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wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

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Homecoming v.2

...get it.. because the first chapter of my long form sayuri fic is called "homecoming" and this would be version 2... funny... no you dont get it.. thats ok...

Day 6! :) Uh, I had sooo much on my mind for this one and i shortened it quite some so it wouldn't get out of hand. But there is sooo much still in my brain that will never come out. Classic "In my head AU"

Blink and you miss it reference to @depressedhatakekakashi's Yua because when I thought of this scenario and where Kakashi possibly could have gone, she would not leave my mind.

Uchiha Sayuri is this bitch

Role Reversal Au (but not like a total role reversal, Sayuri still has her scumbag father)

Rated M (there is mention of domestic abuse in here)

4116 words

for @narutoocshipweek Day 6: Role Reversal.

On an Anbu mission out of town Sayuri stood face to face with a ghost.

She didn’t need more than one look to realise who she had stumbled upon, the hair silver grey and white as it used to be, the uncovered eye lazy and disinterested. He was tall now, yes, stronger, larger, but he was still the same. No matter how many years she hadn’t seen him, she still felt hot now that she was back in his presence.

That Hatake Kakashi hadn’t died wasn’t a secret to her. In fact, she hadn’t thought him dead the moment he had run away. Kakashi was not a shinobi of second class. He had been Jounin at the age of 12 and not for no reason. No, Sayuri hadn’t believed what people had told her that he had died when he ran away from his shame and anger and disappointment. Neither had Rin, for what it was all worth. All of them had strongly believed that he was still alive somewhere, holding on, doing whatever it was that took his mind off things. But as years passed many lost their belief, even Gai after a while thought it must have been true. If Kakashi were still alive he would have sent them a message by name, he would have to have a reputation. There weren’t many people with sharingans running around.

But Sayuri had always known that he was still alive and around somewhere. At least since the mark on her wrist appeared and branded her. Soulmates were a weird concept that she could not wrap her head around until it was suddenly there. Three little symbols on her 14th birthday marking his name on her left hand. She couldn't exactly tell people that she knew he was still alive. Also because part of her wished to never see him again after everything, Rin dying, Kushina dying….. She didn’t feel like explaining this to him.

Running from him forever however just put her right here in this place with him. He was wearing armour, his hair long and pulled back in a tiny ponytail not unlike the way his father had worn it when he had come back from whatever place he had travelled to that had kept him from Konoha as long as it did. Back when he appeared with a child but without a wife and refused to talk about the circumstances. Sayuri of course had not yet been born back then, but her father had complained about it often enough.

Kakashi’s eyes shot up as if he could feel her stare on his face and their eyes met for the first time in almost 10 years. His were still as grey as ever and hers were the signature black that the Uchiha genes provided. He nodded and Sayuri nodded back. What else was there to do? She slid over to his table and sat down on the opposite side without asking if it was alright with him, placing her Anbu mask on the table next to her.

“Your mask is a dog”, Kakashi stated without introduction or hello or other conversation starter. “That’s a fun twist of fate is it not?”

She didn’t feel like telling him that it was a Hound, which was yes, a dog, but bigger, and that yes, she had picked it because she had remembered his dog pack back from when she was young, instead a million other questions swirled around in her mind. And though she should have maybe asked “Where were you?” or “Why didn’t you message us that you were alright?” or “What the hell are you wearing?” The words she settled on were more personal and expressed a deep pain in her heart that she had maybe always felt, but that was definitely bubbling to the surface now.

“Why did you leave me?”

This was probably not the right thing to ask, seeing as Kakashi hadn’t left her personally. He had just left their village, their teachers, their friends -one of whom happened to be Sayuri. But it felt like a direct slide to her, now that teachers and friends had died or moved on, she could not help but feel angry and disappointed at it. Here he was, all grown up and healthy and happy from the looks of it and that stung more than she could admit out loud.

Kakashi waved to the barman and he brought two sake cups to place before either of them. He drank the entire cup before he spoke, throwing the long hair into his face. He wasn’t wearing a hitai-ate anymore, but his sharingan eye was covered by a thin bandana bearing rune-like symbols that Sayuri had never seen. He sighed deeply: “You must have known I was still alive out there.”

Not a reply to her question, he was just evading what she had accused him of. Of course, he was aware she had known he was still alive. Sayuir’s eyes darted to her left wrist that was at the moment covered under her thick black gloves and then to his hands, which too were behind gloves. If she had his name it meant that he had hers. At least theoretically.

“You could have contacted me”, she now said and the words were bitter on her tongue. Kakashi just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I did not think I had anything to say”, he replied and sounded like a spoiled little child.

Sayuri took her own sake cup and drowned it down, filled it and downed it again. “Gai thought you were dead”, she said bitterly. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“You could have always told him.”

He must have known well enough by now that the soulmate marks were only visible to oneself, and, at least that's what the legend said, to your soulmate. So Sayuri had tried and failed to inform Gai about Kakashi’s wearabouts, had told him she was sure he was still out there, without mentioning her mark, but Gai had always assumed she was just telling him things to please him. “You don’t have to lie to me, Sayuri. It is ok. I am quite fine.” It had been a hopeless case. Even though he’d been away, there was no way Kakashi didn’t understand that.

“Oh yeah, that would have been so easy, you got me”, she spit out and moved her head away. “Still, I thought you’d be more interested in knowing how we are all doing.”

She noticed that he was wearing a tiny Hatake symbol on his frontal plate. It reminded her a little of the Uchiha crest her father wanted her to wear underneath her ANBU armour plate as if it made a difference. She had objected of course, to no avail. Everybody in ANBu was supposed to know which clan she belonged to first and foremost. IT was disgusting actually.

“I was. But I don’t think I could have just returned after I was away for so many years. Don’t you think they would have asked questions?” Kakashi said and he was obviously right. Had he returned after he was declared dead he could have been seen as a threat to the village. Especially if his answers about where he was and why he didn’t give notice were unsatisfactory.

“But then again, I’m not sure Minato-sensei would have done that to me”, he continued musing. “He did have a soft spot for me anyway… I assume MInato-sensei did end up becoming Hokage, right?”

Of course, Sayuri laughed which gained her a confused look by her opposite, he did not know that they died. Why should he? But that also meant he was in a place so cut off from the outside world that he hadn’t heard about the Kyuubi. He must also not know about Rin, about the other changes in the world. It was so hard to believe that he was away so long and so thoroughly that he missed the death of two of his most important people.

Sayuri emptied another cup of sake. That was three in quick succession and she was well on her way to getting blackout drunk. Maybe that was the only way she could deal with this situation right now, she thought. “Minato is dead. So is Kushina-sensei and….” Her voice broke before she could name Rin.

Kakashi’s eye went wide, she could see him breathe in and out below his mask. “Died?” His voice was quieter and he copied her and emptied a cup of sake. Who knew how many he had had at this point.

“When I was 13, yes. The nine-tailed fox attacked the village and killed both of them. They left behind a baby son”, Sayuri explained and remembered that night. The screams, the chaos, the specific instructions that they were not allowed to help the fighting shinobi. She had just recently joined ANBU on Kushina’s encouragement and felt utterly helpless and horrible. And then the persecution of the Uchiha made her father even more unhinged than he already was…

“You know if you’d contact me once you saw the burn mark on your wrist, then you’d maybe know about them dying”, she said in anger and tapped with her finger next to his left hand. Kakahi pulled the hand away as if she had burned it and frowned: “I was not able to contact anybody at that age. I’m sorry to hear of their death….”

He really seemed like he meant it. “Whatever”, Sayuri said. “Their son looks exactly like Minato, he keeps the village on its toes. Not that I could take care of a child - can’t even take care of myself…”

It was weird sitting there with him and drinking sake cup after sake cup with a long lost friend. The guy she used to crush on when she was younger and more naive. He looked so similar to the version of him that had been dominating her mind, but he was so different. The lines around his eyes were deeper and his facial structure was more mature. Also his voice, of course, his voice had dropped down and was now naturally vibrant, filling her ears and echoing off her insides. He looked good, well fed, well grown, not a mess like she was. And that, above all, pissed her off.

“So you have been doing well for yourself, huh, have enjoyed some fruitful years”, Sayuri said coldly, gesturing to his belly as if there was any fat there to make fun of. It was a petty thing to be mean about, of course and untrue on top, but she felt petty.

Kakashi shrugged his shoulders: “You Uchiha have always been a major pain in my ass, really. It was so quiet with none of you around.” Now he was being petty back at her.

“Oh yeah?! Well you have my brother’s sharingan eye, so show a bit of respect to my family!” Sayuri screamed a little louder than really necessary. Kakashi pulled a brow and she could read the question on his face before he even said it. No Sayuri’s connection to her family had not deepend, no she still despised the fact that she had been born into the Uchiha clan. Using them to win an argument was stupid. Idiotic. Childish.

It was even worse because now people’s heads turned over and put Kakashi into their lenses. A shinobi running around with a sharingan eye for the taking was not usual, especially if they weren’t actually part of the Uchiha clan. Sayuri could clearly feel the eyes of all of them aimed at their table and could sense the killing intent polluting the air.

“Let’s go into my room”, Kakashi hissed quickly and grabbed her, before she could stop him from it. She had just about time to grab her mask before he dragged her up the stairs into a small room with a tiny futon and a kimono folded over a bamboo chair. At least that answered the question that she hadn’t asked and showed her that he did not always wear this weird armour outfit.

He let go of her hand and she laughed a little cruelly: “Can’t you defend yourself anymore? Did the last ten years make you weak?” Kakashi turned his head, it was a little red with anger. “I didn’t want to cause a scene, something you should understand or not? Anbu squad leader Dog” Kakashi said back and a shadow fell over his eyes.

“Hound, actually.” Sayuri shrugged her shoulders theatrically: “Wouldn’t have surprised me if you had not been able to do something about them. You don’t at all seem like the person you were when you were a child.” She looked up and his icy glare met hers. “I mean except the part of you not caring about your friends and comrades. You were good at that already when you were ten.” She grinned a lopsided grin and knew she was now dangerously close to crossing a line.

“I do care about my friends and comrades,” Kakashi growled between gritted teeth.

“Ohhh, well if that would be the case, why didn’t you send a message? At least to me?”

“Why do you think you are entitled to have me message you? Why do you think of all the people that I trusted, you were the one I would tell where I went and what I did? You were only a pain in my ass most of my childhood, “ Kakashi’s eyes now were alight with a fury that ignited her own.

Without saying a word she ripped her arm protection off her arms and pulled her gloves down. All of it fell to the floor with a loud clunk and she pushed her wrist into his face: “Because of this! Because I felt like you would want to talk to me about this. Was this nothing to you?” The skin below her left wrist was burned in like the tattoo on her left arm. Three tiny symbols were visible right beneath it and it had Kakashi’s name on it. He looked down on it and stretched his left hand. Then he looked up at her arm.

Sayuri was full of bruises, it was the way she was. Her missions took a toll on her and she was clumsy when she was distracted. Kakashi touched the arm, let his thumb run from her wrist to her elbow and up her arm to her sleeves. He was surprisingly gentle when handling the wounds and his first direct touch in many years made her blush against her will.

“Who did this to you?”, he asked with a grumble and picked up her other arm to inspect her bruises. She bit her lower lip. There was this inclination to lie to him. It could have been so easy- she lied to her subordinate Tenzo all the time about it. The reality was embarrassing and terrible and a little hard to admit to herself. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to lie to Kakashi specifically. She squirmed: “I came home late recently”, she explained. “He did not like it.”

“You father?” Kakashi asked and his eyes went wide again. He grabbed her wrist so that his thumb hung over his own name. “He is still hitting you?” Sayuri nodded, though she did not look in his face. “You should be stronger than him now, right?” he seemed genuinely angry on her behalf, “Why don’t you put a stop to this?”

Sayuri tried to get out of his grip but he held onto her even tighter: “I don’t know! He is my father. I have nobody else. Maybe - Maybe - Maybe I deserve this..” She bit her tongue at the last part. She knew she’d said too much.

He seemed like a slow erupting volcano: “You don’t deserve this. He should not do this. I’ll- I’ll get him to stop…” She laughed a cold unforgiving laugh as a reply: “And how? You don’t even want to go back to the village. You could have helped me long ago, but it did not matter. Rin didn’t matter, Minato didn’t matter… Obito didn’t matter…” She dragged the last name out and knew she was hurting both of them by calling it.

His face went white and then red with anger. He stepped forward to press her back against the closed door. “Well I’m trying to help you now, am I not?”

“Don’t you think that's a little late?” she spit back.

“Sage, do you ever shut up?”

“Could ask you the damn same.”

They stared at each other, the air between them sizzling with electricity. He was still holding her wrist with his name under his fingers. Sayuri was breathing heavily now as if the air had suddenly gotten unbearably humid, which was so unusual for the country they were both in at the moment. She stared up at the grey eye and the bandana, and looked into the face of the man who used to be a boy that was her friend. Now he was just… Well, she did not know who he was.

Her fingers found his own left hand and without breaking eye contact she undressed his glove and let it fall to the ground. There were some new scars around his hands, from sharpening swords or kunais or whatever he had been doing, but when she looked down she could see the three symbols engraved there. Her heart jumped a little when she saw it was her name, even if she had known it before. Maybe deep down she’d still be scared that she was somehow misunderstanding this whole soulmate thing.

Strangely mirroring him she let her thumb run over her own name, gently holding his wrist between her fingers. Kakashi let her do this and watched her from overhead. Neither of them spoke for a bit, the fight seemingly on hold like they had both been put in a daze. Soulmate marks were odd and seemed to evade proper research. Nobody knew where they came from and why they appeared and disappeared. And nobody knew what incredible power they held once they were unified next to each other.

There was a pull right behind her ear, as if it was dragging her head upwards. Something magnetic was forcing Sayuri closer to him and she let it happen, let herself get dragged into his orbit. Kakashi too seemed to be pulled in by the gravity and he let go of her wrist to move finger mechanically up to his mask. They looked at each other one moment and Sayuri was confused and insecure and felt the weight of everything crushing and disappearing around her, but the next moment her eyes fell shut on their own and she just let whatever was happening happen.

Once as kids they had kissed, or rather, Sayuri had kissed Kakashi as a fun prank. It had been so long ago that she’d forgotten most about it other than the embarrassment she had felt after she’d done it and his shocked face. This was not like that time. It was like they had always done this, as if they had kissed each other a million times before this one. It was so easy, so intuitive and it felt like coming home from a long mission. Kakashi pushed forward into her and she let him, a little dazed at the taste of all of it, the encompassing feeling of melting away under the touch of someone else.

They got dragged underwater like in a spiral, hands grabbing each other greedily and fast as if there was sudden hunger involved. The leftover glove dropped and Sayuri who did not know how to get the armour off let her finger get guided by his hands until she figured the clips and slings out, while his mouth explored her cheeks, her neck and her shoulder. Neither of them spoke much other than affirmations and sighs and names. The world ceased to exist and there was only them and their pull to be as close as they possibly could.

Every of his touches felt like a flame moving up her skin, each of his kisses left a little bruise behind that did not sting like the others did. He was careful with her injuries, she found more and more scars on his body. Wherever this body had been in the last ten years, Kakashi had definitely looked after it even when he was injured. There were so many questions that needed answers, but right at this point she just let herself be undone by him. Maybe she should have been angry still, but she found herself unable to think and feel anything but the greatest desire.

Kakashi held her steady when they were done, both on their backs on the floorboards. They hadn’t walked to the futon that was not far from them and had instead stayed on the hard ground, unable to make it one more metre for more comfort. The wild feeling had not yet passed completely, but Sayuri could feel her breath calm under his embrace, could feel herself ease into the crook of his neck. It was like this place had always been her place and in some way this might be true. After all, they had been branded soulmates.

“Come with me”, he whispered into her ear suddenly and she opened her eyes to turn to him. She had pulled the bandana from his head and let his hair fly down over his face in her frency, but he had kept his sharingan eye pressed shut all through it. It made her smile to think that he felt like this moment was too private to share with Obito, no matter how much Kakashi must miss him.

Sayuri reached her hand forward and ran her fingers through his hair: “Come with you, where?” She still had no idea where he had lived most of these years and he had not told her about it.

“I was in the Land of Iron” Kakashi explained and Sayuri moved away from him a little. The samurai land? Getting in there was surprisingly hard and usually foreigners were killed on sight. If he had lived there for so many years he must have been very lucky. But on the other hand this would explain why he missed so much of the world news. The samurai were notoriously against engaging with the outside world. “Turns out my mother is still alive there” he continued.

“Y-your mother..” She blinked at him. It worked with the stories she had heard of Sakumo staying away for a few years and suddenly returning with a son and no woman to show for. Maybe she’d stayed there. Maybe she hadn’t been permitted to leave.

Kakashi nodded: “Yes, she was there. I travelled around on my own for a while and then I heard rumours. I did some searching and finally found my way into the Land of Iron, which was very dangerous of course. She protected me though as soon as I found her.”

Not surprising that his mother would be a strong, independent warrior, Sayuri thought and her mind’s eye showed her her only far long gone memory of her mother. “She will protect you too if I bring you, I swear.”

“I’m not sure… I have responsibilities and… subordinates… and Gai…” Sayuri thought of Tenzo, her number two, who was like a brother to her and all the others that had been in her graduating class. If she would also disappear suddenly it would just open old wounds again. She squirmed away from him a little more, though his hand kept hold of her hips.

Kakashi smiled and she saw the kindness in his eyes: “If you want to contact them, we could do that. You could write them all about this, if you want. As long as you leave my mother out, at least for now.” He put his forehead against hers. “I just want you to be safe from him.”

Sayuri touched her own arm and let her own fingers run over the bruises. Her father would probably not care if she’d disappear. He would assume she had died and feel better because of it. Her friends however would surely worry, no matter how worthless she sometimes thought she was. She looked up at Kakashi and knew that he was sincere with what he was saying.

Maybe this was her destiny. They had been marked as soulmates after all. She leaned up to kiss him and he held a hand against her cheek.

“Fine. Let’s go home together.”

