already have a few letters on the way, which I will soon receive, and this idea sustains me.

However, it takes until 19 August until Eugène finally can tell Bessières:

At last I have received a letter from you, my dear Bessières. I confess I was beginning to think you had forgotten me. If you had promised me less, you might have kept more. I will write you a note every day, you told me; and I had only asked you for one a week, and that one, without fulfilling my friendship, would have satisfied it.

Bessie for once being a true Gascon, talking big and promising much, apparently.

Don't tire, my friend, of writing to me and thinking of me; I need to know that the people I love have not forgotten me. My lot is a fine one, no doubt, but it cannot stop me from regretting, and regretting very sincerely, my former life.

As we do not have Bessières' letters, there's no way of knowing what excuse Bessières gave for not writing as he had promised. Maybe the friendship always had been a one-sided thing and much stronger from Eugène's side, and Bessières was secretely relieved to be rid of this overly excitable oversized toddler he had been babysitting for so long? Though, admittedly, that would make me sad.

#napoleon's family #napoleon's marshals #jean baptiste bessières #eugene de beauharnais #italy 1805

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abarbaricyalp · 4 months ago

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77 for the kink prompts 👀 (if you like!)

77: Wish Fulfillment

Is this mostly wish fulfillment for me? Maybe so

(Also I chose this title specifically for you)

AO3 Link

Knee Deep In The Pilot Seat

It had started with Sam’s casual musing as Bucky willed his eyes to stop watering in the stinging wind.

“You know, Top Gun’s part of the reason I joined the Air Force?”

“That’s the one with the blond guy and the Mission Impossible guy?” Bucky had asked.

“You have an eidetic memory. I know that you know their names,” Sam drolled.

Bucky had been in a fighter jet before. He’d fought in them. Still, it was impressive to see one up close with his own eyes, all sleek and impressive and large. He’d also never been on a carrier before and that was an experience in and of itself. If only the open ocean wind hadn’t been trying to dry out his entire tear ducts.

“You know, this is the Navy, right?” he pointed out. “You just assumed Air Force ‘cause of the jet, huh?” he teased.

And Sam had rolled his eyes and bitched about knowing the difference and not wanting to go to Michigan for basics. Lackland was less than a day’s drive from home. Close enough to get back, too far for anyone to come searching. Et cetera, et cetera.

“Besides,” Sam had said with a laugh, “I got my wings eventually,” he said. “I think I came out on top.”

“Yeah, I think you did too,” Bucky agreed.

“Still, this is supremely sexy.”

“Well, you’re that anyway too” Bucky pointed out. But he hadn’t been able to ignore the gleam in Sam’s eyes, the tilt of his chin and swell of his chest as he looked at the fighter jet.

They’d been called out to the aircraft carrier by a colleague of a colleague of a colleague of Sam’s, traveling across the military until it reached them. Well, reached Sam. As usual, Bucky was pretty sure he was a surprise to the people who’d called.

“I know this isn’t really an Avengers job,” the general (or admiral or aviator or whatever they were called when they were both on a boat and in jets) had told them. “But we wanted to keep this on this deck only. No other chain of command.”

Sam had raised his eyebrow for Bucky and gone into the specifics of the issue. Something about a potential “villain,” a term which the admiral looked like he was having to swallow hot coals to say. There had been issues on this boat before, understand, so they couldn’t take a flimsy report to the higher ups, and he didn’t want any of his crew (cast? pilots? whatever, the army was not this confusing) to get reprimanded for something they didn’t do, or something that was out of their control. His team was good people. If someone was going supervillain, it wasn’t their fault.

Which seemed desperately optimistic.

Everyone had been cleared off of the carrier so Sam, and Bucky, could investigate without any trouble. Bucky would have preferred to talk to the people who worked on the carrier. All of the pilots, the engineers, the navigators, the maintenance crew. What had happened on the boat was beyond their control now. If they were going to stop anyone, they had to know about the actors at play.

The incident, upon investigation, had happened in the hangar of the ship. Carrier ships were huge. (“Why are these things so big?” Bucky had asked as he followed Sam down a ladder towards the hangar. “They have to catch jets going 150 miles an hour. They need room to slow down,” Sam had answered. And Bucky let him know exactly how crazy these pilots [and Sam included for ever wanting to do this] were. And Sam had pointed out that the EXO wings were definitely crazier. Which was true.) And carrier ship hangars took up a lot of that room. Still, there weren’t as many jets as he was expecting and what was there was… Well.

“What the hell?” Sam had breathed.

“He said super villain,” Bucky sighed back.

The dozen or so jets that were in the hangar were completely demolished. Some were crushed down into something almost resembling a large lall of metal and tail fins. Others were ripped apart, whole entire panels missing, gouges scores in segments that measured feet across.

Then they’d bickered about what could’ve done this, and if it was even plausible for something to be physically large enough in the space to make marks like that without tearing apart the rest of the ship, and what their next steps should be. Sam had left to review footage from flight control. Bucky had investigated the rest of the ship, including the bunks and meeting rooms. They’d met back up on deck to disengage and recoup the next day.

All in all, it had kind of made Bucky’s head spin. He was no Dick Tracy and it hadn’t been in his pardon that superhero bullshit would include investigative bullshit too. But the atmosphere of the beach was nice and Sam had regaled him all night with stories about his trainings and what he wanted to be as a kid and what he still wanted to do as a grown up kid. And the waves crashed as they sat in the sand and stared off at a horizon that hid a ship with a secret.

The next day, Bucky showed up onboard after Sam, begging off an hour in the morning to snoop around inland to see what the crew was up to. He showed up in a coverall flight suit with aviators and a smug little grin on his face.

Sam stared at him. He couldn’t help it. He looked half ridiculous and half like a wet dream walking across the deck. He’d left the flight suit unzipped almost all the way down to his belly button to accommodate his shoulders and also because he was an asshole who knew he looked good. Sam had confirmed that the surveillance on the boat had been shot to shit during whatever had happened to the hangar, so this show was only for Sam.

“What are you doing?” he asked when Bucky got closer. Sam had been standing under the wing of one of the fighter jets–ostensibly because he was looking for any signs of damage but mostly because it provided shade and made him feel like a pilot checking on his machine before he went up in the air.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, flyboy,” Bucky called back, hop-jogging the last few steps until he could crowd Sam up against the body of the jet. He held out a leather bomber jacket. The exact kind that everyone associated with pilots ‘cause of history and the movies alike.

Sam eyed it warily, but pulled it on without complaint. “What are you doing?” he repeated. “Where did you even find this stuff?”

“Turns out, second hand shops around base have a lot of shit they really probably shouldn’t,” Bucky admitted.

There was a cigarette, unlit and clean because Bucky didn’t smoke, tucked behind his ear. His hair, grown out a little, was slicked back and curled just a little. Sam wanted his hands all over the other man. “Now, come on, birdie. Don’t keep teasing a guy. You gonna show me your ride or not?”

Sam felt himself flush from his hairline down to his toes. “Buck,” he objected with no conviction whatsoever. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest to push him away, but found himself curling his fingers in the zipper of the coveralls and tugging him forward instead. “What makes you think you keep to see my gal?” he asked, affecting Bucky’s drawling old-timey accent.

“Is it better or worse that I don’t really care about the bird?” Bucky mused. His hand went from Sam’s lapel down to his shoulder, his ribs, his hip, back to his ass, where it stopped so Bucky could grab a handful of it and squeeze. “Got my eyes on what I want already.”

“You got something I should call you, aviator?” Sam asked, heart and stomach dropping out from him as he realized he was playing along. His adrenaline and arousal happily took over for real sense.

“They call me Winter Soldier,” Bucky purred. “‘Cause I’m stone cold.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, but when Bucky squeezed his ass again, he had to focus on not groaning.

“What about you, precious? What do they call you?”

“Falcon,” Sam said, the name rolling off his tongue while his brain was currently offline. “You never hear me coming.”

