#despite the horrors God is good and I must remember that at all costs

[flickeringflame216]

Blessings!

[strawberrylemonz]

January 20, 2021 - DSMP

Here is my review of what happened on today’s stream! Keep in mind that I was only watching Tommy’s POV, but will be analyzing any other viewpoints that I come across (Mainly Tubbo’s)

I’m going to be honest with everyone, I was unsure as to whether not any of our boys would make it out alive. I went into the stream preparing the worst.

Tommy and Tubbo talking each other up, preparing to leave made me feel all kinds of thing. Like I stated earlier, I was prepared for the two to end their adventure today. I vibed with them when they walked down the prime path, and froze up when I saw the first person in line. I’m not ashamed to say that I nearly sobbed when I saw everyone line up to say their goodbyes to the boys (I’m sensitive, shut up). 

The way Sam kept giving them stuff??? Loved that

The way Tommy and Quackity’s voices quivered when they spoke to each other? Punch to the heart?

Tommy telling Eret that she was always the true king??? YES!!! POP OFF!!!

The entire trip to where Dream was both made me happy and broke my heart. Here, we saw these boys, children forced to grow up quickly to be used by those they trusted, do their best to be kids for a moment. They were kids for, what they believed, could be the last time. They had their serious moments where Tommy kept reminding Tubbo that it was okay to not feel okay about the situation. Where Tommy didn’t want Tubbo to hide his inner thoughts from him just to try and make him feel better. The moment that they watched the sun together made me all sentimental and shit. Tommy preparing to die and have Tubbo leave and tell his story broke me. 

“Why did you tell me to bring Tubbo?”

“Because, it’s always been you and Tubbo against me, remember? Ever since the beginning, Tommy and Tubbo against Dream” (paraphrasing)

I actually got hyped up when Tommy got the disc. It reminded me of Tommy’s clutch the time he dropped the disc down to Tubbo and knocked Dream off the tower using only planks. I had let my hope for them grow. And then I had my heart broken.

Dream using Tubbo against Tommy was something that I expected would happen, but I still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. I don’t think I’ll easily forget about how Tommy gave up the disc to Dream, even when Tubbo begged for Tommy to keep the disc and go. My heart nearly dropped to my stomach when I saw Dream break that first dirt block. It dropped when he told the boys to put their armor in the hole. 

I have to admit, I was kinda confused that the homeless man had an evil lair and not a home, but pop off I guess??? The elevator was pretty cool, ngl

When I saw the two discs on the floor, I thought, “Bitch, you better be polishing this fucking floor every 30 minutes. Disrespect Nicki Minaj? What?” My second thought was, “why tf did you make two giant ass shrines for these discs??? Didn’t even center them, wtf dude.”

When Dream was monologuing and showing off the stolen goods and pets (and Skeppy) he stole from everyone, I knew he was on something. Him calling Tommy the key confirmed that Dream was overthinking everything and seeing things in places they didn’t belong. Did Tommy initially bring these bonds? Bring all the things Dream said he did? Yeah, I’ll admit it, he did. But it was the people in the server that kept that going, kept it alive. If not Tommy, someone else would have started that chain. The way Tommy look horrified and uttered with a horrific tone, “how do you not hurt?” when Dream mentioned how he cut off all his attachments was hnnnnnnnn

Tubbo actively trying to protect Tommy from going to prison while Tommy was actively trying to protect Tubbo from permanently dying was-

Man

Man, that broke my heart.

“You wanna be the hero of this server? Every hero has an origin story. Batman had his parents, Spider-Man had Uncle Ben. You have Tubbo.”

The look of complete horror/terror that came across Tommy’s face the instant those words were spoken. He genuinely looked scared. He kept trying to defend Tubbo, despite Dream repeating how defenseless Tommy was against him. Dream telling the boys to say their good byes hurt me in more ways that I can describe. Tommy was panicking, actively trying to come up with ways to get Tubbo out of there, no matter the cost or price that he had to pay. Tubbo telling him that it was okay, everything would be okay, he would be okay. The way Tommy was desperate to hold onto his best friend, his Tubbo, whilst saying, “You can’t be okay with this! Why are you okay with this?”

My heart nearly stopped for a second the moment Tubbo said “goodbye, Tommy”

My mind flashed back to Tubbo saying those exact words whilst exiling Tommy, his best friend, for the sake of everyone being safe. Now, here he was again, saying those exact words to the exact same person. The only difference? He wasn’t sacrificing his best friend for the sake of everyone and Dream. No, he was sacrificing himself for the sake of his best friend, his only true friend, Tommy. 

“Get away from them”

“Punz?”

“I’m sorry Dream, but you should have paid me more.”

Literal chills. I cannot. It’s the “On your left” of the DSMP. The way everyone came through the portal to line up against this tyrant that manipulated them all. The way I imagined everyone coming through to see this decked out dude with a god complex about to murder a bloody and bruised child, said child’s best friend (also bloody and bruised) was watching, begging to have his friend spared. Imagining how they saw the tear streaks down the boys’ messed up faces as they accepted their fates. As they saw their fear turn to hope as Tommy got Tubbo behind them for safety. How Tommy entrusted them to keep Tubbo safe. How they all came, decked out, to defend these two children. 

How Quackity came in nothing but his yeezys because he just fucking knew that Dream wouldn’t put up a fight. The way Dream was so confident that he had power over everyone because he rid himself of his bonds towards objects and friends, only for that to be his downfall. The way Sapnap, Dream’s old friend, his buddy, was the one to give Tommy the pickaxe. The way Puffy was there to protect the two boys she renounced his duckling title for (and the nation).

The way Tommy dug a hole, without any protection or weapons, and had Dream throw his stuff in. The way he didn’t blow any of Dreams shit up, like he had happen to himself, and, instead, used Dream’s things to protect Tubbo and everyone else. The way Tommy took away Dream’s first two lives, paralleling the times Dream took Tommy’s two lives. The way Tommy boxed him in, like Tubbo was at the festival, and the way Tubbo held a bow to Dream. The way Tommy screamed at Dream to tell everyone what he had done. How Dream was the one to blow up the community house. How Dream tormented the poor boy in exile. The way Tommy didn’t spare him because he liked him, or wanted to play mind games with him. No, Tommy spared him because he had a chance to get his brother back, his family. 

“Let’s make Wilbur proud. SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!!!”

“SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!!!”

The way the boys sincerely thanked everyone for showing up, fully knowing that they didn’t have to do shit. The way that Tommy said to go to Tubbo’s vc, obviously warming Tubbo’s heart. The way they made it to bench, and finally had a chance to breathe. How they could sit their, listen to their discs, and be kids again. No wars, no going against Dream, nothing. They could just be Tommy and Tubbo, like it’s always been since the beginning. 

Then Wilbur fishfucking Soot had to crash the moment like the older brother he was, lmaooooo. 

“You didn’t die”

“Ghostbur?”

“I’m not Ghostbur.”

I sucked in a breath, not knowing how the interaction was going to go. Was Wilbur still in the mindset he was whilst blowing up the nation he and his younger brother created? Was he in a mindset before that? Was he sane? 

I must admit, their bickering match, along with Tubbo’s dancing, made me realize how much I missed their dynamic. I realized how much I missed Wilbur being in the picture. (Tommy whispering to Tubbo how he liked Ghostbur was hilarious)

Wilbur complaining about being stuck with Schlatt in the afterlife was hilarious. Wilbur admitting that he was preparing, waiting, for Tommy, his younger brother, to join him in the afterlife had me gripping my plushies. Wilbur telling Tommy that he’s proud of him put a sledgehammer into my fragile dam. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

THEY. ARE. BROTHERS!!!!

It was just so refreshing to see these two get the happy ending they deserved in this arc. The pain and suffering these two children went through at the expense of others, how they were forced to grow up quickly because of their situations, all of that was finally pushed towards the path of recovery. And although they’ve been through hell and back, it’s still them. Although the future will be hard for them, throwing more trials and difficult choices, they know that they’ll make it out, because that how it’s always been. And if their strengthen bond after today can tell them anything, it’s that it’ll always be like that.