#fanfiction things #oc: sayuri #narutoocshipweek2022 #naruto oc ship week 2022 #like sayuri is also the one who killed rin in this scenario #in my head both kakashi and obito saw it happen but kakashi was too far away to she WHO did it #so he just has the mangekyou but he doenst know that it was here #this could lead to future issues #also makes her guilty as hell #and thats why she got into anbu just like kakashi would have anyway #after that incident was when he went to the land of iron #thats not mentione dhere but that was sort of my idea #meow #yes im uploading this early because nobody reads these anyway so the timing does not matter #does a little dance

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drakaripykiros130ac · 6 months

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Green stans: “Rhaenyra’s healthiest relationship was with Harwin. Daemon groomed her.”

You have no idea how tired I am to hear this.

First and foremost, there is no such thing as a healthy relationship in the ASOIAF world if you keep your 21st century mentality.

In a world where incest and child brides are normal (not only for Targaryens, but for all the other Houses in Westeros as well - yes, in our world, cousin marriages are incestuous, and so are those between uncles and nieces, but hey, by medieval standards, especially in a FANTASY series, it’s not), there is no such thing as “grooming”. Those who try to play the “morality police” are highly amusing sometimes.

But, let’s go with that. Let’s discuss Rhaenyra’s “healthy” relationships in contrast to Daemon’s “grooming”.

In order for “grooming” to actually take place, Daemon needed to be a constant presence in Rhaenyra’s young life. Which he clearly wasn’t. Wanna know who was?

These guys:

Yep, that’s right.

Crispin - has been her sworn shield since she was 14 (and he was drooling and obsessing about her since the first moment he saw her). A constant presence in her life for many years. And he didn’t waste the opportunity to get close to her through this job. He eventually took advantage of Rhaenyra when she was drunk and upset, and slept with her to satisfy his sexual desires.

Harwin - People tend to call his relationship with Rhaenyra the healthiest simply because he is a “good guy” compared to Daemon. That’s the reason. He was a good guy. Loyal and sweet (dumb as wood however). But that doesn’t change the fact that in the show, as well as in the book, Harwin had been a constant presence in Rhaenyra’s life from a very young age (especially in the book). This whole thing led to him starting an extramarital affair with Rhaenyra and giving her children. You call this “healthy”?

Now, let’s move on to Daemon. Daemon has been in and out of King’s Landing for years and years. Rhaenyra rarely saw him because he was mostly off on his great adventures. And whenever he returned, he always brought back incredible gifts for her, gifts she treasured and always got her thinking about him (somehow, certain people got it into their minds that a hot uncle giving gifts to his niece equals ‘grooming’. Maybe he should have ignored her and/or treated her like shit instead. Would have been “better” or “healthier”). Since they are Targaryens, Rhaenyra naturally developed a crush on Daemon from a young age. And why wouldn’t she? Daemon was young, handsome, a dragonrider, wielder of Dark Sister, a warrior, blood of the dragon and he was always gentle with her.

People perceive Daemon giving Rhaenyra gifts on the few times he returned to King’s Landing, as “grooming” simply because they are uncle and niece. But unlike Crispin and Harwin, Daemon wasn’t a constant presence in Rhaenyra’s life. Nobody said that Daemon is moral (he became attracted to Rhaenyra and demanded young virgins who looked like her in brothels), but you cannot say that Rhaenyra’s relationships with Crispin or Harwin are healthier than the one she has with Daemon.

Daemon and Rhaenyra may be uncle and niece (which I repeat, is NOT incest by medieval standards), but they have gaps of many years between them (time in which they had not seen each other). Months, 3 years, 10 years etc. The brothel incident itself happened after years of them not seeing each other. They were still obviously attracted to each other, even more so as Rhaenyra had grown - and they “consummated” their attraction by kissing in that brothel Daemon took her to. And when they finally got together, they were both adults, having had previous relationships, they still wanted each other and went for it. Daemon is supportive, he genuinely loves her in his Daemon way, he is her true shield, her protector, her pillar of strength and he gave her legitimate Targaryen children, which strengthened her claim to the Iron Throne. Yes, you heard me. Legitimate. Just as their marriage is also legitimate. To the world, Laenor is dead. No one has seen or heard from him in over 7 years (the time apart itself represents grounds for separation). Perception is what matters.

That’s all I’m gonna say.

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danwhobrowses · 2 months

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So I Finally Finished a Playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3

It's been months of playing over my holidays and the weekends, but I've finally completed my first playthrough of what was deemed Game of the Year for 2023.

As someone whose only D&D experiences come from the two movies (the bad one that traumatized me as a kid by killing Snails and the good one that deserves more love) and Critical Role, I didn't know much of what I was getting into, only my coworkers saying 'buy it, it's a masterpiece' unanimously when I inquired about it. Having no idea how to play or the lore, I was very much entering blind.

Continued down the Keep Reading

So, I'm sure we gotta get through the first set of questions so let's get to them.

What was your Tav? It took a long time to realise that 'Tav' meant your player character among fanpages, I can't tell you why it's Tav still, but I only pieced it together from Durge naming too. My Tav is Dec, short for December because that's when I started playing and I couldn't waste too much time on stream thinking up a clever name. He was a High Elf Guild Artisan, for Class I started as a Beast Master Ranger, ironic that Ranger is deemed one of the lesser classes among the community, I was adamant to not use archery at the start but by the end of it I was a Crossbow Expert. I went 9/3 with Rogue to get Assassin, but then respec'd my Ranger into a Gloomstalker, since I never really summoned the bear (probably should've learned from Sam's constant dissing of Trinket eh?) plus when I remembered Dread Ambusher it gave me 3 attacks on the first turn. He has combustible blood thanks to Araj and some tadpole powers after consuming them after the creche incident made him more open to trusting the Dream Visitor; Charm - which failed 90% of the time - Psionic Backlash, Favourable Beginnings and Luck of the Far Realms used mainly, I had Stage Fright and Force Tunnel but didn't use it, same for Cull the Weak. Likes to talk things through, especially with Persuasion/Charisma buffing invisible hats. Has the Duellist's Perogative Sword and the Swire's Sledboard Shield for Melee, and the AC bonus, plus the Armor of Agility giving him an evasive 24 AC with Advantage thanks to 20 DEX and the Cloak of Displacement.

You can't see his scar and tattoo too well from here but I had to show off his Black Furnace and Red dye on his armour it looks too good. Here's a better look of his face:

For his tattoo and scarring I like to think he got the tattoo after the burn, in some ways distracting it from the scarring.

Did you Save Scum? Don't Lie to Me! Yes and I'm not sorry about it. If you wanna invite me to a D&D table I'll follow the rules and how the dice lands but there's a lot more wiggle room there than in a game where there's finite dialogue options. I was also not going to sit there and let my companions turn against me just because the game fancied throwing continual Nat 1s or low rolls at me, nor would I let Omeluum die in the Iron Throne, or end up leaving the Mirror of Loss empty handed. I bought the game so if I wanna carve this experience this way I shall carve it this way, I get some people see the Morally Good path as boring for this kind of gaming but I like to be good, it feels good, and I want good things to happen for my allies, even if it means having to undo most of their religious indoctrination. But, it did take a while for me to start save scumming, really it was freeing Halsin that started it but it didn't become regular until Auntie Ethel. I only really did it for dialogue/lore expansion (or when there were two dialogue options I was between which I hoped would be interpreted how I expect it to) and for necessary buff rolls like the Mirror of Loss, but sometimes I did it to keep some key NPCs alive like Jaheira, who died at Moonrise the first time.

Who did you usually team up with? Kinda a harem squad since I had Lae'zel, Shadowheart and Karlach. I was very combat-oriented; Lae'zel adding support to Karlach's melee or Dec's ranged combat while Shadowheart made up for most of the magic with heals, summons and like 100 scrolls in her bag (Dec horded about 100 different arrows and poisons too, sometimes pays off). I respec'd her to Light Domain after the Nightsong stuff to fit her character and hair change - though I must admit I preferred the black hair - and gave her my Adamantine Splint Armour for defences plus the ring and Balduran's Helm for +5 healing each turn. Lae'zel was a Battle Master, clad in the Helldusk set, though I didn't use much of her Superiority dice moves; the enemies often made saves against it even with 18 strength (20 after the mirror of loss, and higher at endgame thanks to an Elixir of Cloud Giant Strength), I relied more on her brute force, plus reaction skills like Executioner and Sentinel, plus the Silver Sword of the Astral Plane. Karlach was a 9/3 Bear Heart Barbarian and Champion Fighter, I did respec her for the Feats but the Bone armour, Balduran's Greatsword and Brutal Jump also helped at times, plus the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength and the Amulet of Greater Health made her a high damage, near-200 Health-on-Rage machine (over 200 thanks to the +30 extra health at the final battle). I tended not to swap around a lot, I couldn't abandon my healer, loved Karlach's personality and I had sentiment for Lae'zel being the first person I encountered, she has the sad eyes too, but I did do some rare switching for personal quests. Initially I started with Astarion, but that's because of a misunderstanding of who Karlach was - more on that later - and it turned out that I wasn't doing much for stealth, I brought him for Cazador though, much like I brought Wyll for Ansur and Gale for the Book of Karsus. Later in Act 3 I played around with dyes and equipped everyone, out of fear that I may be sprung unprepared like with Orin - Halsin only had a torch - by all campmates joining the fight, it didn't happen but everyone at least looks stylish.

I go between whether I like Wyll's colours though, on one hand he looks like a Templar and the white would stand out in Avernus, other times he looks like a cosplayer XD Minsc and Jaheira needed no dyes the colours already suited well, but I do love the colours I chose for Astarion, Halsin and Karlach.

Who did you fuck? (romance) Probably would've been asked sooner but sadly Dec became an unintended bachelor, at least outside of the headcanon. He did share a night of passion with Lae'zel after freeing the Emerald Grove but it wasn't something he wanted to pursue further, our dynamic was more befitting of two soldiers, or at least a dynamic where we think we're the General and the other the Advisor. Had Shadowheart took 'later' for her drink offer as 'I want to see all the dialogues other characters have first' rather than a refusal there might have been a romance there, instead I feel we fell into a more sibling bond, she can be a bit too sassy at times in passing dialogue - I had hoped to see more development with her and Lae'zel eventually being friends. Wyll did his best to throw sad puppy eyes at me when I refused to dance with him but it just made things more awkward, Gale meanwhile probably was gonna make moves when teaching me the Weave but he was very hung up on Mystra for me to entertain it, I sat with him when he felt the mortal coil though. Astarion I think made a passing suggestion but nothing of substance, Halsin left it late after he got kidnapped by Orin - I didn't realise he had to physically join the party to be a part of the group until Act 3 - coming onto me right before I confronted the Brain which was quickly turned down. I believe Minsc and Jaheira are unable to be romanced atm, and I did not fuck the Emperor; it weirded me out that he just was there shirtless chilling next to my unconscious dream state. We killed Minthara, didn't know you could recruit or romance her in a Morally Good path. Which left Karlach, fuck did I want to romance Karlach, not for lack of trying either; but because when I met Wyll he was talking about killing her I immediately assumed 'oh Karlach must be that woman on the cover with him' (aka 'the bitch who could've been cool if she wasn't such a bitch' Mizora, who I also wouldn't have romanced given the option) and stuck a pin in it, I was also unaware that most Act 1 romance stuff would come to a head at the end of the Emerald Grove quest which I prioritized so I only encountered Karlach after I saved Halsin and the Grove, meaning I couldn't reach Dammon until Act 2. By then Karlach seemed to be locked out of romance, perhaps for another misunderstanding on my part too since I did upgrade her engine twice at Lost Light very swiftly, but it still was a knife to the heart after all that and the date at the circus that she called us 'just mates' to Fytz. All this and then they give us a better kissing patch ¬_¬

Yes so sad, anyway what about ~Astarion~? Astarion is popular, and I know why he's popular, and the scene of him killing Cazador was very well done...but Astarion for me though was just fine; I mean you guys see Karlach right? Part of the reason she stays my group was that I can't bear to part from her. A lot of the times my Morally Good options didn't align with Astarion's brand of pessimistic chaos, so he spent a lot of time in camp as I mispronounced his name until I heard it be properly said, which probably hampered his story a bit more, but we had a close enough friendship that he heeded my advice with the Ascension and the spawn, wish he reacted to me getting a painting of him since he can't see his reflection though, felt like something could've been done there. Jaheira was a fun personality too, angry old lady who says it like it is, kinda wish we had more to her quest, seeing her home and her interacting with her wards/children was interesting, Minsc was charming too in his simple way, would've been cool if he had more of a presence as well, like we could hear about Minsc and the Stone Lord in separate lights earlier in the game to build up to him. On that topic, I was surprised to find that there wasn't a companion for each role, I suppose there were constraints but Aylin and Zevlor both worked as Paladins, Alfira a Bard (though I don't think anyone would dare put her in the line of fire), I suppose there's little need for a Sorcerer when you had a Wizard or a Monk when you had a Fighter and Barbarian but it was strange, you get 2 Druids and your Ranger is built more like a Fighter or Barbarian (the latter I added to Minsc). I'd later learn that there was cut content for a halfling companion who was a werewolf, but I can see why that one was cut, with Chetney and all, but yeah not any halflings, Barcus could've been a companion even without the Artificer class, or a Dragonborn.

So how did your story go? Being the Morally Good Guy I was I went through most of the best options I could, but I also tried to avoid combat earlier on when I was struggling to work with it. I was friendly with the Goblin Camp for starters, since they thought I was with the Absolute and Dec is willing to put shit on his face to avoid conflict, it all went tits up after freeing Halsin and having to kill everyone but it may've had some benefit to how I could walk freely through Moonrise. Ironically it was the same with the Githyanki, friendly up until they wanted me to hand over the prism, though the Creche was a lost cause anyway, they're lucky I didn't ransack the place, could've gotten a lot of xp and loot there. I let Viconia live, so she can dwell on that burn Shadowheart gave her but oftentimes I was not so merciful, do wish I didn't kill that one Sharran with the letter of hating being there though, why'd you fight me girl? Same with the Bhaalist with the parents at Elfsong, and the goblin children, I was using nonlethal but arrows don't count as I'd soon learn. Allies were mostly good-to-neutral creatures like the Tieflings (though I wish I saved more, nobody told me about the harpies and I thought convincing Rolan to stay would mean the Grove not the Shadow Cursed Lands - also why send refugees who struggle with goblins through the SHADOW CURSED LANDS?) and 90% of the Ironhand Gnomes because fuck Wulbren - I didn't like Barcus too much at first, thought him rude, but when Wulbren didn't even show gratitude for his attempts I softened to him. Kindness made me quite the enemy to others however; the infernal naturally did not appreciate my deeds of pact breaking but saving the Duke anyway and pilfering the House of Hope, but to be fair Raphael (and his clear portrait of himself I clocked onto immediately when he was in his human guise to know he was untrustworthy) never repaid me in-game for 'killing' Yurgir, and Mizora would've squirmed a lot more in her Ilithid pod had it been a table interaction - though, the latter two were more than willing to help me with the Absolute, 'cept Raphael because he's dead - but in my defence I loved outwitting and being a sassy little shit to demons. Slaying the Chosen was a given, as a very Pro-Karlach guy I was never letting Gortash live, got the Father/Grandfather-Daughter set with Bhaal too. Killing the former Balduran was disappointing; as much as he was on my side he always felt like he had his own ulterior motives, he also had a superiority complex to him with his constant urging of being half-Ilithid; thinks it's not important that he's Balduran either, dismissing Ansur's legend until confronted by Ansur's spirit. Stealing the Orphic Hammer was an insurance policy at first, I could understand Voss' disdain for us using Githyanki Jesus in a box like a forcefield, but it's a shame that the guy who was all about trust decided not to trust me in releasing Orpheus; we could've stopped the brain together! Omeluum would've heard me out. I mean Orpheus was a bit salty but he at least was willing to negotiate and not immediately side back with the brain like a petty bitch. I'd say the gods have mixed feelings with me; friendly with Selune and Lathander at least, and whatever Withers is - though the guy roasted me about my love life. The rest either neutral or anti; Shar and Vlaakith (if you can call her a god) definitely hate me, because they're sore losers, think Myrkul and Bhaal likely hate me, Bane however seemed to respect game not sure how I feel about that. I don't quite like Mystra, think she's a bit extreme with her treatment of Gale, but I understand her role, valid god but shitty person. On the other hand I probably have Cyric's favour for helping the Strange Ox, which might be bad...but Milil was happy to be recognized.

In the end, most of the allies got to live somewhat happily; Gale got the orb out of him and became a professor, Lae'zel - having dealt the final blow to the brain - leads the charge against Vlaakith after Orpheus became a Mind Flayer and was mercy killed, Shadowheart has her family (Shar would've always been with her regardless of her choice), a bunch of pets and can maybe reminisce with Nocturne again one day, Jaheira and Minsc - once he survives Zhentharim execution, didn't realise I needed to have him talk to Nine Fingers - also can rest with her wards and probably share drinks with Nine Fingers until the next fight, Astarion sadly has no cure for vampirism but he is owning it and killing the right people (I like to think he'll get to see the sun again, maybe Omeluum and the Mycolids help), plus Halsin has a bunch of kids in Moonrise to look after, plus Thaniel, Oliver and a new Owlbear who I'd rather had left with Dammon given the option. Isobel and Aylin can settle down, Rolan runs the Sundries, Hope is free, Alfira and Lakrissa got their bard's school, Florrick and Ravengard resume leadership to rebuild, Dammon has his forge, Scratch found a new home in this Mindy (but I remain best master), Mol I'm sure will be running the Guildhall in a few years, Thrumbo has a shelter for his brothers, Mayrina will raise her son without the threat of a hag, Vanra won't become a hag (but does need therapy), and Arabella will probably be the next Withers after reading some more rocks. Yenna didn't seem to have an ending so I'll assume that she found a loving home too, maybe with Halsin or as one of Jaheira's wards, or maybe Gale wants a Sous Chef since she did bring her own carving knife if you didn't know. I wish Alfira got invited to the epilogue, god of song is fine but not the familiar face and it would've been cool for them to meet, nice to get a letter at least, and we'll have to visit Art's grave sometime. Surprised we got no word about Mizora, I didn't get a letter from Geraldus even though he survived, Naaber apparently had more in him after wanting to be a dog, sad not to get anything from Rolan, Devella (I know Valeria mentioned her but c'mon), the Gondians, Mol, Omeluum, or Aylin and Isobel from the epilogue, did we really need the ramblings of Ettvard? Plus the papers must've glitched they said Stelmane's killer was still at large? Post-credits scene felt a bit weak mind you, but guessing Withers is that old God of Death Jerghal? Least he's not a surprise villain to fight. As for me, well, I was never one to give up on people and neither is Dec, and thus Dec and Karlach brave Avernus to seek a fix for her infernal engine, punch a few demons and whatnot, Wyll is there too as the Blade of Avernus, a role he embraced twice after barely contributing to killing Ansur but that's more proximity. We'll chill in the House of Hope especially after her letter, but soon enough we'll all return to Faerun on a more permanent basis.