“Oh, now I bet that’s not true at all. Bet I could get you loud.”

The rest of Sam’s dignity slipped away and he tilted forward to catch Bucky’s mouth on his, keeping them hidden under the wing of the jet like any of this was real and someone may come out on deck and catch them.

Read the rest on AO3

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #i answer things

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

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Beskar Doll - Ch. 20: The Outpost

The hunt for the general continues. You and the Mandalorian have a chance to do some good. A continuation of Beskar Doll ch. 1-19 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.8k

The bar, it seemed, had regulars. Much of the crowd that had been there in the previous afternoon was there again. You’d explored the outpost a bit more that morning, taking note of places that seemed questionable, things that could be Imperial hide outs. You also noted places where the Crest could safely land, if needed, and stopped at a weapons stand. There was a vibroknife there, one similar to the knife you’d stolen on Hosnian Prime that you were pretty sure had burned with your house on Dantooine. You bought it, figuring you could just add it to the tally of whatever it is you owed the Mandalorian - he still hadn’t given you a number.

You’d always been partial to knives. Doing the work you’d done, you’d frequently wind up in close quarters and you could never rely on having more reach or more strength when it came to your opponents. But if you were close and could get more inside, a knife got the job done. And people rarely looked for knives. They took a blaster and assumed you were unarmed. A mistake that had served you well.

You hadn’t learned much in your travels that day, however. Still no indication of the general, beyond the one lead you had from the bar the day before. You wondered if he actually lived anywhere near there or if he was on the move, that this was one just one of his frequent stops to find information, people, supplies.

The outpost itself was bleak. It was a hub for the junk trade, one of the main industries on Jakku, and what there was here seemed to have grown out of that. Small spaceport, stores that sold the bare minimum. There was another cantina and inn, too, but after a quick stop, you quickly ascertained it wasn’t what you were looking for. Not unless Imps had suddenly gotten a lot smarter - something you doubted.

You used the people in the bar as a gauge for how often you should come and go. Many seemed to stay there all day, others would only stay for an hour. One or two others approached you for work but you kept turning them down, saying they weren’t offering enough or that the job wasn’t worth your talents. You’d have to take a job eventually, if Shadrin held out for longer than a few more days. Just sitting there, saying you wanted work but not taking any, would look suspicious before too long.

It had gotten dark out when the man from the day before came in, approaching your table.

“Still here,” he said, sitting down across from you.

“Not much on this rock that’s worth my time,” you shrugged. “I had higher hopes.”

“Unfortunately, we’ve fallen far,” he sighed. You raised a brow. “When I think about the power we used to have, what we could do…”

“What’d you do?” You asked, taking a sip of your beer. He peeled the label on his bottle.

“First Lieutenant, ground forces on Naboo,” he said. Your jaw tightened, reflexively. “Ever been out that far?”

“Once or twice,” you took a sip of your beer. “Grew up on Tatooine so it wasn’t far. Got my blaster there, solid weaponry.”

“Good thing they didn’t have a standing army,” he smirked.

“You stay through Cinder?” You asked, digging the nails of the hand he couldn’t see into the back of the booth your arm was draped across. You needed an outlet. You couldn’t scream at him or shoot him or beat him sitting here and expect to make it back. You took it out on the booth.

“Yeah,” he took a drink. “We were up against those fucking frogs, who knew lower lifeforms would put up such a fight.”

You dug your nails in harder. You’d worked closely with the Gungans in your time on Naboo, had always admired their people and culture. This man had slaughtered them.

“Ever make it to Theed?” You asked, against your better judgement, really. As if you needed more reasons to want to destroy him. “Only place I really saw.”

“Few times,” he shrugged. “Ended Cinder there, actually.”

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. It would be so easy to kill this man. You could shoot him or slit his throat or entice him back to your room and take your time with him. If you cut his tongue out he couldn’t even properly call for help.

“If it hadn’t been for the fucking rebels we’d have destroyed them,” he almost growled. “The whole planet was fucking useless, save for a few people around the palace.”

You took a sip of beer to hide your expression. If he’d crossed your path that day, he’d be dead. All he’d done was delay it. You were killing him. Not today, perhaps, but soon.

“Your friend still looking to hire?” You asked.

“Mentioned you to him,” he replied. “He’s interested in meeting you.”

“I’d like to know the job,” you said. “I don’t like wasting my time on pointless bantha shit.”

“Is the glory of our Empire pointless bantha shit?”

“No,” you shrugged. “But revenge missions are. I’m all for stamping out rebels and the New Republic and doing everything we can to retake power but I’m not going to be part of some officer’s tantrum. I’ve got better shit to do.”

“Suppose you’ll have to meet with him then,” he smirked.

“When?”

“Two days,” he said. “Meet you here, dusk.”

“Fine,” you replied. “Assuming I don’t have a better offer by then.”

“Trust me,” he said. “You won’t.”

You stuck around for a bit after he left, watching as people filtered back out of the bar before going upstairs and flipping on the comm.

It was the first time you’d tried to talk to the Mandalorian since he’d talked you through fucking yourself in your room. You sighed. This had the potential of being so uncomfortable.

“Mando?” You said, wincing at how hesitant you sounded.

“There you are,” he responded barely a second after you finished saying his name. “What did I tell you?”

You frowned. You didn’t get a chance to ask another question, he answered before you could ask it.

“Every 12 hours, Doll,” he snapped. “I was about to come find you, it’s been damn near 24.”

“Right,” you winced again. “Sorry.”

“What were you thinking?” He demanded. You thought about saying what you actually had been thinking - that every time the man made you cum he seemed to want to pretend like you didn’t exist for a while after so you figured why bother him. Instead, you sighed.

“Got an early start, didn’t want to wake you up since we’d just talked,” you said. Talked was a strong word for what you’d done the night before but fuck it, why not. “Didn’t really have a good chance to step away. I have more information though.”

He was silent for a second. “What is it.”

You filled him in on the meeting, leaving out the stuff about the contact you had made. No need to tell the Mandalorian you’d be leaving at least one Imp body behind you.

“Sounds promising,” he said. “Think he’ll meet with you there or make you go somewhere?”

“Probably second location,” you shrugged.

“Don’t like that,” he replied.

“Worst case he’s got some ex-stormtroopers with him,” you shrugged. “I can take them.”

“How many stormtroopers have you handled alone,” he was skeptical.

“In one go?” You asked. “Took down more than a dozen on my own once.”

You left out the fact that after those 13 or 14 troopers you were overrun and nearly died.

Din was silent for a moment. You smirked.

“I still don’t like it.”

“Are you mad that my body count is higher than yours?” You asked.

“It’s not,” he replied. You laughed. “Meet him, confirm the ID, then call me.”

“How am I supposed to get out without arousing suspicion?” You frowned. “Hey, nice to meet you General, but now that I know who you are, time for me to go call my bounty hunter friend to haul you in?”

“You’re smart,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.”

You ground your teeth.

“Working with you is going to be difficult,” you said. You could almost hear him shrug over the comm.

“There’s a reason I work alone.”

“Because no one could tolerate your attitude?”

He was quiet. You sighed.

“How’s the kid?” You asked.

“He’s been bouncing off the walls today,” he sighed. “I’ve almost got the ship fixed, but I haven’t been able to spend much time with him. So he’s started finding ways to entertain himself.”

As if on cue, there was a squeal in the background and the Mandalorian sighed.

“Do me a favor and keep yourself in one piece,” he said. “This makes me nervous, Doll.”

“I’ll try my best,” you replied.

“And Doll?”

“Yes?”

“Call in the morning.”

You actually obeyed this time, calling him before you left your room, cautioning him that you wouldn’t call again until you were back in the room for the night. But you liked the sound of his voice in the morning. You stretched out on the bed and closed your eyes, pretending he was next to you instead of outside the outpost, that you were just having a conversation before starting your day, almost like you were a couple. Maker, that was a weird thing to consider. But it didn’t feel weird to want it, not with him.