It’s always been Tommy and Tubbo.

What I want/what I predict

FOR GEORGE TO BE AWAKE FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS

Everyone complimenting Niki on her new fit better fucking happen, I will manifest it

Dream will use his favor from Techno to break out of prison

Connor playing a bigger role in the SMP

Foolish revealing that they don’t need Dream alive (hopefully)

Ghostbur to say a proper goodbye before Wilbur is revived

GLATT

GLATTBUR

SBI reunion with every alive for more than five fucking minutes

Wilbur ignoring his dad Phil and zooming over to little brother Tommy so that he can hug him and tell him that he’s safe now and that he’s so proud of him

THERAPY ARC!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYONE LOVELY, PLEASE

JUST GET EVERYONE INSIDE THE THERAPY GROUP SECTION AND TALK ABOUT THEIR TRAUMA AND FEELINGS SO THEY CAN ALL CLEAR UP THEIR MISUNDERSTANDINGS!!!!!

The egg will start to negatively affect people, causing those not affected to fear for their home and friends

SBI + TUBBO AND RANBOO VS EGGPIRE????? POG?????

Tubbo nuking L’manhole to get rid of the spreading red

Techno/Phil to come to an understanding with Tommy; vice versa

Those unaffected teaming up to safe those affected

Someone (preferably Ranboo) unintentionally activating the End Portal lmao

The rest of the SBI + Tubbo saving Tommy from being murdered by Jack and Niki

Jack and Niki learning that killing the child is not the fucking answer to their problems (If it didn’t work for William Afton, it won't work for y’all. Stop trying to be the man behind the slaughter)

Techno and Tommy rebuilding their trust and friendship with each other

Tommy giving Techno the Axe of Peace

Sam being influenced by the egg and becomes corrupted

Ranboo being free??? Pog???? Pog

Puffy and Niki having a one-to-one conversation about their personal opinions and goals

Puffy visiting Dream whilst he sits in his cell

Skeppy and Bad to be okay again :(

Everyone infected to be okay again :(

Tommy bonding with Eret

Big Q continuing to hold Clingy Duo close to him

Schlatt coming back but instead of trying to run for president and mess with everyone, he’s just everyone’s drunk uncle that somehow gives wise advice to every situation

Wilbur coming back but he’s that angry older cousin that only allows the favorite family members(Tommy)/friends to stay in his room 

GIVE ME MEXICAN DREAM AND GIRL DREAM!!! ONLY HETERO RELATIONSHIP I SEE THAT IS BEYOND POGGERS

Lani and Drista to make a comeback at the same time

Tommy meeting more family members

The kids being able to be kids

Lani selling yeezy

Drista w/ bedrock

Drista laughing at Dream’s imprisonment

Everyone finding peace within each other’s chaos and living in harmony

[norvicfiddler]

Michael Emerson - The Hatch podcast, Jul 28, 2020.

The following is my transcription of part of an interview Michael Emerson recorded with the The Hatch earlier this year. I’ve concentrated on the parts where he specifically talks about Ben as a character, but you should go and listen to the whole thing, as he has some nice behind the scenes anecdotes (and who doesn’t want to hear Emerson talk for half-an-hour, right?). If you’re interested in Lost at all, or TV production, the whole podcast is worth a listen (despite the hosts’ inexplicable love for Sayid). They have a load of other great cast and crew interviews.

(transcription note: the ellipses indicate pauses, not cuts) 

about The State of Things to Come

‘I think it’s the turning point in audience sympathy for Benjamin’

h: really? we thought letting his daughter be killed was one of his worst crimes

‘It’s a terrible crime, but, evidently an innocent one, because he thought they had a set of … … parameters or rules about engagement. And one of them was, no-one in your family would be harmed.’  

‘That’s why it’s unthinkable to him. Keamy doesn’t even wait for the countdown, he doesn’t even let him finish, his … tawdry little speech about how she’s nothing to him. Oh it’s, so sad. But, human.’

h: how’s Ben handling things at this point?

‘Well, he’s kind of on autopilot, I mean he’s doing what he … thinks or knows, to do but, it’s not one of the more successful phases of his career, and, he must be … I thought he was, desperate. And, you know, trying to maintain an image which we’ll eventually see, it’s a false image. But, here again this is all humanizing for the character, I think. He’s guilty of hubris, he’s guilty of pride, he’s guilty of … ignoring obvious signals. All that stuff. But, that’s just him.’

h: Ben tells Locke he always has a plan. Does he?

‘Right, what kind of plan is it that you have, Benjamin? ‘cos it doesn’t seem like a great plan (laughs). OK, so you have one, so you’re thinking ahead, so you fancy yourself a gamesman. How’s that workin’ out for ya?’

h: what is it that’s making Ben break down?

‘Yeah, I think his bravado was always kind of false. I don’t think he was naturally, a, warlord or a commandant, or, a … leader, even. It was something that, was an exhausting amount of work for him. He was supposed to be some other kind of boy, ya know, some other kind of life. I guess he was doing the best he could. Ah, I tried to find the pathos in it. You know. You’re, you’re overmatched. Now, what do you do? You don’t have any fallback, you don’t have any assistance, you don’t have any mentors. There’s no-one to go to, for help. So he kind of slowly loses his mind, in the way you would, under those circumstances, when you’re … ill-suited for your role.’

on filming that scene with Keamy

‘Well, we knew it was going to go to a heavy place, so, I can’t remember the exact discussion, but there was some question about … let’s save the heavy lifting for the end. Let’s, take care of all the mechanical business of handing out weapons and choosing windows and, you know, where’s Keamy, and Alex and, all of that. And we’ll shoot aaaall of that stuff, and at the end of it all, we will turn the camera on your, sad little face, you know, in that one pane of window that you can see through. And then, we will figure out … how to play it. Or, what it is.

But … I have to say. I wouldn’t even call that in the top ten of difficult moments for me, in that series. Cos, it’s just … a bare naked horror, and shock and, an ungraspable mourning and, to know that you made … like a … cosmic mistake. And it cost … the life of someone. So, I was ready to play that.’

‘It ends up taking care of itself … in some way. I mean, if you have, if you feel an empathy, for the situation or, for the character. I always feel kind of empathetic about whoever I’m playing. I get them, I get, Ben. He’s tryin’ to be something that he can’t, fully live up to. But he has some skills, he has a skillset. He’s a good talker! He’s straight on psychology.’

h: he’s trying to talk his way out here

‘Right, it’s a good strategy. In, in a chess game, he senses “Oh, let’s undervalue the pawn. That’s the way to save her.” But, it was the wrong choice, because he wasn’t playing the game he thought he was.’

on Keamy’s countdown

‘In the … world of dramatic countdowns, that’s a cheat too. We didn’t even get the countdown. We, you know, no trickle of sweat ran down anybody’s face. It was just, you know, five four boom! WAIT! WRONG! NO! (laughs)’

h: there’s a real electricity between Ben and Keamy in this scene

‘Partly that is just actor chemistry. I look at him and, what he embodies, and what he sounds like, and it’s like anti-matter to my matter. You know, he’s just like, he is the non-Ben. But, whenever you say that … then, you have to think OK but, there are some … shared … character … traits (laughs). He’s been ruthless. All of that is contained, in a way, in this one episode. The facets of, Benjamin and his strengths and weaknesses and stuff that works and stuff that doesn’t.’

h: did Alex hear what Ben said?

‘Of course, whether she hears him or not, Benjamin Linus will always believe that she did.’

h: how does this change Ben from here?

‘Well, I think it’s where … whatever passes for faith, with him. With the island, with Jacob. I think it, that faith is now … it’s cracked open. He, there’s no going back, from this. So what, I dunno, his forward momentum, his plan from now on will be … flawed and a little half-hearted, I think. Or desperate.’

h: does this lead to him killing Jacob?

‘Yeah, I think there’s a direct line, from this episode to that, sure. Can’t remember what my lines were exactly, when I killed Jacob, but, it was about him not supporting me. Me having given all. And by all he means, my own blood, my own child, and that means this little to you? Then die, you SOB! That was kind of his attitude.’

h: like if God had let Abraham kill Isaac, how would Abraham feel about God?