So you enjoyed it? Yes, very much. I did of course make a lot of mistakes though; kept forgetting about Dread Ambusher for one, my earlier failures at romance still stung, I think the game wasn't as welcoming to those unfamiliar to it. The dice did not like me many times, I once got a Nat 1 in a 2 DC with +2 bonus, I also have had several instances of back-to-back Nat 1s, even had 6 in two different streams. Combat was an adjustment period, I missed a lot of the time which was frustrating, or the enemy would make saving throws on my gambits, Karlach even got pushed into the abyss at the Temple of Bhaal, I was livid. I think I probably would've experienced more if the game established better that you can long rest as much as you like without turning into a Mind Flayer, because much of Act 1 was me reluctant to Long Rest because they say you can change 'within 2-3 days', as a result that affected some romance options too, nobody to spend the night with if there's no night, as well as other in-camp interactions - Astarion never tried to bite me for instance, and I'm sure Raphael would've arrived to reward me for killing Yurgir had we not dealt with a backlog of interactions. I remained quite the hesitant player too, I ignored Gale stuck in a portal for a while fearing some magical backlash was gonna vaporize me, oftentimes I expected worse than what actually happened. Graphically there were a few characters whose cheeks were being pulled to the far left side of the map which was weird, and some battles would have enemies who would just do nothing for their turns, and some areas didn't render quick enough to not be noticed, but it was small stuff in comparison, I didn't do much for camp clothes or dyes until late on but probably for the better since style should be for the final act. I also keep seeing stuff that I somehow missed in my playthrough; like there's an angry squirrel near the grove? A frog in Ethel's house? A bird who wanted help with the giant eagles? What? Where?

What was the most difficult part? Act 3 had a lot of tough shit going down, though one of my most memorable struggles was against Auntie Ethel in Act 1. Already deep in her domain at lv4 it was a rough run to start with, continually hit by Hold Person by her projections, only when I learned they were one-hits did it become a little easier, but without Extra Attack it was still difficult. After that combat was here and there, sometimes it was just the environment like being jammed in a pipe when fighting Minsc; Lorroakan was annoying, Grym I had to be tactical with the hammer, the Assassin at the Facemaker was quite difficult too because he'd Haste himself and hide. The Death Shepherds in the Mountain Pass were surprisingly difficult without the Blood of Lathander, much easier with its Sunbeam. The companion quest final battles of Cazador, Ansur and Viconia were each difficult in their own way; the former was most annoying because my party would be downed but the thrown healing potions weren't working (plus those downed members were the ones with Radiant damage and holy water), wasn't even Bone Chilled like with Viconia, Ansur was difficult because of his burst attack. Raphael hits fucking hard, but once I realised that Hope kept dying because she was getting backlash from dealing Radiant Damage it was just attrition and lots of potion throwing. Combat-wise I think the toughest battle was Cazador due to the glitch of thrown potions not healing, otherwise the toughest boss was Ansur. Overall the most difficult experience I found was the timed operations of the Iron Throne.

Will you play again? Most likely, which is something I don't tend to say so Larian did do their job well. Though I might wait a bit to play other games first and give Larian time to add more content and finer polishing, I think I'd have a better time with it the second time around, would definitely try to resolve previous wrongs or missed opportunities, though I doubt I'd look forward to everything there; killing the Goblin Camp was still difficult work, same with the Steel Watch and all the turn limit stuff, I'll at least wait until I have Extra Attack before dealing with Ethel in Act 1 and take more Long Rests, maybe rotate the party a bit more and try out some other classes - but you will pry Speak with Animals out of my cold dead hands! Learning later about there being a bunch of cut content would entice me to play a third time if they reach a stage where all the intended content has been added in, but there's not exactly a time frame for that or a clear show of intent so far, so we'll see in that one, for all that is cut it seems like the end product is the tip of the iceberg. Enjoyed the play, played for a long time, would play again: money well spent.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #larian studios #karlach #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion #jaheira #minsc and boo #minsc #halsin #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav #bg3 withers #it wouldn't have killed larian to give us more dice skins too just sayin'#but I loved that they added little messages in the credits

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ajstudio · 1 year

Text

Edit November 9th, 2023: I corrected the date of Dracula's defeat to November 6th like the book dates since I am currently finishing the audiobook a second time.

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On September 6th, 2022, I shared this realization with my friends on Tumblr and I remember going bonkers over it:

I shared this with Maddie. I realized something while I was going through the novel, Dracula, again. So the events take place in the month and year the book was published in May 1897. But doesn't that seem off? Then it occurred to me that the seven-month-long events of the book happened before it was published.

Then I remembered that Jonathan and Mina have a son at the end of the book and it's mentioned that seven years had passed. So the events of Dracula took place in the year 1890 or as early as 1889 before the book was published.

So my idea is Abraham Van Hellsing had Bram Stoker publish the book with the year changed.

Also, while a sequel was written by one of Bram Stoker's descendants (which wasn't well received by the fandom) it did mention Abraham had Bram Stoker publish the book because he wanted to help other people that went through the same ordeal he and the others had with Dracula.

So according to Jonathan he and Mina had Quincey on November 6, 1890. One year after Quincey died and Dracula was defeated.

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So I am making this post because I not only made a mistake on the year the events of the book take place, but I have two possible years the book is set in.

The clue I am going by is the conversation Mina has with Abraham Van Hellsing when she recounts to him Jonathan's shocking although justified reaction to Dracula showing up in London. She mentioned it happened on a Thursday, and earlier in the book she wrote and dated the episode happening September 22nd.

With this information, I went to Time and Dates to look at 17 calendar years for a September 22nd landing on a Thursday and found three: 1881, 1887, and 1892.

I want to believe the events happened in 1887 since not only would Quincey Harker have already been born and seven by the time his family and their friends return from visiting Dracula's Castle in Romania but following these events Abraham Van Hellsing gathers the handwritten and audio accounts of their time dealing with Dracula.

He writes the manuscript that would become the Dracula novel or he meets Bram Stoker who writes the novel after meeting Abraham because Mr. Van Hellsing wanted to help other people that would likely deal with vampires like he and his group did.

After having a difficult time getting the novel published Dracula finally hits the shelves on May 26, 1897, which is ironically Dracula's Day.

I needed to dig a little more before settling on which year Dracula took place in, and boy I hit something and find another clue I overlooked: the Demeter.

After reading up on Bram Stoker and an interesting article about his time studying for the elements pertaining to his novel on Time's website, apparently, the book was centered around real-life events and real-life people.

Jonathan Harker, his wife, and Dr. Seward were real people. The Demeter Incident was real, but the ship was called Dmitri. The sailors said the incident happened a few years ago. Bram Stoker started working on Dracula in the summer of 1890. So I can without a doubt say it was set in 1887. Which gladdens me.

When he tried to hand over the manuscript to be published as a non-fiction book his editor refused it since it pertained to events centering around a mass murder and then before it was finally published in 1897 101 pages were cut out, the epilogue was shortened, and other alterations were made to avoid a mass public panic since the madman was believed to still be around.

I never expected to learn this much about the book and its events to this magnitude but I was certain I would need to change some of the dates on my previous post about vampires and ghouls.

Sources

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Dracula by Bram Stoker

@merumely @thirstyforlulu @alucardownsmyass @doodleferp @diamond-star @sundove88 @michi-tala @amikartest @trashbaby92 @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @blood-and-cigars @the-hellsing-organisation @icecry @thecrimsonwingsfckerabridged @elixirvitae @therejectkat @alucrd @autumnaaltonen @valentine-bites @theloveandthedead

#hellsing #alucard #Bram Stoker #Dracula #Vlad Dracula #Vlad Alucard #Mina Murray #Wilhelmina Murray #Wilhelmina Harker #Mina Harker #Quincey Morris #Quincey Harker #Abraham Van Helsing #Abraham Van Hellsing

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wixelt · 1 year

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Just occurred to me that durring Andrias' early attempts at getting Mumbo to give him principles to build off of interdimensional travel, when Grian arrives and listening to the conversations, he probably suggests 'building another son.'

Andrias thinks he means sun at first, as in Grian thought producing another star would help somehow, but as the conversation went on it became clear they meant an AI connected to an interdimensional hivemind capable of rending holes in spacetime.

That considered its programmer and constructor it's 'fathers'

The idea was quickly challenged by False then immediately vetoed wholesale right after.

Andrias learns that Mumbo is fully capable of building and programming technological singularities on the final step of their evolution but doesn't know how he gave the thing the ability to tear rifts in between realities.

As it turns out, Grian has also built sentient robots in the past but only got them to such a level when copying Mumbo's design.

These, it would turn out, are not isolated incidents. Hermits will tend to build fully sentient AI by accident often, to say nothing for on purpose.

Andrias now realized something that failed to occur to him when Mumbo recreated the core and made it into a storage system.

The fact that he could tell just how the core worked but couldn't remember even encountering the thing.

And yet. And yet.

The more hermits he met, the clearer it was the hermits used bows and swords and tridents for combat. Their most advanced options for combat were canons or a crossbow loaded with fireworks. Technically they could build flying machines that destroyed massive swathes of land, but those were slow and took time to set up, on top of devestating what was being faight for. Technically they could build machines that halted time, but those are no-win devices.

Andrias glimpsed a picture of a multiversal culture ironically so advanced that honorable combat was the only way for them to do combat and not destroy themselves. His saving grace was he faced a culture so advanced its potential for war collapsed under the wheel of progress and the principal of mutually assured destruction long ago.

Canon. :D

Have some of my thoughts on this anyway, though.

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"Why don't we just build another son?"

Andrias had to mentally pause & reboot on hearing those words. Even coming from a Hermit, they were a non-sequiter, & the way Mumbo took this statement from the newcomer - Grian - as if it were the most sensible thing in the world didn't exactly help.

Son, though. Not sun. Only mildly more sensible, but still absurd all the same. Hell of a first impression to have of the Chaos in Red.

Still.

Grumbo AI child.

Hive mind Grumbo AI child.

Dimensional rift tearing hive mind Grumbo AI child.

Andrias was instantly intrigued, & had already started running numbers on how long it'd take him to coax Grian & Mumbo into helping build such a device under Core control...

...and then False Symmetry had to come in & ruin everything.

The way the blonde's eyes bulged in long suppressed panic at the very mention of building another Grumbot would've been downright comical if her yelling in disbelief hadn't ruined his plans. With the way Mumbo & Grian abruptly winced & apologized - remembering the same past trauma False was still deeply burdened by - Andrias knew commissioning an AI from the pair was off the table, even with Marcy’s eyes having lit up at the prospect.

For now, at least. He still had time to nudge things in his favor.

In the meantime, this had opened up a whole meaty can of technological worms he really should've seen coming.

If the Hermits were intuitively capable of such advanced feats as true AI, dimensional rift tearing & temporal anchoring, but were making light of it to the point of occasionally creating these things without even understanding how (sometimes able to replicate tech with only an unconscious glance - thankfully Mumbo's "Core" lacked any uploaded minds)... he's due both a massive headache & an entire new round of scheming once its passed.

Now if only their insistence on doing most combat "the reasonable way" - by Hermit standards, at least - to save disaster wasn't so irritatingly ingrained, or he might be making more progress on tricking them into advancing Newtopia's tech base.

Maybe its for the best, though. A Hermit faction in a genuine wartime advancement mindset might be something he ought to avoid...

#hermitphibia au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft au #amphibia #amphibia au #amphibia andrias #andrias leviathan #mumbojumbo #grian #falsesymmetry #grumbot #amphibia core #Marcy wu

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rennsdeaddoves · 1 year

Text

Incidents pt. 1

There were several incidents in which Guanyin did not hold up to her promise to protect Tao. Though two stuck out. One was forgivable (mostly), the second one irredeemable, it made Wukong sever contact with the mercy goddess.

Trigger warning; sickness, near death experiences.

It was some time after Tripitaka’s death that Tao got sick. She had been sick before so at first Wukong was calmed rather easily by the Wise Old Gibbon, she reassured him that this would pass and the princess would return to normal. Though as the weeks progressed Tao did not get better, she got worse. And now it was to the point that the little cub could barely keep anything down, not food, water, milk, nothing. She was fussy all the time, and had to be cleaned often from nappy blow outs, though Wukong quickly took notice that she wasn’t peeing as much as she should have been with the blow outs happening. Maybe she was dehydrated? But the truth was something was definitely wrong with his little girl.

And that notion was only further proved when one night he she wouldn’t go to sleep or let him hold her, she never acted like this but when Wukong felt her forehead he quickly realized why.

She was burning up.

He didn’t know how he didn’t notice the fever, but it was the last straw. Bundling Tao up in the lightest fabric he could find, stashing a heavier blanket away for if she got cold, he blasted off to the western heaven, specifically Guanyin’s bamboo grove.

He ended up there faster than expected but that was only because halfway through the trip Tao’s breathing became laboured, she was pale and all of Wukong’s instincts screamed that she was dying in his arms.

When he arrived he was greeted by the sight of Moksha and Nezha chatting to one another.

“MOKSHA!!! WHERES GUANYIN!!!”

The monkey king screamed at the man as he landed down on the sacred grounds. Both Moksha and his little brother rolled their eyes but quickly grew worried at the appearance of the monkey. His fur was a mess, his eyes had massive bags under them like he hadn’t slept for weeks, hell the only clothing he has in were the loose red pants he often wore before his journey. But that’s when both gods noticed what was in his arms, and the state the child was in.

“what happened to her?!?”

Tears came to his eyes as Wukong began to explain the situation, as he went on he could see Moksha and Nezha's faces morph, their posture stiffened, and panic seemed to dawn on moksha's face as he continued to take in Tao's weak state.

"Guanyin- She- She went to the thunder clap monastery...."

horror ran through Wukong's body, it froze in his veins like ice.

"shes.... not here....."

"go to iron fan!!!"

the third lotus prince spoke up. Even though the Princess Iron fan had abandoned heaven for the Bull Demon King she was still his sworn sister.

"if I go with you I may be able to get her to help you! It's your only chance!!"

Nezha was right. Even though Wukong was the reason that her son had to be incarnated and given to her again, he may have also been the reason she could no longer bare children, but she was his only chance and if he needed to he would grovel at the feet of his once brother the Bull Demon King.

The Third Lotus Prince gently blew on the child's face, imbuing her with the power of his blessing hoping it would keep her alive long enough.

"that blessing won't hold long we need to go now!"

nodding, Wukong grabbed the Lotus prince, sat him on his summer-sault cloud and blasted off to the Bull demon castle.

they arrived early morning when Princess Iron fan had taken her infant Son to play outside and see the sunset. she could see the cloud coming and called for her husband through their bond while grabbing Red Son and getting ready to retreat into the underground where Wukong was not welcome.

"WAIT!!! BIG SISTER!!!!!"

she knew that voice- it was Nezha! but why was she with the monkey king?? The Boy appeared in front of her in a gust of lotus petals, a Monkey cub in his arms wrapped in purple. Wukong crashed into the ground seemingly having lost control of his cloud.

"IRON FAN!!!"

it was her husband, she looked to him and noticed him noticing the simian.

"WUUKONNNNG!!!!"

he began to charge but all at once something unexpected happened, Nezha raised his weapon to block his pursuit, and Iron Fan also attempted to stop him. but what really stopped him was Wukong falling to his knees and pressing his forehead to the ground in a deep bow. Demon Bull King skidded to a stop and looked down at the monkey with confusion. Seeing the opportunity Nezha spoke up quickly to explain;

"Wukong has an infant daughter now who is deathly Ill and we do not know the cause, while the Goddess Guanyin promised to aid him whenever he needed it she is currently with the buddha and this child would die before we even reached her. I came to stake Wukong's claim as your sworn brother Princess Iron Fan that he has no other intention coming to you."

Iron Fan again looked to the cub in Nezha's arms; she looked sick, deathly pale, laboured breathing, sweat was pouring down her body the blanket appeared to be wet from it in some spots, and Iron Fan had the worst feeling forming in her stomach as she looked on at the child.

"why you! AS IF I WOULD BELIEVE THAT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!"

Iron Fan handed off Red Son to her raging husband, he held him protectively as he continued to yell at the monkey still bowed to them, forehead to the floor and she took the babe from his little brother. once she took the child into her arms panic filled her at her condition, she realized the only thing keeping this child alive was a blessing from Nezha!

"when is the last time she ate!"

"WHAT IRON FAN DO NOT!! LET THE CHILD DIE IT WILL TEACH HIM A LESSON!!!!"

a heavy sob broke through the yelling, all eyes were on Wukong as he broke down into violent sobs.

"NIU MOWANG PLEASE!!!!"

the words died in DBK's mouth as he heard Wukong call him that. he hadn't been called that since the brotherhood fell apart...

"Dágē please, please! I beg you don't let her die!!!"

it had been even longer since he called him that- and the fact that he was still prostrating to them while shaking so bad. he looked like he was going to break down into further hysterics. the kind that a father who was about to lose it all would.

DBK bowed his head and stepped back, motioning to his wife to go to him. she gently tilted his head up to look at her and he really was a mess, his fur was a horrid mess, his eyes were red, puffy and had the biggest bags she had ever seen under them. her gaze filled with concern for the both of them.

"when did she last eat?"

she asked it softly, trying not to make him more upset but the question seemed to trigger something deeper. As he began to sob out what had happened in the past few months, how his cub couldn't keep anything down, not even liquids. during the barely coherent explanation, DBK saw his wife looking frightened, it seemed as though she was about to cry herself and after Wukong was finished she disappeared into a gust of wind, Nezha following her to where ever she had gone.