You wandered the outpost again before settling in at the bar for the afternoon. You expected a quiet day and were halfway through your first beer when a woman you hadn’t seen before came into the bar. The bartender approached her and you saw her nod in your direction. You steeled yourself, straightening your spine. The woman ran to you, her eyes wide as she almost fell into the booth across from you.

“She said you were for hire,” she grabbed your wrist as you held your beer. You glared at her. “Please, I need help.”

“With what?” You asked, fighting your natural urge to jump up and find out what troubled her.

“A junk trader is convinced my son stole from him,” she clung to your wrist. “I can’t get him to listen to me, please…”

“Pay him off,” you shrugged.

“I can’t afford it,” she was frantic.

“Then you can’t afford me.”

“Please,” her fingers dug into you. You tried to beseech her with your eyes. She had to try harder, you couldn’t just get up and go help her. An Imp wouldn’t do that. Her eyes narrowed at you and she released your wrist, smacking her hands on the table. “You all talk about how we were better under the Empire but we need help and where are you? If your fucking Empire was so great, do something!”

You almost smiled at her. That would do it.

“Fine,” you said, standing. “Let’s go.”

She looked surprised and you followed her out of the bar, keeping your pace leisurely until you were out of the door. You picked up the pace then.

“Who has him and where is he?” You asked. The woman looked surprised.

“Junk trader, he works on the blackmarket,” she said. “He’s convinced my son stole something from one of the wrecks he says is his but…”

“Here at the outpost?” You asked.

“Just outside,” she said.

“Have a speeder?” She shook her head. You sighed. “Come on.”

You led her to the speeder bike you’d stolen, getting on and jerking your head, commanding her to get on the back.

“Tell me where.”

“North side of the outpost,” she said. “About two clicks out.”

“I go the wrong way,” you said. “Tell me.”

You tried to ignore the nerves in you as you piloted the speeder to the outskirts of town, to a small hut in the shadow of the hulking shell of a Star Destroyer. It was easy to forget how huge those ships were when you saw them in the vastness of space. On land, they seemed impossibly large. There were two men outside standing guard, holding rifles.

Their grip grew tighter on their weapons as you pulled up outside the hut. You smirked. They may be thugs but they were apprehensive. They might intimidate the people who lived here but for someone like you? They were nothing.

“Stay behind me,” you ordered. “And stay quiet.”

The men approached you, meeting you halfway between where you parked and the hut.

“What’chu want,” one said, spitting into the sand at your feet. You looked down at it before looking up at him.

“I don’t deal with lackeys,” you said. “Where’s your boss.”

“Who’s askin’?” The other man said.

“A friend of the boy your boss is holding hostage,” you replied. “He can let him go or he can deal with me. Tell him to decide quick, I don’t give second chances.”

“That a threat?” The first man who spoke stepped closer, adjusting the grip on his rifle. You sighed. So stupid. He was so close he couldn’t even point the gun at you properly.

“No,” you said, grabbing the vibroknife from its holster at your thigh and jamming it into his arm in one swift motion. The man screamed and fell to his knees, dropping the rifle. The woman behind you gasped and you caught the rifle as it fell, pointing it at the other man. “That was a kindness. I won’t be so kind again. Tell your boss to free the boy or he deals with me.”

The man backed up a few steps, watching you, before running for the door. You lowered the weapon and slung it onto your back. The man at your feet whimpered and you pulled the knife from his arm.

“Your boss have bacta?” You asked. He just groaned. You sighed. “Hold still.”

You cut part of the man’s shirt free and tied off his arm above the wound, stemming the bleeding.

“Find a better line of work,” you said, standing back up. “You’re not cut out for this.”

He clutched the wound at his arm and you watched as half a dozen people emerged from the hut, all surrounding one tall, broad Abednedo and a boy who couldn’t have been any older than 13 who was trying to look like he hadn’t just been crying. The woman behind you cried out, but you shushed her.

“Who the hell do you think you are, interfering in my business,” the Abednedo said.

“Friend of the boy’s,” you replied. “Return him and we’ll be on our way.”

He closed some of the gap between you, leaving the boy with his entourage.

“And why would I do that?” He asked. “He’s a thief. Took what’s mine.”

“What’d he take?” You asked.

“Computer from that destroyer,” he jerked his head back to the corpse of the starship behind him.

“What’s your name?”

“Craner Kree,” he snapped.

“Well, Kree,” you replied. “Seems like even if he did take the computer, he’s stealing from the Empire, not you, and he can answer to me for that crime. I can make you answer to me, too, if you’d like.”

A man from his entourage started for you and your hand went to your blaster, ripping it from its holster, firing and returning it to its holster before the man even fell to the sand. The guns all turned to you. Kree held up a hand, stopping them from shooting. He was in the line of fire and his staff seemed dumb enough to shoot, anyway.

“Don’t think the Imperials back at the outpost would take too kindly to you staking a claim to this ship,” you said. “Wonder what would happen if I confirmed that suspicion for them? Be it because I tell them or because I don’t make it back.”

Kree’s eyes narrowed at you. You held his glare.

“Fine,” he gave his lackey a wave and he shoved the boy forward. The kid stumbled and looked back before looking over his shoulder for a moment and then running for his mother. She clutched him to her chest, sobbing. You smiled.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said. You looked do the man on the ground. “I’m keeping your rifle.”

You started back toward the speeder, putting your hand on the woman’s back and guiding her while she was lost in checking on her son.

“Sleep with one eye open, Imp!” Kree yelled.

You ignored him, getting on the speeder. The mother and son got on behind you and you tried to pretend you weren’t fucking terrified to be piloting a damn speeder bike with two additional passengers.

You stopped on the edge of town, getting off the bike.

“Please,” she looked like she was about to cry. “I swear my son didn’t take any computer, he didn’t steal from the Empire…”

“I don’t care if he steals from the Empire,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “It was just a way to get Kree to back off. Was that the first time Kree’s caused trouble?”

“No,” she said after a moment, holding her son to her chest. She seemed surprised that you weren’t going to punish her. But then, she thought you were Imperial. “He’s done the same thing to several other families here, forces them into debts…”

You nodded once, pulling out your com link and flicking it on.

“Mando,” you said. “Need a favor. I’m not alone.”

There was a pause before he replied.

“Go on.”

“Still have your guild contacts?” You asked.

“Yes.”

“Have them check on any open pucks on one Craner Kree,” you said. “Probably low level stuff but he could use cleaning up.”

“I’ll take your word,” he replied. “Where is he?”

“North side of the outpost,” you said. “About two clicks out, near the downed destroyer. Little hut, big idiots out front, can’t miss it.”

“Consider it done. Do I want to know why you know about this guy?”

“Probably not.”

He sighed.

“Remember what I told you.”

“I’ll do my best,” you rolled your eyes, flicking off the com before he had a chance to reply and sticking it back in your pocket. “He won’t be an issue anymore.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “I don’t have anything to pay you with right now but I promise, when the harvest comes…”

“I don’t want your money,” you said. “Just keep your head down until tomorrow, in case Kree decides to hold a grudge.” You handed her the speeder keys. “Take the bike, get out of town. Ride it, sell it, don’t care. Good luck.”

“I don’t understand…” she looked at the keys and back to you. You shrugged.

“Seems like you need it.”

You walked back to the bar, the sun setting on the horizon.

***

Karga was able to find information on your quarry quickly and you’d been right, there was a low level bounty on him. Only 2,000 credits but he was already there and he decided he could use the entertainment. And he doubted you’d send him after a junk trader without reason. He must have done something.

Din put the kid in his pod after he fell asleep and locked the ship down before using the jet pack and flying to the location you gave him, skirting the outpost to not draw attention. He looked as he flew past, knowing you were down there, feeling closer to you than he had since you’d left the ship. Except maybe the few moments where he closed his eyes and pretended you were beside him instead of moaning over a com link.

