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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A FRESH START [19]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: violence, blood, injuries, mild non descriptive torture, indirect homicide(?), but also fluff. mixed in with all that.

Word Count: 5,514

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

#19: MY BOYS NEEDED ME

"i will hurt you for this. i don't know how yet, but give me time. a day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

-George RR Martin (A Clash of Kings)

Grogu was an overall well behaved kid in the grand scheme of things. Was he mischievous? Yes. A menace to any local wildlife? Absolutely. However, he was always very good about listening to Din. Well, mostly. That being said, Grogu was still a young kid mentally, and he was not immune to having complete and total toddler sized meltdowns when he felt slighted. The biggest temper tantrum Din had been witness to was ages ago when a sleep deprived Grogu lost his snack while Din was running on a hunt, and they had left the planet before Din could replace the cookies.

Today beat that in a landslide.

“Ma! Ma! Ma!” Grogu beat his silver ball against the glass repeatedly with each cry for you. The first twenty minutes of the flight had just been the child screeching in frustration, and had dissolved to this tactic when Grogu was too tired to cry. “Ma! Ma! Ma⏤”

“Grogu, stop.” Din called back.

“No! Ma!”

“Ad’ika, please⏤”

“No! Ma!” Grogu began to rapidly slap the metal ball against the glass. “Buir, digur Ma!”

“I didn’t forget her, ad’ika.” Din sighed and tried to calm him for the hundredth time. “She had to stay behind. She’ll be there when we get⏤”

Grogu swapped back to screaming angrily. Din huffed and leaned forward to activate a holocall. The child paused in his tantrum when he saw the screen pop up and began to crawl down from his perch in the droid’s seat. The call was answered and your pretty features filled his screen. Despite his frustration of having to hear his child howl and beat glass for the last half hour, his lips spread into a broad smile at the sight of you.

You grinned. “Do you miss me already, Djarin?”

“Yes.” Din blurted. Grogu crawled out onto Din’s lap and began to cry in blubbering sobs while holding his arms up as if you’d be able to scoop him up through the screen. Your eyes widened, and Din wrapped an arm around his son and rubbed his back soothingly. “He didn’t realize we were saying bye to you on the tarmac. He’s been throwing a tantrum since we left.”

“Ma!” Grogu hiccuped in his sobs.

Din watched your own lip quiver as you shook your head. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s okay.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched in admiration as you remotely calmed the kid down. It looked like you were in the clinic right now based on the white coat you wore, and things must not have been too busy since you didn’t seem in a rush. Din stayed silent for the next fifteen minutes, scratching Grogu’s back, while you spoke to him and sang him songs. Eventually, Grogu fell asleep⏤ exhausted from his tantrum.

“Thank you.” Din sighed. “He was miserable.”

“I feel so terrible.” You set your hands on your cheeks with a frown. “I didn’t realize he didn’t know. I just assumed⏤”

“Not your fault.” Din replied. “I think we all just assumed, and he assumed you’d be coming along.”

“I didn’t think…” The words left your lips in a breath and the way you bit them back made him think you hadn’t meant to let them slip at all. “Never mind.”

Din shook his head, adjusting Grogu so his head could rest on his shoulder more comfortably, and connected the dots. “Of course he’d be upset to part from you. You’re important to him. He loves you.” Like I do, the thought drifted through his mind involuntarily but not unwelcome. Din chuckled, “You’re Ma.”

“I know. I love him too.” You mumbled and something about hearing you declare your love for his son so blatantly and without pause stroked the domestic part of him making him preen in pride. “But, he was so excited to fly again and the two of you used to do this all the time without me…”

Din wondered if you truly didn’t know how important you had come to be to him and Grogu or if an anxiety of some kind kept you from fully accepting it. Din didn’t mind reminding you every single day if he had to. He’d take on that job happily. He hummed. “Before, you didn’t exist in our lives. You changed everything when you came, ner kar’ta.”

He saw your lips twitch up into a soft smile and he let out a comfortable sigh. You shook your head. “You’re more of a sweet talker than I ever would’ve guessed, Din Djarin.” Din chuckled. Your eyes left the screen momentarily and you pushed out an annoyed grumble. “I have four patients waiting for me. There was a small collision on the tarmac after you left. Nothing too serious, but⏤”

“I didn’t know you were busy.” Din stiffened. You had been on the call with him for nearing twenty minutes now. “I didn’t mean to drag you from work. You could’ve told me⏤”

“Relax.” You replied soothingly. The smile you wore took a mischievous edge and you winked at him. “My boys needed me.” It was embarrassing the way Din’s heart pounded in his chest like he was a small child experiencing attention from his school yard crush. The stupid, silly grin he had to have been wearing was at least hidden from view. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Have a good day, ner kar’ta.”

“Stay safe.”

Din ended the call and slumped back in his seat while rubbing Grogu’s back. Every other breath or so his small body would be racked with a shuddering sigh from all the sobbing he had gone through. Din blamed himself for this meltdown. He should’ve realized the toll this would have taken on his son. Grogu was young for his kind, but he had already seen so much loss in his life.

“Ni ceta, ad’ika.” Din murmured softly.

Three days had passed since Din had left with Grogu. The worst part of it, other than just missing them as badly as you did, was living in that house alone. That’s what it felt like with them gone. Just a house, not a home. It was bad enough that you nearly caved and asked to stay with Nima for the time being. You hated getting back from work and not hearing Grogu giggle mischievously while you made dinner or hearing Din murmuring a lullaby to get the boy to sleep. It was painfully quiet and empty. Considering Nima was already worried about you though, you didn’t ask to stay with her. Instead, you had settled on sleeping in Din’s room. At least there, nestled in his sheets with his smell enveloping you, you found some mild relief. You had even dragged Grogu’s stuffed blue frog to rest with you. It was pathetic, you knew, and you were embarrassed to even mention it to Din during your calls with him.

For that reason, work had become your favorite time of day. Luckily, you had actually been a bit more busy lately than usual. Well, lucky for you. Not so lucky for the poor souls wandering in with injuries.

“I kind of thought you’d be using a cautery.” Your newest patient of the day, a man who worked with the local fire department, chuckled. He was younger than you by a few years if you had to guess. The man, named Hale, was good looking, you couldn’t deny it, but his messy, slightly curled brown hair only made your heart ache as you thought of Din. “Figured I’d end up with a gnarly scar.”

“Nope.” You chirped and continued suturing the gash across his abdomen. It wasn’t too deep, he didn’t lose enough blood to require replacement, but it definitely needed attention. “You still might scar, but it won’t be very impressive I don’t think.”

“Shame. I was hoping it’d make me look a little bit cooler. Women like guys with some macho scars, right?”

Your mind drifted to Din’s skin. The various scars that littered his torso and arms. A sigh left your lips, “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Hale nodded once. He shifted in pain, wincing, and you reassured him that you were nearly done. Just a few more stitches. He cleared his throat. “So, is there trouble brewing that we should know about at the fire department?”

“Hmm?”

“Well,” Hale titled his head across the room, “The entire security force of Nevarro is in the clinic with Peli’s best mechanic and our only doctor. Sounds like trouble.”

His words made you glance over your shoulder to see Vanth and Mayfeld arguing over maker knows what while Nima texted away on her communicator. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. “No. No trouble. Apparently there’s just nothing better to do in this city than annoy me.”

Hale chuckled at your reply. A lot of people seemed to linger around you as if you were a ticking time bomb. These three were the worst of them. When you asked Din about it, he said he asked a few people to just keep a close eye on you. By a 'few people' he must mean all of Nevarro. You finished your work and bandaged over the sutures before helping him sit up. Hale pulled his shirt back on then cleared his throat while you began to clean up your supplies.

“So, uh, hey,” He gave you a nervous smile, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out and get a⏤”

“Whoa!” Nima cut in before the poor guy could even finish his sentence. Despite having been clear across the room, she was suddenly at your side and fully attentive. You resisted the urge to palm your face in exhaustion. Nima pointed in his face as if her next words were a threat. “Don’t you know nothing? She’s taken, big boy. She’s dating the marshal!”

The patient’s eyes glanced over at Vanth who had paused in his argument at Nima’s outburst. Him and Mayfeld were only a few steps away. Hale raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t he a little old to be dating her?”

Vanth’s eyes widened and he stormed over while Mayfeld howled in laughter. Vanth threw his arm around your shoulder then motioned to his face. “I am not too old to be dating her, kid.”

“We’re not dating!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

“Not because I’m too old though.” Vanth argued.

“Calm down, grandpa.” Mayfeld snickered. “You’re gonna stroke out.”

“I’m not old.” Vanth argued once more and you caved and allowed your face to fall into your hands.

Mayfeld smirked. “Your gray hair says otherwise.”

“At least, I have hair.”

“Hey!” Mayfeld’s laughs turned to outrage. “I’m not bald. This is a shaved look, is all.”

“Out!” You snapped and pointed to the door. All three of your guests shuffled to the door and you shot Hale, still sitting on the cot with wide and confused eyes, a sympathetic smile. “Give me one moment, and I’ll be back.” He nodded and you turned on your heel. Vanth, Mayfeld, and now Nima had picked up the argument out in the hall, but when you stepped out with your hands on your hips they all grew quiet. At least they had the decency to look ashamed. “What the kriff is going on?”

Nima shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“What do I⏤” You motioned to her. “I cleared you for light work in the garage, and yet you’re here hovering over my every step. And, you two,” You pointed at Vanth and Mayfeld who flinched at the end of your finger, “You two have an entire city to protect. Why the hell are you in my clinic?”

All three of them mumbled out an apologetic answer while not meeting your eyes. Nima crossed her arms and shot you a sheepish smile finally. “We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Keep you company!”

“And make sure no one makes a move on the marshal’s girl.” Mayfeld winked at you. Vanth added a grin at his words and offered you a cheerful thumbs up. Of course this would be the one thing these two agree on.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Get out of my clinic so I can get back to work.”

“You’re just gonna go back in there? He was flirting with you!” Nima argued.

“Yeah, and I think I’m gonna go in there and say yes to getting a drink.” You said and their eyes widened. You followed it up with a mocking grin. “Then, when Mando gets back and asks why I’m dating a random man from the fire department I’ll tell him it’s because you three pushed me to insanity.” Vanth winced, Nima shifted awkwardly, and Mayfeld grimaced. “How’s that?”

Mayfeld cleared his throat. “Would really love it if you didn’t do that. I don’t want Mando to try and kill me. Again.”

“Out.” You replied. The three of them rushed away and you rolled your eyes in response. It was sweet of them to care, but their lingering presence was going to drive you up a kriffing wall. You hurried back to the main room and shot Ren another apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about them. They mean well.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. So, if not the cowboy, then the other Marshal? The Mandalorian. You’re dating him?”

“I…” You shrugged. “It’s⏤ Not officially.”

“Alright,” Hale nodded, “That means I have a chance then? Maybe?”

Thoughts of Din rolled over you in waves, as if your body was trying to remind you of who you had⏤ as if you even needed a reminder. You could hear his voice in the back of your head murmuring soft words of care. The promise that when he returned he’d be making you his in every sense of the word ringing clear. You smiled at the thought and shook your head. “No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. I figured I had to try.” Hale shrugged and slid off the cot.

You instructed him on care for his injury and when to be back for you to remove the sutures. Aalya came in after he left and began to ask you questions about supplies and an injury somebody was calling the clinic about to see if they needed to come in. You found it hard to focus. Maker, you hoped they’d be back soon.

The city Daelar had run to was in a rural region of an already rural Outer Rim world named Thyreps. Din had never been here before, barely even heard of it, and from the looks he didn’t plan on making a return trip here⏤ ever. It was a dry, barren place. Hot as Tatooine, but cracked, dead ground versus rolling hills of sand. The city was moderate in size, it must have been the main population on this desolate word, but it was still small enough that if he parked the N1 on the local tarmac he’d be noticed. Din didn’t want to give Daelar the chance to run. He had places to be after all. Din wasn’t looking to drag this trip out any longer than he needed.

So, Din parked the N1 out in the middle of nowhere and hiked into the city. There was an inn on the outskirts where he rented a room. It was times like this he missed the Razor Crest. More than usual, he should say. He was laying on the bed, helmet off, and while Grogu slept in his sealed pram in the corner of the room. Daelar liked to go from his workplace to a brothel. Din planned on catching the man on his way home. Which left him with hours to kill.

Din sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and weighed the pros and cons of calling you. It was late. You were probably getting ready for bed if you weren’t sleeping already. He only hesitated a moment before grabbing his helmet. Worse case scenario, you didn't answer. Best case scenario, he got to see you and hear your voice. Two things he was missing immensely.

He made the video call and it rang for longer than usual. Din was a second away from disconnecting when your line activated. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim view he had of you. From the looks of it, the holo call was being projected from your communicator which was sitting on the night stand beside the bed. The only light in the room coming from the glow the holocall gave off.

“Din?” You mumbled. Your eyes still heavy with sleep. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, ner kar’ta. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.” Din tried to soak in as much of your features as he could. Maker, you were gorgeous. His mind couldn’t help but drift off and think of a future where he’d get to lay next to you in bed. A future where all he’d have to do is reach out and you’d be there. “Go back to sleep.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m awake. Don’t go.”

Din chuckled, but he could tell you were coming to a bit more. Your eyes growing more focused on him. He watched you sit up enough to readjust your pillow before laying back down. Din’s eyes narrowed at the color of the sheets cocooning you. “Are you… Are you in my bed?”

Your eyes widened, truly awake now, and mumbled, “Uh… yes? I’ve been sleeping in your bed since you left. Sorry.”

“Don’t⏤” Din began, his voice firm. The thought of you simply sleeping in his bed should not be as arousing as it was, but his thoughts were running wild and the crotch of his flight suit’s pants were growing tight. “Don’t apologize.” He breathed out. “There is literally nothing you could say that I would like more, ner kar’ta.”