Wukong sobbed into the ground, dirtying himself further while hitting the ground and putting a small crater that grew larger every time his fist hit the ground. Bull King recognized the signs of a broken man and had a bull clone come and take Red Son. Once he was sure his son was secure in the castle he picked up his little brother holding him closer than he ever had.

"worry not Didi, Iron Fan will ensure that your child lives."

He wanted to choke the monkey you, not hold him like this, but it would be no fun to kill an already broken king and Dbk could not being to imagine what he was going through. if he had had a daughter instead of a son he was sure he would be so much more protective than he already was. somehow, daughters brought a whole different emotional set out of fathers than sons did.

"her *hic* her name is *hic* Tao"

he had to chuckle at that. "only you would name your child after your favourite food. Now take a deep breath, and tell me all about her Didi."

-------

so this is one of the first times Tao truly comes close to dying and idk if this is the final final version, it will def be cleaned up for the fic and i'm not sure i'll have Wukong and dbk interact as they did in the end but tell me what you think and part two will be out soon!!

(btw tao did survive and the bull fam made up with Wukong, tao and Wukong are always welcome in their home (since the two children became besties and none of the parents were gonna separate them) so now Wukong just kinda brings tao and crashes at the castle whenever he feels like it)

#the sweetness of rot #lmk fanfiction #lmk monkey king #princess iron fan #bull demon king #lmk nezha #angst

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dukeswonderousmenagerie · 1 year

Note

Allright, why’s Jigen close to throwing hands with Zeni?

BOY my friends, strap in, your in for a RIIDEEE

ok first a recap!

The Lavender Jacket Series is basically my own PT7, includes lore from Lupin 0 (kiddo), Koike and is basically just a lil self indulgent thing that popped into my head and I’ve been having fun with. It’s split into two parts, in Part One An unexpected near fatal shooting leaves questions unanswered and the gang on edge after one of their own is the victim of an unsuspecting hit. Decades old grudges are unearthed, friends become enemies, enemies become friends and a certain Gunman takes it upon himself to go into crisis management and clean up the mess left behind.

Now on to why Jigen punched or came close to punching Zenigata

im putting this under a read more cause this shits gonna get looonnnggg

Basically the Zeni/Jigen thing is a side plot

What started the mess: When Zenigata received intel about Lupin and finds out about the shooting and that Lupin was in the hospital, Zenigata had arrived to arrest him and upon finding out he was unconscious, still handcuffed him to the bed and needless to say it pissed Jigen off and the two got into a argument about it that nearly came to physical blows because Jigen couldn’t believe that Zenigata would do that knowing that Lupin isn’t even in the condition to wake up let alone *sit up* with a enough energy to run away.

Zenigata claims it was just him doing his job, and that Jigen was considered *lucky* he had the decency to not handcuff him as well when he basically saved him the night before from the local police after Jigen was assaulted.

Because basically what happened is the same people who went after Lupin and Jigen, went after Zenigata and Yata and Zenigata landed in the same hospital as Lupin.

When Jigen found out, he decided *the enemy of my enemy is my friend* and made a deal with Zenigata that if Zenigata would allow Lupin to be uncuffed that he would help him with the case since he also had a bone to pick with the people who hurt Lupin.

Zenigata agreed but only on his side of the condition that if Jigen helped him with the case that whenever he asked for it, Jigen would aid him in the future, knowing the man kept promises like that.

Zenigata also wanted to help Jigen cause kinda scares him when Lupin isn’t around since Lupin albeit very surprising is the only thing keeping Jigen on a leash

Cause you see no matter what they were. No matter what relationship Zenigata had with Lupin, whether it be sworn enemies or acquaintances or drinking buddies or whatever the hell this whole cat and mouse thing had grown into over the years, he knew the loyalty did not spread to Jigen the same way.

Lupin may have been out of commission for the time being but that did not mean Jigen would just automatically turn his loyalty over to him just because Zenigata had offered to help.

Now ON TO THE REAL REASON WHY JIGEN NEARLY SOCKED ZENI COLD

Now the reason as to WHY Jigen nearly punched Zeni is actually based around these two screenshots

They basically perfectly depict why Jigens so pissed, not only with Zenigata, but with the whole cuffing shit

publicity

Basically the idea is is after lupins “incident”, Jigen tried his best to keep as much of it on the down low as possible.

Hoping that whoever hurt Lupin would think he was dead in order to iron out some of the issues that came with it, like retaliation or another attempt on his life while he was unable to protect himself.

The problem is however is Zenigata found out about it somehow, either he was tipped off by someone or something, Jigen doesn’t know. But it’s because of that, that it’s not long before not only the police but the press show up as well. Which means publicity

Which also means Jigens attempts at keeping people from knowing Lupin was alive are dashed and fruitless and now he has to deal this new issue

What pissed *Jigen* off even more is that Zenigata brushed the danger off, claiming that the ICPO would protect Lupin while also *handcuffing* Lupin to the hospital bed, which Jigen found to be a big no no because if something happened, it would put Lupin in danger.

Cut to the scene with him on the roof that happens just a few moments before Jigens discovery of Zenigata’s actions, Jigens ranting and raving on the roof above the police cruisers and reporters, about three seconds from loosing his temper, calling them all *Goddamn vultures* looking to cash in on the story

He KNOWS they don’t know what’s truly going on, especially Zenigata, but their getting in the way of him keeping Lupin safe and needless to say he’s not happy

It also doesn’t help that Zenigata at the moment is being *ridiculously* stubborn, refusing to take Jigens words into consideration when he tells Zenigata that he *knows* how bad the people who might come after them because of this truly are and that lupins in more danger with the cops here then he was without them

The only time Zenigata *actually* listens is the night after Jigen snuck in to the hospital to see Lupin late one night and discovered all the cops that Zenigata had posted outside the hospital as well as the reporters were gone, and finds Lupin unprotected having later finding out that because of the news, Lupins attempted killers find out they were indeed still alive and NYPD officers on the assassins payroll cleared out everyone too make room for the assassination attempt, having paid off a police chief to basically have his men “abandon their post” and leave Lupin unattended, and had Jigen not decided to go up that night, the attempt would have been made and the police would quietly “clean up the mess” and cover up what actually happened that night

However, Jigen ends up scaring off the guys sent to kill Lupin, but in the process is assaulted by the paid off police chief who punches him in the face nearly breaking his jaw.

Jigen passes out shortly after but not before Zenigata, who arrives just in time to “save Jigen”, claiming that the local police had no authority to arrest him as he was ICPO territory, cuffs him himself and throws him in the back of his cruiser, where Jigen finally passes out, only to wake up the next morning with a large shiner on his jaw.

And the funny thing is is despit all this, Jigen still turns out to be right

If Lupin didn’t need to be where he is he *wouldn’t be there*

There are many ways to stay hidden and lie low

But as much as it hurts jigen too admit the hospital is where he needs to be, Jigen can’t take care of him like he needs to be and it bothers him but the least he can do is keep a eye on him

Except now his job is 200% harder because of some obsessed cop who refuses to listen until it’s too late, making him stuck in a situation he hates because it makes it tougher to protect the one he's hellbent on protecting

#Lupin III: The Lavender Jacket Series #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #lupin the 3rd #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the iii #jiglup #my headcanons #arsène lupin iii #koichi zenigata #inspector zenigata

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l-lend · 1 year

Text

The ideas and a lot of the pre-writing and outlining have been a collaborative effort between myself, @kelpiesummer, and @ghostlythunderbird in discord and in google docs. I owe them so much for allowing me to write on this. Y'all are awesome!

Pairing(s): Crosshair x OC

Warning(s): swearing

The high pitched chirp on the nightstand was soon silenced by a hand groping blindly towards the offending noise. Fingers swiping across the screen before bringing the phone to the bed.

“T-bird.” A cool voice spoke from the device, “We have a promo meeting in thirty.”

“Yeah, I'm on my way.” T-bird replied stifling a yawn, yet it remained noticed.

The voice on the phone sighed, “Just try to look presentable. This'll be good for Mythic if we land this deal.”

T-bird rolled out of bed attempting to smooth down her bed head with one hand.

“Relax, Sy, but I have to ask they're feeding us, right?”

T-bird could almost hear the roll of her manager's eyes.

“They have been kind enough to offer donuts and coffee.”

“Dope, I'll be there in 10.”

She tapped the screen ending the call and set out on the hunt. A shirt that still looked clean, pants in a similar condition. With a few hops to get dressed, a quick stop to step into her boots, and diving her hand into the glass bowl for her keys, she went to her baby.

The elevator took its time to reach the parking deck. But she was out as soon as the doors slid open. Her babe resting right where she left him still snuggled up under the cover. With the same care one would give a lover, T-bird lifted the cover to her motorcycle. After stashing the cover in a tank bag, she straddled her iron steed and the engine kick started tearing off towards the highway with its helmeted rider.

It was a quick jaunt into town. T-bird was quick to weave her way in and out of traffic as if the fellow motorists were stationary traffic cones. A few other bikes were scattered in the inbound traffic. Some familiar makes and models that would offer a wave if prompted, but they often gave the local stunt junkie a wide birth.

The speedometer's needle began its return trip to the left as stoplights began interrupting the cruise high. Although it seldomly stayed on the low end, T-bird heaved a sigh offering a fog to obscure the world around her. The stop and go gridlock of urban motorists nursing the twitch of her fingers begging to rev the throttle. The red light hung above her, mocking her. After what seemed to be an eternity, the light changed and the twist of the throttle surged her bike forward. A brief flash of something in her peripheral caused her to choke her brake.

Another motorcyclist had surged out from a side street nearly taking T-Bird on a slide. A few cars blared their horns behind her as she threw up her hands in a general 'what the hell is your problem?' gesture. The inciter on the incident mirrored her gesture before revving up and turning into the lane.

Oh. No. He. Didn't.

Another twist of the throttle and the roar of her engine brought her to the next red light. The another rider she had named 'dumb fuck of the day' idling in the lane next to her waiting for the light to change. A glance towards his ride caused T-Bird's lip to curl in disgust. All that bike and the bastard almost let it eat pavement. The world is just cruel sometimes. His visor turned towards her, his gaze hidden. There was a heartbeat where perhaps maybe he would come to his senses and maybe apologize for not noticing her in the lane already. That hope of decency was dashed when he abruptly leaned towards her slapping the button on her handlebar. Her engine was silent as he tore off down the road. The light above them now emerald.

The embarrassment of being kill switched at the light was mostly soothed with a coffee from one of the local shops as T-Bird pulled into the parking lot. Kickstand down, cardboard sleeved lifeblood in hand. She stripped off her helmet shaking her hair loose off its cage before strolling inside of the office space. The mundane identical halls giving way to her destination. She opened the door with a free hand.

"Sorry I'm late, Sy. Some asshole pulled out in front of me."

The room was dead silent. Siren was seated at the table as white as a sheet. Across from her was a man. Despite his button up and jeans, his tattoos and longer hair set him apart from the usual stiffs Siren would have to wrangle.

"Your stunt rider? " he asked Siren, his voice gruff from either drink, smoke, or chewing gravel. The jury was out.

Siren cleared her throat, "Yes, this is T-Bird."

She then gestured to the man across from her, "Bird, this is Hunter. We're just about done with everything. It'll be a joint promotion with you and his talent."

T-Bird gave a casual wave with two fingers as her mouth was currently occupied with nursing her coffee. Her helmet soon found a place on the meeting table with its owner soon folding down into one of the swivel chairs.

“So your talent got a name?”

“You could've asked at the light.”

T-Bird adjusted her gaze to the far end of the table where the voice came from. He was still in his riding gear with his own helmet perched on the table. A toothpick between his lips as he met her seething gaze with his own exuding boredom.

“Yeah, no. Sy?”

Siren's manicured hand went to T-Bird's shoulder keeping the cyclist seated.

“Perhaps you two got off on the wrong foot. T-Bird this is Crosshair. He's th-”

“The smug face of GAR Motorsports' Bad Batch. And last I heard you're one to work solo.”

He reached up plucking up the toothpick from his mouth, “Believe me, I'd rather be treating road rash, Birdie.”

T-Bird wrenched herself free of Siren's hold before snatching up her helmet. A few strides and the slam of the door punctuated the exchange. There was a three second pause before Siren exhaled with a soft smile.

“Well, she didn't hit you so that's a positive.” She turned her attention to Hunter, “I'll get some work ups of the promotional materials and have them to you by Wednesday.”

#tbb crosshair #crosshair #tbb #bad batch #tbb hunter #corsshair x OC #mythic batch #moto!Batch au

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rocksandrobots · 2 years

Text

Phantoms of the Past: Chapter 39 - Ransoms and Romance on the Range - Part 4

Honey Lemon felt her world spin out of control. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her stomach dropped. She shivered with fear. She was even too scared to cry out.

Varian wasn't moving.

He wasn't moving.

A chilling silence had overcome everyone.

Joe lowered the gun he had just fired but still kept a tight grip on her arm.

"Make sure that he's dead, Jim." The bandit leader ordered.

Honey Lemon barely heard him, despite standing right next to him.

Varian couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be.

'Not again.'

'This couldn't be happening again.'

After the fire, after the incident with the Hiro and Callgahan's portals, after Baymax getting trapped in the void, after all that she'd been through, Honey Lemon had swore to herself that she wasn't going to lose anyone else. And sure they had had close calls in the past, they were superheroes after all, but this... this was something else entirely.

Jim had finally freed himself from the tree Varian had pinned him too earlier. He walked over to the teenager's lifeless body brandishing the boy's swiss army knife. The blade wasn't long, but it glinted dangerously in the sunlight anyways. She didn't like the evil look in the bandit's eyes as he neared.

Neither did Gogo apparently.

"Don't you dare touch him!" she growled while she struggled to free herself from the third bandit's grasp.

Jim ignored her demands and her tussle with his younger brother. He kicked the boy over and Varian rolled face upwards, his unconscious body flopping back with a sickening heavy limp. Honey Lemon couldn't see any blood but he was covered in dirt and dust and his eyes were closed.

Jim crouched down and raised the knife high.

She sobbed and averted her gaze. This couldn't be happening.

Ironically enough her mind went back to when Varian had first bought the swiss army knife. He'd been so excited to stumble upon the multi-purpose tool and even more excited to find out that he could legally buy it. He had bounced around with boyish glee, rambling on about the tool's merits and telling everyone his plans to build a collection of them.

She couldn't imagine a world where she no longer saw his smile or listened to his hyperactive rants; where she would join him in his random experiments or enthusiastically jump headfirst into whatever wild grand endeavor he had concocted that week.

"Please, please, wake up."

Her whispered prayers were answered when Varian's eyes suddenly snapped open and he kneed the outlaw hovering over him in the diaphragm. Then he grabbed the knife and the two of them went rolling along the ground wrestling for control of the blade.

"What in Tarnation!?" Joe shouted and raised his gun again.

"Oh no you don't!" Honey Lemon stepped backwards and shoved herself into the larger man knocking him off balance. While he was surprised, she then wiggled her arm out of his grip and elbowed him in the throat.

He dropped the gun and she stomped on his toe. Then she gave a back kick and he doubled over and fell to the ground.

Her hands were still tied behind her back, so she kicked the gun away as hard as she could as the outlaw scrambled after it.

A bolt went wide as she did so and it hit the pillar where Krei was still sitting underneath.

"Hey watch it!" the billionaire yelled indignantly as rubble fell around him and he scooted out the way. He was still tied up.Everyone ignored him as they fought their respective opponents.

Especially Gogo, who finally managed to throw the taller man off her. She flipped him and he landed on his back, but he was up again in a moment. She planted her feet and threw up her fists, and the bandit mirrored her movements.

They slowly circled around each other as their friends fought behind them. Neither wanted to make the first move and give away their advantage.

"I'm not getting beat by a stupid girl." Jeff muttered, almost whining.

Gogo rolled her eyes at such a lame insult. That's then Jeff dove at her. She neatly side stepped him and gave him a roundhouse kick.

She went in with a second kick, but he recovered sooner than she had hoped and grabbed her ankle. She was pinned.

He was going to throw her, when a roaring sound filled the air. Confused, both bandit and superhero turned to see what looked like a rocket heading towards them.

"What the h-"

Jeff didn't even get to finish the curse word before the rocket carrying Gogo's super suit slammed into him, knocking him out cold.

"Yeeesss!" Gogo jumped for joy as she ran to the now hovering rocket. She bent down and pulled the cellphone out of the injured outlaw's pocket. Her phone showed a big green check mark showing that the signal finally went through. She didn't waste any time pulling out her yellow gravity disks from the inner compartment of the retrieval rocket.

Turns out she wasn't a moment too soon. Joe, the leader, had finally gotten back his laser gun and was now threatening Honey Lemon with it.

"Money or no money, no one makes a fool of Joe Jolton and lives to tell about it." He hissed as Honey stumbled backwards trying to get away from him. She tripped over a rock and fell to the ground. He aimed the gun at her.

"Honey!" Varian called out but Jim held him back and they went wrestling once more.

Gogo threw the disk, and it sliced cleanly through the gun before hitting a nearby rock and bouncing back into her hand. She then ran towards the dumbfounded outlaw and whacked him hard on the head with the disk.

He too fell unconscious, just like his brother.

"That's two down." She smirked as she heard him snoring lightly. "Now for the third."

She went to help Varian, but as it turned out the alchemist didn't need her assistance. He finished Jim off with a punch to the face, and the third bandit joined his brothers in dreamland.

He retrieved his knife from the ground and rushed over to free Honey Lemon from her bonds.

"Are you okay?"

"Is she okay? You're the one who just got shot in the head!" Gogo snapped at him. "How are you still standing?"

"Because, I didn't actually get hit." He argued back, as he finished pulling the ropes off.

Honey Lemon rubbed her sore wrists and looked at him bewildered.

He sighed and pulled his goggles off his head. More of the broken glass fell to the ground. For good measure he also ruffled his hair to get any remaining glass out of it.

"Man, it's going to be a pain to fix these."

"Your goggles reflected the laser blast…" Gogo nodded, piecing together what he was getting at.

"You mean… you mean you were just faking being dead?" Honey Lemon asked.

Varian gave her a guilty look. "It… it was the safest thing I could do. I had to catch them off guard."

"That was pretty smart." Gogo agreed with him, before smacking him across the arm. "Don't you dare ever do that again!!!"