The junk trader’s outfit was easy to spot, exactly as you’d described. You’d clearly been out here - he just couldn’t figure out why. It was small enough that he decided he didn’t need to take out any of the men in advance, he could just brute force his way in.

He landed in front of the men and drew his blaster.

“Hey, stop!” One of them started raising his rifle but Din shot him, dropping him where he stood. He turned his weapon to the other man.

“I’m not here for you,” he said. “You can run.”

The man’s eyes darted from the door to the Mandalorian before he took off, running into the desert, toward the outpost. Din holstered his weapon. That was easy.

“It didn’t make a difference,” a voice drifted outside. “She just stabbed him in the arm!”

Din shook his head. You’d definitely been here. He kicked in the door, four men standing around the desk. He found Kree quickly.

“Craner Kree,” he said. The man straightened up from his desk. “You owe someone money and they’ve put a price on your head. I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.”

The men around him stiffened, turning to face the Mandalorian.

“I don’t hold any bounties on you,” he said to them. “You’re free to leave. This is the only time you’ll get that offer.”

The first man fired, the blaster bolt pinging off Din’s beskar. He sighed, pulling his blaster and shooting the man. He dropped. There was a hail of blaster fire then, Cree dropping behind his desk. Din took the men out one by one, their shots doing nothing but filling the small room with the ringing sound they made as they bounced off his armor. The last man standing tried to flee, skirting around the outside edge of the room, but Din shot him as he passed. He holstered his weapon and approached the desk.

“Warm or cold, the pay’s the same,” he said. “Choice is yours.”

The man straightened, a knife in his hand. He brought it swinging down but it did nothing but clang off the steel. The Mandalorian grabbed the man’s hand and twisted until he dropped the weapon, snapping his wrist with a shout of pain. The knife clattered to his desk and Din pushed the man facedown onto it, cuffing him.

“You’re lucky I’ve been bored,” he said, hauling him up by the collar and out the door. “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled. Din just shoved him for the door, taking a speeder from the side of the building and flying back to the Crest.

He turned the com link on as he got closer, expecting to hear from you soon, and he was right, your voice appearing just as he was hauling Kree up the ramp.

“Mando?” You always asked. Like you were expecting him to just not answer you at some point. As if he could resist.

“Doll,” he replied. “Here with a friend of yours.”

“Have fun on the clean up crew?” You asked. You sounded amused.

Kree looked at the com link.

“That’s the Imp bitch who stole the boy!” He growled. That explained a bit more.

“Poor choice of words,” Din said, shoving the man to the ground before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to the carbonite chamber.

“Went on a rescue mission?” Din asked as he hauled the man back to his feet and shoved him into the chamber. Kree was about to say something else when Din started the freeze, the man’s words turning into a scream.

“Woman came into the bar looking for someone to get her son back,” you replied. “Kree’d taken him, saying he’d stolen something from the wreck he’d claimed.”

“Surprised you didn’t kill him yourself,” he replied.

“Didn’t want to risk the kid,” you said. “Plus, his mom was willing to go into an Imp bar and insult the Empire. Don’t want combat with a wild card like that if you can help it.”

Din smiled, the carbonite done. He pulled the slab out of the machine and put it to the side. He missed hearing your thoughts. You rarely said something that wasn’t worth saying but you were happy to say what was on your mind. Your voice drifting through the ship as you talked to the kid or muttered to yourself or made some biting comment to the Mandalorian had been strangely absent since you’d gone to the outpost.

“Hopefully closing in on the end of this operation,” you said, almost like you’d read his mind.

“The inn not up to your high standards?” He teased, going to sit on the rock outside and look toward the outpost so he could be looking at you, even if he couldn’t see you.

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “No pre-Empire starship bunk, though. Or hold floor, for that matter.”

He laughed.

“I like your laugh,” you said quietly.

“I like yours, too,” he said, watching where the outpost was on the horizon. You were so close, just a few clicks. He could be next to you in just a few minutes.

“And here I thought every sound I made just annoyed you,” you said it like you were joking, but there was something in your voice that said you weren’t sure. He thought for a moment, considering teasing you or joking back. But honesty felt less dangerous when you were miles away, not there for him to touch and be consumed by.

“You’re one of my favorite sounds,” he said quietly. He kept watching the haze of the outpost in the distance. You were silent for a moment and he was worried he’d said too much.

“You’re one of mine, too,” you said softly. Then you laughed a little. “First time I heard you without the modulator, I thought ‘damn, I’d listen to this man read ship maintenance logs and thank him for the privilege.’” His heart swelled in his chest, remembering how you subtly tilted your ear toward him when you sat, turned away, when his helmet was off. “I like the modulated version too, for the record.”

You were both silent for a moment. He could hear you breathing. He wondered if you were sitting up or laying down, if you were dressed or just in a shirt to sleep, if your hair was still braided or if you’d let it down.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” He asked after a while.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sighed. “Din… I meant what I said the other night. If there’s even a chance of you or the kid getting hurt, you leave me here.”

His stomach dropped. He couldn’t tell if you were saying this out of an abundance of caution or because you were worried about the next day. He wouldn’t be able to just leave you here, that he knew. He’d kill everyone on this planet before he just left you here.

“I won’t take unnecessary risks with the kid,” he replied.

“Don’t take them with you, either,” you said. You pressed on before he had a chance to argue. “You’re that boy’s dad, Din. Whether you understand or know that yet or not, he needs you. No one else can be that for him. Don’t risk the kid’s dad, OK?”

“What are you afraid will happen, Doll?” He asked softly. “Tomorrow. What are you afraid of?”

“That you’ll do something stupid,” you replied.

“I mean with the plan,” he said. “You’re afraid of something, it’s something specific. What is it.”

You were silent for a moment. Then you sighed.

“There are too many variables,” you said. “I don’t have enough control here. We don’t even know for sure if the guy I’m meeting is Shadrin. What if it’s an Imp who knows me? What if there’s a whole fucking squadron of them? If I’m captured or overrun, I don’t want you coming in here on a suicide mission out of some sense of misplaced obligation.”

“Then get out,” he said. “I’ll come get you, right now. You don’t have to do this.”

“If the Imps are planning something, we have to stop it,” you said. “The plan is… It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we can hope for.”

“Doll…” he began but you cut him off.

“What if their plan involves the kid?” You said quietly. “They wanted him enough that they hired you. You said they need him for research. What if it’s for this and we could stop it, right here?” You were both silent for a moment. “We have to try, Din.”

“I’ll be ready to go tomorrow,” he said. “Say the word and I’ll get you out.”

“Can you do me a favor?” You said after a minute.

“Yes.”

“Tell the kid,” you took a deep breath, your voice catching. “Tell the kid I love him, OK?”

Din closed his eyes.

“He loves you, too.”

He wasn’t talking about the kid.

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #the mandalorian #slow burn #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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daitranscripts · 2 months ago

Text

Iron Bull Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About Seheron

Iron Bull Masterpost

Only available with positive approval after asking about the Ben-Hassrath

PC: Can you tell me more about Seheron?

Iron Bull: It was a damn ugly place. Only getting uglier when I left. Between the fog warriors, the Tal-Vashoth, my people, and the Vints, you were lucky to go a day without blood. What do you want to know?

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Tell me of the fog warriors. [2]

Investigate: Tell me about Seheron natives. [3]

Investigate: Tell me of the Tal-Vashoth. [4]

Investigate: Tell me about Tevinter. [5]

General: Goodbye. [6]

2 - Investigate: Tell me of the fog warriors. PC: What were the fog warriors like? Iron Bull: They were the worst of the rebels. They trained for stealth attacks. They made this fog—I never saw any mages, so I figure it was alchemy, not magic. They were almost invisible in it. I’d be on patrol in the market square, the fog would roll in, and before I knew it, half my squad dead without a sound.

Dialogue options:

Special: You sound impressed.