“Hmm.” Your lips curled into a grin. “I don’t know about that. I think there are a few other things I could say that you’d like. Want an example?” Din couldn’t find his voice, and you took that as the only approval you needed. “I’m wearing one of your shirts to sleep in. Just your shirt.”

Din let out an audible groan. His head fell back, lighting clanking against the headboard he was sitting up against, and his hand shifted down to readjust himself⏤ it didn’t help. Meanwhile, you were quietly laughing and the sound had him smiling under his helmet despite the sexual frustration grabbing hold of him.

“You’re trouble.” He shook his head.

“The sooner you get back, the sooner you can punish me for it.”

“Dank farrik.” Din groaned. One hand fisting the bed sheet to keep from touching himself. He blew out a ragged breath of air. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Of course, I am.” You chuckled. “I have to tempt you into coming back as fast as possible.”

“There is nothing you have to do in order to tempt me.” Din scoffed. “Just knowing you’re waiting for me in Nevarro is enough.”

“Sweet talker.” You teased. “How far are you from Mandalore? I see you stopped somewhere.” The question was a splash of ice water because he technically hadn’t explained the whole Daelar side mission to you yet. Obviously, you needed to know. For the length that he had known you though, you only knew him as the Marshal. Sure, you were aware of his past as a bounty hunter, but you hadn’t been directly exposed to that side of him yet. If there was anything that could scare you away⏤ it’d be that. “Din?”

“To be honest,” Din hesitated only for a moment, “I’m on Thyreps.”

“I’ve never even heard of that world.” Your brow furrowed.

Din nodded. “It’s pretty remote.” He knew what your next question would be and continued without you speaking up. “Daelar is here.” Your eyes widened and he watched as you slowly sat up. Revealing more of the shirt you had on⏤ his shirt. “Karga and I tracked him down. I’m planning to... make things right.” Din paused. His jaw locked and he had to force himself to relax. “Is… Is that alright?”

You stayed quiet for a moment and Din could feel his nerves fraying by the second. Finally, you nodded and there was a fire in your eyes. “Good. Make him pay.”

It was the most bloodthirsty thing he had ever heard you say, and Din felt a chill run down his spine. The start of this conversation may have dampened his mood briefly, but he was even hotter under the collar now. Maker, he wished he could touch you. The temptation to touch himself while on call with you was overwhelming. The only thing halting him being the thought that the first time he’d come undone in your actual presence he didn’t just want your eyes on him⏤ Din wanted your hands on him. He wanted you close enough that he could actually feel your skin. He’s made it this long, he supposed.

“You should get back to sleep.” Din said. It was true. You had work in the morning, and he had work in just a few hours. Your eyes softened as you mumbled for him to be careful and Din sighed before ending the call. First things first, he needed an ice cold shower. Then, skira.

The sun was only just beginning to rise when Din spotted Daelar leaving the brothel. Stumbling out, more specifically. Din leaned against a wall across the street and just watched for a moment. Just the sight of the man made his skin bristle in anger. His hands balled into fists. As Daelar began to wander down the street, Din crossed the street and followed after him slowly. The side of him that enjoyed the thrill of a hunt was disappointed. This was much too easy. It wanted a challenge. However, the other side of him reminded Din that the sooner he got this done the sooner him and Grogu got home to you.

“Him.” Grogu huffed from the pram floating beside him “Him, don’t like.”

“Don’t like him.” Din corrected the order of his son’s words. “Good job, ad’ika.” Daelar turned a corner into an alley and Din sighed. Too easy. “Close your pram.”

Grogu grumbled a few words before hitting the front of the pram and letting the metal walls close over him. Din rounded the corner after the man, but came to a halt when he was greeted by three blasters. Daeler a step behind the ones holding the blasters wearing a smug grin.

“Hey, Marshal.” Daelar chuckled. “Funny seeing you in these parts.”

Din locked his jaw in irritation and shifted so Grogu’s pram hid behind him. Of the three people holding the weapons, there were two men, one human the other Rodian, and the third was a human woman. Din strategized in his head, studying the scene, and it suddenly dawned on him. He recognized that woman. Why did he recognize her? Her dark hair was tied up messily and there was an amused chaos in her blue eyes⏤ like she enjoyed that her day was starting with violence. It hit him then. Ari. The last time he had been dropping her off in Jakku. Why anyone would want to go to Jakku, Din didn’t know.

She had been a quarry initially, but the price she was willing to pay him to forgo the bounty and help her out could not be refused. Ari had given him an ingot of beskar. Karga liked to joke that Din had a bad habit of accidentally making allies across the galaxy, something he thought was far-fetched, but this was damning evidence. Helpful though.

He set his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “I see you’re still trouble.”

Ari’s eyes narrowed briefly before snapping open in shock. She lowered her blaster with a laugh and bright grin. “Mando! How the hell are ya?” Din could swear that Daelar’s face lost all color. “Dank farrik, man. Last time I saw you, your armor was shades of red, brown, and broken. Look at you now. Shiny.” Daelar, obviously able to see he was losing his ally, turned and began to sprint away. Ari snapped her fingers. “No.”

At the single, simple word, both men turned and ran after Daelar. Din hummed, mildly impressed. The woman drifted closer, holstering her blister, and pointed at him. “What’re you doing out in my corner of the galaxy? Please don’t tell me I’m on another puck.”

“Knowing you, you probably are, but I’m not here for you.”

Ari thumbed over her shoulder just as her guys dragged Daelar back kicking and screaming. “You after that guy? He’s got a bounty on him?”

“Yes, but I don’t plan on turning him in.” Din replied. His jaw locked again. He glared at Daelar and the way the man’s poor attempts to escape became more frenzied it was clear Din’s rage was understood. Helmet or not. “It’s personal.”

Ari let out a low whistle and glanced back at the man. “Shit. I knew he was dumb, but I didn’t know he was ‘piss off a Mandalorian’ dumb.”

“You’re supposed to protect me!” Daelar screamed at her. “It’s in my contract!”

Din snorted. “You hired him? You should know he’s a medical fraud⏤”

“I am not! I was the best in my field, I’ll have you know!” Daelar howled.

Ari nodded. “Oh, yeah. I know. He’s a fucking idiot.” The man stopped in his temper tantrum to stare at her with wide eyes. She shook her head at him. “Why else would I have you working in my rival’s clinic, you dumbass? I’m hoping you accidentally kill some of his crew.” Ari glanced back at Din and waved her hand at him. “I’m in the middle of a terf war. It’s a whole thing. Would take a while to explain.”

“Yeah. I don’t care.” Din replied.

“So?” Ari clapped her hands. “What do you want him for? He insult ‘The Way’?”

Din shook his head. “He tried to kill my son.”

Ari’s eyes widened in surprise then hardened into irritation. Daelar cried out. “Liar! He was fine when I left! Your wife is a dramatic bitch. She has no idea what she's talking about!” Din didn’t realize his anger could possibly worsen, but somehow it did. Daelar was digging himself deeper into a grave and Din was eager to bury him. “It was a little viral illness, the common cold⏤”

“He spiked a fever. You left him for dead. You left her to deal with it.” Din growled. That night could have ended so tragically. He nearly lost Grogu. Din hadn’t even been there as it happened. Grogu could have slipped away, gone from him forever, and Din would’ve been miles away⏤ useless to him. That loss would have destroyed him. It would have destroyed you. Din can still clearly remember the tremble in your body as you cried that night. The fear so overwhelming, wafting off you in waves, that it nearly drown him just from being near.

“I⏤I didn’t know!” Daelar tried to excuse himself.

Ari drew her blaster again and pointed it at Daelar’s face. “Want me to kill him then?”

Daelar was sobbing now, pleading, and Din shook his head. “No. He’s mine.”

“Fair.” Ari holstered her blaster again then nodded. “Mandalorian’s gonna take him to go.” The men shoved Daelar to the ground, he thrashed against them uselessly, and Din watched one of Ari’s men pull out a pair of binders. Ari drifted closer once more and crossed her arms. “Look at us. I got a crew, and you got a wife and kid. Aw.”

“She’s not actually my wife.” Din admitted.

Ari smirked. “Yeah, but I hear the word you’re leaving off that sentence, Mando. ‘Yet’, huh?”

Din grinned under his helmet and chuckled. “What are you doing out here? Jakku then Thyreps? What’s your obsession with deserted and dirty worlds?”

“I got my reasons.” Ari winked. The men dragged Daelar over and Ari nodded. “Anything else I can do for you? This is the favor I owe you so you might as well make it count.”

“Can you watch my kid?”

“Huh??”

Din stepped to the side and the pram popped open as if on cue. Grogu babbling and upset that he had been in the pram for so long. Ari cooed, “Aw. He looks just like you.” Din tilted his head at her, exasperated at the joke, and she laughed. “Yeah, alright. He’s safe with me. Be back soon though, I got places to be.”

Without another word, Din grabbed Daelar by the collar and glared down at him. Ari gave him her frequency number before disappearing with Grogu and her men. When the alley was empty, Din bared his teeth and hissed out a threat, “Ni cuy' olar par skira.”

Din slammed his fist into Daelar’s face making him crumple to the ground with a groan. He grabbed the man again and began to drag. Every time the bastard tried to slip out of his grip or yell out, Din hit him again. By the time they made it to the edge of the city, Daelar’s face was bloody and the man was limp in his hand. The sun was in the sky now and the temperature was beginning to rise. Din used his whipcord to wrap around the man’s ankle and began to drag Daelar across the cracked and hard ground.

It took thirty minutes to get Daelar out into the middle of nowhere. He stopped next to the N1 and released his whipcord. Daelar laid on the ground moaning pathetically. Din stalked over and stomped his boot on top of Daelar’s chest, he heard a crack of bone even with Daelar’s screams filling the air, and Din pressed down to keep him pinned.

“I almost lost my family because of you.” Din snapped. “That’s why this is happening.”

“It’s not my fault.” Daelar cough and Din pressed harder. The man cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. Your son is alive isn’t he? He’s fine! Don’t kill me!”

Din pulled his foot back and then knelt down beside him. He released the binders then roughly grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him up, and hissed. “He’s alive because of my wife’s quick thinking. She’s brilliant, an actual doctor unlike you, and she saved his life. Because of her, he had a chance.” Din chuckled. “So, no. I’m not going to kill you right now, Daelar.” Briefly, Din could see a flash of relief on the man’s bruised and bloodied features. “I’m going to give you a chance to save yourself. You’re a doctor. Best in your field. You should be able to do it no problem, right?”

Daelar’s eyebrows furrowed and, without preamble, his vibroblade was drawn and Din stabbed it between two of Daelar’s ribs on the right side. The man screamed and Din pulled the blade out and stood. Daelar grasped his side, blood pooling out onto the ground under him, and his breaths were growing shallow.

“You⏤ You said⏤”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you. I didn't.” Din tucked his blade away. He motioned in the direction they came from. “City is that way. Save yourself.”

Daelar shook his head, trying to grab his boots, “It’s too far. It’s⏤ I’ll bleed to death. I’ll⏤ I’ll drown in my own blood in twenty minutes. Sooner if my⏤ my lung collapses.” His breaths were shallow and panicked. “What would you⏤ you have me do?”

Din tilted his head. “Well, if I were you, I’d get to crawling.”

Daelar screamed and sobbed as Din marched to the N1 and boarded. Even with the engines going, Din could still hear the man’s cries but it did nothing but make him nod in assurance. Considering Daelar nearly took his family from him, Din felt like he was showing mercy. He gave the man a chance. Granted, it was a piss poor chance and his odds were in a very low percentile, but you had been stuck in a similar scenario. The N1 took off, angling toward the city’s tarmac so he could pick up Grogu, and Din felt relief at a job being done. More than likely, Daelar was going to die in the desert, and in Din’s opinion that was still more than he deserved.

mando'a translations:

Buir: father (parent) Ad’ika: little one Digur: Forget Her Kar’ta: My heart Ni ceta: I’m sorry Skira: Settle a score, revenge Ni cuy' olar par skira: I’m here to settle a score.

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

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hattiestgal · 5 months

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SHOW ME YOUR LINEUP!!! 🫵🫵🫵💖

Oh boy oh boy!!!

Riley Foxglove (They/It/She): Fennec fox full of trauma and mischief. My sona, and the menace of Little Pocket. Bassist and vocalist for her band, BOY GIRL MISCHIEF! (<3 with Violette)

Violette Burrows (She/Her): Rat equally full of trauma, but also goth sass. Finally feels like she found home after an entire childhood spent traveling the country with her parents for business. Car mechanic and drummer for BOY GIRL MISCHIEF (<3 with Riley)

Omen Poe (He/They): Raven that is very much the falco type. Employee of a local hobby shop, tsundere but if you called them that they'd punch you, and the biggest egg you'll ever meet. Guitarist for BOY GIRL MISCHIEF! (<3 with Finnegan)

Finnegan Oakes (He/Him): Red fox soft kind boy. Wildlife photographer and trumpet player, and the carrier of many family legacies. Has a bit of an obsession with with historical aircraft, despite being avidly against war. A baker at heart (<3 with Omen)

Alex Lyn (She/Him): Spotted hyena washed out uni student who's finally figuring out his life. Avid hockey player, occasional strongman competition participant and ever sleepy. (<3 with Harlow)

Harlow Reese (They/It/Xe): Black cat equally washed out on uni, but being so silly about it. A complete nerd and appreciator of butches. Occasionally competes in super smash brothers competitions, but otherwise generally collects old obscure manga and video games (<3 with Alex)

Jack Foxglove (He/Any): Wolf tired gayboy, and older brother of Riley. A kind soul looking to help others by studying to become a therapist. Very full of punk swag and an absolute role model all round

Cake (She/It): Shiba inu girlthing. Consumer of many burgers and knower of an absurd amount of obscure facts about early generation game consoles. Collects a wide variety of retro games

Kiera (She/Her): Dragon sleazy cursed artifacts saleswoman. Actually the result of a god's divine punishment turned gender euphoria. While what she sells is cursed, she more realizes peoples fantasies while delivering justice to those who abuse their money

Lizzy (She/They): Taur arctic fox and the result of one of Kieras cursed artifact sales. Originally down on her luck, becoming a taur allowed her to capitalize on the novelty of being one to attract customers for a wide variety of services. Often appears at parties and is very well fed.