"Sure, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." Krei sarcastically called after them as Varian flinched away from Gogo's rebuttal.

The billionaire did not look happy at all. His suit was dirty and torn, he was covered in dust from the falling rubble, and his hands were still tied.

Gogo sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a second."

"Oh don't bother." Krei said as he turned his back towards the teens, lifting his nose in the air as he complained. "I'm in no hurry. I mean I'm only hungry, tired, sore, sweaty, filthy and still tied up, but yo- look out!"

Gogo saw the danger as soon as Krei called out.

They had forgotten the fourth bandit!

He had pulled himself free of the chim-trap and he still had his gun… and it was aimed right at them.

Gogo barely had time to raise her gravity disk up in time to block the bolt that was fired at them. It ricocheted off the metal plate and hit the pillar a second time.

This time Krei dogged the debris.

Varian and Honey Lemon huddled behind her as the traitorous hired hand just kept shooting at them with an unrelenting volley of laser blasts.

They were pinned down.

The cowboy kept getting closer, his aim getting better as a bolt hit right next to Gogo's foot and she stumbled back.

"Arrrragghhh!"

Gogo poked her head out from behind her shield just in time to see Krei tackle the outlaw!

The bandit was caught completely by surprise as the other man rammed into him like a quarterback on the football team. The gun fell out of his hands as Krei sat on top of him.

"I've had enough of the wild, wild west. Thank you."

Everyone stared in shock at the billionaire.

"Wow." Gogo said flatly.

"So... now what?" Honey Lemon hesitantly asked.

It began to dawn upon everyone that, while they had won the fight, they were now all stranded in the gorge themselves.

"Well don't look at me... I'm not hiking back to the ranch." Krei scoffed, even as he continued to sit upon the helpless ranch hand.

Gogo sighed as she walked over to free Krei from his bonds. "Well first things first, let's tie up the bad guys before they wake up."

"Did you bring your portals with you?" Honey Lemon asked Varian.

He shook his head as he pulled away from her and picked up the amber on the ground. He inspected it but of course it was undamaged and untarnished as always. "No... They weren't working when I left so I didn't bother."

"Good thing our phones are working again." Gogo said as she and Krei tied up Johnny first.

They had restrained three of the bandits, when they heard a strange whirring sound in the air. Everyone looked up to see a helicopter overhead, including the outlaws who began to regain consciousness.

"It must be a rescue chopper!" Krei announced excitedly as the aircraft swung lower. "They're looking for us!"

Everyone yelled and waved trying to get the pilot's attention. While they were distracted however, Joe, the final bandit that they had yet to restrain, woke up. He snuck up behind them and grabbed the discarded laser gun.

He shot a bolt into the air and everyone jumped at once. "Quiet! This ain't over yet!"

He began to back away, out of the gorge, as he directed his aim at each of them in turn.

"Untie my men, now!" He ordered. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.

Gogo, who was closest, walked back over to the bandits to free them. Yet before she could follow through with uniting them, they heard a voice call out above them.

"Yeee-Haw!!"

Everyone looked up to see Fred falling from the sky. He bounced harmlessly in front of them in his super suit.

"Hey Guys!"

"Fred, look out!" Honey Lemon cried.

Fred turned around mid-jump to see the bandit leader gaping up at him in his monster suit in complete bafflement. He melted the laser gun in the outlaw's hand with his fire breath. The kidnapper jumped back from the flame and Fred turned back to face his friends, no longer considering the villian a threat without his weapon.

"Did you see that!? I jumped out of a helicopter!"

--------------------

"Hey!" Tadashi said as he gave Varian a light smack on the back of the head. "What were you thinking, you knucklehead!"

They had since been rescued and were now back at the ranch house, after dropping off the bad guys with the sheriff and filling out a bunch of paperwork.

Varian rubbed the back of his head. "I was thinking that I needed to save our friends, and that we couldn't afford to wait aroun-ow!"

Baymax finished bandaging up his sprained ankle. "There. Your injuries have been attended to. I recommend plenty of rest and an ice pack to help prevent swelling."

Hiro provided the ice pack. "Yeah, and had you waited with the rest of us, we then could have used your reactivated portal magnets and gotten there even faster."

Varian pouted and squirmed in his seat at that bit of logic.

"Not to mention that we could have taken them all down together with our supersuits with much less risk." Fred pointed out.

"But... what if they had hurt-"

"We were fine before you showed up and almost got yourself killed." Gogo said as she leaned over the couch.

"Yeah, Yoyo and I had everything under control." Krei said.

Everyone turned to give the billionaire awkward looks.

"Ok, now you're just doing that on purpose." Wasabi said to him.

Gogo rolled her eyes. "Well I'm going to go take a shower and nap before we have to leave." She grabbed some jerky from Fred who was eating a bag of it, stuck one end of it in her mouth, and stormed up the stairs without another word.

Tadashi sighed. "I think some rest sounds like a good idea, only our plane leaves this afternoon and I still have to pack."

"Personally, I think I could go from some lunch over sleep." Hiro said. "I'm going to reheat that chili from last night. You want some Honey Lemon? You'd probably like that over Fred's jerky."

Honey Lemon shook her head. She had been sitting quietly over in the corner the entire time. In fact she hadn't said much since her rescue.

"Are you sure?" Wasabi asked with concern. "You haven't eaten anything for hours."

Honey Lemon sighed and stood up. "I'll be fine... I'm… I'm just going to go to my room."

--------------------

Honey Lemon sat in her bedroom staring at the floor.

She had at least changed out of her dusty cowgirl outfit and into some comfy shorts and a tee shirt. She had slipped on some fuzzy socks as well. There was something comforting in the simple tasks of putting on warm clean clothes; something that grounded her.

Socks were normal. Socks were safe. They were uncomplicated and dependable. Socks were cozy.

Unlike the last twenty-four hours, where everything had most certainly not been normal, safe, nor comfortable.

The sound of the gunshot and the sight of Varian falling to the ground replayed over and over in her mind. None of it seemed real. Certainly not with everyone else going about normally, talking about food, showers, and whatnot. Her friends were treating this as one of their regular adventures, where they just went about doing whatever once the danger had passed.

But she had never had to fill out paperwork at the police station after a battle before. She never had to fight people with laser guns while unarmed before, and she most certainly never had to watch her best friend die in front of her while she watched helplessly on. The fact that he was not actually dead, and had been pretending the whole time, did little to ease her mind.

'What if something had gone wrong? ' She thought.

They had been incredibly lucky. She realized that now, not just during this incident but in others as well.

What were they doing? When had they normalized superheroing and running into danger? Why were they running straight towards danger at all?

Granted, her kidnapping had nothing to do with her being a part of Big Hero Six. She had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that only made things worse. It was like they couldn't avoid tragedy no matter what they did. At least when superheroing she had her armor and weapons.

She was jolted out of her spiraling thoughts by a knock at her door. When she didn't answer, Varian timidly opened the door a crack, but respectfully kept his eyes averted, just in case she wasn't decent. He too was dressed in clean clothes now and he smelled of cheap aftershave.

"Hey, Honey Lemon, the bus is here. Are you ready to go?"

Honey Lemon looked at her stuff lying on the floor. She had just shoved things into her suitcase haphazardly while changing. She wasn't really thinking about needing to pack, but she supposed everything was together.

"My bags are over there." She said.

Varian ventured to open the door further and saw the suitcase and clothes strewn about.

"Ah.... well, um... maybe we should organize this a bit better so things don't fall out on the plane?" He limped over to her suitcase and started to stuff her clothes and hair brush inside of it better.

Honey Lemon frowned as she noticed the bandage around his ankle poking out from between his jeans and sneakers.

"Why did you do that?" She suddenly snapped.

Varian paused in his packing and turned to look at her confused, a wad of lace underwear in his hand. "Uh... well, um... you don't want your unmentionables to fall out of the bag onto the stewardess do you?"

"You know what I mean."

Varian frowned and slowly straightened up. "Listen, I've already heard lectures from Tadashi, Gogo, and everyone else okay? I rushed in, and yes it would have been better if I had just waited for the sheriff along with the others... b-but in my defense I didn't know what would happen an-"

"And you almost died!"

Varian seemed taken aback by the harshness in her voice. Honey Lemon rarely got angry at anyone, let alone enough to snap at her friends like that.

"Well what did you expect me to do?"

"How about not trying to take on four people with guns by yourself!"

"I had everything under con-"

"With only a swiss army knife!" She stood up and marched over to him.

"You always do this! Every time! 'I have everything under control', 'Oh don't worry, I know what I'm doing', 'Oh, I'm just bending the rules a little, it won't hurt anybody.' And every time it blows up in your face. Boom! The fourth of July party, Paris, that time you made vinegar in my aprt-"

"Now wait just a minute! You're one to talk, miss 'I blew up the chim lab three times'!"

Honey Lemon flinched. "It was only t-twice..... the other time was at HQ."

Varian folded his arms and gave her a judgmental stare. Part of her recoiled from the accusing glare, but another part of her was furious that he had managed to turn the conversation around against her, yet again. This part won out.

"It's not the same!"

"How, then? How is it any better? Face it. If the situation was reversed you'd be out there trying to rescue me too."

"I would not!.... Well okay, yes I would, but not like the way you went about it! I wouldn't try to take on those guys by myself. We work best as a team. You're all the time trying to go it alone and you don't have to."

Varian rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to prove something here. I didn't go after you alone because I didn't trust everyone. I did it because I'm the only one of us who knew how to ride a horse, and at the time, that was the only way to find you."

"But had you just waited-"

"And go mad wondering if you were alright!? If you were hurt!?" He threw the underwear down. "Every moment wasted was a moment those guys could have harmed you, or Gogo, or even Krei. I'm not losing anyone else!"

"Well we don't want to lose you either, you… you… ooh you… Pajero!"

Varian only looked at her, confused. He was sure she had thrown him an insult but he had no idea what it meant.

"Wie würde es dir gefallen, wenn ich dich in einer anderen Sprache beleidige?"

Honey Lemon paused mid-argument and blinked at him.

"What?"

"I said, 'Kak by vam ponravilos', yesli by ya oskorbil vas na drugom yazyke?'"

"Now you're just trying to show off."

"Peut-être préférez-vous le français? Ça te plairait si je t'insultais dans une autre langue?"

"Stop it!" She stamped her foot.

"You started it!"

"Arrrragghhh! Eres imposible!"

She turned and stormed back over to the bed. She picked up a pillow to scream in it and then sat down in huff on the edge.

"You're lucky I didn't pull out the Latin." He mumbled.

Honey Lemon only glared at him.

He flinched under her gaze; immediately regretting the quip.

Then suddenly her anger melted away and she started crying.

Varian dropped all of his defensiveness and rushed to her side.

"Awe... Honey no... no, don't cry."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, whispering softly in her ear. "Bitte weine nicht liebchen. It's okay... See? I'm here. Everything's alright."

This however only seemed to upset her even more. "No... no it's not alright." She sobbed. "I just saw you fall over… an-and you weren't moving... and I ... I... oh... I hate this. I hate the stress. I hate feeling so helpless, and I hate how it seems like no matter what we do we're always fighting for our lives. Why can't we just be normal? Why?"

Varian frowned but he had no answer to give her.

Honey Lemon looked up at him, her emerald eyes shimmering with tears.

"You... you don't even know what normal is... do you?" She sniffled.

"I... have an idea..." He said, hesitantly.

She pouted as she absently fiddled with a button on his shirt pocket. "Imagine not having to fight all the time. Just going to school, and hanging out like regular teens... maybe, I don't know, going out for hamburgers or pizza in the middle of the night instead of patrolling the streets... or where the worst thing you do is play poker in the dorms instead of breaking and entering the museum to stop a supervillian from stealing priceless artwork."

Varian raised a confused eyebrow. "Since when poker even a bad thing?"

"Well.. not on its own, but you're not supposed to gamble."

Varian rolled his eyes. "America is so weird."

"Well then, what's 'normal' in your world?"

"Umm... farming, chores... going to the pub and listening to all the town gossip... Honestly there wasn't much to do growing up. I guess that's why I took up inventing. It was better than being bored all day."

He flashed her a smile but Honey Lemon didn't return it.

"Don't you miss it though? Don't you miss boredom sometimes? Instead of... of..."

"Fighting all the time?........Everyday."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because... I'm afraid if I stop fighting... I could lose it all again. I finally got my life back together. It may not be 'normal' to you, but it's the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe; to keep everyone safe."

Honey Lemon sadly shook her head and more tears fell down her face. "And what happens to us if we lose you? Did you ever think of that?"

Varian blinked as if surprised by that response. "Well I... um... I just thought...."

"Thought what?"

"Nothing." He firmly shook his head and stood back up. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I was just trying to help. Okay?"

Honey Lemon didn't necessarily argue with him, but she didn't accept his apology either. Instead she kept pouting at him, expectantly.

Varian sighed deeply. "Would it make you feel any better to know that I have experience with taking on a bunch of jerks while unharmed?"

"No!" She looked at him aghast. "How on earth is that any better!?"

"Because it means I knew what I was doing!"

"No it means that you're a stubborn idiot who doesn't think things through!" she yelled and tossed a pillow at him.

He caught it easily and gave her an annoyed glare. She ignored it, though.

"You might be a genius, but you don't know everything." She stood up and marched over to him wagging her finger. "And you need to stop taking such unnecessary risks!"

"Unnecessary!?" Varian shrieked. "What part of trying to keep my friends alive is 'unnecessary'?"

"We were fin-"

"No you were not fine! You were kidnapped and held at gunpoint! Nothing about that is 'fine'!"

Her bottom lip began to tremble as the enormity of what had just happened came crashing down around her again but Varian was now too incensed to slow down.

"Also it's not like I choose to have my village destroyed, or to be run out of my home by armed thugs! I had to fight back!"

Honey Lemon's eyes widened in horror.

"Do you think I had portal magnets or chimballs then? Do you think I had anybody backing me up? No! I didn't." He threw down the pillow in his hand. "A crossbow may not be the same as a laser gun, but either way I had to learn to dodge out the way quick. You wanna lecture me again about how 'unnecessary' that was, or how I don't know what I'm doing? Huh?"

Honey Lemon shook her head and covered her ears with her hands. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had known that Varian led a dangerous life before coming to San Fansokyo, but to hear him admit to what happened out loud made it all too real.

"No. No, no, no," She whispered over and over again to herself.

"Honey yo-"

"No. no. nononono-"

"Honey, you can't just ignore..."

"noooo. no. no. no-"

"Honey, stop." He grabbed her hands and firmly pulled them away from her ears. He didn't hurt her, but she was reminded how strong he was. He seemed to realize this the same moment she did. They stared at each other in shock and he immediately let go.

They stood there silently staring at one another for several moments, each unsure of what to do or say.

Varian was the first to break the silence as he cast his gaze towards. "Look, I know... okay? I know that I'm stubborn, and stupid, and a screw up. Alright? I know I'm reckless, and that I rush through things that I shouldn't. And I absolutely know how lucky I am to even be alive right now."

He lifted his eyes again and Honey Lemon felt as if his piercing gaze was staring into her very soul, begging her to understand him.

"But I also know the risk." His voice was chilling in its simple assertion, yet his whole demeanor softened with his next line. "You're more important."

He gently cupped her chin in his hand, and stepped closer. His thumb softly caressed the corner of her mouth as he leaned in closer. His voice barely above a whisper.

"You're worth any risk. You and the people that I love. Nothing is worse than losing someone you love."

His voice cracked at that last sentence and she could see the pain in his eyes. Honey Lemon blinked back her own tears and grasped the hand that he held her with.

"B-but you're important too." She sobbed, as she turned her head and cradled his hand on her cheek. "Don't you understand? We almost lost you ."

She looked back up at him, and his mouth tightened as he pressed his lips together. He clearly had no idea how to respond to such a statement.

"I... I'm sorry." He finally stuttered out.

It was a halfway apology. She knew deep down that nothing had changed, that he suddenly wasn't gonna be any more cautious or thoughtful than before, not when others were in danger instead. She didn't care though.

She flung herself at him, and he wrapped her into a tight hug; whispering calming words and reassurances in her ear as he ran his fingers through her hair.

She was safe. Everyone she knew was safe. He was here, as always, supporting her, holding her. It felt good to be held. She dug her hands into his shirt, and buried her face against his chest. Grounding herself with his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat. He was alive. They both were. That was all that mattered.

Suddenly the image of him falling again lifeless to the ground flashed through her mind. She let out a cry and wrapped her arms around him tighter.

"Shhh... no.. no. It's alright. I'm sorry. I'm here."

She could have sworn he kissed the top of head again just like he did two days ago when he rescued her out on the prairie. Her stomach did a little flip flop.

"Promise you won't leave?" She begged.

"Wh-where would I go?" He asked, confused.

Honey Lemon declined to answer; too afraid to give voice to her fears lest they came true.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and stepped away from her embrace, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I promise I'll sit by you the whole trip back. How's that?"

"P-promise?"

"Promise." He pressed his forehead against hers.

"And… and will you hold my hand?" She asked, blushing as she entwined his fingers in-between her own; their foreheads still pressed together.

"I won't let go until I safely get you home. I swear it."

They were nose to nose now. Honey Lemon wasn't entirely sure what was happening nor what she was doing, but she felt his warm breath upon her lips.

Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to?

She never got her answer.

"Hey, what's taking so long? Everyone's waitin- oooh…"

Honey Lemon jumped as Tadashi barged into the room. He looked both surprised and guilty.

"Oh, um… Am I interrupting something?" He asked as he shuffled backwards.

"No." Varian said tightly, indicating that Tadashi really was doing just that.

"Well then… uh, the bus leaves in ten minutes. See you there." Then he turned and left the room, quickly closing the door behind him.

Varian slowly closed his eyes and tilted his head back in frustration. Honey Lemon nervously bit her lower lip. The moment had been ruined and they both knew it, but neither wanted to be the one to bring it up.

Finally Varian sighed and picked up her suitcase, stuffing the last bit of straggling clothes into its pockets.

"We better get going." He said in his usual matter of fact manner. "Is there anything else?"

Honey Lemon quickly did a once over of the room to make sure nothing was left behind. She grabbed her chimpurse, slipped on her shoes, and shook her head no.

"Okay, then let's be off."