[Back to 1]

7 - Special: You sound impressed. PC: It almost sounds like you admire them. Iron Bull: They didn’t use poison, they didn’t hurt civilians, and they were damn good fighters. You have to respect that. Plus, they hit the Vints as hard as they hit us. Hearing some terrified magister scream, “My slaves! Where are my slaves?” in the fog always put a smile on my face. [back to 1]

3 - Investigate: Tell me about Seheron natives. PC: What are things like for the natives of Seheron? Iron Bull: I remember one guy. He made these things, fish wrapped in thin bread? Nice guy, talked to him every morning. So one time, I’m asking about his bad back, and I see he’s nervous, trying to tell me something with his eyes. Next thing I know, his assistants draw knives and come at my team. The rebels had forced him to poison my food.

Dialogue options:

Special: What happened?

[Back to 1]

8 - Special: What happened? PC: And then? Iron Bull: I’d seen how nervous he was, so I hadn’t eaten anything. Couple of my guys weren’t so lucky. We killed the rebels. I lost two men to the poison, another to knife wounds. My friend who made the fish wraps died with a knife in his throat. Close-quarters fight. He was caught in the middle. That is what things are like for the natives of Seheron. [back to 1]

4 - Investigate: Tell me of the Tal-Vashoth. PC: Tell me about the Tal-Vashoth. Iron Bull: When Qunari can’t handle the fighting in Seheron or lose faith in the Qun, they go rogue. They flee into the wilderness and turn into bandits, attacking everyone. They’re vicious, savage. You look at them, and you can see why my people needed the Qun to stay civilized.

Dialogue options:

Special: Then aren’t you Tal-Vashoth?

[Back to 1]

9 - Special: Then aren’t you Tal-Vashoth? PC: Isn’t that what you did, though? Iron Bull: Hey. When I burned out, I didn’t go rogue. I reported in and went where the Ben-Hassrath sent me. I’m doing my job, serving the Qun out here. I’m not some bandit. I am nothing like them. [back to 1]

5 - Investigate: Tell me about Tevinter. PC: Tell me about the Tevinter people you fought. Iron Bull: The Vints sent forces to Seheron every autumn. Guess they didn’t like the summer heat. We had some good fights on the beaches. Standing in knee-high water foaming red with blood, ships on fire around us… The cities were worse. Free bit of advice? Don’t let the Inquisition forces get suckered into urban combat.

Dialogue options:

Special: What’s so bad about Tevinter?

[Back to 1]

10 - Special: What’s so bad about Tevinter? PC: Why do you hate Tevinter forces so much? What makes them so bad? Iron Bull: It’s not their armies. It’s their spies. They bloodied Seheron year-round, killing loyalists, supporting rebels. Alam had no city administrator. Nobody would accept the position. The last four who held it died inside a year. Trying to conquer a country is one thing. Making it so that nobody can live there? That just screws everyone. [back to 1]

6 - General: Goodbye. PC: See you later, Bull. Iron Bull: Nice talking with you, boss.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age transcripts #dai transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dai dialogue #dragon age inquisition transcripts #dragon age inquisition dialogue #the iron bull #iron bull #long post

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corneille-but-not-the-author · 2 months ago

Text

Painting

"Please, don't move, your Majesty."

It's uncomfortable. So uncomfortable. I have been staying here for the past hours, striking a pose and waiting for this man, I think his name is Asclepios, to finish his painting.

And for what ?

We are four centaurs. Me, my brother Chiron, and my two daughters, Leto and Terpsichore. The only family I have left.

Last time we did this sort of thing, we were about twenty. Father was alive. Mother was alive. Abyss my brothers and sister, Paris, Patroclus and Helen were alive.

It was three years ago but it feels like a century passed since these happier moments.

Now my brother hates me. Because I want to protect the little things we have left. He calls me a tyrant, calls me a despot. He thinks he's better than me.

And that's why he chose this pose on this painting.

Maybe it's the last time we see each other. Tomorrow, he'll go with his friends and lovers to Jarghalsaikhan's army. Maybe I’ll never see him again.

But he still smiles like he is in the right and I am in the wrong.

And future generations will see it. They will remember our rivalry. They will ask why his smile is so defiant, so rebellious. They will ask why I’m despaired, why my eyes are far in the distance, the eyes of a king who was not supposed to be.

"It's finished, your Majesty."

Six months have passed. The painting is stunning, but that was expected. On it, my two daughters are equal to themselves. Terpsichore is a snake, like the ones she have tatooed on her arms. A beautiful and dangerous snake, and I admire her beauty, as grand as her mother's. Leto is the contrary, brutally honest, but brave, with loads of hope.

My face is a lie, on this painting. I never had such a regalian face during the painting sessions. Asclepios, whom I grew closer and closer of during these six months, must have spared me the indignity of having a frown, or anxiety wrinkles, or anything that would make me less of a king.

Still, this painting is a lie.

Because Chiron, my dear brother, is smiling.

And since he came back from Osghour, he has not smiled once.

"Leave me alone, brother."

Chiron's voice is tired, so far away from a year ago, where he would run everywhere and tell me I'm a coward, a traitor to the Esnothi people. Now, he's training all day long in the courtyard.

What have you seen, Chiron, that my eyes did not see ?

Why must you hate me when I love you so dearly ?

You run. Run away from your problems. Run away from me. You were a rebel, you would tell me when I’m wrong, and look at you now. Too afraid to fight.

The Games are drawing near. And you will lose, because you refuse a capable team.

You refuse to prove me wrong anymore.

And I won’t stand for it any longer.

“Fine, I’ll leave.”

But you won’t be alone much longer, brother.

I’ll make sure of it.

And if you fail, this time, it will only prove me right.

That I was right to hate those other species for taking father, mother. That I was right to pursue what our ancestors planed for us. Might makes right, after all. And I won the Games, I became King.

Even though you still beat me at our common trial, my team won, and so I won. Which means I am the best king our family had to offer, whether you like it or not. Still, this uncomfortable feeling won’t go away.

Do they deserve to live in chains ?

Did our parents, our family, die because of their pride ?

Am I committing the same mistake ?

Those Games will decide it.

Whether I win or lose, I’ll finally know who was right, and who was wrong. And maybe, after that, you’ll cease to haunt my every step. You and your arrogant smile. Until then, dear brother, we are at war. And I’ll give you the best army I can find to defeat me.

#lysara #writing challenge #5th of october #nessus #chiron #Leto #Terpsichore

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dreamcast641 · 5 months ago

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Thank you @islandtarochips for the tag!

A little list to showcase your OC's favorite things

-Name: Claire Ekaterina Makarova

-Universe: SCP foundation(she is in others but those are AUs)

-Favorite book(and why): 1984 by George Orwell. Generally Claire's reading is limited on scientific books, biology ones in particular as she loves to expand her knowledge on her field but she finds old readings rather interesting and she took a particular liking in Orwell's writings, animal farm is also one of these.

-Favorite song: Dark beach by pastel ghost. She finds a somewhat sense of peace in this kind of electronic music. She loves the muffled singing.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: It wasn't like this at the start, but when she gained a bit of confidence she started to love the elegant dress she uses to go clubbing. She would look at herself in the mirror, sometimes admiring how it brings up her features and how her untie hair match it so well;

-Favorite "little treat": Claire is a sweet lover. She is a chocolate and strawberry fan for sure and those two mixed together is the end for her. Id say then the strawberries deep in any kind of chocolate are her favorite in absolutely;

-Favorite person in their lives: Claire does not hold preference for anyone. She gets affectionate to who she loves in the same way;

-Dream home: a cottage in a isolate area in the mountains;

-Dream life: A life of freedom where she isn't tie to anything or anyone again. She wants to explore the world without pressures, without fear of dying.