Lucy Diggs (He/Him): Rabbit loaded to the BRIM with trauma. Caught in a world constantly at war, given a new headmate with lightning powers and then quickly thrusted into the spot of figurehead for a freedom fighting rebellion to topple the system that perpetuates it he's being so brave about it.

Allison Dudz (She/Any): Albino alligator ex military soldier and mech pilot. Holds down a refuge in the abyss for those who walk it. Is actively on the run by a military force called ELIAS and the sort of kind of parental figure for Lucy. Another figurehead in the rebellion

(Currently Unnamed) (She/Her): Grey cat full of yuri related injuries. Also ex military but then she like kinda joined back in a way under a new name. Fought her way up the ranks to become the head of ELIAS

VUL-TURE (It/Its): Robot bounty hunter thats also a bit of a girlthing. Sucks at its job like really badly but tries its best. Has tried to assassinate the head of ELIAS twice to absolutely no avail

Scribley (It/Any/All/Your Pronouns): ??? BADASS AND INSANE. A BEING BEYOND GODHOOD MADE OF PURE MAGIC. UNSTOPPABLE BY ANY KNOWN MEANS

#hat answers #my art #my ocs #like all of the ones ive talked about in any meaningful capacity #split up by universes #all characters up to cake are from the little pocket universe #kiera and lizzy are from a different unnamed universe #lucy through to vulture are the abyss universe #and scribley is transcendent and can travel freely #this was so fucking long to write oh my god #but theres all of em #i have more but ehhhhhh

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inkdrawndreamer · 8 months

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I've gotten back into edgy '04 Batman, so have some unsolicited Man-Bat headcanons:

•The serum fucked with his body in all kinds of ways, but the second time around was worse than the first. Before he took the serum, he had spent months prepping his body to handle the changes. The second time happened as a result of being hypnotized, after he had already lost a lot of muscle and had a radically different diet. His shoulder blades and spine were thrown out of whack by the first transformation, but the second one was what caused longer term damage.

•He has a habit of sleeping upside down, even when he isn't in Man-Bat mode, mostly because he can't sleep on his back comfortably anymore. He also has a bad tendency of forgetting where he is when he wakes up. He wakes up on the floor a lot.

•He was a metalhead in his youth, which probably didn't do his eardrums any favors. He is more sensitive to high-pitched sounds now, so he doesn't do concerts as much anymore. That said, having wings is a great way to avoid paying Gotham ticket prices.

•Listen, this man didn't steal a dozen bats from three different zoos to NOT make multiple bat serums. He tried making several different kinds before he settled on the vampire bat hybrid he uses in canon.

•Speaking of which, the choice of bat DNA was very much a strategic one. As it turns out, having a bat hybrid the size of a grown man with a crazy fast metabolism will do a lot of damage to the local insect population if you let it. Bruce has also found Kirk passed out in grocery stores and people's gardens after a few misadventures with serums made with fruit bat DNA.

•He and his sister absolutely menaced the local wildlife when they were kids. They frequently tried to catch bats, birds, and frogs with homemade traps. He tried to ride a deer once. It went very badly.

#kirk langstrom #man-bat #the batman 2004 #DC #headcanons #batman #Clover muses

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witchofthesouls · 2 years

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Okay, hear me out, what if in the Transformers setting where the Autobots and Decepticons are on Earth, there’s a town with Welcome-to-the-Nightvale, Scarfolk, and Elsewhere University vibes along with urban fantasy with magic-users and mythical beings.

Things in this little town, but not limited to:

A talking, size-shifting cat as the mayor

Their assistant has three faces: Mania, Malaise, but no one alive knows the third one

A dragon that’s the Head Librarian with a small daughter that’s absolutely adorable and slightly menacing with toothy fanged smile

The nearby forest is filled with many Neighbors

The town is alive in some ways, but don’t look too closely or think about it too deeply

The local schools are always looking for people with patience, good time-management, experience in high-stress environments, a willingness to develop poison immunity, and artillery training

There are places and there are Places. Meaning: the arcade on Main Street will always be standing there, rain or shine, tornado or hellfire, it stands the test of time, but the Midnight Owls Bookstore consistently changes its location every few days and once a month, on the first or last Thursday, the hidden doorway will open to those that are lost and need a specific kind of Knowledge

If there’s something jarring or off-putting, then it’s not in your head. It is.

Trees, gardens, and poles decorated beautifully in wrought silver and gold and precious gems, shining bright like day-time stars as silky ribbons of shimmering rainbow colors are placed so lovingly upon them, don’t touch such treasures

There’s the Farmer’s Marketplace on Wednesdays with its usual goods, and then there’s the Night Markets over the weekends. Signs are placed at a respectable distance to take caution and bring a mask -preferably a full covered one, but a half-mask would do in a pinch, but there are subsequent warnings for folks with visibly unique markings. After all, everything and anything can be sold in the Night Markets, for a price.

Local hospital has an aquatic floor, well-guarded isolation chambers, and give preference in applicants with basic understanding in Mental Arts or “hard to read.” The community gardens are a huge project that’s ran by between the hospital and the schools (all of them: primary and secondary): provides a constant source of poison and venom, encourages proper care of plant- and wildlife, a grounding site and outlet for young and new practitioners, doubles for research in crossbreeding and testing new techniques, and allows community combat services in pruning the man-eating sections. It’s a win-win for many.

There are many rumors about the faculty in the local university. All of them are true. Some more than others. Some is a matter of perspective.

The local bank provides the usual services, including axe-handling, fight clubs, and evicting demonic squatters and spiritual possession.

PTA meetings are incredibly tense. All weapons that’s not physically part of Being’s body by natural, magical, or surgical means, must be stored properly in the secured lockers before entering the auditorium. It hasn’t stopped folks from tearing the bolted chairs from the charmed floor. At least, the fights are usually limited to end when the food is done: tiebreaks on new and old policies, address new feuds, and volunteering for certain positions.

I really want the locals to get turned into Cybertronians and think themselves as Clockwork, like “Gods be damned, it’s gonna be that kind of decade.” and just truck through it. Meanwhile, the Cybertronians from the dead Cybertron are trying to compute that there are functioning communities of mixed populations on Earth. What in Unicron’s ball-bearings is going on!?

#transformers #HUMANFORMERS #humans into cybertronians #fantasy #fae #Magic #maccadam #transformers g1 #G1 #the mayor has the sinister vibe of the Cheshire Cat in American Mcgees' Alice #fond of riddles to #my thoughts #creature

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mantisgodsdomain · 10 months

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...Wait, who's Kaycee?

Marigold's mentor. You haven't met her yet, we think. They're legally dead but don't worry that has made absolutely no difference in its lifestyle and it is continuing to menace the local wildlife.

#kaycee uses she/they/it and is a menace to society and lab safety #wooly chafer beetle cryptid who shows up in marigolds lab occasionally #we speak #ocs #kaycee #marigold #asks

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anonymun-jay · 1 year

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I feel it very important to mention that my wife absolutely ADORES Tinkaton, so I named mine after her and kept her with me the whole game. Now she’s my first level 100 in Scarlet. (And only one so far, with my starter Quaquaval, Trent, close behind in the 90s)

She takes down paradox pokemon in one hit and single-handedly helped me get a vast majority of the dex through power-leveling other pokemon. I love siccing this little menace on the local wildlife. XD

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eaglefairy · 2 years

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I did Isurd's and Valdi's ascension quests and clearly I've been missing out. I had an absolute blast with both (and was about 20-30 levels overleveled but shhh it's fine) Everything about Isurd's quest is absolute gold. Searching the City for clues the way we normally would for stuff like monster or dissident intel. The fact that the quest basically boils down to "local man dragged out for a spa day with his son's friends". Eunie being a complete menace and throwing not only Isurd but ALSO Taion bodily into the hot spring. 10/10, would play again And Valdi's quest was so sweet! His whole little speech about the world being like a levnis was so nice, and the way he made those connections with Lambda and Colony 4...and of course the parallels with the wildlife being displaced but making the best of it anyway

#xenoposting #when this game wants to be soft it can be very soft

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doodle-zombie · 3 years

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Lamia Bonding #6: Coral Appreciation

Gotta say, I really love the boys I got from @vex-bittys and I think I feel confident enough in their personalities to, perhaps, make a fic about my lamia/bitty journey!

It was a productive evening. Valerie had finished a commission for several concept sketches in the latest contract she’d signed into and she had put the final touches on a larger piece she’d done freelance. She had even put something in the slow cooker for her and Currant to eat later since Marmalade was out hunting and would likely catch himself something to eat. There wasn’t much worry when her Chain went out to hunt since he was close to being the largest predator roaming the woods around her home. Currant was curled within the blanket nest she had set up when she was drinking her first cup of coffee that morning, following Marmalade waking her at a normal hour since she had a deadline. It wasn’t uncommon for her Coral to snatch up any comfortable spot she vacated.

The house was pretty quiet. She’d been so in the zone that the video playlist she’d queued had reached the end and autoplay was turned off.

Luckily, Val knew how to crush the silence and she was due to give Currant his favorite mustard chips to snack on. His snacking times were carefully regulated since she didn’t want him to get so big he couldn’t move but she didn’t want him to suffer either. Currant had developed a deep affection for his favorite chips and he loved when she made him sample platters so he could try new things dipped in mustard. It was about time for a break anyway and what better way to spend it than giving Currant some love.

She opened her music program and queued up a random playlist to fill the resounding silence before pushing away from the desk and shuffling towards the kitchen. Red eye lights followed her along but Currant made no move to follow… yet. It was a bit of a game to be played because Currant could be fairly lazy when he wanted and getting him to exercise was out of the question. But he could be convinced to do some things to keep him moving, so long as she was sneaky.

Currant knew what she was doing, of course. He wasn’t stupid. But he humored her more often than not.

The effort to keep him active was maximized today, however. A song that Valerie loved came on. Currant was small enough she could have just snatched him up but that would just make him less likely to indulge her. Instead, Val grabbed one of the pre-portioned bags of his snack and set it on the edge of the desk. The lemon-yellow color was immediately recognizable to Currant, whose red eye lights darted to where she was standing with her arms out towards him and where she had put the food.

He could bypass her entirely and get his snack with no consequences. Val never made them do anything but she especially let Currant know he could refuse at any point.

But if he refused her hands and went for his snack he would miss out on more one-on-one interaction with his human. Valerie would be disappointed and she would go back to work quicker. Marmalade wasn’t in the house to see if Currant did anything uncharacteristic for a Coral (not that the Chain cared, he just loved how anything Currant did made Val’s SOUL brighten).

Currant got up, grumbling as was expected of him, and slithered up to Val. He didn’t grab her hands, though. Just offered his own bare-boned phalanges and withheld the little quiver when she held him. There might not have been a bond between them just yet but Currant could feel just how proud she was, encouraging him to wrap around her so she could sway to the music. He had to maintain just the right amount of pressure to keep himself from falling but it wasn’t so rigorous that he would lose magic through sweat.

“I’m a little O.D.D.,” she sang, wrapping her arms around his ribs so he didn’t fall. “I see the way they look at me.”

Honestly, Currant had never met a human that went through so much trouble for a Coral. They were venomous, considered ill-tempered, and could be very distant to the inexperienced. But Valerie had been caring and understanding from the very moment she’d brought him home. Even though he wasn’t the only lamia in the house he still got more than enough affection and she wasn’t phased by even his grumpiest moments. He could hiss and spit all he wanted and her voice stayed gentle when she told him she’d leave him be until snack time. The house wasn’t the only place he could go, either. There were caves decorated around the outside that he could retreat to.

Valerie enjoyed the subtle weight of Currant around her, petting the back of his head and feeling the way he tensed and coiled whenever he thought he might slip. It was a trust exercise and he was doing awesome. When a few songs had passed she gathered the snack and Currant so they could collapse onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs and tail. There was a brief hiss of displeasure but nothing serious and she got the glorious privilege of hearing the happy purrs of Currant enjoying his snack.

Of course, Marmalade chose that moment to appear.

Unlike Currant’s carefully regulated snack times, Marmalade had free reign of the chocolate that he could find. Because Marmalade was much more active and spent a lot of time patrolling outside the house, he had absolute access to any food item he wanted in the house. He was careful to avoid whatever Currant liked best, the darling that he was.

“Such a sweet boy,” Val greeted, feeling the nuzzle against her temple before she had even seen her Chain. She could vaguely feel the relaxed emotions he was feeling and had no doubt he could tell that she was beyond ecstatic to have them both around. “Terrorized the local rabbits enough, eh?”

“For now,” was Marmalade’s smug reply.

Stars, he was going to be a menace to the wildlife when she adopted a Mamba…

#zombie writes #currant #marmalade #lamiatale #my precious boys <3

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

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Coastal Waters (1/8/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates and Madame @usedhearts meet underwater, talk about Madame’s history, eat an eel, and head to the library when Valera discovers to his horror that Madame, an octopus, doesn’t know shit about octopuses. octopodes. octopi.

Madame

The sea. She hadn't even seen the ocean since she was just a girl, let alone swam deep in her waters. The water was warm against her skin, and she flowed through it with an effortless grace that she honestly didn't know she had. It felt good. It felt right, to be among the waves of this alien planet. This was were a giant octopus of a lady should be.

Madame just sat there, under the water, watching curious fish and other creatures flit towards her. She was far larger than any of them, so they were either brave or foolish. A few of the more foolish ones found their way inside her mouth for their crimes. She intentionally kept her skin a pinkish red, wanting to stand out among the reef. A color that said 'Here I am, and I'm bigger than you, so watch out!' It was perfect really. She kept a look out for anyone else going for a swim-- she'd be sure they got a little kraken scare, just for fun.

Valera

Funny, how even on an alien planet, the ocean is still comforting to anyone who loved it. Colorful fish were abundant, the reddish light of the suns lending a faintly pink tinge to the rays coming down through the water.