‘I think Benjamin was tested in a way that Abraham wasn’t.’

h: is redemption something Ben can hope for?

‘It’s not on his mind at the time, obviously. He’s just scrambling, just scrambling. And the end of the series, shows him unredeemed. So, he’s so caught up in the action of things, that he has no reflective mode I don’t think. Well occasionally, like … when he has that father/son, argument with Jacob or there are some other moments where he even reveals his, his weaknesses and doubts and, his sense of betrayal. But mostly, he can’t see anything else to do but just keep on, keep on with, whatever crazed plan there was in place. Before everything went wrong.’

on the scene with Widmore

‘That scene to me was really satisfying, ‘cos I thought the threat of it, the gamesmanship was, really high stakes. It was fun to be Ben and to keep a lid on it, that much. The fact of him being in the man’s bedroom. You don’t need to raise your voice, when your enemy wakes up, and you’re in the room. So then you just … you just say what you need.’

h: Widmore calls Ben a rat

‘Yeah, that’s alright. Ben doesn’t think he’s a rat. Ben thinks he’s … an avenging angel. So, he can call me what he wants. I don’t even hear that. That runs off me like water off a duck’s back.’

on Ben not going through with killing Penny

‘As a ruthless killer he has an Achilles heel and it is parenthood, or children. (h: where does that come from?) I think, you know, his own upbringing, I suppose, or just … wishing, maybe he’s always wished that, his life … he wasn’t meant to be this, he was meant to be something, you know, some tenderer, and more natural and normal thing. (h: a guy who plays piano and reads books?) That’s right, that’s right. So … yeah, the kids. Here’s his soft spot. It’s endearing.’  

[awhilde]

down, down the rabbit hole

pairings: none, but the characters include mingyu. wonwoo, jihoon, jeonghan (from svt) and an oc

genre(s): thriller, gore (tiny bit). a made-in-abyss!au :D

warnings: because of the previously mentioned gore, readers discretion is advised. also swearing!

word count: 4.06k words

synopsis: in which mingyu and his friends allow their naivety and curiosity to drive them forward, dropping them down a 20,000 metre abyss where the abnormal becomes far too evident. stumbling through nature’s phenomenon, the group is forced to experience horrors that sombre their once exhilarating endeavours. will they be able to be decisive when their friend’s life is on the line, and who is this red-eyed creature that promises them sanctuary? 

author’s note: hey guys! unfortunately, this isn’t the genshin au i promised however i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! i believe i published this a while ago on another account but i’m posting it again for content <3 also it was originally a y/n piece so please tell me if there’s a “you” or “your” that i’ve missed in my brief editing!  the genshin au will come out soon :)

mingyu struggled to pinpoint an exact moment in his life which he could blame for his current circumstances.

it was as easy for him to say that sneaking into his good friends wonwoo and jihoon’s room past the stroke of midnight was the cause, as it were to say growing up at his local orphanage was at fault. hell, if the reasoning travelled down this path, it could also be justified that by simply existing he’d cause himself to arrive at his current position. perhaps this was his destiny, every event of his life leading up to this climax, worthless in the grand scheme of fate for every decision he had believed to have made was manipulated for the sole purpose of mingyu in the situation he was in as of present; torn with the constant conflict of emotion he was experiencing.

this was where his life had led him, 20,000 metres deep into a swirling, unforgiving vortex where the abnormal became evident with every blink of the eye, and where it intended to end, it seemed.  

the sky overhead had vanished from sight two layers into the unnatural phenomenon, when the fog by their feet had thickened to a substance that clung moist against every vulnerable patch of skin and surface. mingyu never thought he would come to miss the cloudy skies of his mediocre hometown. where had his thirst for adrenaline gone now? but after a tormenting week treading deeper and deeper into the abyss’ claws, mingyu had yearned for familiarity.

when his stomach gave way on the third layer, mingyu missed most the plain bowl of congee the orphanage served to him every morning despite its lack of taste and colour.

when his eyes started to leak pus and blood, mingyu missed most the shimmering sun, burning on the edge of the horizon every evening despite its glare on his skin.

there was much the boy felt grateful for, oh how he only came to this realisation now, 20,000 metres far from home. his goal to reach the very depth of the abyss slipped from his hands like running water, gathered only by the company his friends provided him. mingyu never felt more grateful that he hadn’t entered alone.

if his naivety had gotten away from him yet again, mingyu shivered at the prospect of descending without the companionship of his three closest friends, wonwoo, jihoon and lyra. he never sourced his complaints outside of his head, for every disaster that he experienced, he knew his friends experienced the same suffering alongside him, comfort in the form of unspoken understanding. mingyu knew he would be able to overcome these mishaps as long as their companionship never left him.  

however, god’s sense of humour must be twisted for the first night of the fifth layer, the last layer of mingyu’s sanity thinned.

“fuck!” jihoon swore. his hand shook in the tangles of his hair, the other hovering over wonwoo’s body as if uncertain. “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

mingyu heard jihoon’s cursing as if submerged underwater for his head went static from his own worry. he tipped his backpack upside down in desperation, seeking an item his sub-conscious knew didn’t exist. hadn’t they packed an antidote for this specific reason? but it had been long gone, shattered and spilt over the edge of a crumbling cliff after a desperate struggle of power between a gnarly beast and mingyu’s life. that mistake could possibly cost his friend’s life.

lyre caressed wonwoo’s hair as his head laid like deadweight on her lap, mouth dry against the dense air, chest heaving harsh pants. his eyes, heavily diluted, seemed to stare past her head at empty space and lyre may have lost all hope had it not been for the ghost of determination underlining the furrow of his brows. “wonwoo, i swear you’ll be okay, just hold on a little longer. mingyu’s getting the antidote now, he’s just a little slow. you know how clumsy he can get, just hang on, okay?”

but wonwoo had stopped giving replies ten minutes ago.

her hands, like her voice, trembled under the weight of a moist cloth, aiming to replace the steaming one on his head but fear diverted its path with every shake. doubt threatened to choke her of her words, leaving lyre curled up by the side of the abnormal rainforest, the world never viewed the same again. but she knew, if not marginally, that panic wouldn’t do the situation any more good.

jihoon seemed to have lost all sense of this concept however, as he continued to alternate between standing and pacing the grounds. “there has to be something i’ve forgotten, something that can help. think, jihoon, think!”

wonwoo hissed in pain then, and all three of his friends turned in fright. his arm had swelled to an abnormal size, pulsing liquid under his skin and shaded a dark purple.

“jihoon.” lyre called after the boy had settled, voice wavering. “wasn’t there something we learnt at school? something about the poison of []’s?”

“i know there was something, i know! but i can’t remember it!” jihoon let his words explode from his chest yet he heeds no apology. “damn it, what was it?” his eyes found mingyu across the field, still digging through the contents of their shared bags. “for fuck’s sake, leave the fucking bags, mingyu! they’re worthless right now.”  

mingyu glanced up from his own world of regret and doubt, torment swimming in the pools of his eyes. the situation looked hopeless no matter what angle he portrayed it in. and, this had been his fault. his own carelessness, his naivety had prompted the death of his best friend. why hadn’t he listened to them all when they told him to step back from the pond? what had his mind been doing, telling him to continue his reckless behaviour just for the short lived praise he might have received? he had been pushed to the side when the lone [ ] had arrived at the scene, a creature so foreign and unknown that fear had short-circuited his actions.

he had stood frozen in the line of danger, horror encasing his body in suffocating crystals. it was wonwoo that had moved first, wonwoo who had considered all possible options which led him to sacrifice his own body for mingyu’s, wonwoo that had thrown himself at the creature, mingyu’s life and not his own being the only thing weighing on hid mind.

what had his last words been? the thought dawned on mingyu, like a nostalgic taste on the tip of his tongue. “don’t sulk, you look super dumb?” no, there was something else. something of potential importance, yet it mocked his grasp when he neared the truth. wonwoo’s whines of pain sounded as background noise at the point of his pondering, so familiar and yet gruelling at the pits of his stomach.