He shouldered the duffel bag and held out his free hand towards her. She took it, and they walked out of the room together. True to his word, he held her hand the entire trip back.

#varian #honey lemon #tangled #big hero 6 #tangled the series #big hero 6 the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #bh6 #of rocks and robots

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bitterarcs · 10 months

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Crude quip nearly dances off the edge of tongue. A muzzle, huh? Half a dozen answers without any real intellect behind them bounce around inside his mind, however his mind was quicker to remember that professionalism dominated in the presence of Rufus. More than the desire to land something filthy in the other man’s ears was the guilty churning of guts. Throwing fire at one another was one thing — antics being noticed by the man who held their livelihood in the palm of hand was another matter entirely.

Any goon with two eyes . . no, even one working eye could notice overcast skies surrounding Reno and the pet SOLDIER. As far as water cooler talk went, it was old news, though they were few who found the gossip a savoury morsel in between the mediocrity of life. Reno did not believe his boss a fool nor a blind man; it had been deficient wish that the animosity would reach a climax before the intervention of Rufus. Being chastised by the iron hand of ShinRa motivated the redhead to stand as erect and professional as possible; he emulated the postured Tseng and Rude donned on a daily basis. It, too, had been a part of his persona back when ShinRa’s hand first extended toward the young scrappy man.

Ultimately, he clawed and killed his way to the top where such uptight mannerism were not required. Reno held the greatest respect for the other man, yet it felt queer to behave like a chastised grunt. It was shameful of him to allow the intervention to unfold and become reality. He had never been a man to kiss ass nor lie when the truth could so easily be revealed with the parting of lips. It was a risk, Reno knew such, but Rufus appreciated the truth . . no matter if it was icy to the touch or scalded the hand that dared reach for it. Did he not?

( ❛ Let us have it out until one of us kills the other? I’d like that, and I’m sure he would like that, too. He . . infuriates me, boss. ❜ )

In all the years working for ShinRa — risking life and limb, killing, torturing, being tortured, seeing allies fall, Reno never had a problem with any of it. Well, not really. There had been some ugly incidents here and there, yet nothing which made him consider an early retirement or outright hatred for his job. Cloud, however, turned him near feral. Reno’s delight with ShinRa turned bitter in his mouth.

“I’m not one to worry about my men ripping one another’s throat, but it’s to the point that one of you will need a muzzle before long.”

It never has been a secret that both Cloud and Reno had been enemies since Rufus first took interest in weaponizing Cloud to further his gains. However, threats moved to physical attacks.

“I take offense to anyone that mars my men, but what am I to do in this predicament?”

At first, it was a humorous game to Rufus; a bit of rivalry stoked by the coals of jealousy. It helped cast some light into the prison cell that was granted to him. And while Reno had been the star pupil, Cloud had encroached on that territory before long— even more so after their visit to Nibelhiem. @ivory-paragon

( is this a love confession, rufus ?? )

#[ ⁰⁰⁵ ; READING YOUR CONFESSIONS LIVE ON AIR ]#ivory-paragon #* grumpy hours

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harleiquina · 11 months

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The Cursed prince

A Snowhite retelling.

I've been thinking about this for a while, and as any writer can tell you: the best ideas come in the most unexpected times (in this case I woke up at 4 & something in the morning because my dogs needed to do their bussiness, and I just couldn't go back to sleep. So now at 5:22 I mentally finished this version of the story that was nothing more than an idea for the past few months). Enjoy! Because I know that I'll hate myself when I'll get sleepy at work later today.

So it was true.

Since birth he was destined to lose everyone he ever loved. His mother was the first one, the very same day he gave his first breath. He couldn't even see her once.

His father followed, a few years later. He was kind and warm but strict, as all kings should be. He loved his son but wanted to be sure that the power of their bloodline would never get on his head. What kind of king could that kid become if all of his wildest dreams were granted to him? The child needed limits, so the father gave him exactly that. He was an exceptional man.

Then came Father Solar. The King asked in his death bed for his son to be raised in the monastery that his family build, to have the best education he could have and learn how to be a man on God. All the priests there were dedicated to their task, but Father Solar would let the kid be a child, climbing trees, going fishing, running through the fields and playing with marbles (he taught the prince the most impresive tricks with them behind the other monks' backs). After his death, the prince, now a young man, went to his castle trying to leave the pain behind and to "grow up".

Many friends (because thats what they were, not just soldiers) died in foreing lands, sometimes in battle, others by believed-to-be friendly hands and others in minor incidents where, in a ironic twist of fate, they were trying to avoid any kind of conflict.

Many of his servants, that took care of him, like the cook that always made him smile when he needed it the most also died. Everybody tried to convince him that they were old and nature took it's course but then how could anyone explain that her little daughter, a child that the prince thought of as the little sister he never had, just never woke up without explanation?

The prince was more and more convinced that he was cursed. And now he had the worst reminder of it.

A year ago or so, he had to go to a neighbouring kingdom to participate in the wedding of the king, a long friend of his father. He was marrying for the second time, many thought that it was too soon, to a younger woman whose great beauty was a little suspicious to folks who believed her to be a witch or an evil wooden sprite under a glamour spell.

The prince got easily bored next to the other royals next to him that doubled his age (or even tripled it!) and kept on telling the same stories over and over again with more and more details as the wine began to flow. And then he saw her, the king's daughter, a lovely young girl almost his age with raven hair that made her look extremely pale. People called her Snowhite but he thought that it was a poor choice of a name because her smile alone was as warm as a summer breeze.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was graceful, kind and smart enough to get one of her father's friends to back track a statement he made about his people's labour. She noticed the prince and every time she caught him looking at her, she'd smile as an invitation to join her. But he would turn and walk away.

Yet she was decided to breach that distance, so she asked him to dance. He tried to refuse but as soon as their hands touched, the wall that he was building between them fell apart.

The world disappeared when she was in his arms and so did any kind of fear he felt about losing her. They looked each other in the eyes and inside of hers he saw the possibility of having a future, a family, happiness at last. His entire existence was bound to hers, he could feel himself turning his own life, body and soul so she could do with them as she pleased. He was brought back to reality by her touch, she was concerned, wiping away a tear from his eyes. He apologized and left the party, the castle and country altogether.

A few months later came a letter requiring him to go back to that kingdom for a funeral, his heart was already breaking before he could read that it was the king's. He felt bad for his relieved sigh and the small joy of finding out that she was safe. At least for now.

The solemnity of the ceremony didn't helped with his constant dread. But how could he try to ignore her when she looked absolutely destroyed and alone? Without a word they hugged and she broke down in tears in the safety of his arms. They walked through the gardens to clear their minds. If there was anything he had enough experience about it was pain and how to deal with it. She asked him to come back to visit, he couldn't refuse and both promise to write each other whenever needed.

He returned a few months later, the queen gave him all kinds of attentions but he couldn't see where his friend was. His host tried to tempt him to join her to a hunting trip, or to watch a play, or read next to the fire but he didn't cared about those things so he said that the travel left him exhausted and needed some rest. Of course, instead of going to his room, he wandered through the palace until he saw her. She was dressed in rags like the servants, carrying a sack of flour to the kitchen. She tried to calm him down, it wasn't that bad for her... she always helped as much as she could in the castle, this wasn't new and she would prove it in the kitchen where she baked a delicious cake for them to eat. He still believed that it wasn't fair to her to live in those conditions, but she reassured him that the pain of her father's death made her realized that she needed a change. He wondered how much of that she thought herself and how much of it were her stepmother's words.

He came back many times and tried not to take too much time between his visits. The queen would always try to keep him busy but he always found a way to explore the forest with his Northern Star as he started to call the princess because the shine of her eyes and the contrast of her hair and skin reminded him of a starry night, and he would always follow her to feel like he was at home again.

Then, one day, she was nowhere to be found. The servants were too afraid to speak and the Queen ignored all of his questions. He left the castle and went to the forest to the place they both called their kingdom, where all secrets were kept like that first kiss by the oldest oak tree under the summer rain. She was there, waiting who knows for how long and held him tight while tears flooded her eyes. She told him that the queen was jealous, that expelled her from the castle and promised to punish anyone that wanted to help her. He offered to take her with him, to keep her safe, to be her loving husband and leave everything behind. But this time she refused, she knew about the queen's intentions towards him and couldn't risk starting a war. She assured him that she was well taken care of and that one day, when everything calmed down, she would go with him and never again part ways. It was a bittersweet goodbye, with the softest kiss that would've torn apart even the bravest of all souls.

He rejected any invitation and letter from the queen, as well as her delegations with presents. She even dared to try to reach him through other kingdoms, yet the response was always the same.

One night he woke up with a fear he hadn't felt in years. A premonition. The storm outside of his window darkened his troubled heart and decided to ride to meet his Northen Star again before anything could happen. He had to save her. He could not afford to lose her.

The wind and the water seemed to be against him, forcing him to take the longest road. Rivers were overflooded, the mud didn't let his horse move, trees were plucked out of the soil as easy as any other weed at hands of a gardener.

With the early morning lights, the storm started to fade away but he was still too far from her. His journey continued, he had no time to rest or eat.

And then he arrived.

It was too late.

His knees failed him, kneeling in the mud he cannot stop looking at her in a bed of flowers. Even through his tears she looked as if she was just sleeping pacefully under the morning sun. The townspeople were saying their goodbyes to their princess. Some recognized him and shared his pain, but there's nothing else to be done. If the rumours are true, the queen found a way to poison her and there is no antidote that could help now.

"What have I done? Is my existence such an offense to this world that I do not deserve to be loved? Life, what have I done to you? Why do you keep on taking innocent lives instead of mine? What kind if cruel game are you playing with me? Why her? She's done nothing to you, unless giving me a reason to believe that you are beautiful is a sin that can only be cleansed by death. Earth was greener, the air sweeter and the sun warmer with her alive. What do I have to do? Lock myself in my castle out of sight and wait to the end of my days, just living off the memory of her lips in mine? Answer at once! I beg you..."

People stared at him but just one old woman came to help him get back on his feet.

"My dear boy, I'm sorry. None of this was meant to happen if I followed the rules... but when you spend so much time among your kind as I did it's almost impossible not to get soft" her voice was kind and she was fixing his clothes like a mother would.

"Who are you?" he asked while she was cleaning his face.

"My name is long forgotten and humanity decided that I am two: Life and Death. But it's only me. I take care of both tasks, maybe it would've been easier if I was two different people" she grabbed his arm and guide him to a rock so they could sit and talk. "And that's why it all began. The night you were born, you were supposed to die but I knew that your parents wanted a child more than anything. They've tried many times and after your death, your mother would've never gotten pregnant again. They were very nice, loved by everyone and always put others first. They deserved a gift, a baby as they always wanted... even if that meant that someone else had to take his place in the Afterlife. Your father understood it, once he held you in his arms, that it wasn't your fault, that you were too precious to be blamed for your mother's death. So he loved you even more than you can imagine. However, consecuences come when things don't go the right way. Your parents and friends would've lived longer if you didn't existed, yes, but that doesn't mean that they died because of you... is the course of destiny, it's just that the dates were readjusted. In her case, you extended her life. If you didn't take her for a walk on her father's funeral, she would've gone straight into her bedroom where the queen would've killed her to make it look like a suicide. Her stepmother couldn't try anything later because she had many guests to attend but every single time that something bad was about to happen, a memory of you made her take a different decision... another road... another fate. But as I said, dates get readjusted, they are never erased. The Evil Queen got her anyway. Such a pity." The prince didn't felt any better "You are not cursed, my dear. You are blessed, you are the strongest testimony that life is a gift that should not be squandered. So live, and share your life with those that make it worthwhile." The woman caressed his hair and walked away. life is a gift that should not be squandered. So live, and share your life with those that make it worthwhile." The woman caressed his hair and walked away.

He stood there watching the others crying and leaving flowers, even if the pain was cutting deep they were not feeling it as bad as he. People would go back to their homes, move foward with their lives and eventually let it go. But not him.

He took some courage and got closer to her. He took her hand, kissed it and pressed it against his face. This time she couldn't wipe his tears like before.

"Life is a gift that shouldn't be squandered... but I only wanted to share it with you" he said before kissing her lips for the last time. Still with his eyes closed he pressed his forehead with hers and sighed. He tought that the morning breeze was fooling him pretending to be her breath he could even hear her voice in it. "You came back" she said, like every time they met again. He started to cry but his tears were stopped by a hand. He opened his eyes and saw her smiling at him. "You came back" he answered before lifting her in his arms and kissing her again.

#harleiquina's retellings #my writing #snowhite #i'm not crying you're crying #writing #my art #aspiring author #the only good thing of getting more Disney remakes is that it challenges me to write more #like c'mon you can reinvent a classic story you don't need to do a frame by frame remake #writeblr #Did I started at 5:22 AM and finished at 8:35 AM #you bet I did

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barkspawn · 1 year

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CR - Vax and Keke kiss?

This one has axes and swirds

Amelia had been going to the mines a lot recently.

She'd also been coming out of the mines more than a little bloody and bruised a lot.

Sebastian grew more and more worried each time he saw her with her sword on hand.

So he practiced.

She was heading into the mines specifically for some gold ore and minerals, meaning she had to go further down. She crossed the footbridge and slowed when she saw Sebastian by the entrance, finishing off his cigarette.

“Right on time,” he exhaled, a plume of smoke rising above him. She was about to ask, but her eyes caught on the sword he had at his side.

“Seb, what do you think–”

“I'm coming with you.”

She blinked and frowned, her brows furrowing together, “Seb, today isn't a good day to come along. I'm going deeper into the mines today and it's not safe.”

“All the more reason for me to come.”

It was then that he started tagging along. At first, he thought about just throwing her over his shoulder and leaving. The monsters were terrifying. But the more he thought about it, the more willing he was to stay and fight and protect her. It seemed to be working too. Neither of them emerged with any serious injuries like she had when alone.

It helped that she liked having him around. Their banter was always playful and he always had her back. There had been a few close calls before, but they always made it through. The worst was when he took a blow from a shadow brute, knocking her out of the way. She had to pour a life elixir down his throat and was still worried.

She didn't go into the mines for a while after that.

It was about two months since he started going down with her. He had graduated from a short sword to a couple of daggers and a bow with a few specialized arrows. She stuck to her shortsword and slingshot. She loved watching him with the bow, the elegance of it suiting him in so many ways. And with his daggers, he was fast and silent.

They were further down than they'd been since the incident when he fell.

They hated these floors. All they were was plagued with monsters, the ladder hidden behind some magic that couldn't seem to be repelled.

“Left!” Sebastian called, the farmer lunging right at her target, Sebastian’s arrow flying by on her left, pinning one of the bats to the wall with the sickening screech of its final cry.

With a small chuckle, she stood, having bottled some slime to take.

“You know, you're becoming a bit of a badass.”

“Becoming?” he smirked, shooting her a look. He followed as she mined a node of what he assumed was iron.

“You've gotta earn that title, Seb,” she teased, tossing the ore into her pack.

“Well, shit. I'll have to work a little harder.”

She rolled her eyes and looked around, trying to see some inkling of where to go. She chipped away at stones until she found the ladder, “alright. Let's do this.”

They went on like this for a while, defending one another while they gathered ore and made their way deeper.

Sebastian landed, helping Amelia down over the last few rungs of the ladder. She froze as she looked around, whispering, “Seb, this floor is infested.”

He looked around, a small smirk spreading, “we've got this.”

Clearing the floor took longer than they anticipated, the two having to fall back to eat something and wake themselves up.

“Okay, yeah. Infested is a good word,” Sebastian breathed, his breath still heavy.

“Told you. Slimes or larvae?”

“Slimes. Watch for bats.”

They went back in, making quick work of the rest. Amelia ran out of ammo for the slingshot, not enough stone that she could spare. She was fine with her short sword, plunging it through the last slime.

“Do you see the ladder?” Sebastian looked around, not noticing the bat flying toward him.

“Seb, right!”

Sebastian ducked and watched as Amelia’s axe flew past him, the strained screech of the bat pinned to the wall with the axe echoing. He pulled the axe out and walked it back over to her, his face a mix of shock, awe, and something Amelia couldn't quite name.

“Holy shit,” Sebastian said, laughing quietly.

“Seb, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have thrown my axe. That's… That could have–”

“You know I'm in love with you, right?”

She didn't know what surprised her more: his confession, the fact that he was kissing her, or the fact that she didn't hesitate to kiss him back. He had one hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her. It wasn't wild or even intense despite their adrenaline. It was soft and genuine. She had her free hand resting at his shoulder, her thumb brushing over the side of his neck.

Neither of them knew if it was thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but he pulled back, his eyes scanning her face for any inkling that he messed up.

She started back up at him, eyes growing a little wider, “you… You’re what?”

He couldn't help but laugh, whether from anxiety or happiness he couldn't say, “I uh, I'm in love with you.”

She nodded for a second, “that's what I thought you said. Uh.. And you realized this when I threw an axe at your head?”

“Well, no. You're just a badass and it compelled me to tell you. That was impressive.”

“So what I'm hearing is if I ever want you to kiss me again… Throw an axe at you?”

Sebastian arched an eyebrow, his smirk enhancing his sarcasm, “usually it works pretty well. Just asking works too. Or… Well, make that face you always make when you want something,” he tried to make it.

Amelia laughed and gave a little pout.

“That's the one,” he laughed, still standing close. He paused for a long moment, “Ames, should I be–”

“I love you too.”

“Oh. Well, alright… That's gre–”

She cut him off this time with a kiss, much briefer than the prior.

“I think the mines aren't a great place for this,” she laughed, walking with him to the elevator.

“You're… Not wrong.”

They made it most the way up in the elevator before she laughed quietly, earning a questioning look from Sebastian.

“I think you've earned the right to call yourself a badass.”

“Oh, sweet!” he jokingly brought his fist down like he was celebrating.

Amelia looked up at him, trying to deadpan, “..... Nevermind.”

#stardew valley #sdv #barkspawn #stardew valley fanfic #stardew #stardew valley sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stard #stardew sebastian #sebastian sdv #sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian

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usafphantom2 · 2 years

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Russia's only aircraft carrier will not return to sea before 2024...

Admiral Kuznetsov's long and sad story continues.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 06/19/2022 - 7:30 pm in Military

Russia's only aircraft carrier, Admiral Kuznetsov, is scheduled to return to service after 2024.