And here comes Valera to torment innocent wildlife, a flash of silver followed by pink as he chases a mirror bright eel adjacent creature past Madame's resting place.

Madame

Madame's head snapped to the side as Valera passed, and quick as anything, she's off after him. That eel is the target, hm? Well, she wasn't about to let their host have an easy go of it. Tentacles opening and then thrusting back to get her speed, she closed in, trying to get it first-- or at least, make a little game of it for Valera.

Valera

It takes a few seconds for Valera to notice the appearance of a competitor, movement in the corner of his eyes nearly distracting him enough to lose track of the eel. But then the slippery menace turns on a dime, diving into a crevice in the rocks for all its worth. Valera's forced to brake, fins flaring out dramatically as he backpedals just to not smash into the rocks.

He perches on the coral, snorting out a few bubbles as he looks up at Madame. "Damn! Ah well, it'll have to come out eventually. Hello! What's an octopus like you doing in a place like this?"

Madame

Unfortunately, Madame doesn't catch herself quite as quickly as Valera, but she does slow herself enough to not smash hard against the rocks. She winced as she pulled away from them, rubbing her arm.

"Ouch. Them eels are slippery fuckers, ain't they?" She smirked at Val, swimming over to them and perching in a similar manner. "That it does. And thought I'd go for a swim, enjoy it while I can 'n all that. The closest I get to all this is my aquariums at home. This is...heaven, honestly."

Valera

Valera frowns, leaning in to sniff at Madame. Any blood? He can patch up a scrape no problem! The praise for his planet makes him purr, a soft buzz in the water that makes nearby fish start swimming closer to nibble at the pink fish's scales.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself! I was hoping my home would be a place of relaxation, but it seems like it's getting even more of a positive response than expected. If you really like it though, I'll see about inviting you back sometime!"

Madame

No blood, luckily, but she'd probably have a bruise or three later. Octopus skin is durable but not the best when it comes to impacts.

"Oh, I'd simply love that-- even give ya free drinks for life at the Cabaret if that'd sweeten the pot." She winked and laughed, before turning to look up at the surface, watching the sunlight glitter through. She was glad they were surrounded by salt water-- a few tears wouldn't be noticed down here.

"It truly is beautiful. Reminds me so much a home-- I ever tell ya, me 'n Alastor hail from the same place? Good ol' Nawlins, right there on the gulf. Gorgeous city, full of wonderful people 'n the best food 'n the south. When I went west with my husband, I knew I'd miss the ocean, but I didn't think I'd die without ever seein' it again." She smiled as she turned towards him.

"Ya really put some joy back in an ol' lady's heart, Valera, invitin' me here. Didn't think it'd mean as much as it does...but here we are." She laughed, and wiped at her eyes-- before remembering there was nothing to wipe. "Forgive me, gettin' all emotional. We supposed t' be lookin' for an eel, right?"

Valera

"Oh, that eel can go tie itself in knots for all I care, we're talking about this old lady here right now." Valera leans in, a clawed hand delicately patting at Madame's shoulder. "I didn't know you were from New Orleans! I've been there a few times. Lovely place. Very...." He pauses to think, plucking a wandering shrimp off the reef to gesture with. "Lively? Vibrant! You can really lose yourself in that city"

His tail winds around an outcrop, the fish settling down like he was lounging on the finest swooning couch. "So, you were married? Happily, I hope!"

Madame

She took a few breaths, the water filling her chest with warmth, and nodded.

"I was, born 'n raised. Got married a fresh faced youth 'n me 'n the husband decided to try 'n make our fortunes out west. We made it out there too, 'n then he caught ill 'n passed. Left me with a house built and some livestock bought 'n not much else. Started up doin' work on my back, 'n then collected some other girls, some a them like me, others on they own from the start. Home my husband built became my saloon 'n brothel, 'n a whole town sprung up around it. Lovely lil' place.

"But with people come folk what think they the law in a lawless patch a ground. Dumb fucks didn't like me much, and I ain't care for them neither. Startin' smugglin' for local outlaws, hidin' some. The quote-unquote 'law' got it in they heads to burn my place down, cause I was hidin' some poor boy they wanted-- surprised them when the whole thing blew to smithereens cause we was sittin' on a couple boxes a dynamite. Oh, if I coulda seen their faces...." She trailed off and then cleared her throat, laughing a little.

"But then I landed in Hell. And they did too. Strung 'em up by they own insides for I staked a claim on the land I landed on. That's where the Cabaret sits now. The asshole's skeletons're in the aquarium now, housin' crabs and whatnot. Serves 'em right."

Valera

Valera makes a sound more like a dolphin noise than a whistle, crossing one leg over the other as he listens to Madame tell her not especially tragic backstory. "It certainly does. Though I'm sure the short time they spent in Hell came as a rather nasty surprise, if they were going around calling themselves the *law*."

A snort. "It sounds like you've been a woman with a talent for business since day one, Madame. Can't say I'm surprised with the way you run things, but what a story. Sorry to hear about the husband though, losing someone is never easy."

Madame

She nodded, crossing her legs as daintily as someone who was fifteen feet tall could.

"Oh yeah, real nasty surprise for them-- shame I didn't keep 'em around longer, woulda been fun to have 'em strung up on the dart boards or somethin'."

Madame shrugged. "I did miss 'im but, after he died, I realized that I never _really_ loved him. Not like a woman 'n a man 'should' love each other. Dunno why, always been like that I suppose. But we was best friends since childhood 'n it made sense back then to marry someone y' at least liked, instead a some stranger."

Valera

"Hah! I can see it now! Are you a sadist? Five bucks a pop and you can throw your darts at the living dart boards! Ten points if you get them in the eyes, fifteen if you throw hard enough to knock a tooth out! Oh, Hell would have loved that." He cackles, popping the shrimp into his mouth for a quick snack. Mmm, crunchy!

"...Is there a 'should'?" His face twists in confusion. "Maybe it's an alien thing. I was set to bond with my own best friend before I cut that short in favor of running the Autocracy. Romance seems secondary in favor of... You know. Benefits."

Madame

"Dunno. With humans there's always a 'should', it seems. 'Ya _should_ love a man. Ya _should_ marry 'n have kids. Ya _should_ pick yerself up by yer bootstraps 'n get shit done. Ya _should_ know all the right things ta say'." She sighed and shrugged.

"Never much cared for the shoulds. Married because it seemed better'n bein' alone-- and I ended up alone anyways. So, what was the point 'n the first place? I sure as shit don't know. Just lost my best friend, that's all." Madame leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee. "Think I woulda fared better with aliens then humans."

Valera

An eyebrow is raised as Valera turns what Madame said over in his mind. "I don't think marrying your best friend directly resulted in him dying, Madame. But I will admit, you wouldn't be the first human, former or otherwise, to say they would have likely been happier with an alien partner." He's absolutely talking about Pentious. And maybe a few others. He's a popular fish!

"Humans are silly creatures, and I do say that fondly! I've seen very few races as determined to bind themselves to strict social rules and roles that none of them seem to actually enjoy. It's baffling."

Madame

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. Most people seem happier when they break social conventions. Makes ya wonder why we even got 'em."

Madame took a breath and smiled. "And I didn't mean it so much as an alien partner as, well, maybe I was just meant to not be a human-- alien in a human body or some such. Maybe it's why I adapted ta bein' a weird giant octopus demon so well!"

Valera

"Your guess is better than mine, I'm only a human when it suits me."

He grins, all teeth. "It wouldn't surprise me. You never struck me as especially *human*, tentacles nonwithstanding. A lovely person? Yes, absolutely. You take good care of all your girls. But human? Not really." Well that's cryptic. But good luck getting him to elaborate, he's already distracted by trying to shove his arm into the crevice where the eel is hiding.

Madame

Madame let out another laugh, smirking as she shrugged and waved a hand.

"I'll take the compliment, and y'know, that reminds me a one of my go-to numbers." She slid off the rock she sat on and floated down a bit, twirling as she went.

"_I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, they weren't kidding when they called me well, a witch_...." She trailed off, giggling. "One of my favorites. That and 'When You're Good To Mama', acourse."

Valera

"Mm, I had you pinned as a contralto day one, my dear Madame." Valera glances over, against the rock up to the shoulder as he scrabbled for the eel. "You run that routine at the cabaret, right? I'll have to swing by to see it sometime! Maybe with my beau, though I don't know his opinion on burlesque just yet."

Madame

"Oh yes! Just tell me when y'all are droppin' by and I'll be sure to add myself to the night's roster." She winked and swam closer, looking at Val's arm, stuck deep in the rock.

"Any luck findin' the squirmy bastard? Or do ya need something a little more dexterous?" She wiggled a tentacle at him.

Valera

He frowns, then pulls his arm back and gestures for Madame to take his place. "I think you may have better luck, my dear. And for more than just that dexterity of yours! Mind the teeth though, those eels aren't the sharpest around, but they bite and do NOT let go."

Madame

Her arms crossed as she slid the tentacle inside, and Madame's face screwed up in concentration. A few moments later she let out a shout.

"Ow! Fucker got me, but I got him too!" With a mighty yank, her tentacle pulled back out, the eel wrapped tight in it, even as it chomped down on her. "What now, Val?"

Valera

"Now you eat him!" He crows, clapping his hands together as the eel gives the most hateful look it can muster. Though, underwater, there wasn't actually any sound to the gesture. "It's your catch, just bite him behind the eyes, nice and clean kill!"

Madame

She arched a brow, but brought the eel closer, moving to get a good angle. Madame opened her mouth and snapped down on the eel's head-- and it released it's own bite on her. She took it in her hands and bit it in half, swallowing down the front half.

Madame offered the other half to Val, grinning. "Here. Only right a guest share with her host."

Valera

He affects a dainty gasp, accepting the eel with a coquettish fluttering of his lashes. "Why THANK you, my dear Madame. Such a gracious guest, my hearts are warmed by your consideration."

And that chunk of eel is gone in a flash, yam yam. "Gods, always a tasty little morsel. Those have a lot of interesting names in various languages here, but my personal favorite is the one that translates best to..." He taps his chin, trying to think of the closest words. "Something like Bastard Snake. Bastard as in abandoned son, not the insult."

Madame

"Nah, I think the insult worst better, cause he sure was a bastard ta get outta there." She gestured toward her bitten tentacle.

"Think he mighta torn a chunk outta me. Ouch..." She brought it closer to inspect and while the chunk wasn't _gone_, it was barely hanging out. "Oh, that's a doozy..."

Valera

He leans in, taking a closer look at the damage to Madame's tentacle with a sympathetic hiss. "Oooh, that looks painful. Want me to fix it?"

A waggle of his fingers, and he extends a glowing hand. That's probably not ominous, right?

Madame

"Can ya?" She asked, her head tilting. "I'd love ta not have to whip out the scar cream for somethin' so small."

Valera

"I can! Healing and barriers are actually my specialty." He trills, looking VERY pleased with himself about that fact. "No strings attached for you, of course."

Madame

"Well, then, thank ya kindly. Yer a lovely 'n gracious host." She beamed.

Valera

He takes her tentacle in hand, smoothing over the wound with a slow sweep of his palm. A brief flash of numbness, heat, and there, good as new. No dramatics necessary! But he's still going to deliver with some SPECTACULAR jazz hands and the cheeriest grin he can muster.

"There, how's that?"

Madame

Madame let out a little 'oh!' at the numbness and heat, and as soon as her tentacle was released, it flexed and wiggled of its own accord.

"Well, that was sure somethin'! Never had a healin' like that."

Valera

"Never? Is healing magic not common in Hell?" Well, either that or Madame just didn't get hurt often. Either seemed possible.

Madame

"Oh no, it's not that. Usually gettin' somethin' healed costs-- usually a soul, or a favor, but always somethin'." She shrugged. "Try not to get into too many fights, cause the healin' is usually worse than the damage."

Valera

He squints, planting his chin on his open palm as he stares at the fixed tentacle. "I mean, I guess it cost something? All I did was encourage your natural healing. A few cell divisions to smooth over the damage, replace the torn up cells. Something that small didn't require actually replacing any massive swaths of material. You'll be hungrier than usual later, but that's about it!"

A shrug. "It would have been worse if you'd actually lost a chunk, but even then, I could have just converted a pebble to matching flesh or something. No biggie!"

Madame

"A pebble? Huh!" She tapped her chin. "That is somethin'. Yer magic's a lot more powerful than anythin' I can channel. Usual I go to good ol' Al for any real punchy magics."

Valera

"You know, people keep saying that. I never thought of myself as especially powerful." He holds up a finger. "Well, no. I have plenty of RAW power. But as far as efficiency goes, I'm absolute garbage. My magic isn't nearly as finely tuned as it could be. I burn tons of it on even small spells. Like, embarrassing amounts. Horrendously sloppy."

A sigh. "What kind of magic do you usually need from good old Alastor?"

Madame

"If I need a costume on the fly, he can magic up some pretty good threads. He's fairly good at some basic healin'-- like if ona my acts sprains somethin'. And of course, the best magic of all-- his reputation. Ain't nobody gonna mess with the Cabaret none if I got the Radio Demon in my back pocket." She paused.

"Don't tell him I said that, he wouldn't take kindly to it."

Valera

He waves a hand, grin turning downright impish. "What, me? Tell an Alastor that his reputation is helping protect his friends? My dear, I would *never*."

Madame

Madame giggled, and winked at him. "Yer a peach, shug." She put her hands on her hips.

"Anythin' else ya wanna tag team, huntin' wise? I'm down for a lil explorin' 'n huntin', if you are."

Valera

Valera sticks his tongue out, slowly unwinding his tail from his anchor point. "No, I'm a fish! But I understand the confusion. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your mistake." A wink.

"We'll have to browse the local selection, Madame! If you're amenable to a bit of window shopping, that is."

Madame

"I dunno about that, ya ass is pretty peachy!" She cackled, swimming closer to take his arm.