“something…” he mumbled, and lyre and jihoon looked up at the sound of his voice. “wonwoo said something before he couldn’t speak, what was it?”

“is this really the time?” jihoon snapped. “this isn’t the time.”

“jihoon, shut up. there was something he said before he became like this. i have a feeling he was trying to tell us how to deal with the situation.”

lyre turned her head from mingyu to the pale boy in her lap, a concentrated look evident in the crease between her eyebrows. mingyu caught the movement from the corner of his eye and clicked his finger at her. “lyre, you were the closest to him at the time. do you remember what it was?”

at the sudden spotlight, her mind blanked. there had been something previously, but the thought taunted and danced around the perimeter of her head as she tried, and failed, to chase it. “his arm, he mentioned something about his arm.” she finally blurted, his voice entering her head.

jihoon practically growled at the words. “well geez, that solves everything, doesn’t it? thanks for wasting our time, mingyu.” both mingyu and lyre took no offense to his harsh words; someone had to be the angry one in the current situation. lyre continued that train of thought, blocking out the noise of jihoon’s ranting, mingyu’s mumbling and wonwoo’s whimpers. she hoped that fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to give her this sliver of hope, thin and feeble in her hands, and that the solution to this dawning terror would be solved with the following revelation. “breaking something… he mentioned breaking something. what was it? a tree branch? true, the antidote of a beast should be found around the region so that its prey may survive from its poison. otherwise, the ecosystem would fail. but which tree? in this rainforest, what tree are we talking about. breaking apart… a bug? another small mammal? no, you wouldn’t break something with flesh, you would break something that’s hard. breaking… like snapping? breaking…”

jihoon continued to pace around you and wonwoo, head spinning in constant agony. there was fault coloured in the pale flush of his cheeks, why didn’t he know how to solve this issue? why didn’t he pull mingyu aside when the monster had first showed itself? and worse, why hadn’t he been the one to risk his life? why had he froze, selfish in the way that he valued his life over his dear friend’s, opting instead to leave someone else to do the harsh deed. why hadn’t he moved and pull wonwoo who laid by his feet out of harm’s way, instead standing still and letting the monster take a fierce chomp out of wonwoo’s arm? there was no doubt that if he had successfully performed the manoeuvre, wonwoo wouldn’t be in the position he was in now.

his feet crunched against a fallen stick as he paced and the noise triggered a thought in lyre’s head, her eyes widening in disbelief as it all clicked together.

“oh my god, his arm.” she murmured.

jihoon goes to quieten her, goes to tell her to stop obsessing over the idea of his arm when a tear slips from her eyes. the sheer terror from the thought evoked strong pulses of emotion to leak from lyre’s eyes like bleeding cyanide, but she pushed through regardless. how selfish would it be to only think of yourself whilst your friend suffered on the brink of death?

she looked jihoon in the eyes and repeated herself. “his arm. he wants us to snap his arm before the poison reaches his brain.”

lyre gave the boys no time to digest this new sliver of information, working instead to tear off a section of your shirt and wrapping it tightly where the poison had evidently stopped on his arm, black and purple, budging skin pressed against the material. in truth, lyre had no idea what she was doing, simply relying on memory and the many shows she’d watched to guide her movements as she tightened the knot.

the still silence broke when mingyu began to protest against the speculation, fearing the consequence of the action, but jihoon had moved to her side without further protest.

“guys, what are you doing? this isn’t right, we’ll just be killing him instead! guys, please stop, don’t think like that, there’ll be another way, please…” mingyu’s words failed to comprehend through his friends’ ears.

jihoon’s hands replaced lyra’s on the fabric and took over the job, eyes empty as he worked. only lyre saw the tremor in his hands as he tore more fabric and secured the separation of skin. his eyes meet the shivering girl’s over wonwoo’s body. “can you do this?”

her intake of breath is loud in the air shared between the two of you. clearly, jihoon had no idea what he was doing either, despite being the token medical friend. despite knowing that it was her idea, lyre shook her head softly.

“i’m going to use the axe that we kept to break his bones. can you help snap the rest?”

his words were gruesome, sickening to its core but wonwoo’s cries answered his question before she was able to, and she nodded seconds after. hesitance could cost wonwoo’s life.

     mingyu stood over the two of them, passing the axe to jihoon with a grimace on his face. “god this is wrong, god this is so, so wrong.” but the transition is smooth as he lets the axe fall into his friend’s hands.

jihoon acknowledged the fact with an incoherent mumble before adjusting his grip on the tool. “mingyu, get me some water. we may not have disinfectants but if we don’t wash it, bacteria will kill him instead.”

the boy’s shadow left the trio. lyra  placed a hand over wonwoo’s eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of what was to come. was he even conscious in the process? what if she had been wrong to think that his last words demanded the loss of a limb. this was by no means a perfectly successful strategy, but as it was all they had, so regardless of any .lingering whips of doubt, she held onto it like a lifeline.

“ready?” jihoon murmured.

the both of them nodded their heads slightly; there was no way they would be completely ready. but lyra’s hands found wonwoo’s biceps and they stayed there, stayed there until the axe swung up into the air, metal glinting in the reflection of the sun before falling from the force of gravity and the aid of jihoon’s strength. stayed there until the axe fell and met his flesh with a sickening thud.

a thud.

a blunt thud.

wonwoo’s shrill screams pierced through the previously tranquil atmosphere of the rainforest. his back lurched forward but mingyu had some sense to hold down his body before the axe had fallen. though mingyu had held down his body, wonwoo didn’t halt thrashing around. his arms pulsed under lyra’s hands and his legs kicked out for an escape.

“oh god.” jihoon exclaimed in horror, white sheet evident against his face. his hands shook and the axe fell to the floor.

underneath where the blade of the axe had fallen, crimson paint blossomed leaving a trail of broken skin and something else twisted. his flesh peaked from under the flabs of his skin, untainted until it was, blood and pus swimming from his arm.

wonwoo couldn’t stop screaming.

it was clear that jihoon had failed to touch the bone.

wonwoo’s eyes felt wet under lyra’s hands and she let out a weak sob.

jihoon froze.

mingyu struggled under wonwoo’s flailing figure.

“give it here!” mingyu was quick to shout, snatching the axe from the ground without a response, forcing jihoon to quickly melt his terror from his skin and throw himself onto wonwoo’s body.  

wonwoo cries were deafening, coarse now from use and the strength in his limbs had weakened, allowing jihoon to hold down his body with more ease despite the weight difference.

mingyu swung without any indication of doing so, hard and fast against the same spot jihoon had attacked. this time, he pulled away with a weak crack. he whimpered at the noise but raised it again.

“oh my god.” lyra whimpered. “oh my god, why did we use a blunt axe?”

but mingyu doesn’t stop. he continued to swing the axe, up and down, letting the momentum aid his strength, letting wonwoo’s protests to stop fuel his stamina. there is a squelch among the splinters, a cry amongst the shouts but mingyu never falters. he doesn’t falter when lyra moved her own hands to help settle the body, avid to stop his movements. he doesn’t stop when wonwoo’s voice crack, soundless screams like the cries of tormenting ghosts whispering regret and fault into his ears. he doesn’t stop when the boy’s eyes roll back into his head, revealing murky white. and he doesn’t stop when wonwoo’s body finally falls slack on the floor, limp and drained of all energy from the continued torture he had undergone.

he only stopped when the arm separates completely from the body, a tattered arm lying lifelessly away from its previously conjoined biceps, adorned with the colour of fresh blood and oozing pus. the wound pulsated with flowing blood.

“water!” mingyu cried. he turned to a shell-shocked jihoon whose eyes had watched without blinking. “get the water, goddamnit!”

perhaps it was his tear-stricken face, or his eyes that reflected a haunted expression due to the fact he axed away at his friend, but jihoon finally moved. he’d leapt to grab their source of water and begun to pour it without thought at the injury.

lyra gasped, taking in the oxygen that your body severely lacked. “stop, you’re wasting it! put the bottle closer!”

truthfully, half of the spent water and rushed and spilt onto the jungle floor, worthless to their current situation. the boy instantly followed after your words, edging nearer to the smell of rotting flesh and decay. the boy felt faint at the scent, more so at the sight. god, there was so much blood.

mingyu rebooted and finally began to move again. “tear off your shirt.”

the girl hesitated at his words.