-Name: Dmitry Vasilij Makarov

-Universe: SCP foundation (others as well but those are AUs)

-Favorite book (and why): the interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud. Despite Dmitry finding Freud methods outdated and often telling that we advanced a lot when it comes to psychoanalisis, he also find some of his readings interesting such as the dream related ones. He doesn't take seriously the book tho, but rather a start to continue his studies and finding new discoveries about the oniric that others would not know.

-Favorite song: Dmitry does not have a favorite song, however he listen to ambient sounds when he's working. The beach waves one being his favorite.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: a black sweater with turtleneck that you can often see under his labcoat. There is no particular reason for him to like it, he just comfortable with anything that covers his skin completely.

-Favorite "little treat": He sometimes find himself to buy the buldak ramen when he has nothing else to make for lunch or dinner, not that he eats that often tho. The ramen thing has probably become a dependence and also he can handle spice well.

-Favorite person in their lives: It might sound like a joke because at first glance it would be impossible to know that this man has a favorite person but instead there is and is Maria, the mother that took him when his biological one left for the GOC.

-Dream home: Something small near the beach. It's gonna be climatized tho as he can't handle the heat at all. But he would just be there for the sound of the waves crashing on the sand.

-Dream life: He never thought of what life could be outside the foundation walls but he would have loved to raise a terrarium with snakes.

-Name: Evelyn "Mandy" Ross.

-Universe: SCP foundation

-Favorite book (and why): The book thief by Markus Zusak. Being a veteran of WW2 who served as a nurse for the US army at the time, she often find herself to read about what happened in the past, as some sort of closure to the trauma that she went through. She has read them all, her guts wrenching everytime at what she never saw and that was under her nose all this time. She took a particular liking in the book thief as somewhat she relates to Lesiel, the protagonist.

-Favorite song: Over the rainbow by Judy Garland/Glenn Miller. One of the most beloved cinema music and also one beloved to her as well as she listened to it once before drafting herself for the war. It holds so much memories for her both bad and good and often find herself playing it for her children when those cried as babies.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: Mandy still has the blue cape that nurses used during ww2. She still keeps it on her shoulders.

-Favorite "little treat": snickers!

-Favorite person in their lives: even tho she holds no contact with any of them, Mandy is still fond of her two children, Claire and Dmitry.

-Dream home: A little home in a rural area, where the town is small and there is no much people.

-Dream life: Mandy holds so much regret for her decisions, she would love to go back in the past and change it all. She would love to become a doctor and help people without being forced to a life in prison. She wish she was never born with her anomaly.

-Name: Lilja Järvinen

-Universe: Rainbow Six Siege

-Favorite book (and why): Anything related to k9 training. Ofc, as a dog trainer who is hyperfixated on anything related to that, she has a vast collection of books that point at dogs and their training for the forces.

-Favorite song: Killer by Mareux

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: Any baggy clothes in her drawer. There is no particular reason for it, just that she is more comfortable with them on. The only problem is that she often stumbles on her own pants while walking.

-Favorite "little treat": She concede herself a trail of cinnamon rolls at least once every week. She usually takes them from her local bakery, nowadays they even prepare so before so she could be served immediately, not that she ever complains of course, shes a usual customer after all.

-Favorite person in their lives: at the moment she feels that she has no favorite in her life. She isn't that much close to any of the other operators and she finds herself often overthinking that somehow she is annoying to them.

-Dream home: her own childhood home is her dream home. It's was a farm with livestock and shepherd dogs not so far from a small town. That's where she gained passion for training dogs and improving that with the use of her knowledge in robotics.

-Dream life: She never really thinks about that, at the moment she is content with what she has.

#original character #original characters #oc art #scp ocs #scp mtf #scp oc art #scp oc #rainbow six oc #rainbow six siege #oc games #oc game

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sollannaart · 1 year ago

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The Battle of Leipzig, October, 1813

By mid-October, Napoleon gathered all his forces near Leipzig, where on the 16th the started a battle that would later be called the Battle of the Nations .

Jan Czesław Moniuszko, Prince Józef at Leipzig

Commanding the Poles incorporated into the Grand Army as the 8th Corps, Prince Joseph defended the village of Markkleeberg south of the city. As he reported to Napoleon, on the 16th

"the enemy did not gain an inch of ground […] the army showed admirable zeal and endurance […] but I lost 1/3 of my men and I have no ammunition."

And on that very day, the 16th of October, the Emperor appointed Prince Poniatowski a Marshal of France, with the official nomination taking place a day later.

Prince Józef Poniatowski being presented the marshals baton, Reville's engraving after Martinet

As diarists recall, prince Józef received both the news about the nomination and the announcement that followed quite calmly, or even indifferently. However, he considered that moment not appropriate to insult the emperor with a refusal. So first Poniatowski asked consent of Frederick Augustus, King of Saxony and Duke of Warsaw, to accept the nomination. Then he hastened assure his subordinates that

"whatever happens he would never replace the Polish uniform with another one."

Also anticipating that the news of his new appointment might not receive support in Warsaw, prince Józef asked Tomasz Ostrowski

"to send to the capital as early as possible, by a known means, an explanation of the circumstances and an assurance everyone that if there is no war for Poland, no one will see him wearing anything but a civilian clothes".

Together with this, however, Poniatowski promised that in any case he would have to escort Napoleon to France. As for the global situation, the 17th of October was a day of rest and re-ranking of troops for both the Frenchmen and the Coalition , thus there was almost no fighting then.

Polish infantry fighting at Connewitz-Probstheida, a drawing by Raffet

On October 18, Prince Joseph was defending Probstheida, a village southeast of Leipzig. But that day the fighting was even more fierce than before. The French troops held their positions, but by the end of the day they were exhausted and depleted as a result of the intensifying attacks of the Allies, who, in addition, had on the previous day received reinforcements in the form of General Bennigsen's Czech Army and the Army of the North commaded by Bernadotte. Considering all this, that evening Napoleon considered the battle a lost cause. So, he then began organizing the retreat. The corps of General Reynier, Marshal Macdonald and Prince Poniatowski were to defense the rear guard of the French. They were to hold the city of Leipzig for 24 hours for the Grande Armée to gain as much time as possible.

Napoleon resigns after the Battle of Leipzig, From a painting by Ludwik Braun

Having arrived in Leipzig at nine o'clock in the evening, Napoleon stayed at the hotel "At the Prussian king", where he asked Prince Józef to come. They then had, according to Baron Agathon Fain's account, the following conversation:

- Prince, you will defend the southern suburbs. – Sire! I have very few men, most of my corps have, following Prince Berthier's orders, crossed the Elsther at night. - How many Poles are there with you? - My usual escort, i.e. two hundred of the Krakuses, the same number of cuirassiers, staff and several cavalry units, in total about eight hundred people. - Well, this will be the way for you to defend the southern suburbs and cover the retreat of the army with the Prince of Tarentum… For 800 Poles are worth 8,000 other soldiers. - Your Majesty can trust us, we will cover the retreat, even if every one of us dies!

These were the last words the prince addressed to the emperor. After saying goodbye he looked "preoccupied and sad". What's more, that meeting was probably the last time Poniatowski and Napoleon seeing each other...

January Suchodolski, Napoleon and Józef Antoni Poniatowski at the Battle of Leipzig

On the morning of the last day of the battle, Polish troops were defending a section of the southern suburbs near the Peters Thor gate. Moreover, that time they had not only to fight the enemy, but also there intensified clashes with the locals, who were shooting at the retreating units from the windows.

Author Unknown, Prince Józef Poniatowski during the Battle of Leipzig

At about 11:00 Prince Józef found it impossible to conduct further defensive operations in this place and ordered a retreat. The Poles moved along the esplanade, where, near the Wasserkunst fountain, they fight the enemy in an organized manner for the last time.

Jan Chełmiński, Prince Józef Poniatowski at the head of the troops at Leipzig

During that skirmish Poniatowski was probably wounded (probably not first time). As Klemens Kołaczkowski recalled:

He received a wound in the hand from a rifle bullet; he ordered it to be treated, got back on the horse and, holding his hand on a scarf, he did not stop fighting.