"I'm a fan a any kinda shoppin', includin' the window kind!"

Valera

Oho! Quick on the sass with that one, was she? Good! Keeps things interesting. He politely flutters his fins, turning his head this way and that to scout out a meal.

"You're more of an ambush predator, no?"

Madame

"Think so! Don't know too much bout octopuses honestly? Only what I've been able to figure out, mostly. But it worked earlier!" She laughed.

Valera

... He turns his head back to look at Madame, eyebrows inching up slowly but surely.

"Pardon? You don't know about octopuses? The very animal your soul was moulded after for your eternal punishment?"

Madame

She laughed, oh that look on his face!

"Yup! Thinka how surprised I was when I dropped inta Hell lookin' like this!" She gestured to herself. "Knew things like fish 'n gators 'n the like, 'n even the tiny little octopuses, but never one as big as me!"

Valera

He squints, slowly turning them back towards the shore. Sounds like they're about to make a trip to the *library*.

"I'm sure. So you're not familiar with how octopus brains work? Or the semi-independent "minds" of their tentacles?"

Madame

"Oh, is that why they sometimes do shit on they own?" She giggled again, going along with Val's movements.

"And no, I ain't. Never thought to look it up, too busy buildin' my business 'n keepin' it."

Valera

He snorts. Yes, this library visit is sounding more and more necessary. But he's not above setting a sedate pace. A couple of friends on a relaxing swim, no need to flip.

"Yes, Madame. You'll also be pleased to know that were you an octopus of the male persuasion, one of your tentacles would also be your penis." A pause, and he amends. "Well, theoretically. It gets wibbly when you mix humans and other species. I doubt you'd lay four hundred thousand eggs and then die from a single mating."

Madame

Her eyes widened and she can't help but laugh again. "Oh fuck! Yeah, sure glad I don't do that! Woulda double died a long time ago!"

Valera

"If it makes you feel any better, the Earth fish I most resemble, the lionfish, can lay..." A tap at his lips, give him a moment to recall... Oh, yes, there we go. "Fifteen thousand eggs every four days?"

That's so many. He shudders at the very thought. "I'm not *quite* so prolific. But fret not, my dear. All those facts and more can be safely tucked into your noggin once we find you a book that doesn't read like watching paint dry. I know there's SOMETHING about octopuses being able to tamper with their own biology on the fly."

Madame

"Oh? That sounds interestin'. And yeah, glad we ain't out here layin' thousands of eggs, that's just too much." She laughed, giving his arm a squeeze in hers.

Valera

And off they go, back to shore and beyond, to educate an octopus woman on her own partial biology. How lovely.

#((Internet is still ASS but i managed to get this up yay))#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts

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hysterialevi · 4 years

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Red Dead Rising | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE RDR2 - Greed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.

Point of view: third-person

This story is also on AO3 and Wattpad

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Author’s note: Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. It was really late when I finished this and I don’t have the energy to review it lol. Hope you enjoy regardless though :)

TWO MONTHS LATER

APRIL, 1887

INDIGO PEAK

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur added some last-minute touches to his sketch of Indigo Peak, doin’ his absolute best to capture what was in front of him.

There was a whole array of purple mountains just sitting in front of this camp. They all sat in a majestic, uneven line right above the horizon and towered over a gathering of evergreen trees, separating the sky from the wildlife that lived in the fields and meadows below.

The white sun also hovered above the mountains in a thick blanket of blue-tinted clouds, and provided the landscape with an abundance of rays. They passed through the space between the summits like something out of a painting, and touched the ground in a scattered pattern, giving the grass a dotted look.

It was extraordinarily beautiful, in Arthur’s opinion. He had seen nature’s beauty many times before, but... it was just one of those things that never got old.

Unfortunately for him however, he absolutely despised his drawing.

“Dammit...” Arthur muttered, smudging some of the graphite out.

How did people do this? Arthur originally got the idea to try it from Thomas who was constantly sketching away in his own journal, but the man made it look so easy. His “doodles” were always so detailed and lifelike, and in the meantime, Arthur’s looked like someone drew them in the midst of an earthquake. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.

The young outlaw let out an annoyed sigh and shut the journal closed, deciding to take a break for now as he relaxed on a nearby tree stump.

He was planning to visit Mary, anyway. The woman sent him a letter not too long ago, and apparently, she was in the region with her family. They were attending the wedding of one of her cousins and were staying at a farm that her grandparents owned, just outside of Harlow. Arthur figured he may as well stop by and say hello before they left.

He just hoped he could avoid Mr. Gillis.

None of the people in Mary’s family really liked him to begin with, but that man was an absolute menace whenever Arthur was around. The young outlaw didn’t know what the hell it would take to please Robert, but the fact that the one person who wanted him dead was the father of his fiancée worried him, to say the least.

Arthur understood Robert’s concerns about letting his daughter marry someone who was a criminal -- any good father would -- but at the same time, he thought he had more than proved himself during his time with Mary.

Arthur never put her in danger, or allowed her to get involved with the gang’s activities. He kept her well away from anything Dutch or Hosea did, and even promised to leave that life behind once he and Mary finally tied the knot. There was also the fact that little Jamie seemed to enjoy having Arthur nearby.

He just didn’t know what else he could do to show Robert that he would be a good husband. Maybe he thought Arthur wouldn’t keep his promise? Or that he was too incompetent?

Well, whatever the case was, Arthur had a bad feeling that Robert was going to be more of a headache than he originally expected. He assumed the man would’ve warmed up to him by now -- the wedding wasn’t too far away, after all -- but that obviously hadn’t happened yet.

He supposed he would just have to keep trying. Mary always told Arthur to have hope, but the young man wasn’t so sure that’d be enough anymore. Mr. Gillis was probably the most stubborn man he’d ever met in his life, and if things didn’t work out between the two of them -- well, that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they got to it.

Arthur just prayed he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that.

Breaking the silence, the sound of people arguing suddenly drew Arthur’s attention away from the landscape and cut off his train of thought, leading him to see what all the commotion was about.

It looked like Thomas and Mac were currently stuck in a spat about something at the moment, and the latter seemed to cling to his companion while he strode around camp, desperate to get away from the quarrel.

“--I’m just saying,” Mac reiterated, “we can’t wait forever!”

“And we won’t,” Thomas replied, clearly vexed. “But we need to be careful.”

The two of them came to a halt, carrying on with their argument not too far away from where Arthur was.

“C’mon, Mac. We’ve been robbing stuff with Hosea for nearly a year now. You know how this works. We make a plan, we wait, and when the time comes, we strike. It’s always the same.”

The other man crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we ain’t never robbed a bank before!”

Thomas placed his hands on his hips. “All the more reason to make sure we do this right. We only have one chance to pull this off, Mac. You understand that? One chance. Ain’t no way we can come back from this if we fail.”

Mac let out a sigh, still not convinced.

“It’s been two months, Thomas. How much longer are we gonna wait?”

Moreau leaned against a tree, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“And what happens if the law finds out we’re here? We gonna move camp again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what about Shaw? Has he made any progress with Farley?”

“I don’t--!” Thomas took a breath, calming himself down. “...I don’t know.”

Arthur jumped into the conversation before the two of them could argue any further and glanced over his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

“Hey, uh... you boys alright?” He called out.

Thomas dismissed the question, evidently just wanting to walk away from this.

“We’re fine, Arthur,” he answered, his tone saying otherwise. “Just... a tad anxious about the upcoming robbery.”

Mac scoffed. “If it ever comes.”

That caused Moreau to snap somewhat. “Yeah, well, you got any better ideas, Callander? Maybe you think we should just run up to the bank and shoot our way through the front door? In broad daylight. Oh, and while we’re at it, we could say hello to Sheriff Farley on the way back to camp! Maybe stay at his place for a cup of tea.”

“You know what, Frenchy,” Mac fired back, “you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Why Hosea even bothers puttin’ up with your bullshit is beyond me. He shoulda left you in New Aubertin as far as I’m concerned.”

“My bullshit?” Thomas repeated. “If I recall correctly, it’s always me who’s cleanin’ up after you and Davey! Like that hell y’all raised back in Mercy when Hosea first found you.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out now--”

“--Gentlemen!”

Bringing the dispute to an abrupt halt, a guttural voice suddenly cut Mac and Thomas off right before things started to get heated, causing everyone to fall silent as a third party joined the scene.

Sauntering in their direction, Dutch casually walked up to the pair of outlaws with an amused grin on his face as he took a long drag on his cigar, chuckling at their behavior.

“You know, gentlemen, while I do appreciate a good ol’ fashioned fight like no other man alive...” he breathed out a puff of smoke, “...I’d rather you saved the killin’ for Farley’s boys. We got enough of a storm comin’ our way as is.”

Thomas sighed wearily. “Sorry, Dutch. It’s just... folk are gettin’ restless. We been sittin’ on this bank robbery for two months now, and Shaw has yet to give us the all-clear. Some are worried that we’re never gonna pull this off.”

Dutch smiled, pointing with his cigar. “Now, listen to me son, if there’s anything you’re gonna learn from your time with me, it’s that losin’ faith never did no one any good. This robbery is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. In fact, I actually received a letter from Benjamin yesterday evening. He thinks we can make our move at any minute now..”

Mac’s expression lit up with a newfound interest. “What? Really? When?”

The other man didn’t promise anything just yet. “I don’t know, but I’m planning to pay him a visit in Harlow. We’ll speak to him face-to-face, and see when we can get things rolling.”

Arthur picked up on that. “We?”

Dutch turned to him. “Yes. I need you to come with me too, Arthur. Apparently, Ben’s got a job for you to do. He asked for you specifically.”

Well, it looked like Arthur wasn’t going to see Mary as soon as he thought. The young man concealed his disappointment. “...Alright, I guess.”

“Good. Then you and I will take a trip down to Harlow, see what Benjamin wants, and in the meantime...” Dutch brought his gaze to Thomas and Mac, “make sure the camp stays in one piece while we’re away, would you?”

Thomas nodded. “Things’ll be fine when you get back.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dutch put out his cigar and headed for the horses, beckoning Arthur. “Come on, son. We got a job to do.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Arthur removed himself from the tree stump and followed Dutch at a brisk pace, sticking close-by while Thomas and Mac returned to their business.

It looked like the two of them had calmed down by now, and to finish things off, they exchanged some final words before parting ways for the afternoon.

“Hey...” Mac murmured apologetically, “sorry for, um... what I said back there. Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Thomas let out a fatigued breath. “...Sure. I know.”

The hot-tempered outlaw threw in a quick offer. “...Wanna head down to the saloon later?”

Thomas repeated his answer, although a bit more relaxed this time. “Sure.”

Arthur grinned at the sight and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He supposed he and Marston weren’t the only ones who had a relationship like that.

There was no doubt that the little boy drove Arthur insane sometimes, but deep down, the young man knew he could never really hurt John. The kid was like a baby brother to him, after all. Dutch and Hosea pretty much raised them like siblings, and underneath all the havoc, Arthur couldn’t deny that he loved Marston.

He just wished he could get some alone time once in a while. Lord knew John loved getting attention.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans you had,” Dutch suddenly remarked, bringing Arthur back to the task at hand. “I know I dragged you into this rather quickly.”

Arthur decided to be honest with him. “Well, I was gonna visit Mary, actually. She’s in the region right now, and wanted to see me before she left. But it’s like you said, we got a job to do first.”

Dutch approached Belle-Dame, unhitching her from the post. “Mary’s in Harlow?”

“Not Harlow,” he corrected. “On a farm outside of it. She’s stayin’ there with her father and grandparents.”

“Ah. Well, tell you what -- we’ll just have a short chat with Benjamin, hear what updates he’s got for us, and afterwards, you can go on and see Mary. Sound good?”

Arthur mounted Abitha, readying himself for the ride. “Sounds good.”

Dutch smiled at him, climbing on top of his own horse. “Thank you for bein’ patient with me, Arthur. I know this process has been long, but we are gonna do this. We just gotta push a little bit more, and soon, that bank’ll be ours to pillage. Now, c’mon. Harlow awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE GALLOWS, HARLOW

Falling with a sudden drop, the criminal collapsed beneath the gallows’ surface and dangled morbidly in the air, causing the noose’s rope to go taut while the crowd watched in both horror and fascination.

Harlow was normally a peaceful town, and even prided itself on having such a low crime rate, but recently, things had changed for the worse... and everyone could feel it.

No one knew exactly where this feeling came from or why it was appearing so suddenly, but for the past couple of months, a peculiar sense of dread loomed over the town like a dark cloud that just wouldn’t leave.

There were more thefts, more break-ins, more fights... and even more murders. The people of Harlow were either vanishing or dying one-by-one, and as a result, the entire town was on edge. Though, no one was quite as stressed as their beloved sheriff, Ronan Farley.

The man had the population of a small city depending on him. Harlow always looked to him for answers whenever things went wrong, and normally, he was able to provide.

With everything that was going on though, the sheriff was at a loss for words. Ronan truly had no idea why the town’s overall safety had deteriorated so quickly, and the possibilities of what could’ve been at the heart of all this made him shudder.

Farley had been dealing with outlaws for long enough to know that crimes like this didn’t just fall out of the sky. There was something bigger going on here. Something lurking in the shadows... but he couldn’t act on pure speculation alone.

If Ronan was going to get to the bottom of Harlow’s turbulent situation, he’d have to hope that the people responsible would expose themselves eventually. His hands were full enough as is, and without any proper evidence to conduct a thorough search, there was really nothing more he could do.

Farley’s hands were tied.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“That’s the third execution this week...” Deputy Leighton said with a discouraged sigh, gazing out the window. “What is happening to this town?”

Ronan removed his hat and placed it down on the desk, offering some reassurance to his friend.

“Keep it together, Andrew,” he reminded the young lawman. “This ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with this.”

“True,” the deputy conceded, “but lately, it just feels like... the wind’s shifted in Harlow. Like our luck’s run out. There are more criminals hangin’ from the gallows than there are bounties on our wall, and this idea that we can’t do our job as lawmen anymore is startin’ to propagate.”