“tear off your shirt!” he repeated with more intended force.

she was quick to break out of her trance and began to tear long stripes of cotton from her attire, mingyu doing the same. in a clumsy, almost child-like way, the three of you attempt to bandage the leaking wound as best as you can, but the white cloth turns scarlet red as soon as its placed. a hopeless sob escaped your throat. had you just murdered your friend?

the almost lifeless body laid like a corpse on the ground, pale in his complexion and unconscious. he would have been mistaken for dead had it not been for the shallow breaths the three of them heard occasionally. when the sun had fallen, the bleeding had eased. simply for a lack of supple, lyra wondered in half-hearted ponder. she felt lightheaded in the sense that thought ran away from her. she wished for water, but they had used the majority in hopes of washing wonwoo’s wound.

it seemed hopeless all over again.

“oh my. perhaps it’s finally my time to step in.”

lost in her own world of panic, lyra missed the words of a newcomer though it appeared jihoon hadn’t.

“who are you?” jihoon asked, successfully gaining lyra’s and mingyu’s attention away from the body though it lingers on their minds. hostility crept into the boy’s voice as he continued. “what do you want?”

the source of the unfamiliar voice stemmed from a figure hidden within the shadows of the towering trees. none of the three could determine the identity of the creature causing suspicion to raise.

the creature walked from beneath the tree’s shade, a smug-like expression adorning their face. they appeared human-like, sharing similar features with the humans lyra was familiar with. they had normal curly, black hair that tickled the tips of his ears, eyes that curved like crescents and a mouth in which appeared to be in a constant mocking state. they would have come off as human save for the sharp teeth that glimmered in his grin and the red, hungry look in his eyes. “my name is jeonghan.” he explained.

“are you… human?” mingyu wondered.

the thing chuckled as if he found something the boy said humorous. “that’s funny, as if i could possibly downgrade.”

jihoon positioned his boy to protectively angle his body against the strange creature. “what do you want from us?”

jeonghan tilted his head. “why, what does it look like i’m doing?”

“it looks like you’re being a nuisance.” he answered. grabbing at the axe, he placed it between the four of you and the red eyed beast. wonwoo’s blood dripped from the edge of the blade to which jeonghan raised his eyebrows at. “stay back.” but jihoon’s voice betrayed his attitude and cracked under the pressure.

“put the axe down, jihoon.” jeonghan warned, taking a step forward. despite his firm voice, his lips wavered as if to conceal a smile.

“how do you know my name?” the boy replied instead of complying. despite jeonghan stepping closer, jihoon’s threats made no appearance. he had entered the abyss in hopes to solve the lifelong mystery of where it came from, not to fight a mystical creature. nothing in his life had trained him for this

“you two were screaming it so much it was hard to miss. it would be, rather, more shocking if i hadn’t heard it.” jeonghan said, gesturing to lyra and mingyu. “you two should really keep it down, by the way, or you’ll wake stronger beasts than the one you encountered before, you know, the one that bit your friend? and then even i wouldn’t be able to save you from them.” he hesitated and you flinched from his words. “well, maybe i could.”

mingyu took the silence that followed after as an opportunity to speak. “this sounds like you’re here to help us?”

jeonghan shrugged and mingyu noticed that he had been steadily closing the gap between him and the group but he let the thought slide. he were tired, oh so tired from the fear of losing his friend, the adrenaline from contributing to said friend’s loss of a limb and now this, a potential threat. perhaps death called, though it couldn’t be so bad if it promised a peaceful rest.

           “i would simply be delighted to aid you in your…” he glanced around jihoon’s guarding figure to wonwoo’s body. “successful attempt to save your friend.” he finally spoke, words coming out rather slowly. “however, my buddy jihoon here, seems to be opposed against my gracious decision. perhaps you want wonwoo to die, jihoon buddy ol’ pal?”

jihoon looked to be physically in pain, teeth grinding upon each other. his mouth opened to say more but mingyu placed a firm hand on his arm. “we’ll accept.” mingyu said. “please save our friend.” the boy glanced at jihoon and shook his head desperately. “wonwoo doesn’t have time for us to argue.” he offered as explanation and when jihoon sighted wonwoo, he found himself agreeing.

“fine. please help us, jeonghan.” he muttered, hands still tightening on the handle of the axe though he lets his arm drop.

the creature clapped his hands in excitement. “excellent! i knew you would come around, jihoon.”

lyra cut into the conversation before jihoon could take the bait and bite back. “how are you going to save him? what are you going to do?”

the desperateness must have coloured her tone for jeonghan turned to face her. his eyes were haunting when they settled on hers for the first time, seemingly delving deep into her soul and prying deep into her memories. they left no surface unturned, a hurricane in his wake, the smile engraved into the crevices of her mind as he spoke once more. “come back with me and i’ll show you.”

lyra watched as jeonghan turned from her, colour returning into her sight as his figure began to disappear against the backdrop of the rainforest. she heard only her faint breaths and the whistle of perching birds, heads tilted in curiosity as they watched the event that occurred in the world beneath them. her eyes find mingyu’s which have been hardened beyond recognition and the two of you knew that the moment would forever be etched into the wrinkles of their brains. if they were to ever survive this, it would only mean elongated suffering.

there were tears in lyra’s eyes at the prospect of failing their initial endeveurs to explore the hidden depths of the unknown phenomenon. hadn’t they only wanted to explore what the abyss had offer? hadn’t they simply wanted the thrill of adventuring with your childhood friends, seeking out a journey that would be inked in history? and now the reality of the world had sunken into their bones like cement.

the four of them had barely descended past the fifth layer, edging on the boundaries and the concept of returning knocked on your mind like an unwanted friend.

jihoon stood, rustling the wind at the sudden disturbance. he swung wonwoo’s only arm over his shoulder and wordlessly trekked after jeonghan whose back was almost consumed by the forest’s shadows. there was only one option and jihoon knew this, knew this before the rest of his friends did.

mingyu followed after jihoon, zipping up his backpack and tossing it over his shoulder. he offered lyra a hand as he passed her on the floor, which she accepted. an unspoken nod is bounced back between the two, something like determination and acceptance in the gesture.

whatever was in their path of destiny had to be overcome no matter its challenge, for the four of them had descended so far to die only at its fifth layer.

[nostalthicc]

send your regards | jeff wittek

mobster!jeff x reader

summary: y/n and jeff both find out some pretty unsettling things about their relationship

warnings: cursing, horribly written, hella mistakes, im just not that happy with it 

3k words

y/n didn’t find herself in a relationship very often, so she understood why her friends were so eager to hear about this new guy she had been seeing for about five months. they’ve had to watch y/n come home in the early hours of the morning, new designer items pop into her closet and her mood suddenly shifted from her usual unbothered attitude to a brand new happy woman and hadn’t even heard a peep about who caused all these changes in their friend’s life.

but today was the day, y/n’s small group of friends sat crowded around her bed as she started to tell them about her newfound relationship- if she could even call it that. “we met at sandy’s, the club near the outlet mall. and you know me when i have one, two many drinks. i thought he was gonna kick me out in the morning but ended up making me breakfast and asked for my number.” y/n said, pausing as she noticed the girls were dying to interrupt her story with questions.

“how was it?” 

“what does he look like?”

“what’s his name?”

“eggplant and baby carrot?” 

“does he have a brother?”

y/n’s eyes widen at the abundance of words thrown her way, she knew they were curious but not this much so. “one, that’s for me to know, court. two, he’s really fucking hot, i’ll show you guys a picture in a second, three his name is jeff wittek-”

before she could go any farther, her older friend, nora blurted out: “What?! Jeff?” y/n gave her a questionable look, urging nora to quiet down and explain her sudden outburst. “y/n, no, you have to end things, you can’t get involved with him.” she said frantically. “h-he’s not a good person.”