Then the Poles, having left the city walls, were looking for a crossing. The first on their way was the Pleisse River, deprived of all bridges on Napoleon's orders. Kołaczkowski:

Prince Poniatowski <…> was exposed to the fire of enemy tirailleurs, in dense troops approaching from all sides. General Bronikowski, standing next to the prince, advised him to seek salvation by swimming. But the prince answered him quickly: "One must die bravely!" (Il faut mourir en brave - AS) He ordered the rest of the escort to attack enemy tirailleurs one more time, but that managed to stop their advance only for a moment. There was not a single moment to lose! In this last resort, the prince finally followed the opinion of the officers surrounding him, mounted his horse and jumped into the river with him!

Jan Bogumił Plersch, Prince Poniatowski crossing Pleisse

The water was flooding the banks high up; the horse, carried away by its momentum, could not reach the shore. At this sight, captain Blechamps from the staff rushes after the prince, helps him swim and get to the opposite shore.

But there was one more river to cross – the Elster. Which had also been devoid of all its bridges except one. But even that one was earlier that day blown up by mistake when a significant part of the French were still on the other bank.

Retreat of the French from Leipzig, October 1813, an English engraving

What's more, in German Elster means "magpie". And according to legend, a gypsy woman once told Prince Joseph that he would die because of a magpie. And that's how it happened.

Tadeusz Korpal, Prince Poniatowski at Leipzig

Kołaczkowski:

The prince was walking on foot through the gardens lying between Elster and Pleisse: here, he was shot in the side by a rifle bullet for the second time and fell into the arms of the officers surrounding him. However, he soon regained consciousness and, with the help of his adjutant, mounted his horse with difficulty, swaying in the saddle. The Poles started to appeal to him to take care of himself and, handing over his command to another general, to preserve himself for the homeland. But the prince's courage seemed to increase with danger. "No! no!" he shouted "God has entrusted me with the honor of the Poles, I will only give it to God". The engineer's officer comes running and points to the most convenient place to cross; the prince, walking along the river bank, heads in that direction; but when he notices the enemy unit blocking his path, he shouts loudly: "There they are!" He turns his horse and rushes to Elster. Weakened by his wounds, he can no longer steer his horse, but the beast can only follow the current and cannot climb the high, precipitous shore. All this happened under a hail of bullets. At that final moment, the prince receives his third wound, slips from his horse and, carried away by the rush of the water, begins to sink. The good Blechamps comes to the aid again. In noble zeal, he throws himself into the river and grasps the prince. He was seen holding his arms and trying to lift the prince's head above the water, but the efforts of this noble man were in vain. They both disappeared forever in the currents of the treacherous river! Such was the death of a Polish hero, a beloved leader who preferred death to ignominious captivity.

Prince Poniatowski at Leipzig (enlarged)

According to another legend, at Leipzig prince Józef was to see the notorious White Lady of the Poniatowskis for the last time.

#józef poniatowski #poniatowski #1813 #Leipzig #the battle of leipzig #napoleonic wars #napoleon bonaparte #Jan Czesław Moniuszko #Ludwik Braun #January Suchodolski #Jan Chełmiński #Jan Bogumił Plersch #Tadeusz Korpal

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stackthedeck · 1 year ago

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Can you imagine if someone, After they unmask Spider-Man, do the math about the age he started fighting crime.

I Can imagine some of his enemies being like "oh god, I almost killed a kid"

Or some of his friend being horrified by how young he was. Especially when they discover it was at this age he gain a guilt complex

respectfully, what spider-man villain has a problem with fighting children lmao like I see this joke a lot about Peter's villains freaking out about fighting a teenager, but I think the substantially funnier joke is that no one gives a shit about Peter being a kid. Real fuck them kids energy you know?

Do we, collectively as Spider-Man fans, actually think any of Peter's villains give a shit. Like the only one I could imagine having hesitations is maybe the Punisher but he shows up when Peter is an adult. Like villains introduced before Amazing Spider-Man #30? Norman doesn't have a problem with hitting kids canonically, Doc Ock is like that, etc. Maybe the Lizard, Connors is cool but idk early Lizard appearances show him as having pretty limited control when he's the Lizard. Idk I'll think on which Spider-Man villains draw the line at killing a teenager

also i promise i'm not trying to be mean... but like I think his friends would not give a single shit about him being spider-man at 16. like say Harry by nothing short of a fanfic miracle, survives and works through everything after his dad's death and forgives Peter. what's he going to do feel bad that his dad was hitting him too? I mean probably, but like they've got a lot of shit to unpack together. Flash enlisted in the army at 18 and really admired Spider-Man before and after he knew he was Peter, I think he sees it as nothing but heroic. MJ canonically always knew because of a retcon that I think is bullshit, but nonetheless. Gwen never knew Peter was Spider-Man which I do think is one of the greatest missed opportunities of comic books, maybe she'd have a bigger reaction to him starting young, but like she'd have a bigger crisis to deal with if she found out. Shit, what other friends does Peter have? Johnny Storm? The dude that started at 15, yeah he'd make fun of Peter for getting into the game late. My niece was fighting Doctor Doom when she was six, web-head, sorry the shocker brained you before your SATs lmao

I think why I'm struggling with his friends having any reaction to like Peter's age is that when they do find out they're not that far removed from 16, they remember being that young and feeling like they were basically adults. I mean you're not basically an adult at 16, you just feel like it, but really the idea is only horrifying to us as the reader because we're not the intended audience of the high school years anymore. kinda like reading hunger games hits different when you're frontal cortex finishes cooking

I think the only kind of person that would have to have a reaction to Peter starting being a hero so young would have to be like someone with good parents and a stable home life and in comic books that's just the latest generation of heroes and like they did a whole arc about it

#asks #this comes off as mean and i'm sorry #send me a villain or a peter support character that would actually be upset at his age and I'll write a little fic or something #you know who's villains actually would feel bad about punching a kid? Miles #Miles gets unmasked by the vulture and he's like shit you're the brat dating my granddaughter #the vulture would 1000% hit a kid just not one connected to him

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canayams-art · 1 year ago

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YOU JUST PUT ALL THE MESSED UP ALL OVER THE PLACE THOUGHTS I HAD ABOUT LQQ AND MQ INTO WORDS AND I'M ABSOLUTELY SO SO GRATEFUL FOR THE WORD VOMIT DONT WORRY SKDJEKJDKD

like i honestly didn't even think much about them aside from that one hc about lqq growing up worshiping mq and now i literally cannot stop thinking about them. lqq's gratitude and earnestness and mq's conflicting feelings regarding the attention he's getting from him is making me insane

the proximity in their ascensions is also a good excuse to think about possible lingering resentment towards yong'an from mq's side, because like while i do think he would be less sentimental when it comes to xianle kingdom as a whole, it still was his home which he fought to protect and lqq a living reminder he failed. and while i don't think he would necessarily regret his suggestion on how to deal with the yong'an army (especially since it was turned down immediately after he said it lol), i do think he would spend unhealthy amount of time thinking about it. but oh fx just bringing it up in front of lqq and mq seeing his reaction to it actually might tho

THE ANGST?!? OF LQQ'S VIEW OF HIS KIND AND GENEROUS GOD SHATTERING??? OF MQ THINKING "ah of course this was meant to break as well, of course he will always be hated no matter what"?! ONLY THIS TIME IT'S ABOUT SOMETHING THAT NOT EVEN HE CAN DENY BECAUSE THIS TIME IT'S ACTUALLY TRUE!!!!

but but also have we considered how much would lqq remind mq of prince xl 👀🫢

IMAGINE THAT CAT FINALLY BEING LET OUT OF THE BAG !!! Like— Mq absolutely never planned on telling lqq about it, especially since it never amounted to any real action. But lqq finding out about it— hearing from someone else altogether— I can only imagine how he would feel given his overwhelming sense of righteousness. He admired mq as a savior despite the way mq wanted to cause his people harm in an arguably cruel way. It never happened but it was discussed— the idea exists and had no one told mq “no,” then it very well may have happened.