Andrew took a seat at the desk, leaning back in exhaustion. “...Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrew Leighton was the youngest out of the four deputies, and also happened to be the newest, apart from Deputy Shaw. He had only been working with Ronan for about six months, whereas Buchanan and Sommer had been at the sheriff’s side for a couple of years.

Andrew was twenty-one years old, and in contrast to his fellow lawmen, carried a slightly more gullible demeanor to him, often making him a target.

He wasn’t naive, necessarily. Andrew had seen more than his fair share of violence in the past, but he had also been blessed with the curse of wanting to believe the best in people. He tried to maintain the idea that no man was truly evil, and that good nature was reflected in his appearance.

Leighton had a clean-shaven face, a pair of kind blue eyes, and a head of short blond hair that he always kept in a neat style. He wore a slate-blue Classic Frock coat on top of a white shirt and black vest, and adorned a black Paragon Town hat to go with his boots.

Sheriff Farley, on the other hand, sported a much rougher temperament. The hardy man had loose and short brown hair, a full beard, and a noticeably wounded look in his eyes. He was only in his late-thirties, but had a few extra wrinkles creasing his face due to all the stress and lack of sleep.

Ronan’s usual attire consisted of a somewhat weathered Gaucho hat, a dark-brown duster coat, and a scarlet-red vest that he wore on top of an opened white shirt. His boots were nothing fancy and bore no sort of design, but they were sturdy enough... sort of like the people he worked so hard to protect.

Gazing blankly at the empty jail cells, Andrew decided to put professionalism aside for a moment and posed a more colloquial question to Ronan, hoping to get his honest opinion.

“Hey, sheriff...” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Andrew softened his voice a bit, not wanting to announce their conversation to anyone in the vicinity.

“...What d’you think is really goin’ on in Harlow?”

Ronan paused at the vagueness of the question, not entirely sure what Andrew was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

The deputy took a second to clarify. “The deaths, the disappearances, the sudden lack in morale... Harlow’s had its rough patches, sure, but nothing quite like this. You think it’s all just a coincidence?”

The sheriff didn’t crack his shell just yet. “Coincidence or not, we’ll get through it.”

Andrew didn’t buy it. “...With all respect, Ronan, I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not that dense. I’m sure you out of all people can sense something’s wrong in Harlow. Something that... we might not be ready for.”

Ronan took a seat across from Leighton, hoping to relax for just a second.

“It ain’t our job to speculate, Andrew. When there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. But we can’t go searchin’ for trouble when we don’t even know what to look for.”

“I know,” the deputy agreed, “it’s just... I hate this feeling, y’know? This feeling of sittin’ around, not being able to help the folk ‘round here. Everyone’s worried that we’ve got a rough road ahead of us, and they expect us to solve all their problems, but... we can’t even do anything without solid proof. I suppose I just wish I could do more.”

Ronan leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“You’ve got a good heart, Leighton, but we’re the last people this town needs to be gettin’ paranoid. Stay vigilant, and remember to use your head. If anything does happen to Harlow, it’s gonna need all of us to protect it.”

Andrew nodded in reassurance, deciding to drop the subject for now. “...You’re right, you’re right. I can’t go startin’ trouble when there might not even be any. I gotta keep my head on my shoulders. It’s just... it’s difficult when you don’t actually have a target to shoot at yet. But... you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

The deputy stood up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving Farley to his thoughts.

“...Anyway, thanks for listenin’ to me ramble, sheriff. I didn’t mean to put all that on you. You’re a rock for more people than you realize. I just hope I can repay you someday.”

Ronan’s expression remained flat, but it was still clear to Andrew that he appreciated the remark.

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.”

Opening the door with a firm pull, the deputy wasted no time in getting back to work and headed out into the open, only to stop in his tracks when he found someone blocking the doorway.

It was a woman. She was about ten years older than Andrew, and a head of black hair that had been tied into a loose bun.

The dress she was wearing appeared rather simple in terms of design, but it still carried an elegant shape regardless. The upper part was a soft shade of white, and the bottom had been dyed mahogany brown. As a way to top it all off though, the woman had also tied a yellow scarf around her neck, and let most of it hang off her back like a miniature cape.

The young deputy recognized her immediately upon seeing her, and gave her a brief greeting.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Farley.”

The woman smiled in response. “Hello, Mr. Leighton.”

Allowing Mrs. Farley to step in first, Andrew waited off to the side until she was in the office before finally making his way out, shutting the door closed behind him.

As for Ronan, the man got up from his desk almost as soon as he saw his wife and approached her, concerned about what she might be doing here.

“Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly, sensing her husband’s uneasiness. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been home much lately.”

Annabelle glanced out the window, lowering her head in fear as a grim expression spread across her face.

“I... heard about the execution today. That’s the third one this week, isn’t it? Or is it the fourth?” She let out a sigh. “I can never keep up. The days seem to blur together now with all these hangings. Are you... doin’ okay, Ronan? All of this pressure can’t be easy on you.”

Ronan sat on the desk’s surface, sliding a hand down his face.

“I’ll be honest, Annabelle. I’m... I’m worried.”

Annabelle stepped in front of him and gently held his hand, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Worried? About what?”

The sheriff gestured to the door. “Well, Andrew was talkin’ about this just before you came in, but... he feels like Harlow’s luck has run out. As if our time as a safe hamlet is over. And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

That sparked Annabelle’s interest. “Really? Why? Has somethin’ happened?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing in particular, but it don’t take a genius to see that Elijah, Curtis, and Suzanna’s murders are connected. Accordin’ to the evidence we found, they were three separate cases with three different killers -- and we hanged all of ‘em -- but... something just doesn’t feel right. Even after all that chaos, it feels incomplete.”

Annabelle took on a more steadfast tone. “Well, what do you think is happening? Forget the evidence. Forget what people are saying. What does your gut tell you?”

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“...I think there’s more goin’ on here than we can see. I think somethin’ big is coming our way. I dunno what, or how, or even when... but I believe the true killer is still out there. The murders just seemed too similar. Too easy to solve. It all felt contrived to me, and I believe Harlow won’t be safe so long as the real murderer is still roamin’ about. I believe it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

The woman furrowed her brows in anxiety, mindlessly tightening her grip.

“...You’re frightening me, Ronan.”

The man snapped out of his suspicions for the time being and put them aside, bringing a loving hand up to Annabelle’s face.

“I’m... I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to scare you. Things have just been tense around Harlow these past couple of months. I guess I needed to get that off my chest more than I realized. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home tonight. Before you go to bed.

Annabelle beamed at that, afterwards pecking a kiss on Ronan’s cheek. “Good. I miss you.”

The sheriff chuckled softly at that. “I miss you too.”

Mrs. Farley took a step back, still grinning from their conversation. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Just... be careful, okay? Harlow needs you now more than ever. And so do I.”

Ronan nodded firmly. “I will. The same goes for you.”

“Of course.”

Annabelle wandered closer to the door, offering some last-minute advice to the troubled sheriff before she left.

“These are strange times, Ronan. The only way we’re gonna get through them is with each other. Don’t forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE BLUE BRONCO SALOON, HARLOW

Sitting on top of a barrel, Arthur avidly sketched in silence while Dutch slowly paced around in boredom as the two of them stayed patiently behind Harlow’s saloon, waiting for Benjamin to turn up.

It had been quite a long time ever since Arthur last saw Ben. The man visited their camp occasionally to keep Dutch updated on things, but Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he and Ben actually sat down together and just... talked.

He wondered what he looked like now. What he was doing. How he was getting on.

Sure, Ben wasn’t always the nicest man, or even the most righteous, but as strange as it sounded, that was one of the reasons why Arthur liked him. To him, it made Ben seem to more genuine.

He may not have always been the most eloquent with his words, and sometimes he straight-up tried to avoid people, but Arthur knew that deep down, Ben never worried about hiding behind some sort of pretense.

He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, so there was never any doubt whenever Benjamin expressed his thoughts. Ironically though, he was the one Dutch chose to act as somebody else.

Arthur didn’t know why Dutch thought he’d be the best person to work as a mole. Ben never struck him as somebody to go undercover like this, but despite Arthur’s concerns, Dutch seemed to have no skepticism surrounding Benjamin’s capabilities. According to him, he was the “perfect” man for the job.

Arthur just hoped everything would turn out okay. The gang had worked so hard and for so long to get this robbery done, that for something to go wrong now would’ve been a major setback.

The folks back at camp were nervous enough about robbing a bank for the first time, and Arthur didn’t even wanna think about the chaos that would ensue if their plan failed.

It was like Thomas said. They only had once chance to get this right, and there was no room for impulse. They needed to focus.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, cowboy?” Dutch asked, making Arthur pause mid-sketch.

“Drawing.” The boy answered simply.

His companion smirked. “Oh? Drawing what?”

Arthur shrugged. “...Things.”

“That so? What kinda things?”

The young man gestured aimlessly at their surroundings, admittedly somewhat shy to talk about it. “Y’know, stuff. That we see. Horses, people, trees.”

Dutch chortled humorously at that. “Oh, okay.”

Arthur sighed. “Look, it ain’t nothin’ fancy, alright? I just do it when I’m bored.”

The other man’s grin only grew wider at his annoyance. “Well, please, don’t let me disturb you. Carry on with drawing your... ‘things.”

The young outlaw mentally groaned to himself, returning to his work.

Just before he could start sketching again however, a third person walked into the scene, causing both of them to divert their attention.

“Gentlemen.” Benjamin Shaw greeted flatly, strolling in their direction.

Benjamin was a scraggly-looking man with sunken cheeks due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and displayed a collection of small scars on his face, the most prominent one being a thin, horizontal gash that sat just above his left brow.

As for his hair, it was chocolate-colored and reached long enough to touch his shoulders. In terms of style though, the strands were rather tangled and messy, and his facial hair wasn’t anymore tame.

Benjamin had nothing more than a prickly layer of scruff sticking to his jawline, but there was a slim gap in his mustache from another scar that sliced downwards across his mouth.

On the topic of clothes though -- at the moment, Benjamin was wearing a black Collar Overshirt with a hickory-colored leather jacket that made his badge stand out like a beacon in the night, and he adorned a dark pair of trousers as well as some Sleeked Riding boots to match the Stalker hat that he always wore.

Overall, he looked pretty much the same compared to when Arthur last saw him, and that made the young man happy.

“There you are!” Dutch replied excitedly. “How the hell are you, my boy?”

Benjamin didn’t appear to return the enthusiasm. If anything, he looked exhausted.

“I feel like shit and I look like shit, but I got some information you might be interested in, Dutch. Though, it ain’t all good news, I’m afraid.”

Dutch’s expression dimmed instantly at the news. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. What is it?”

Benjamin lowered his voice. “Well, the good news is I think we’ll be able to hit the bank soon. Ronan and his deputies trust me. It took some convincing, believe me, but they finally see me as one of their own.”

“Extremely well done, Ben. I knew you was the right feller for this job. When do you think we’ll be able to rob the bank?”

The “deputy” thought for a minute. “Give me... one more week. I’ll be able to get things rollin’ by then.”

Dutch switched to a more serious tone. “Just one more week? Are you certain? We don’t wanna rush this.”

Benjamin insisted. “I’m certain. I’ve got the whole town on edge with a string of recent crimes, and tensions are startin’ to build. Now is the time to do this. If we wait too long, this may not work.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. I trust your judgement. One more week and then we’ll finally hit this goddamn bank. I’ll let the people back at camp know. Now... what’s the bad news?”

Shaw leaned in a bit more, making sure that no one else could hear them.

“I did some investigatin’ into Sheriff Farley, and it turns out, that ain’t even the man’s real name.”

“What?” Dutch questioned, taken aback. “Then what the hell is it?”

Benjamin was quiet for a second, almost like he was worried to see his friend’s reaction.

“O’Driscoll.”

Arthur’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re shittin’ me. The sheriff of this town is an O’Driscoll?”

“Not just any O’Driscoll,” Ben clarified. “He’s Colm’s older brother.”

Dutch’s face scrunched into a glower. “How d’you know this?”

“I overheard Ronan and his wife talkin’ about it,” Benjamin explained. “Apparently, he changed his name to ‘Farley’ many years ago ‘cause he didn’t wanna be associated with the O’Driscolls no more. Sounds to me like he and Colm didn’t get along.”

“So, he’s not working with the gang?” Arthur asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Ronan’s got a strong hatred for outlaws. I highly doubt he’d ever work with them.”

“Still,” Dutch added, “it’s something to think about. When we first arrived at New Aubertin, Thomas told me there had been rumors of the O’Driscolls being in this region. If Colm’s got any affection left for his brother, and he finds out what we’re doing -- we need to be extra careful from here on out.”

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Dutch said, heading back to his horse, “I’m gonna return to camp. Let ‘em know about the plan. In the meantime, Arthur will help you out with that job you mentioned. Stay safe, you two. And keep a low profile. We’re this close to robbin’ that bank. We ain’t botching it now.”

Taking his leave, Dutch removed himself from the saloon’s vicinity and rode back to camp like a bat out of hell, eager to deliver the good news to the gang as the sun steadily began to set.

Meanwhile, Arthur stayed behind with Benjamin and simply remained seated on his barrel while the other man found a comfortable spot next to him, leaning against the saloon’s wall in a casual manner.

“So...” Arthur began, “what was that job you had for me?”

Ben took off his hat, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead. “There was no job.”

The young man raised a brow. “What? So why’d you ask Dutch to bring me here?”

“Because you’re one of the few people I like to talk to, and I need a break from this mess.” Benjamin quickly lit a cigarette, offering one to Arthur. “Anyway... how’ve you been? Things goin’ good at camp?”

Arthur took the cigarette and waited for Ben to light it, continuing the conversation. “As good as they can be. I’m plannin’ to visit Mary later. Apparently, she’s in the region.”

The other man’s face sagged with obvious disapproval. “Ms. Gillis is here?”

“Yes. You mean to tell me you still don’t like her?”