One of the most visible symbols of Russia's maritime power will not leave the reform for at least another two years. Admiral Kuznetsov, Russia's only aircraft carrier, will now enter service again in 2024, seven years after entering the dry dock for much-needed upgrades.

Once completed, Kuznetsov should be able to spend another 10 to 15 years in service.

The Russian state media TASS reported on Tuesday that defects in the ship's update work delayed its return to sea. This is not totally unexpected, since Kuznetsov's return has faced repeated delays in the last four years.

Admiral Kuznetsov is approximately 330 meters long and moves 58,000 tons fully loaded. The ship was designed to accommodate an air wing of 24 Su-33 Flanker D and MiG-29 fighters, as well as six helicopters. Recent patrols have seen much smaller air wings of only ten Su-33s and five MiG-29s. An American Nimitz-class aircraft carrier usually goes overboard with 40-44 F/A-18E/F Super Hornets and F-35C Joint Strike Fighters fighters. In addition to its aircraft, the Kuznetsov is equipped with 12 large P-700 Granit anti-ship missiles.

Admiral Kuznetsov went into a dry dock for a technology reform in 2017 and was supposed to be completed in 2020, but has been plagued by problems ever since. In 2018, PD-50, the only dry dock structure capable of handling the aircraft carrier, sank while the Kuznetsov was inside. The aircraft carrier suffered damage when a 70-ton crane attached to the dry dock collapsed, opening a 5-meter wide hole on the side of the ship. Then, in 2019, there was a fire on the ship that killed two military personnel. The need to repair the damage from both incidents and complete the renovation pushed the return to service date to 2021.

A series of unfortunate events - including the sinking of its dry dock and a fatal fire - delayed the ship's return by at least two years.

However, the delays continued. In 2020, the return date was again postponed to 2022. In 2021, the date was postponed again to 2023. Now, the ship should be completed in 2024. What was originally supposed to be a three-year update will take at least seven years now, which means that refitting is taking half the time of the most optimistic estimate of how long it will keep the ship in service.

In the mid-1980s, the Soviet Union built Admiral Kuznetsov at Nikolayev Shipyards, now part of Ukraine. (Kuznetsov is a sister ship to the Chinese aircraft carrier Liaoning.) Russia inherited the ship after the collapse of the USSR.

Kuznetsov has been a ship of chance from the beginning, even in service. He languished for decades after the end of the Cold War, when poor economic conditions reduced Russian defense spending to the bone. The aircraft carrier completed only six patrols at sea and only one renovation between 1991 and 2015. In 2009, off the coast of Turkey, an electric fire killed a crew member. In 2012, Kuznetsov broke down off the coast of France and had to be towed by a Russian Navy tugboat. In 2016, Kuznetsov lost two planes in two weeks, both allegedly due to mechanical failures during the aircraft's landing process. In 2017, the British Ministry of Defense ironically nicknamed the aircraft carrier a "ship of shame" for its thick columns of black smoke while on the move. The sinking of the PD-50 dry dock in 2018 and the fatal fire in 2019 followed.

Since 2017, the carrier has been undergoing a renovation designed to extend its useful life for another decade. (Photo: Dmitry Gornaev)

So, will Kuznetsov return to service? Russia's economy is expected to go into recession later this year as a direct result of NATO sanctions imposed against it by the invasion of Ukraine. Refitting has already been reduced once due to financial considerations. If a paralyzed defense budget or other serious setback occurs, Moscow may find itself wishing for Kuznetsov to descend into the depths of the Norwegian Sea along with its dry dock.

Source: Popular Mechanics

Tags: Admiral Kuznetsovaircraft carrierRussia

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in a specialized aviation magazine in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation

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mischa-auer · 2 years

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Silver Screen magazine, March, 1937: Wildboy of Siberia Conquers Hollywood by Whitney Williams

Transcript of article

Wildboy of Siberia Conquers Hollywood

Mischa Auer remembers the days when, as an exile, and friendless, he fought for life against starvation and the biting cold of the Russian Steppes.

Solemn-visaged Hollywood is laughing. Not alone laughing… but screaming with hysterical glee.

Now, for such a state of affairs to happen in this movie town of ours, where the lads and lassies in-the-know DARE anybody to make them even smile, is so startling an event that something has to be done about it. And Hollywood’s doing pul-lenty.

It has taken the raison d’etre (fancy French, for “cause”) of the matter and skyrocketed him to the object of everybody’s affection. It has pounced upon him, like a tiger on its kill, and elevated him to a niche many a fading star would give his very soul to once more attain. In short, Hollywood is lionizing Mischa Auer, the young man of our story, and from one not too well known on the screen- although he’s been in the movie colony for nearly eight years- this tall and lanky Russian overnight has become one of its favored sons.

Why, you ask? What’s the reason for Hollywood affixing its unanimous and fondest eye of approval suddenly upon an actor who has been in its midst for years?

All right, I’ll tell you.

Think back- not too many months- to “My Man Godfrey”. To all intents and purposes, this riotous film co-starred Carole Lombard and Bill Powell. Fair enough… it did. But it did more.

“My Man Godfrey” made Hollywood so Mischa Auer-conscious that Mischa was hailed as the real star of the picture. Not that he’d admit it- you’d never catch him that way, this sly Slav- but to the majority of the picture-wise around the colony, and for the critics through-out the land, he simply wrapped up the honors and tucked them very neatly into his pocket.

Will you ever forget his impersonation of that ape in the picture, as he went into his monkey act with all the feeling of a bewildered simian? Can you ever erase from memory how he struck the monkey pose, shoulders hunched over and long arms swinging ground-ward, and, with bent legs and features contorted slap-bang-ape-like, he swung about the room, over furniture, up pillars and ended by climbing the iron-grilled gate?

Well, hardly.

All Hollywood gasped to its very toes at Mischa’s antics, too amazed at first to quite believe its eyes. It couldn’t be Mischa… Mischa always had played either dark and dirty glowering roles or parts deeply dramatic. The night of the big preview it burst into a mighty roar of thunderous appreciation; laughter still ringing long after the film had ended. When an actor can do that to as sophisticated and hard-boiled an assemblage as one plays to in the cinema capital… he’s made.

Several months later, with the recollection of Mischa’s performance lingering vividly in their consciousness, the movie-great-producers, directors, writers, stars- went to see the previewing of Mary Pickford and Jesse L. Lasky’s production of “The Gay Desperado,” starring the opera-singing Nino Martini.

As the film unreeled, a familiar, yet not too familiar, figure inserted itself into the action… a tall, serape-huddled, black sombrero-topped Indian who stalked stolidly through scene after scene, saying not a word. Suddenly, the identity of this wooden individual was realized, and with this circumstance the audience as one man acclaimed him noisily, deafeningly. The Indian, who from the first had created ripple after ripple of merriment, was Mischa Auer!

Hollywood has taken other players to its heart ere this for some very outstanding performances, but I can recall no incident in which a more or less established actor or actress, a native of Hollywood for so many years, has struck the chord that Mischa Auer has touched. It is as though he has entered upon a new life. Certainly, Hollywood producers think so.

Immediately after he made his hit in “My Man Godfrey”, every studio in the business tried to cast him in a comedy role. Previously, if anybody had mentioned, even in jest, that Auer might be acceptable in a humorous vein, he would have been booed right out of the studio. But that one part changed his whole future.

Basically, Mischa Auer, sad-faced a young man has ever set foot in our capital of Cinemania, is a comedian, and loves to clown and be gay. He is the very antithesis of the character you undoubtedly have fashioned for him, through the medium of his screen appearances prior to the Lombard-Powell feature.

“For years I’ve tried to enter the forbidden realm of comedy, but only once was I given a chance.” Mischa sipped a brandy, and after each taste of the liqueur put a small piece of lemon dipped in powdered sugar- Russian style, Mischa said- into his mouth. “That was in Lily Pons’ first picture ‘I Dream Too Much.’ In this I played a musician who hated music, who accompanied Miss Pons during her first audition. From the miserable musician I was to turn into a raving enthusiast. Apparently, it went over so well that everybody liked it; many called me up to tell me how funny they thought that bit of action. But though the studio praised it, nothing ever came of my clowning and I continued in heavy and dramatic roles.”

Mischa Auer’s preference for light characterization is a strange commentary on the man, for Mischa’s early life in Russia scarcely prepared him for such interpretation. By all rights, he should be enacting still those highly dramatic roles for which he was he is best known, for his existence in his homeland was beset with hardship and suffering.

Born after the intelligentsia- his father, killed in the Russo-Japanese War, held a high naval rank- Mischa was caught up in the whirlpool of the revolution and at the age of twelve, along with two hundred other lads of his class, ranging in years from eight to seventeen, was sent by the Bolshevists from his home in St. Petersburg to a small settlement in Siberia… to learn Communism!

“It was a tiny place, with a long name, and just eighty miles from where the Czar was assassinated,” he tells you. “For a time, we had things pretty much our own way, but gradually the food gave out and we existed for months on nothing but rotten potatoes, with living conditions absolutely intolerable. The ones that sent us to this desolate spot forgot all about us and there we were, two hundred of us, with nothing to eat but those damned rotted spuds.” Mischa is quite American in his speech.

“Late one afternoon, a chap only a little older than I, announced he was going out and beg around the countryside for food. There were plenty of wealthy farmers at this time, and several hours later he returned with a large sack filled with bread- fresh bread, too!- and large hunks of meat and all sorts of vegetables. I tell you, we feasted that night, but two days later the boy died, from the effects of over-stuffing. That’s the condition we were in.

“His success in foraging started others of us on the same path, and before long large bands of us would descend upon the farmers and demand to be fed. It got so we were a dangerous lot, for when you’re desperately hungry you’re apt to do anything. Eventually, after we had held up and robbed travellers of their clothing- we were cold, freezing- and stoned farmers who would not feed us, nearly killing a number, the government stepped in and sent us home.”

I mention the foraging in such detail in an effort to give you a word-picture of this actor’s past- the Siberian episode was only one of many hazardous and agonizing experiences- and why it is all the more surprising that he turns to comedy so readily and with such gusto. At fourteen, because of the suffering he had endured and the gruesome sights that were his daily lot, Mischa thought and acted like a man of thirty, as, indeed, did all Russian boys of that period.

“But I learned the value of things, during all that while,” Mischa says. “Instead of acquiring the bitterness many could not empty from their souls, I learned to evaluate that which surrounded me. My mother taught me the futility of revenge, and the necessity for becoming a fatalist.”

Mischa’s mother died from the typhus she contracted while administering to the sick in Constantinople. Following the lad’s return from Siberia, mother and son soon fled to the south of Russia- the mother’s name appeared on the Bolshevist list of those to be shot- and there Mischa fought in the British ranks against the Russian Red armies. Some time later, he and his mother were evacuated to the Turkish capital, and as a result of her humanitarian work in refugee hospitals the lady passed away.

By selling a few jewels he had clung to in flight, the boy, only fourteen, made his way to Florence, Italy, where a girlhood friend of his mother was living. This woman, wife of a Florentine attorney, took the boy in, and notified his grandfather, Leopold Auer, in New York, who immediately cabled passage money.

Only since Mischa has been in America has he grown to his present stature of six feet two inches. Because of hardship and malnutrition, he was less than five feet tall when he joined his grandfather, the famed music master who taught Zimbalist, Heifetz and Elman, among others, the art of the violin. Even today, the effects of those early years of strife are plainly evident.

Hollywood first saw this talented Russian when he appeared with Bertha Kalich on the Los Angeles stage in Sudermann’s “Magda” some eight years ago. Prior to this, he had shown an early interest in the theatre and played in a number of shows on Broadway.

Returning to the film capital following completion of his stage tour, Mischa discovered the man who had promised him a contract with a studio had been discharged two days before he arrived- and he had less than two hundred dollars in his pocket. When this had gone the way of all funds, he threw pride to the winds and turned extra.

An amusing incident, although at the time it was far from funny, insofar as Mischa was concerned, occurred during this period of travail. Henry Hathaway, then an assistant director, fired him from his first “extra” job because he said Mischa wasn’t “the Russian type!” But Frank Tuttle, the director, befriended him and gave him work in every picture he made.

To chat with Mischa Auer in his hilltop home. Amid the luxurious surroundings he has provided for his American wife, and his two-and-a-half-year-old son, Tony, and himself, one would never suspect he had ever known anything but an even-tenored existence. His sense of humor is superb and there is not the slightest suggestion that he might be an actor. He rears champion Great Danes- Lars, his pet, weighing only a measure less than a house, stretched at our feet during the entire course of our conversation and occasionally uttered yawning noises that suggested a noontime factory whistle. Mischa likewise owns up to a fondness for cats. He is looking forward to the time he can amass sufficient wealth to retire… then, he expects to do one of about two dozen things, none of which he knows he will ever attempt. Meanwhile, he teaches his wife Russian, and she responds with lessons in draw poker.

You’re going to see much of Mischa Auer. He’s the comedy find of the year and his humor on the screen is so infectious that it will continue to entertain American public for years to come. You’ll laugh with him in “That Girl from Paris,” Lily Pons’ latest picture, in which he glories in the cognomen of “Butch” Strogoff… watch him burlesque Hamlet in Universal’s “Top of the Town” in such a manner that even the members of the company roared with delight… and the potentialities of his role in Hal Roach’s feature, “Pick a Star,” are sufficient to predict a brilliant performance. Just as murder…comedy will out!

#silver screen #silver screen magazine #mischa auer #1930s #1930s Hollywood #1930s movies

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forwithinthishollowcrown · 1 month

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ACOB headcanon:

This is for the anon that was concerned that the reds are leaning more blue. In my headcanon, the reds aren’t fighting specifically for the blue as a whole

Again, these are just ideas so you don’t have to like or agree with them all

• Daemon: just wants to cause chaos & take his revenge on Qyle & Qoren for what happened to Aemond and then he ends up being dragged into a conflict with Harwin & House Strong

• Alicent: wants nothing to do with anything and is just trying to look after everyone especially her younger kids. She tries to her best to keep her loved ones from escalating things & getting involved but ultimately fails

• Maegor: personally I think he’d be the reason people consider the reds to be neutral as he’s Daemon’s heir & eldest son. I don’t think Maegor would fight at all. He grew up on the Stepstones and watched how it transformed over the years. I think the first few years of his life were incredibly scary and violent due to the constant attacks & dangers the Stepstones faced. Even though it’s been years & things have improved (especially with the help of his stepmother), he knows that the Stepstones are still developing & whatever resources they have won’t last long against such old & wealthy & established houses like the Velaryons, Martells, etc. He’s also incredibly protective of Ceryse & presumably their children and I don’t think he’d want to risk their safety or their inheritance by dying in battle. Growing up, he overheard Alicent talking about the religious abuse she suffered but he probably overhead how after the death of her husband she was forced to remarry against her will & seperated from her children. He’d never in a million years want the same thing for Ceryse. In the character description it says Maegor is the most martial of Daemon’s son. So my headcanon is that Maegor, thinking ahead and realizing all the things that can go wrong in the war, doesn’t fight for any faction but instead stays at the Stepstones & raises the defenses & fortifies it the best he can. I got this idea from canon where the Iron Born take advantage of the war to raid the Westerlands. There’s always this fear of the Iron Born coming back to raid & I think Maegor and others in the Stepstones would have that same fear but of the Triarchy coming back to take the lands

• Saera: wholeheartedly supports her husband, Lucerys, who, as the heir to House Velaryon, obviously backs the Laena’s factions especially because his aunt Laena looked out for him a lot growing up after his father died & his mother remarried. Saera’s actually really upset when she asks Maegor to ally with them and he refuses because he is her only full sibling

• Elaena: initially agrees with Alicent & Maegor to not get involved but switches to the Blue faction after Viserys dies & she marries and has a son with the claimant for the blue faction, Aegon

• Ceryse: supports her husband & runs the day to day household duties of the Stepstones with her mother while Maegor is constantly checking on the islands perimeter & defenses & training of the soldiers on the island. She spends lots of time with her young children. Given her great intelligence, she also reads more and more books about historical battles & helps Maegor devise battle strategies and tactics.

• Viserys & Aemond: both pretend they don’t care at all about the faction but they’re both high-key stressed. They love their half siblings (Lucerys, Rhaena, & Joffrey). However, Viserys was pretty good friends with his cousin Aliandra growing up and secretly kept in contact with her after the eye incident. Aemond loves Aemma and doesn’t want her to stress out about him hurting her family especially now that she’s pregnant. Personally headcanon that Aemond is less bitter about his eye bc he has lots of loving familial support and he got a happy marriage & Vhagar out of it. (Side note, I know the way the eye scene and fight was portrayed in the show was incredibly tense and everything went down quickly but I still think it’s absolutely wild that the Velaryon/Strong boys didn’t even have to apologize for half-blinding him). They both initially agree to just chill out in the Stepstones but both sons feel obligated to go help their dad when they hear about his ongoing battle with House Strong

• Helaena: was completely caught off guard by the news that the war was starting despite her visions bc she’s been living happily and peacefully with Daeron in Oldtown for years completely oblivious to the growing tensions. Daeron goes to help his family but she decides to remain in Oldtown bc 1) she’s beloved by the people of Oldtown & her Hightower residents and knows they won’t let any harm come to her and 2) she’s not a fighter/warrior or strategist and she doesn’t care for politics or conflicts so she doesn’t want to get involved.

• Valaena: she’s really young when everything starts so her mother arranges for her to go & stay with her older sister Rhaena in Pentos far away from the conflict

So yeah, compared to other families the reds come off as more neutral. Daemon, Viserys, and Aemond’s main fight is against House Strong not the blues or the blacks. Saera & Elaena are for the blues. With his father and brothers either dead or away fighting, Maegor has to prioritize the Stepstones. Everyone else tries to stay the hell out of it and just look after their own

Honestly yeah the reds are just trying to survive at this point in time so their fights in the war are a lot more personal.

#keep the asks coming #a crown of bones

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simpleton025 · 8 months

Text

The Battle of Red Eyes

“There is a thin line between courage and madness.”

-Vortalan Dasos Tol’Dar

Dolasar, Gorutan system

274, 2462

“Five minutes until arrival, sir,” the Vulture pilot said.

“Danke,” the uniformed man said as he glanced over the information he was given on his datapad.