I want to believe lqq would move past the dark ideations that come as a consequence of war— he took in and accepted the Xianle refugees during his time as a mortal. Because of lqq and thanks to xl’s sacrifice, the very tense relationship between former Xianle citizens and his own Yong’an people never amounted to a second war (despite the meddling of Qi Rong). He united them and managed to maintain stability. Like mq’s situation, things would’ve ended very different if lqq had heard his father’s dying wishes and not his teacher’s false confessions. And even though he doesn’t find out the full extent of the gilded banquet massacre until wayyyy later, I still want to think lqq recognizes that mq didn’t get to follow through with the idea and never harmed anyone from Yong’an after Xianle’s fall even though he definitely had the capability. Instead mq inadvertently helped Yong’an and then left them be— mq didn’t hold resentment so maybe,,,,, neither would lqq. Over time, of course.

I definitely think lqq’s short fuse for justice might get the better of him. But given some time to be calm and think about it more, he probably would’ve seen the truth of it— otherwise rather than falling asleep at heavenly court he might be glaring daggers at mq the entire time. That boy has an overarching sense for being carefree despite the traumas he’s endured— he is capable of moving past adversity.

Mq’s secret being revealed while they’re both young gods is especially interesting to think about— the wounds from the war have healed but there’s still some scars left on both parties. He definitely bristles up when he’s accused of things and he doesn’t easily forget the way people see him. On one hand he would be thinking “It never happened so why are we talking about it??” But on the other it’s the slight sting of having someone who genuinely looked up to him suddenly thinking so little of him and it was inadvertently his fault. Sure someone else spilled the beans, but the one who spilled them isn’t as responsible for them as the one who owns them. If nothing else, maybe mq could learn something about himself from this.

Like— I think in time they’d be FINE. Maybe lqq would see mq differently but maybe mq wouldn’t feel like he has anything to hide anymore. Maybe the versions of them that come out of it are the versions they should’ve started off with. Or maybe it’s how they decide to start over from it that really matters.

Whatever the case, I love thinking of these insane hypothetical scenarios !!! Sorry again for having so many thoughts and very little organization! You’ve really tapped into a part of my brain that has me feeling absolutely deranged about this.

(Also going CRAZY thinking about mq seeing prince xl in lqq— mq seeing xl in him even though he doesn’t yet know that xl was lqq’s beloved teacher. The nostalgia that comes with seeing a reflection of someone you very much wanted to call a friend but never could in the end. Maybe lqq rekindles that feeling. Maybe mq lets himself be who he wanted to be around xl. I’m normal (deranged) I’m soooo normal.)

#yams uncans #qianqing #yeah I think I’m going sith qianqing for them so I’ll be updating the tags on our previous asks to accommodate lol #but aaaaaahhhhh thank you for humoring me in all of this anon!#these messages have been the highlight of the past couple days for me #tgcf #lang qianqiu #mu qing

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semper-legens · 3 months ago

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72. As Meat Loves Salt, by Maria McCann

Owned?: No, library Page count: 532 My summary: Jacob Cullen is a man out of sorts. Of aristocratic birth, yet reduced to the life of a manservant, he spreads anti-monarchist pamphlets among his fellow servants and supports Cromwell in the civil war. But when trouble comes knocking, he is forced to flee, carrying nothing but a few pilfered jewels and the clothes on his back. From there, the New Model Army looks to be his saviour - but a chance meeting with a young man named Christopher Ferris proves to alter his destiny forever… My rating: 3.5/5 My commentary:

This is an interesting book. I wasn't sure I liked it at first - even up to about page 100, I was ready to come on here and give it the most scathing review. And yet. There was something about it - something complex, something gripping, something I'm not entirely sure that I can give name to - that held me back. By about halfway, I confess, I was meeting this book and this story more on its own terms. It had first come on my radar when I was researching books for a Pride month display; although I didn't ultimately use it on said display, the idea of a couple of gay men meeting and falling in love in England around the time of the Civil War intrigued me. This book was more than that, though. It was about class, about violence, about community, about secrets, about God…I'm glad I didn't just give up with it and gave it a fair shake, in the end. It was intriguing, and I am ultimately glad that I read it.

First, we should talk about this book's protagonist, Jacob. I have to admit that he was a lot of the reason I disliked this book early on. The problem is that he comes out of the gate as rude, brash, argumentative, and also a literal murderer and rapist. Now, I'm not gonna say that your protagonist needs to be morally pure and never do anything wrong at all, but starting the book with Jacob being generally quite unlikeable meant that, funnily enough, I didn't much like him. A large part of Jacob's arc involves his anger and how he deals with it, but I wish there had been more to Jacob than that rage to start with so we get a fuller picture, because the scene where he rapes his new wife Caro while on the run was hard to read.

He is, however, a more interesting protagonist for not being perfect; in the part where he is in the New Model Army onwards, his possessiveness towards Ferris and his desires to drive away any other people interested in Ferris, even while not necessarily being conscious of the reasons why he feels this way, makes for an engaging conflict alongside their deepening relationship. And, of course, I really like the idea of seeing historical LGBT+ people struggling with their sexuality in a way that feels historically authentic. Jacob believes he is going to hell for sleeping with Ferris. He believes that what he is doing is sinful, and while it's heartbreaking, it's also reasonable for what someone of this era might think. And I have to admire that, honestly. He's also an interesting figure in that he's a formerly wealthy man forced to live the life of (initially) a servant, and there's some interesting class dynamics going on. The wealth he grew up in goes a way to explain his arrogance and selfishness, as well as his resentment of authority. And when he runs away with Ferris and there is a conflict between Ferris' desire to live on a commune on the Commons and his desire to stay in London and be a printer, there's a class element to that as much as anything else. He wants to be a free man, but he wants to be a free man on his own terms, never beholden to anyone, which is hard for someone living in the era he is in.

Ferris, meanwhile, is Jacob's polar opposite. Smaller, fair, and idealistic, Ferris is the golden-haired golden boy of this book. A tragic past, a questionable relationship with Jacob, dreams of living free on the land among brothers and equals, and of course an atheistic outlook, Ferris brings a lot of the spark to the narrative. I found him compelling, particularly as (due to the first-person narration) we only ever see him through Jacob's eyes, meaning we can never tell what he is thinking the same way that we can Jacob. His gentle courting of Jacob, coupled with his obvious affection for him and wariness of his more violent outbursts, are engaging, and I really like his more radical (for the time) views on the world. He is the thinker and the artist while Jacob is brute strength. They make for a good pair of narrative foils.

And finally, history. One thing that initially put me off this book was its insistence in using a cod-17th century dialect for the dialogue and narration. I don't think that sort of thing is necessarily bad, but you have to be very careful about how you use it to avoid alienating the modern reader, and the early examples of dialogue felt very stilted and old-fashioned in an unappealing way. I will admit, however, that I got more in pace with it as the book progressed, so that might just be a reflection of me acclimating to the text rather than a downside of this device. I'm no expert on the English Civil War, but the history as presented in this book seemed pretty plausible. Jacob joins the New Model Army, is trained as a pikeman, sees a few battles, then flees the army with Ferris to make a new life on the commons near London. It feels authentic, from what I know of the 17th century this is a perfectly plausible life to have led, so I have to give credit there. The one thing I will criticise is that the author seems to just ramble a little from historical idea to historical idea - once Jacob and Ferris have left the army, it doesn't really factor into the plot any more, and the 'setting up a commune' thing takes precedence. To be fair, though, I didn't really feel like the army parts were needless, just that the royalist-versus-parliamentary angle on the book's politics wasn't picked up again, which is odd given that it provides the inciting incident for the plot.

Next up, two young women fight the risen dead.

#As Meat Loves Salt #Maria McCann #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #3.5

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