Benjamin put out the match. “It ain’t that simple, Arthur. Mary’s a sweet girl -- I ain’t suggestin’ otherwise. I just don’t know how serious she is about marrying you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that he struck a nerve. “What do you mean by that? She said yes, didn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but how long before that dusty, old shithead father of hers gets in the way? You really think he'll have no influence on Mary? He’s already tryin’ to put your head on a pike as it is.”

The young man let out a cloud of smoke. “Mary loves me, Ben. And I love her. Nothing’s separatin’ us. Besides, what her father does ain’t her fault. I really don’t understand why you and Grimshaw dislike her so much. ”

Benjamin sighed in defeat. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, Arthur. You’re a good man. Much better than a lot of us. We don’t wanna see you get hurt. But... if you trust her, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I did too. Just don’t expect me to weclome her with open arms anytime soon.”

Arthur picked up on Benjamin’s agitated tone, suddenly worried about his friend’s well-being. This wasn’t just about Mary... was it?

“Hey...” he said, speaking more softly, “r’you good, Ben? I mean, you’ve always been an angry bastard, but you seem especially irritated today. What’s goin’ on?”

Thinking to himself for a moment, the deputy remained quiet and ignored Arthur’s question as he thought about what to say next, clearly conflicted about something.

It was unusual for Ben to be so reserved. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but... even then, this sort of behavior was odd for him. Normally, he’d crack a joke or two -- maybe throw in a hint of sarcasm here and there, but today, he was completely serious.

It made Arthur suspect that this whole job was having more of a toll on Benjamin than anyone in the gang truly understood. Dutch did kind of force him into this, after all, and Arthur really had no idea what sort of experiences Ben was going through in order to get the gang where they were now.

Arthur just hoped that Ben wasn’t angry with him personally. It was no secret that Dutch favored the young man over anyone else in the gang, and part of Arthur couldn’t help but feel as if that was what got him out of doing this job, despite the fact that Hosea originally planned to send him or Thomas.

Just what was going on?

“...Y’know what, Arthur,” Benjamin finally said, sounding far more drained than before, “I won’t lie to you. These past two months with Ronan and his men... they’ve opened my eyes to some things. Things that... that make me question everything I’ve done in my life.”

Arthur turned to face him. “What d’you mean?”

Shaw looked at him with a guilt-ridden gaze, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“...I’ve done some terrible stuff throughout the years, Arthur. Stuff that even you don’t know about. I’ve hurt people like it was nothing, killed others for the sake of money, and even turned my back on a few folks who loved me just like you and Dutch do. But... after workin’ with Farley, I’m not sure that’s the man I wanna be anymore.”

Arthur quirked a brow at the statement. “Wait, are you sayin’ you wanna become a lawman for real?”

“Not a lawman,” Ben corrected, “but I dunno if I’m gonna be returning to the gang after this robbery. I’m thinkin’ of maybe going my own way. Starting a different life with the money we take, while I still have the chance. I’m... I’m sorry, Arthur. I probably should’ve said something sooner.”

The young man protested. “You can’t leave, Ben. We need you in this gang. Not only are you one of the best people we’ve had, you’re also my friend. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Benjamin flipped the subject to him. “And what about you? You’re gonna be a husband soon, Arthur. Possibly even be a father someday. You can’t stay in this life forever. It’s gotta be left behind eventually if you wanna be there for your family.”

Arthur felt admittedly somewhat cornered by the response.

“I-I know. And I’ll leave it behind when the time comes, but I still owe it to Dutch to stick with him throughout this whole thing. He saved my life. Yours, too. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but my life wasn’t worth savin’ when he first found me. I wanna make sure that it is before I go.”

Somewhat overwhelmed by Benjamin’s sudden confession, Arthur gave the man nothing but a concerned gaze in response and simply sat there with a cigarette in his hand, watching the smoke dance from its tip as it slowly burned away.

Meanwhile, Benjamin threw his to the ground and swiftly stubbed it out with his boot, marking the end of their conversation.

“Do me a favor, Arthur,” he said before returning to his work. “Don’t become the same man I was. When the time comes, make sure you do what’s right.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that advice. “It ain’t always that easy, Ben.”

“I never said it would be easy,” he countered. “In fact, it’s probably gonna be a goddamned nightmare before any of this blows over... but it’ll be worth it. So long as you do the right thing. Remember that.”

With that being said, Benjamin walked off into the busier parts of town just as more people started pouring out of the different establishments around Harlow, ready to go back home for the evening.

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder, saying one last goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur. Lord only knows what the future holds.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story #rdr2 prequel #rdr2 oc

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dohmaverse · 4 years

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Pets are a big part of my life but i never think to give them to my ocs. So. Oc pet post is go (belvite edition)

Maverick: has several chickens, specially made them lil bracelets enchanted to scare away predators, they are emboldened & absolute menaces. Also has those cow bones he necromancies a lot but to call that a pet feels off

Lorant: no pets. Doesn't care about animals & honestly should not be left alone with them. Family might have a fancy fish tank in the living room but otherwise no critters. Or idk maybe he has a tamagotchi

Hyaki: absolutely a Horse Girl. Family prolly has all kinds of livestock but she's more connected to her horses.

Gale & Kenny: They have got to have a dog. Like a big one they can fuckin wrestle & has its own couch.

Marta: she's an ex librarian, she craves companionship but is terrified to leave her house. This woman has AT LEAST 4 cats.

Tevyn: idk tev looks at an animal & just sees meat. Might enjoy watching local wildlife fuck around in their garden but doesnt really care to get closer than that to an animal theyre not actively trying to eat. They do like mounted/framed insects tho.

Tobi: probably one of those assholes who will get lonely, get a cat or a dog, realize its more of a hassle than he cares to deal with, then get rid of it.

Buddy: loves animals so much, but is also just so irresponsible & dumb of ass & prone to not returning home for days at a time. Would take the family cockatiel to school w him in his hoodie pocket & feed it tater tots at lunch. Tries to befriend every stray animal. Lies on his kitchen floor in the dark for hours at a time so he can watch the mice raid his pantry.

Soleil: (exclusively imaginary conjurations in her faerealm) big exotic creatures. Like a panther or bigass snake or something. Likes the aesthetic but does not have a nurturing bone in her body

#oc stuff #maverick #lorant #gale #kenny #marta #hyaki #tevyn #tobias #buddy #soleil #oc post of the day!!!#maybe i will do stratah or angstrom tomorrow lmao #text

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ntrending · 5 years

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The nuclear mutant is still evolving

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-nuclear-mutant-is-still-evolving/

The nuclear mutant is still evolving

A nuclear weapon test on Bikini Atoll (US Department of Energy/)

In the early morning of April 26, 1986, reactor number 4 in the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant exploded. In the middle of a safety test, energy levels plunged, so the operators withdrew the majority of the control rods to force the reactor back into production. It began to overheat. Hoping to neutralize the system, the scientists pushed the rods back in, but unbeknownst to them, they were tipped in graphite, an accelerant. Kaboom.

If you spent the summer watching HBO’s Chernobyl through your fingers, this is old news. The prestige drama sacrificed quite a few facts for narrative’s sake and should not be mistaken for anything approaching a documentary. But the creators carefully embroidered their five-episode miniseries with cultural and scientific detail: The sets, in the words of the New Yorker‘s Masha Gessen, are “reproduced with an accuracy that has never before been seen in Western television or film—or, for that matter, in Russian television or film.” A courtroom scene, in which three characters explain the minutiae of the disaster, graphite and all, dominates the finale. For five grueling episodes, the show maintains its commitment to realism, if not reality.

That makes it different from much of the atomic storytelling of the last three-quarters of a century, which stoked the public imagination with wild tales of nuclear mutants. But as we’ve learned, the real aftermath of radioactive devastation can be just as terrifying.

A scene from Chernobyl (Pixabay/)

In August 1945, the United States dropped two nuclear bombs on Japan. But careful censorship meant Americans knew few of the details, especially about radiation and its effects. That meant public sentiment was complicated, and often contradictory. For many, “the atomic bomb was seen as sexy,” says Cyndy Hendershot, an English professor at Arkansas State University and Cold War pop culture expert. They grooved to rock ‘n roll songs like “Atomic Baby” and wore new swimsuits named for the Bikini Atoll, a major American nuclear weapons test site.

But the growing anxiety of a nuclear apocalypse needed an outlet, and Hollywood’s monster movies provided. “There were serious dramas that dealt with the actuality of nuclear war,” Hendershot says, “but people didn’t want to see that.” Instead, they turned to B-movies—low-budget, high-drama affairs—that took a sideways glance at catastrophe. These films, Susan Sontag argued in her landmark 1965 essay, “The Imagination of Disaster,” allow a viewer to “participate in the fantasy of living through one’s own death and more, the death of cities, the destruction of humanity itself.” You went into the theater scared, but you may have come out chuckling.

“The original mutants were ridiculous,” Hendershot says. In 1957, The Amazing Colossal Man and The Incredible Shrinking Man debuted within a few months of each other. Both are about average Joes exposed to nuclear radiation, with disastrous and diametrically opposed effects. Fifty feet tall and growing, the super-sized man terrorizes those around him. Psychologically ruined by his transformation, he destroys Las Vegas while wearing “a diaper-looking thing,” Hendershot says. He’s ultimately gunned down by the military. The shrinking man, by contrast, is at the mercy of every lifeform around him. He’s bloodied by his house cat and collapses after fighting a spider off with a safety pin. But he ends the film mentally intact: he will soon be reduced to atoms, but finds peace in the realization that all of creation is made up of some very small pieces.

Movie poster for the 1954 Japanese Godzilla (Toho Company Ltd./)

In these and other American films, mutants were treated poorly, Hendershot says. They may have been victims of atomic testing, but to the wider world, they themselves were the menace. This ensured every movie had its “Disney ending,” as Bill Tsutsui, president of Hendrix College and a Japanologist, calls it. If there was only one dangerous individual (or, in Tsutsui’s favorite sub-genre, the “big bug movies,” one colony of oversized ants), the military could contain the threat and keep society safe. In contrast, Japanese cinema, made by and for people with firsthand experience of nuclear devastation, was more sympathetic of mutants. And it allowed both personal and political ethical dilemmas to go unresolved.

Director Ishirō Honda released the first Godzilla film in 1954. (In Japan, the monster is known as Gojira, a combination of the words for “gorilla” and “whale.”) The film, produced in the wake of that year’s Lucky Dragon No. 5 incident, in which an American hydrogen bomb test in the Bikini Atoll contaminated a Japanese fishing boat, tells the story of an ancient monster awakened by H-bomb testing in the Pacific. A respected zoologist spends much of the film defending Godzilla’s right to live, but ultimately helps to destroy the creature for the good of mankind. A scientist who creates a dastardly “Oxygen Destroyer”—the only weapon capable of defeating the monster—destroys his notes and drowns himself alongside Godzilla so that no one can ever recreate his work. Despite their sacrifice, at the end of the film the characters conclude that so long as weapons testing continues, “it’s possible that another Godzilla might appear somewhere in the world, again.” It’s both the perfect segue to a sequel (of which there are now 34) and an earnest call for nuclear non-proliferation.

In “The Imagination of Disaster,” Sontag wrote “[t]here is absolutely no social criticism, of even the most implicit kind, in science fiction films.” A decade later, that kind of context-free storytelling felt increasingly impossible, even in the U.S. In 1979, Three Mile Island generation station in Pennsylvania suffered a partial meltdown. Between 1965 and 1982, the number of Americans who supported the United States’ decision to drop nuclear bombs on Japan dropped 7 points, to 63 percent. That year, a million people gathered in New York City’s Central Park to decry atomic weapons, in what was then the largest protest in American history.

Social criticism was everywhere, including the silver screen. As the Cold War progressed, nuclear weapons and power plants moved from the realm of science fiction to the world of political thrillers, and from the B-movie to the Oscar-worthy. Two critical darlings, The China Syndrome, which premiered in 1979, and Silkwood, which came out in 1983, focused on everyday Americans determined to expose cover-ups at generating facilities.

Film poster for Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (Reynold Brown/)

HBO’s Chernobyl, in many ways, is a modern mutation of this narrative DNA. Subordinates push back against their bosses and fail. Colleagues lie, cheat, and fight for favors. It’s standard workplace docufiction—a radiation-poisoned The Office. When nuclear mutants do appear, their presence is understated, at least compared to a 50-foot-tall man in a giant diaper. At the end of the first episode, a dying bird falls to the pavement. The proverbial canary in the coal mine, it twitches violently as locals, unaware of the hazardous materials streaming out of the nearby power plant, innocently run errands around town. Later, the series depicts a crew of “liquidators” tasked with killing every creature they can find in the “zone of alienation,” an area of restricted access around the exploded reactor. Their goal? To prevent the wild, stray, and pet animals from spreading any radiation in their fur.

Today, the Chernobyl exclusion zone has expanded from an initial 19-mile radius circling the power plant to a 1,600 square mile blob straddling Belarus and the Ukraine. Despite the contamination, which will persist for thousands of years, all kinds of organisms, from birds to humans, still live and, crucially, eat inside the exclusion zone. The risks residents face are real. While wildlife is thriving in the absence of large human settlements, barn swallows sport albino-spotted feathers; wild boars, made radioactive by a diet of contaminated mushrooms, roam from Sweden to the Czech Republic; and scientists worry European gray wolves residing in the zone may spread their mutations to populations across the continent.

As for people, there appears to be an increased risk of certain illness among those in or around the zone. Drawing tight connections between radiation exposure and public health outcomes is next to impossible, and findings are often controversial, but studies have linked Chernobyl fallout (along with other factors like diet, alcohol, and age), to an increased risk of miscarriage among women in affected areas. Research has also tied contaminated milk in Belarus to an increased risk of thyroid cancer in children.