An unusual case, he thought to himself. Normally someone in his position wouldn’t bother with the hearing of aliens. Allies or not, the Terran Union held no obligation to meddle in the affairs of extraterrestrial armies. But the nature of this particular incident intrigued the high command nonetheless.

Soon enough, the Vulture had arrived at its destination, Observation post G-13. They would still need to wait until the decompressed landing chamber returns to livable conditions. Once they exited the aircraft, the uniformed man was greeted by a ranked TUGF officer and a small entourage of guards and scribes.

“Colonel Edward Kendrick, 1st Regiment of the 217th Tiberian Marines Brigade,” the man in the front said in a firm tone.

The iconic green and brown uniform made the Tiberians stand out from the rest and the colonel’s medals told a more obvious story than his aging face and gray hair.

“Commissar Hans Becker, 11th Special Investigations Corp.”

“A pleasure to meet you. The holding block is this way, follow me.”

Hans and Edward both walked down the surprisingly short corridors. Observation post G-13 was never meant to be a large structure in itself as its primary function was to act as an intelligence hub for the Terran Union in regards to the Gorutan system. But not-so-recent events have forced it to adapt and take on a multitude of different roles. One of which was to hold prisoners for interrogation. This prisoner, however, was very different.

“Ironak Kizma!” the colonel called out, “The commissar has arrived.”

Hans stiffened at the sight of the alien. She was a Zerenthian, of that there was no doubt. Standing at least half a head taller than an average human and being broader they were always an intimidating sight for most people. And this was a woman. Though Hans has met Zerenthians before, they never ceased to unnerve him at least slightly.

“Commissar Hans Becker,” he introduced himself and extended his gloved hand.

“Ironak Kizma Nazgus,” she said in a low voice as she bowed and then shook his hand, “I presume you know why you are here.”

“While I acknowledge the unorthodox nature of this investigation, I fail to see why I should be a part of this. One of your soldiers is in that room. He is the Conglomerate’s concern, not of the Terran Union.”

Kizma let out a heavy sigh and looked through the reinforced window on the door, “He is a drakun.”

“Chieftan,” Edward said.

“Yes. A young but great warrior. He passed the Rites of Ascendancy and became the champion of the seventh iron circle. He is one of my most trusted brothers. And yet there he sits. As if some unnatural force severed him from his courage.”

“What happened?” Hans asked.

“That is what we must find out. All he told me was that the humans need to know.”

“Where and when was his last deployment?”

“Goruta, twenty-one days ago,” Edward said, “He and his circle were sent to reinforce the 31st Mortis Brigade and aid them in capturing a hill near the Tarnala Plains. After the battle, he flew back here and demanded to speak to someone from the commissariat.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know. He wouldn’t tell us shit.”

“Alright. Kizma, you’re with me. Colonel, stay here, It would be better if there aren’t too many people inside.”

Edward nodded and stood by the door as Hans and Kizma went inside. Upon entering the room, the commissar saw the large Zerenthian sitting at the table. His usually blocky facial features were now more gaunt. His eyes were dull and sunken and the area around them was dark. When he looked at Hans, they trailed across his black and orange uniform as if they were looking for something.

"Drakun Vargan Euvar," Kizma said abruptly, "This is Commissar Hans Becker of the Terran Union Commissariat. You requested him."

Vargan slowly looked up and nodded, "Y-Yes. I did."

"Why?" Hans asked as he sat down and turned on his datapad, "According to this, you've already submitted a full report to your commanding officers as well as the present Zerenthian elder."

"Not everything was said. Not truly. What I saw on that hill was…"

Hans turned on his recorder, "If you have information related to the enemy that we aren't aware of you must contact-"

"It wasn't the enemy!" Vargan shouted, his outburst causing the commissar to flinch.

"Control your heart, drakun," Kizma said in a commanding tone, "Remember the scrolls."

Vargan breathed deeply, his fists and jaw shaking. Closing his eyes and regaining his composure, he leaned back into his chair.

"The well is plentiful but one must not drown in its depths," he said.

Hans wasn't sure what those words meant nor was he concerned with them. Straightening up, he fixed his coat and took his cap off, revealing his short and well-kept hair.

"If not the Gorutans, then who?"

"The ones you call Mortis."

The commissar cocked his head, "The Mortis contingent which took part in the invasion? What did they do?"

Vargan stared blankly into Hans' eyes, "Many things. But I will tell you about the hill. About the massacre. About the red eyes."

— — — — —

The Iron Hammer

Space above Goruta

253, 2462

I thought it would be the chance of a lifetime. To prove my worth as a drakun. A warrior. A leader. My mace would carry the courage of the seventh iron circle. The elders would bless me and grant me the title of Iron Champion.

That was what I thought.

"Look alive, Vargan," Ironak Kizma told me, "The Terrans are almost here."

The Terrans. I've heard of them. Small and often fragile. Yet powerful and vast. The Elders often spoke of our brief war with them and how such a thing must never be allowed to happen again.

Now we were allies, supporting each other whenever possible against common enemies. As far as the Binegan Conglomerate was concerned, the Terrans and their union were our brothers in arms.

Soon after the seventh iron circle was organized in the landing bay, the first iron circle appeared, led by none other than Staraxis Kelgor Torrik. His aging yet still imposing and impressive figure straightened us more than we thought possible. He walked triumphantly, like a warrior returning from a battlefield.

"Kizma!" he shouted with girthy joy, which surprised several warriors around me.

"Staraxis Kelgor," Kizma said and stepped out.

Rumor was that they were related but no one knew in what way. An uncle? An older cousin? I couldn't tell.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Well. I'm ready for battle."

"Yes, I see. Many new faces. Are you ready for your greatest trial?!"

We roared and yelled. Raw courage and flaming rage rushed out from our lungs. Pride swelled in our hearts as our voices drowned the engines and machines around us. It was glorious. Kelgor raised his hands to silence us.

"I was there. Nearly forty cycles ago. When we first fought the Terrans. I was like you. Young. Hungry. Ambitious. I took one look at them and told myself they were nothing. They were weak cowards who hid behind their guns and warships. But make no mistake. They fought us with fury as fiery as the stars. One of our warriors is worth ten theirs on the battlefield but not a hundred. And especially not their legions. I saw my brothers and sisters ripped to pieces by their guns. I've seen them crushed under their machines. I've seen them drowned in bodies and blood. And I thank the ancestors that I'm still alive."

We listened to his words in awe. To have such a champion in our presence was more than enough but this… Words cannot explain the passion and humility we felt in that moment.

“No victor emerged from that battle. But a brotherhood was forged. Ever since that day, when the Psionarchs peered into their minds and the Diplorans sealed the peace, we fought side by side against the filth of this galaxy! The Xurug hordes, the Insectoid hives, the Bae’Kloren trickery, we purged them all! Yet they persist in the cold depths of the void. I promise you, brothers and sisters, we will hunt them all down to the very last!”

Another cheer rushed out of our lungs but this one was silenced far quicker than the last.

“Today, however, we face a different foe. One not guided by greed or rage but by distrust. One cycle ago, the Terrans made peace with the Han’Nul Commonwealth. Thirteen species from thirteen planets were meant to agree to an alliance. One refused. The Gorutans not only spat at the Terrans’ generosity and goodwill, but they also murdered their people and destroyed their ships. Thousands of lives were taken away by fearful cowards.”

This made us furious. It has always been said that the greatest wars are those without battles. Peace is an endeavor far more straining. The Terrans still chose that path. An act seen by many as cowardly, including the Gorutans. But not us.

“Every attempt to parley was denied they even dared to attack one of our outposts. This was not ignored. Out there in the orbit of Goruta, the Terran fleet prepares for the invasion. Over seven hundred thousand troops have gathered for the first wave. When their officers arrive, we shall greet them and discuss the strategy for the attack. Once that is finished, we begin.”

As if on cue, a Terran vessel entered the landing bay. It was sleek and not very large though it sported a hefty amount of armaments. It turned to its side and landed near us. When the doors opened, a dozen Terran soldiers exited in an orderly fashion and separated into three groups of four. Three more men exited and stood in front of them. It was my first time seeing the Terrans up close and the descriptions we were given were quite accurate. They weren’t very large, at least not all of them, and possessed no unique features. Apart from one whose face no one could see because of his mask.

“Welcome, brothers, to the Iron Hammer!” Kelgor exclaimed, “I am Staraxis Kelgor Torrik, chieftain of the First Iron Circle and high commander of the iron circles assembled in this fleet.”

“General Leonardo Santos, commanding officer of the Second Terran Army,” the stocky man in the black and orange uniform said.

“General Louis Fitzgerald, commanding officer of the Fourth Tiberian Army,” the largest man in green and brown fatigues said.

“General Leon Katz, first Mortis Army,” the masked man said. Was he a man? A woman? I couldn’t tell. But the way he spoke, not to mention looked in his dark grey coat and pale white mask, made my skin crawl.

The rest of the meeting was, for lack of a better term, boring. We discussed the possible ways of attack and what to do first. An orbital bombardment of key military strongholds was the first suggestion but it wouldn’t yield much. Goruta was a strange planet. While the atmosphere was tolerable, almost half of its surface was covered in swamps and the other half was either water or hollow rock. Eventually, a plan was formulated. The Terran orbital assault and support platforms would destroy the major defenses. After that, the Tiberian Marines will assault the swamps, the Terran Troopers will invade the cities and populated zones while the Mortis forces will attack the underground strongholds. Ten iron circles were to be deployed alongside each assault force.

You could call it arrogance if you want, I didn’t care what we were fighting. Nothing could stand in the way of an entire army of the Terran Union and a thousand Zerinthian warriors. But there was a feeling that I simply could not shake. I had faced the beasts of Zerenthia and climbed up the iron tower. Nothing ever fazed me. But those Terrans. Those Mortis. They were different. Every time I looked into their masked faces, I felt nauseous.

The bombardment lasted for five hours. The Terrans liked to be thorough and didn’t want any unnecessary stragglers. It made our descent unto the planet’s surface almost uncontested. The seventh circle was attached to the Mortis army. Not something I found enjoyable, to say the least. Down on the surface, they worked in complete silence, not even paying attention to us. I, along with a few of my brothers, went to ask them if they needed our assistance. They barely spoke to us. Efficient and quick, as they were, it felt unnatural being beside them.

“Let’s go!” Ironax Kizma ordered and we marched through the Tarnala Plains with light tanks, which the Terrans called Devil Dogs, as our vanguard, “These plains lead to the Tarnala Hills where the entrances to their underground strongholds are. We will have to move quickly.”

Once again, our advance remained uncontested. I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. Though the air was quite humid, it did little more than irritate my nostrils. Most of my kin wore protective helmets but I preferred to feel my battlefield with every one of my senses. The plains were vast and mostly flat with short grass covering the earth. Looking closer, I saw several tree stumps. Some were old, others looked freshly cut. Were they keeping the plains treeless on purpose? I wasn’t sure why my mind was occupied with such thoughts. Perhaps it was because I hadn’t felt the thrill of battle in a long time.

That was about to change.

Two of the Devil Dogs exploded, their canopies bursting into pieces. Another was struck with a projectile into its side and split in half. Several armored carriers were also either destroyed or crippled. Even a few of our Armadillos were taken out. Finally.

“Ambush!” I shouted from the top of my lungs and grabbed my tower shield and heavy hand cannon.

The Gorutans burst out of the ground in small groups and opened fire, killing and wounding the exposed Mortis soldiers. I noticed that one of their holes was directly below me so I stomped down and crushed them. My brothers blew and ripped the toads to pieces. Mortis soldiers fired back, killing them with surprising precision. The enemies that were too close were beaten with maces or stabbed with knives. The remaining armored vehicles and tanks fired back, blowing any enemy they could find. Carnage was all around us but I kept going forward. My hand cannon blew the Gorutans’ heads off, my shields split them in half as they tried to crawl away. I would stomp them out of their holes one by one until they were all gone.

In the distance, not too far from us, I saw a dozen Gorutans hastily assembling what looked like a cannon. A platoon of Mortis soldiers saw the same thing and we all rushed toward them. They fired their guns at us but couldn’t pierce my shield. Some of the Terrans were hit but kept running as if the pain meant nothing to them. One of the Gorutans fired a heavy load of plasma at me, scorching my shield and pushing me back. Another shot vaporized three Mortis soldiers but the others kept running. Soon, they reached the hole and descended upon the enemies, shooting them and beating them to death. I saw one of the Mortis soldiers get shot six times in the torso but still manage to push a Gorutan to the ground and gouge his eyes out. I wasted no time in destroying the weapon they tried to build.

When I turned around, the fighting had stopped. The Gorutans were all but dead or retreating. The stragglers were killed and the corpses were thrown back into the holes. One of the things that had me curious was the shells near the cannons. They were quite large, too large to be fired out of a hand-held weapon and partially made of dense glass. Inside was a brown liquid, which bubbled when I shook the shell. Probably a toxin, I thought.

“We continue!” a Mortis officer shouted.

The dead were left where they were, only their dog tags were brought back. It looked like the Mortis didn’t care much for their dead. I don’t know if they could even see the difference between each other.

Soon, we came to a suitable distance from the hills and the Storm Casters opened fire. Self-propelled artillery, they called it. A weapon that can decimate a foe from a field away. If there were any doubts left from Staraxis Kelgor’s speech in my mind, they were gone. It looked like the sky itself was raining down explosives.

We continued our advance to the foot of the hills as they fired. We split into several groups. I took four iron circles with me and followed the 2nd regiment. Some feared we might get shot ourselves if we got too close but no such misfortune. When we got close enough, the Storm Casters ceased. We could see the rubble and corpses sprawled on all sides when the smoke settled. Whatever defenses the Gorutans had up there were now gone. All that remained was the entrance. Tanks and armored vehicles went up first but only a few.

“Third Hammer, Fourth Hammer, march!” I ordered and forty of our warriors stomped forward in the wall formation.

“Sixth, seventh, eight company, forward!” the Mortis colonel ordered and the soldiers marched.

Over seven hundred Terrans marched up the hill. For a while, they went uncontested. But that soon changed. Gorutans popped out of their holes again only this time they wore protective suits. Before anyone could retaliate, explosions rang all across the hill and a giant thick brown cloud filled everyone’s vision. Men started falling and even Zerenthian warriors had trouble standing on their feet. Their protective helmets only protected them from the worst effects. The Mortis soldiers suffered more, however. Their masks couldn't protect them and they began collapsing on the ground, screaming and bleeding all over.

"Hold your positions! We cannot go there!" I shouted as I watched the men fall on the hill.

I decided to finally put my helmet on. Its visor allowed me to see through the toxic cloud. Gorutans walked out of cover in delight, shooting every Zerenthian and Terran they could find. Many didn't waste ammunition, opting to use their knives instead. It was a disgusting slaughter. My blood boiled with rage as I saw my brothers get butchered one by one.

Yet the most horrific sight was about to come. One of the Mortis soldiers raised his rifle and fired, killing two Gorutans. Another jolted forward and stabbed a Gorutan in the chest. More and more of the Mortis continued to fight. They limped. They crawled. They went on all fours like animals. But they kept going forward.

"Companies two through five, affix bayonets!" the colonel ordered and the men obeyed, "Charge!"

"Are you mad?!" I shouted in disbelief as his soldiers ran up the hill, inhaling the toxins as they climbed.

The carnage continued as the insane and sickly men of Mortis shot and stabbed the Gorutans. The enemy began running back but my brothers stopped them, the resilience of the Terrans lifting them like an aura.

I froze. Why? Why did I freeze? How did I freeze? I wasn't made to freeze? Yet these men. These… monsters, they kept fighting. A primal rage replaced their and my brothers' minds. I saw a Zerenthian crush a Gorutan's head with his bare hands. Another bit a Gorutan's throat off and threw him at his allies.

The Mortis were worse. One of the soldiers grabbed a Gorutan, pinned him to the ground, and vomited a mass of thick, bloody sludge that melted the alien's face. Another primed all of his grenades and threw himself into an enemy trench, exploding and destroying an ammunition pile. An officer ripped his mask off, peeling pieces of his flesh. I saw his dark teeth, his purple cheeks, and his bloody and bleeding eyes. He raised his sharpened shovel and yelled a fraze that echoed across the battlefield.

“Mortis ad Xeno!”

Then he crushed a Gorutan’s head and stumbled back into battle. The toxic cloud subsided after half an hour and when it did I could clearly see the aftermath of the battle. Nothing was left. All the Gorutans were dead, their emplacements and weapons destroyed, and their gate to the underground blown apart. The same went for our forces. Forty Zerenthian warriors lay dead on the poisoned earth alongside nearly eighteen-hundred Mortis soldiers as well as tanks and other armored vehicles.

This wasn’t a victory. This was… I didn’t know what it was.

That was when my mind went blank. I vaguely remember hearing the Mortis colonel issuing an order from reinforcements but that was it. I retreated to Kizma and went to the Goruta’s moon, Dolasar.

— — — — — —

Present

“I don’t know what they are,” Vargan said and looked at the commissar, “They are not men. I… I don’t know what they are. You have to warn your elders, your leaders, your generals, tell them of these madmen.”

Hans sighed as he tapped his digital pen on the table. His strangely unfazed expression confused Vargan and Kizma. After a moment of pause, the man spoke.

“I’m afraid I’ve come here for nothing.”

Vargan stammered, “W-What? What are you talking about?”

“We know all about the Mortis. We know how they fight and how they operate. We know of their nature and of their actions including those on Goruta.”

“Then why?”

Hans stood up and gathered his things, “I must be on my way. I have other duties to attend to.”

As he was about to exit the room, Vargan slammed his fists on the table, leaving a cavern in the polished metal.

“Why?!”

The commissar, with his back still turned to the Zerenthian, slightly turned his head.

“The Terran Union fights on more fronts than you can imagine. Compared to the horrors we see and commit in the void, Goruta is inconsequential. To fight battles you need warriors. To wage war you need soldiers. And to kill you need killers. The Mortis kill. And they will kill for as long as we say so. Have a good day.”

Hans left the room and Vargan slumped back into his chair. A twisted smile slowly formed on his face and he began to chuckle. Those chuckles turned to laughter. And that laughter echoed through the entire station.

Drakun Vargan Euvar… was no more.

#scifi #war #battle #army #soldier #aliens

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