“what are you talking about?” y/n asked, her eyebrows furrowed. jeff was one of the kindest people she met whenever they were together, she couldn’t imagine a bad bone in his body. what nora was saying didn’t add up, it seems her friend must have been confused and was talking about the wrong jeff. since the first time she met him he had been nothing but nice to y/n and the people around them and every one of jeff’s friends were also highly kind to her. 

“are you stupid, y/n? jeff wittek is the mob boss that haunts this god forsake town. how could you be so clueless and naive?” nora whispered harshly, causing all the girl’s eyes to widen. they’ve never seen nora act this way, she was always chill and down to earth so to see her blowing up as she was, was shocking. 

everyone had their attention focused on nora they completely missed the look of horror on y/n’s face. little pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, she knew he was hiding something but y/n never thought it would be of this capacity. the late-night or early morning phone calls, they obnoxious amount of weapons hidden throughout his house, jeff’s constant stance of authority with everyone around him, the bloodied clothing he swore were nose bleeds or bar fights, and the never-ending pit of drugs he had handy at all times. it all made sense now, y/n had dismissed it because she wanted jeff to tell her what his secret was when he was ready but now y/n really regrets her idea. why would he not tell her? how many people has he killed? would he ever hurt her? 

“do you know what he does? he kills people, y/n.” she seethed, earning unprovable glares from surrounding customers- not that she cared. nora knew what she had to do  and she was willing to do it at any cost. “you better get away before he kills you as he does with all his little whores!”

“nora!”

y/n had heard enough, she swiftly grabbed her coat and purse and made a beeline for the door despite her friend’s calls. frustration was building deep inside her, why had everything gone to shit in a matter of minutes? y/n slammed her hands down on the steering wheel multiple times before resting her forehead against the cool leather. when her mind drifted to jeff a new emotion emerged, fear. she was scared.  

y/n knew she needed to confront jeff or it would eat at her alive, she wants to hear the words come from his own two lips before she made any rash decisions. meanwhile, nora had escaped the mob of anger girls and was standing behind the cafe with a burner phone pressed to her ear and a cigarette between her lips. 

“hello?” a gruff, agitated voice answer on the other line. 

“do i just have the funniest story for you?” she was met with silence from the man. rolling her eyes she continued. “you assigned me to keep on an eye on y/n after you two called it quits but you’ll never guess who’s bed she crawled into...wittek.” 

the sound of glass shattering course through the speakers, he was angry, very angry. “jeff wittek?! you had one fucking, nora! one job, how did you manage to fuck it up?” 

“it’s not my fault.” nora defended herself, she was not threatened but the anger pouring through the phone and she was not going to be blamed for something she didn’t do. “i was finding out right along with her dumbass friends, apparently y/n’s not one to openly talk about relationships because it’s been going on for three months but guessing from  her reaction when she found out, i don’t think it’ll last much longer.”

“if something happens to her because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, so be it, i will put a bullet in your head.” 

nora chuckled, blowing out a puff of smoke. “don’t joke around like that i might get excited.” 

⇉⇉⇉

todd met y/n at the front door of jeff’s overly large house, he offered y/n a genuine smile but it quickly fell when she didn’t return the gesture and kept her eyes trained on the floor. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder but y/n hopped back before he could come into contact with her. todd took her weird demeanor and silence as a sign to go get jeff, he can always cheer her up. 

y/n was terrified to even be in this house, so many awful things must have gone down on this very floor, so much blood. y/n wanted to vomit at the thought. nora’s words continued to fill her brain, how could she have been so clueless? why did she ignore every sign of danger? y/n shook her shook, trying frantically to think of what to say when she heard the footsteps approaching. jeff walked into the entryway with a pair of tan cargo shorts loosely hanging on his hips. he was beautiful, his dark hair and tanned skin, his eyes, his lips, her eyes wandered down to his toned abs. on any other day, y/n would be quick to pounce on the man, she was still urged to greet him with a kiss even after the newfound news.

“s-stop. stay there.” y/n tried her best not to stutter but nothing could have prepared her for this moment, she wished she would have stayed in the car and driven home but her brain never worked when she wanted it to. y/n held her hand up when jeff ignored her wish, taking a few steps back. “please, jeff.”

“baby, what’s wrong? toddy said you seemed upset.” jeff whispered softly, in hopes of not pushing y/n farther over the edge.

“why didn’t you tell me?” a sob fell through the girl’s lips, a sound jeff swore he never wanted to hear as long as he lived. his mind raked with confusion until he noticed the look hidden in her eyes, his girl was scared of him, practically shaking with fear. how had he let this happen? how did she even find out? 

jeff took a slow stride towards her, putting his hands up in defense. “baby, listen to me-”

“stop! don’t lie to me again, i don’t want to hear any more lies! i want the truth jeff!” y/n shouted, her body simultaneously stood a little taller on her toes until she remembers who she was talking to. y/n went into a frenzy apologizing to jeff, while still keeping her distance but he kept coming closer and she knew this was most likely the end for her. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i-i- please don’t hurt me.” 

jeff froze as he watched y/n break down in front of him, he watched in silence as his nightmares came true. “no, no baby.” he reached a hand out to her cheek, whipping away the tears as new ones took their place. “please don’t say that. i couldn’t even imagine laying a finger on your precious body if it wasn’t to worship every inch. i would never hurt you, ever. okay, y/n, do you hear me? now, tell me who told you.”

y/n sniffled, taking deep breaths at their close proximity. “nora did. she said y-you’d kill me once you were done with me.” her limbs felt numb and hollow, this was all too much. jeff cursed under his breath, looking down as he tried to make any type of connection but he had y/n pretty well hidden. 

“i would never hurt you, i could never hurt you. please, please stop saying that, you’re breaking my heart over here,” he said. 

“but you hurt other people.” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “how many people have you killed? how many people's lives have you claimed? what’s to stop you from doing the same to me?” y/n rambled on, asking so many questions, too many questions, pumping more worry into her head. 

“because i love you, goddammit.” jeff shouted, running his fingers through his hair, he watched in horror as y/n flinched away from him, snapping her eyes shut tight, awaiting the blow. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i just wish you’d listen to me. i love you, i really do. i wanted to make you my queen, we would lead together. i promise i was going to tell you.”

y/n shook her head. “whatever made you think i’d want to do that?” before jeff could answer she raised her hand to stop him, y/n had heard enough. “i-i need time, this is all too much.” she stood up slowly and started backing away from the man towards the front door, y/n wanted to bolt away but she didn’t know how he would react to that. by the time y/n made it to the door, she looked back a jeff to see todd’s hands on his chest. her heart broke but if he truly did love her jeff would let her think things through. 

“my dear y/n, i knew i’d be hearing from you soon enough.”

for the few days y/n had been with ricky she started to remember why she broke things off with him in the first place. he was obsessive, power-hungry, an asshole and he wasn’t him. ricky wasn’t jeff and as much as y/n wanted to deny it, she missed him greatly. maybe she was realizing she loves him but her mind couldn’t shake the thought of who jeff really was and how he had lied to her for so long. 

“god, y/n, i told you no one could treat you better than i can and you went ahead and got involved with a fucking psychopath.” ricky ranted, lighting another cigarette before turning to y/n, eyeing her carefully. y/n knew what he was waiting for and that’s exactly why she bit her tongue. ricky wanted y/n to defend jeff so he could spit a thousand more reasons why jeff is a horrible person and she was stupid for leaving him in the first place but she was not giving him the satisfaction. y/n was starting to realize calling ricky in the first place was a mistake, he clearly had gotten worse since she left; he took her phone, won't let her leave the house, monitors all her meals, and even controls what she wears. ricky was sick.

“my sweet doll, you naive, pathetic precious being,” ricky brushed his fingers across y/n’s chin, scowling as she pulls away from his touch. he was right where he wanted to be, he not only had y/n in his clutches but he had something he could use to bring jeff down. “how do you think i know so much about wittek?” he asked bitterly, the name burning his tongue as he spoke. 

y/n's eyes widen in realization. “because you're just like him.” y/n spoke, defeat clear in her voice. while running from one leader she ran straight into the arms of another mobster, she now more than ever she could be back at home cuddled up with jeff on the couch not stuck in a prison with her crazy ex-boyfriend. 