A poster for The Incredible Shrinking Man (Reynold Brown/)

For the rare few who can afford to remove pollutants from local soil or haul in new dirt, it’s possible to safely grow food in contaminated areas, says Kate Brown, a science, technology, and society professor at MIT. Just look at Atomik Vodka: Earlier this month, a team of scientists announced they’d successfully distilled grain grown in the exclusion zone into a safe-to-drink spirit. But the technical intricacies of soil remediation aren’t what made the vodka a viral internet sensation. It’s our obsession with the exclusion zone—that most forbidden of places, ruined by humankind’s hubris and reborn in our absence.

Since the Ukraine opened the Chernobyl zone to tourism in 2010, thousands have taken state-sanctioned tours of abandoned towns, nature-reclaimed ruins, and even the power plant itself. Their experiences are documented across social media, including on Instagram. Claims the site is a destination for social media influencers are greatly exaggerated; the exclusion zone certainly hasn’t replaced the beaches of Bali. But that may change, as Ukranian President Volodymyr Zelensky, whose qualifications include having previously played a Ukranian president on television, is intent on fixing his country’s “brand.” That starts, he says, with making Chernobyl a different kind of hotspot.

Despite the abundance of permitted tour vans, illegal visits to the site persist. A community of “Stalkers,” inspired by a first-person shooter game, enter the zone over and over again. The majority appear to be young men, Brown says, drawn like Daniel Boone to the frontier, determined to test their mettle. They bring along Geiger counters—not to avoid radiation, but to find it. Some drink the water and eat apples hanging from the trees.

Stalkers take exclusion zone exploration to the extreme, but they may be motivated by the same thing as the above-board Instagrammers. Brown speculates many people are drawn to Chernobyl not just for its history, but because they feel it may represent the future: “As we worry about climate change, and the habitability of our Earth, I could see people having those fears,” she says. “And what we do when we have fears? We watch horror films”—or take terrifying trips—“and scare ourselves so our anxieties subside.”

Seventy-four years after the atomic age began, the nuclear mutant staggers on. They face fierce competition in the marketplace from films and television shows about more contemporary fears, like viral outbreaks and terrorism. And as fears of nuclear war subside and the realities of climate change make themselves known, the campy terror of the 1950s has long since been replaced by the quiet horror of dying animals and decaying landscapes. They’re no longer the result of random chance or blameless accidents, either, but of deeply human error. More than ever, they’re our monsters, and if we’re willing to listen, they have something they want to tell us.

Written By Eleanor Cummins

#Environment

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wildlyhardphilosopher-blog · 5 years

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Dog Training 4 U | More Information Available Here

New Post has been published on https://dogtraining.dknol.com/english/dog-training-4-u-more-information-available-here/?utm_source=Tumblr&utm_medium=Tumblr+%230+Freda+K+Pless&utm_campaign=SNAP%2Bfrom%2BBest+Dog+Training

Dog Training 4 U | More Information Available Here

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The Philippines’ China Dam Controversy

Hundreds of thousands of people today in Metro Manila had been left without drinking water past week, raising stress on indigenous communities in the mountains previously mentioned the Philippines money as the government seeks to tap their terrain for supply.

Citizens were pressured to queue at hearth hydrants, and firms reliant on water, not minimum laundrettes, shut or suspended operations.

Public ire is remaining leveled at Manila H2o, the personal concessionary contracted in 1997 to handle drinking water and wastewater services to the japanese region of Metro Manila on a 25-yr lease.

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Civil modern society groups have accused the enterprise, which is majority owned by venerable Philippines conglomerate Ayala Corp., and invested by the United Kingdom’s United Utilities and Japan’s Mitsubishi Corp., of placing profits before its public assistance obligations.

Manila Water’s failure to protected the city’s h2o source has also sparked criticism from legislators demanding that the Metropolitan Waterworks and Sewerage System (MWSS), the agency billed with administering the privatization of the capital’s h2o techniques, penalize the company, and refund customers.

Manila H2o blamed the disaster on unexpected desire from the design field, shortages in the main drinking water resource, the Angat-Ipo-La Mesa system, and delays to infrastructure initiatives intended to carry extra supply onstream.

The latter includes a series of dams in the close by Sierra Madre mountains, known as the New Centennial Drinking water Source – Kaliwa Dam Project, which have been mooted as a resolution to Metro Manila’s h2o prerequisites because the reign of Ferdinand Marcos.

The task in its entirety comprises a few dams that jointly will insert 2,400 million liters for each day (MLD) to the existing 4,000 MLD source that serves the 20 million or so people today in Manila and its encompassing areas.

According to the MWSS, the first period is slated to start off with a 60-meter concrete dam at Kaliwa, which straddles the boundary of Rizal and Quezon provinces to the east of Manila, as perfectly as a 25-kilometer conveyance tunnel, and two drinking water remedy plants.

If constructed, the Kaliwa dam would carry an more 600 MLD per day onstream, in the process securing Manila’s water offer for the up coming 10 to 15 years, MWSS formal Byron Carbon said.

The point that the conveyance tunnel is earmarked for a drinking water move capacity four moments the measurement of the source from Kaliwa’s 1st period speaks to the project’s general scope, and the two greater dams that will finally be designed at Laiban and Kanan to build a 3 dam and reservoir collection that parallels the Angat-Ipo-La Mesa program.

The dam falls below the Philippines’ involvement in China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), and is shown in provisions introduced pursuing the point out check out of Chinese President Xi Jinping to Manila in November final yr.

Government officials, which includes MWSS Administrator Reynaldo Velasco and Finance Secretary Carlos Dominguez III, have arrive out in assistance of the Kaliwa undertaking, with the previous contacting it a “done deal” last week.

“The agency is functioning on the Environmental Effect Evaluation (EIA) now, the road ideal of way has been secured, and the Department of Community Functions and Highways is examining the style of the dam,” Carbon told The Diplomat, introducing that the goal date for completion of the venture is 2023.

China Electrical power Engineering Corp, the company liable for creating the A few Gorges dam in China, has been contracted to build the Kaliwa dams, but the agreement continue to be less than wraps, irrespective of ongoing makes an attempt by activists to have facts introduced to the community.

Many nongovernmental corporations oppose Kaliwa on grounds it will guide to environmental destruction and the displacement of indigenous peoples in more than 230 hectares of the REINA National Park, Wildlife Sanctuary, and Activity Maintain, a mountainous region of dipterocarp forests.

The land is owned by the Dumagats and Remontados indigenous peoples beneath a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title. Their communities have fire-fallow farmed the location for generations, or “time immemorial” as specified by the Indigenous People’s Legal rights Act of 1997, which supposedly ensures their land rights.

A Japanese Worldwide Cooperation Agency EIA conducted for the project in the early 2000s discovered uncommon species of flora and fauna in the area, together with a number of species of rattan, a worthwhile palm made use of in the manufacture of household furniture and balls used in the kick volleyball game Sepak takraw. White-winged traveling fox, slender-tailed cloud rat, civet cats, wild boar, and the Philippine eagle and Philippine deer are among the threatened wildlife species in the area.

The EIA also outlines a total resettlement system for the displaced communities in the influenced barangays. It notes impacts which include the inundation of Dumagat livelihood places and sacred spots of worship, several of which lie adjacent to the river, as perfectly as disruption to the use of the river for transport.

Specifically how numerous indigenous individuals stand to be flooded, displaced, or if not adversely affected is subject to various estimates, ranging from the 42 households recognized in a 2017 MWSS feasibility study to the 20,000 people today labelled as at risk by a regional NGO, the Centre for Environmental Concerns–Philippines.

In principle, the Kaliwa project even now necessitates absolutely free, knowledgeable, and prior consent (FICP) approvals from the Countrywide Council of Indigenous Peoples (NCIP), the entire body billed with representing the myriad of indigenous groups in the Philippines.

Previous week, I travelled with the National Council of Churches in the Philippines (NCCP) to visit the Dumagat community that will be flooded if the next of the Kaliwa project’s 3 dams is at any time built.

The NCCP team was conducting outreach get the job done as an original move to forming a group-based overall health application that may avoid a repeat of a devastating outbreak of measles in July final calendar year that remaining 20 individuals useless.

In a corridor that doubles as a faculty for elementary little ones, about 40 members of the Dumagat group settled to hear to talks on the systemic triggers of their exclusion from the Philippines healthcare process, and what they could do to detect and stop illnesses like tuberculosis.

Wilma Quierrez Valiente, from the Dumagat group of Quezon, is a member of the Shield Sierra Madre group that operates to reinforce the bonds of the neighborhood in opposition to the menace to their way of lifetime the dam poses.

“Since I was born in 1986, I have struggled against the Kaliwa dam,” she claimed. “Our aim is to protect our ancestral lands and to press the countrywide govt to present social providers, not in return for us permitting Kaliwa, but due to the fact it is a suitable.”

Many Dumagat communities lie many several hours away from the closest well being station or faculty in the barangay centers, travel to which gets unachievable when a spouse and children falls ill or kids develop into familial duties.

“The building of the dam indicates demise for indigenous persons. The setting, the forest and rivers, serve as our medical center for the reason that of the organic plants, and as our marketplace and resource of food items the land is our cultural heritage,” Valiente reported. “If we are displaced, it will signify dying mainly because we do not know any other way of lifestyle.”

The community is braced for tries to have them indicator absent their proper to the land below the FIPC rules. Somewhere else, communities experienced reportedly been duped into signing an FICP underneath the guise of registering attendance at a foods distribution software.

With the help of a translator from the Integrated Enhancement Program for Indigenous Men and women, an NGO, I spoke with three tribal elders who collectively symbolize almost 200 families set to be impacted by the dam, each upstream and downstream of the proposed building spot. They reported the fencing off of the dam internet site will tear a gap by way of their local community as the river by itself is their major roadway.

They remain uninformed about the undertaking proposal, in element since the NCIP has stalled on accepting their proposed council consultant, Germino Mendoza. As a consequence, they have collectively decided to boycott conferences with the MWSS until eventually even further detect, and mentioned categorically that they will not accept a further NCIP prospect.

While the Dumagats show up united, an elder from Bagong Nayon in Rizal told the audience in the local community corridor that attempts are staying created to break up the local community with dollars incentives. The elder then warned of the perils of city lifestyle and declared he would rather die than give up his land.

As dusk fell outside the house the corridor, four troopers from the Philippine Military stopped by to relaxation their rifles. Their existence clearly produced the Dumagats uneasy. The elders mentioned that the army routinely patrolled their lands, ostensibly in a bid to counter the Countrywide People’s Military (NPA), the outlawed armed wing of the Communist insurgency.

In February, an NPA-affiliated team did assert responsibility for the destruction of three excavators and a digger in protest at unauthorized design perform relevant to the dam venture on Dumagat land.

Father Alex Bercasio, a Redemptorist priest who chairs the Safeguard Sierra Madre team, mentioned Dumagat elders feared a repeat of intimidation strategies that they assert led to the demise by heart assault of elder Alan Buenodicio on May 2, 2016. A rotating solid of navy personnel had allegedly forced him to consume whisky just about every early morning due to the fact he refused to produce his community’s assert to the land.

In the meantime, development on the obtain roadways from the Marcos Freeway to the dam website is very well underneath way. Diggers and cement mixers are gradually transferring in, laying the foundation for building autos and vehicles really should the dam get the go forward.

The darkness of the problem is deepened by the reality that there are various viable options to Kaliwa on supply.

Sonny Africa, government director of the IBON Basis, an NGO delivering analysis, information and education providers to people’s movements in the Philippines, mentioned that the rehabilitation of the Angat dam, coupled with the possible of a revitalization project on the Wawa River, and the opening of new materials from Laguna Lake, the Philippines’ biggest entire body of new drinking water, could negate the have to have for building at Kaliwa.

In addition, Osaka-based World-wide Utility Progress Corp. previous 7 days let it be recognised that they experienced created an unsolicited bid to finance and develop a significantly considerably less environmentally impactful 7-meter dam at Kaliwa, only to have their proposal rebuffed.

Brian Eyler, director of the Stimson Center’s Southeast Asia plan, reported that China’s deepening of BRI is resulting in an improve of policy initiatives created to meet political goals.

“What’s striking is a viable choice is staying offered,” Eyler reported. “Japan and its companies are recognized to develop high-excellent infrastructure at a time when the region’s nations are declaring that is what they will need, and quite a few nations have realized they have been burned by bad good quality Chinese tasks.”

Other bargains incorporated in the Philippines’ commitment to the BRI include things like the completion of the Chico River Pump Irrigation Job, the initially initiative underneath President Rodrigo Duterte’s flagship “Build Develop Build” infrastructure method to be funded by China.

Though the majority of Overseas Progress Support (ODA) to the Philippines is provided by Japan, China is viewed as critical to the achievements of Duterte’s Develop software, in component due to the fact of a large projected shortfall in the selection of Filipino development personnel required to complete its 75 jobs, not to mention their merged rate tag of 9 trillion Philippine pesos ($171 billion).

As is the norm with the BRI, construction of the tasks, like the Kaliwa dam, will mainly be carried out by Chinese employees, and funded by tender plan financial institution loans.

The joint statement pursuing the Duterte-Xi summit promised “complete transparency” as regards both of those sides’ involvement in BRI tasks, but neither the phrases of the loan nor the design agreement for Kaliwa have nonetheless been manufactured public.

Under a November 20, 2018, financial loan finance settlement in between the Export-Import Lender of China and the MWSS viewed by The Diplomat, the Chinese coverage bank will make out there a loan facility of up to $211.2 million, equal to 85 p.c of the contracted price of the dams, at an interest level of 2 per cent, furnished critical provisions are met.

Amongst them is a clause that states the loan company should only disburse the cash after it has acquired: “Copies of the implementation approach for land acquisition and resettlement … all requisite approvals for this sort of system [sic], and penned confirmation issued by the Chinese Contractor stating that the precise position of the land acquisition and resettlement could satisfy the graduation of the task.”

It stays to be seen irrespective of whether and how the FIPC approvals from the Dumagat group, whose land the project will scar, will be secured.

David Inexperienced is a freelance journalist based in Taipei. Adhere to him on Twitter @DavidPeterGreen.

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