“no!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the wall. “i am nothing like him, i’m so much better. jeff wittek wishes he could be like me, lead like me, own what i have.” his eyes cast down to y/n’s frightened face, a wicked smile gracing his features. this wasn’t the same ricky y/n used to know, he changed, became a violent version of himself. before he had always been obsessive and controlling but never once had he been violent towards y/n or anyone for a matter of fact. 

“you’re sick, ricky!” he would have thought she knew to keep her mouth shut but y/n was never one to bite her tongue. it infuriated ricky that she didn’t fear him the way she feared jeff, when y/n first called him to pick her up her voice was trembling with fear. why wasn’t she scared of him too? he was just as horrible as jeff, so he thought. ricky grabbed y/n’s arm, dragging her to the living room towards the stairs when a voice halted all movement in the room. 

“it’s taking everything in me to not rip your throat out with my teeth.” jeff smirked at the ricky while basking in his frightened appearance. when he finally found out where y/n was, he went out of his mind, doing everything he could to formulate a plan to get her back or away from that psycho. it was supposed to go down two days from now but when jeff got a text from nora he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to retrieve his girl. 

ricky’s mouth opened and closed, he became a stuttering mess as he tried to form words. “h-how? what are you doing here?” he asked, his grip tightening. sure, he was scared shitless- he’d never actually seen or been face to face with jeff fucking wittek -but he wasn’t going to back down just yet, everyone had a weakness and ricky seemed to have found jeff’s. 

a chuckle could be heard from the mob boss. “newbie’s, man.” he mumbled, turning to todd who had a fancy-looking gun pointed at the rookie. “they’re always so naive.” 

nora made her appearance next to ricky, shoving a needle in his neck before he could react. he slipped to the floor, the hand constricting y/n falling swiftly to the ground with the rest of his limp body. she yelped, jumping away from nora and ricky’s body. y/n was sure everyone in the room could hear her heartbeat rumbling in her chest, all eyes were on her and all y/n could do was stare blankly at them. 

“y/n, come on.” nora coaxed the girl over to her side with a warm smile and a desperate expression, jeff narrowed his eyes as he watched the scene unfold. he knew nora wasn’t completely loyal to him or the mob but he didn’t think she would try and take y/n away from him after all he’s done for her. 

“no, y/n come to me!” jeff countered, earning a highly confused look from the girl. jeff sucked in a sharp breath when nora lost her patience and wrapped her arm around y/n, moving her into a chokehold and pointed a gun to her head. both of the guys pointed their guns at the hostage and her capture, nora had officially crossed the line of his mercy and she would not be leaving this building alive. but before jeff or todd could do anything y/n nailed nora in the stomach, grabbed her arm and pulled it back causing her to drop the gun she held onto right into y/n’s awaiting hand. not a second later she hit nora in the head with the butt of the gun, knocking her out cold. 

“god, she was annoying.” y/n muttered, dragging her hand along her throat. when she finally turned to face the boys with a smirk matching their confused and perplexed expressions. “i can tell by the look on your face, you knew, didn’t you.” 

“i prayed it wasn’t true. ignored it because i loved you, y/n.” jeff said, balling his fist at his side. even aiming a gun at his girlfriend felt foreign, it felt wrong, like he was betraying her and himself at the same time. “after your performance i didn’t believe the rumors but i guess that was a lapse in my judgment, huh?”

y/n internally flinched at the jeff’s use of ‘loved’, she wished the could have met in another light, where they were free to fall in love and be normal- rather than stuck in the life of mobs and mafias. “loved? god, jeff, you both were my targets but somehow i’m gonna get on this helicopter only eliminating one.” she explained painfully, her life with the boy she cares for so much a mere spec now, the life she built was years gone with the simple wave of a hand.  “i-i love you too and i won’t kill you, not now at least, baby. i’ll send your regards to my father.” 

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e2: of mouse and man

episode summary: brain needs money to build a perpetual answering machine to occupy everyone in the world for long enough for him to take over. to do that, he needs an absurd amount of money, so he decides to get a job in an office!

and then fake a nondairy creamer accident that turned him into a mouse, because as we all know, brain has to take the most dramatic path he possibly can in life, or he dies.

the rundown:

we open with pinky showing off his ass.

PRODUCED BY PETER HASTINGS. i assume that means the episode, and not the ass. the ass was initially produced by pinky’s parents and then helped along by the warner brothers’ dietary experts for their. mouse actors.

brain isn’t feeling it right now.

instead, as he plucks a rib from the lab’s anatomical model of a human being, and uses it to unpick his cage, he angsts - WRITTEN BY PETER HASTINGS - he angsts over the Dark Side Of Man, that has built war machines and pollution spilling factories and

VOICEMAIL.

😱

as pinky continues to stick his ass out (though onlyfans wouldn’t be launched for another twenty one years) brain runs through his latest plan, which, of course, involves voicemail.

look at those wiggles. this is a rough draft episode.

anyway brain intends to reroute all telephone conversations into his confusing, recursive, voicemail service that, he claims, will keep the human race occupied for “at least seventy two hours.”

“more than enough time for a well prepared mouse to seize control of the planet.”

“i see! so all we need now is a well prepared mouse.”

I???????

HOLY FUCK

brain is unhappy. i am not surprised.

“i am a well prepared mouse, pinky.”

“oh. well. there you are, then.”

unfortunately this plan comes with the pitfall that it will cost.... one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars. which is a lot of money, or, as pinky puts it, “a lot of money!”

as brain wonders about how to raise these funds (”without running for congress”) pinky pinkys off to watch some tv.

HAVE YOU BEEN INJURED IN AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT

YOU MAY BE ENTITLED TO HUNDREDS, THOUSANDS, EVEN ONE MILLION SIX HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN COMPENSATION

LENNY PARVIK GOT ME TWO HUNDRED AND ELEVEN DOLLARS

EVEN THOUGH I’M NOW NINETY PERCENT FUDGE, IT’S OKAY BECAUSE LENNY PARVIK GOT ME ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTY TWO DOLLARS SIXTEEN CENTS AND SOME CHANGE

<LOUD, INCREDIBLY DISTRESSED CRYING>

hm.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?“

“i think so, brain, but i get all clammy inside a tent.”

anyway so brain’s new plan is to get a job, stage a

HIDEOUS ACCIDENT

and then sue them for one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars in workers compensation.

this episode also has a lot of faces. god, but these mice are so bloody cute. youtube has not yet been invented, but one day it will be, and all brain has to do is sit in front of a camera and nom some corn and go O:O with his face, and everyone will be crying over him within minutes.

it’s so sad that he doesn’t know that.

but for now, he has a job interview to go to. good luck, brain! can’t be any worse than that time allsaints forgot about me and the manager acted like it was my fault.

“impressive credentials. you’re certainly qualified. are you married?”

“oh, yes, i have a lovely wife and two beautiful young children.”

“oh that’s too bad. we’re looking for someone who has no life. thank you.”

as family man walks off, dejected, in comes a completely unsuspicious fellow looking for an honest living honest living, just like in rent the musical.

his arm is acting up, a bit, but it’s fine.

“very impressive resume. princeton, harvard, six years in the industry-- tell me, mr brain, what are your long term career goals?”

“i plan on taking over the world.”

“you have drive! i like that! but confidentially, taking over the world is my job, hahahaha.”

”yes. haha. ha.”

”now. brass tax - are you married?”

“i do have a roommate. but he’s very busy with his own activities.”

HA HA HOO HOO HOO

<muah>

HAHA

“but. one more thing. about your head. isn’t it rather small?”

“no. not for my race.”

“no! no, of course not-- and your people are such... good... cooks... with their tiny heads, uh. please. excuse me for one second.”

“carol! send everyone else home! i got myself a minority person!”

BRUH I?!??!?!?!?!

anyway. brain gets the job.

“mr brain! welcome to the world of re-reinsurance!”

he’s delighted.

back at the labs, he plots his untimely demise at the hands of re-reinsurance,

stating the accident “could be bluffed by altering the mollecular matrix through a substrate platform of microwaves.”

pinky’s response to this is “look brain, i made a choo-choo.”

“oh, and me without my video camera!”

in simpler terms, he explains to pinky that he will stage an accident, “utilising the microwave oven and the non-dairy powdered creamer.”

“because”, to pinky’s apparent horror, “nobody really knows how a microwave works.”

“but why the powdered creamer, brain?”

“nobody knows how that works either.”

(and then, i guess, there’s a scene where some guys jump him on the train for some reason,

i’m only putting it here because this guy is like “oh, you’re funny, you’re a regular gallagher”

and brain’s like “you think gallagher is funny?”

):

anyway then he ties the dude into a pretzel and throws him off the train.

bonk. it adds nothing, but it’s very funny.)

“this is your cubicle right here. if you need any office supplies, ask the office manager and she should have them over in two or three months.”

it’s brain’s first day at work! his boss reads him the company policy on

vacations, personal phone calls,

and sexual harassment.

“don’t worry about it. you’re safe if you avoid all contact with other humans.”

“my goal in life.”

as brain unpacks the things that pinky has packed for his “home away from home,

awwwww.

his nosy cubicle neighbour inquires about brain’s “pet mouse,”

elaborating that he keeps mice! haha! to feed to his pet snake!

to be fair this is also me around snake people. more understandable in brain’s case, being that he is, actually, a mouse, and i am a human person who may be slightly obsessed with tiney small flofys.

;u;

(they play tennis on their lunch break and brain sets him on fire, so it’s not too bad.)

upon his return from the office, pinky, who has dolled himself up to the nines, presents brain with a Yummy Dinner of Food Pellets With Food Pellets.

i will say i think it’s really cute how this show keeps pushing the narrative that pinky just really, really wants to be an old timey housewife. he just spends his time watching i love lucy (when Fish TV isn’t on) and stuff like that and he’s just obsessed with the idea of dusting something alluringly but ineffectively and making brain little dinners.

and it’s so fucking cute!!! what??? it’s adorable. as soon as they get the world pinky better get a little dollhouse kitchen room with lime green everything and a functioning oven.

“please, pinky. i’ve had a very tough day.”

“oh, you have? you’ve had a tough day?”

“what about my day, brain? we always hear about your day, but what about mine?!”

“DO YOU EVER ASK WHAT I DID TODAY???!”

“very well pinky. what did you do today?”

“i don’t remember.”

“anything?”

“not a thing.”

“well, now i know how american gladiator stays on the air.”

the next day, at work, brain is vexed by the fact that nobody has refilled the coffee machine.

“sorry. that’s my fault. hey, you’re cute.”

“you know what they say. big ears. big earmuffs.”

.....okay.

unfortunately brain’s mechanical arm chooses now to malfunction.

she’s into it?

brain maintains that it was a mistake, and he doesn’t find her attractive at all, because brain knows how to talk to women.

she is no longer into it.

horrified by his semi-accidental fuckboy behaviour, brain heads out as quickly as he can, only to be immediately called into his boss’ office.

despite brain’s claims that “the young lady appears to have misunderstood me,” which i’m sure will hold up well on twitter,

mr boss man reveals that he has done some fact checking, and there is no record of brain attending harvard or princeton.

“oh.”

he is given the ultimatum that he either produce his diplomas, or HIS CAREER IN RE-REINSURANCE IS OH OH OVER!!!

very sad!

looks like it’s time to stage a workplace related accident.

he pours the creamer everywhere, discards his suit, and runs up to plonk himself merrily into the pile.

ahem.

HELP, HELP. A TERRIBLE  OCCUPATIONAL DISASTER. I’VE BEEN MAIMED BY AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT REQUIRING MASSIVE WORKERS’ COMPENSATION.

as others in the office crowd around to look, brain makes his dramatic reveal.

“i’ve been turned into a mouse!”

COLLECTIVE GASP.

obviously mr boss man won’t pay that kind of money.

so, as brain emphatically tells him, I’LL SEE YOU IN COURT.

conclusion:

as the goodfeathers sit on justice’s head, and bitch about jury duty,

The Man From Washinton asserts that brain’s claim that he is a mouse is preposterous.

good thing brain has xrays to prove it! they “clearly” define his “mouse skeleton!” wait a sec and he’ll grab them.

oh shit! where they go?

(”there really is only one conclusion here.” says a local doctor.

“this man is a mouse.”

“then i’m afraid the only conclusion here, doctor,��

“is that you have never seen these.”

“i trust this might keep you quiet.”

“it might.”)

(BRUH/???????????????) (if boss man is out here bribing people with lingerie, he could have tried that way before this got to court.)

egged on by the lack of evidence in Mouse Corner, christopher walken produces the artefacts from brain’s office cubicle.

“i ask you, when was the last time you heard of a mouse winning a bowling trophy?”

“ugh. pinky.”

“yes?”

turns out pinky is here because “they’re not covering this on court tv,” but does advise brain that “it’s a good thing they didn’t find the mechanical suit, eh, brain?”

oh shit.

“pinky, you must go to the office and get that suit from the kitchen closet. do you understand? if they find that we’re sunk.”

“oh! brain! you want me to help!”

off he goes!

fall mouse. bonk.

(he sneaks into the snack delivery.)

(poit.)

(unfortunately, he gets delivered straight to the vending machine.)

(”narf? ):”)

“well. yes. i had noticed his... small, furry head, but i assumed that was normal for his people.”

“and what people would that be.”

“i’m not sure? i think they’re from europe?? maybe france.”

“the size of my head and whether i was a man before the accident is not the question, here. the fact is i am now a mouse.”

(meanwhile, at fiero:

“try the fruit rollups. they’re yummy.”

“oh, i am doing well. poit.”)

“so how exactly did the accident happen, mr brain?”

“some bizarre thing involving a microwave oven? i don’t know exactly-- no one really knows how they work.”

“incorrect! in the oven, a magnetron produces microwaves which cause water molecules to align, and reverse alignment, producing heat, and not mice.”

“the accident also involved a.... nondairy powdered creamer.”

“ah. um. oh.”

(meanwhile,

pinky attempts to drive.)

“mr brain, in your experience with other mice, are they intelligent?”

“no.”

“exactly. your honour, i contend that mr brain is simply too intelligent to be a mouse.”

oh dear.

(meanwhile,

pinky tries not to get hit by a car.)

“but-- no, noo, i’m not intelligent.”

“i am a simpleton! yes. like any average mouse!”

“um. narf.”

that’s mean, brain, considering the aforementioned narf is on his way to save your gay little ass right now, but whatever.

“so you would have no problem with me saying that albert einstien was a champion surfer.”

“what-- i mean, no.”

“or that the temperature of the sun is a comfortable seventy degrees fahrenheight.”

“i wouldn’t know--”

“or that the fermi-dirac’s distribution function is a soup kitchen?”

“that’s preposterous! your honour, the fermi-dirac's function is, for any system of identical fermions in equilibrium,”

“the probability that a quantum state of energy -- E -- is occupied!”

“my word, man! don’t you know your quantum statistics!”

heck.

bonk.

“oh, blunder.”

and what a blunder indeed! the judge decides to rule that brain’s intelligence proves that he is “not a mouse, and that being the basis for your claim, i now dismiss charges against fiero and company.”

“.....very well. i’ll go now.”

“i’m afraid not. i find you guilty of fraud, perjury, and appearing naked in a public place. take him away.”

good thing they have human man sized handcuffs for this human man! brain looks incredibly perturbed, despite the fact he could probably swim in them. and also that he... kind of lives in a prison anyway, if you think about it. oh, cool, can’t wait to evade that cage so i can go live in my other cage.

hm.

luckily, pinky arrives to save us all from that particular moral quandry.

“i got the suit, brain! i got it!”

“pinky--”

the police attempt to intercept pinky,

so he knocks them over. hoo hoo.

brain falls over,

attempts to enter the suit through the shoe,

and is squoshed for his crimes.

faced with a veritable army of police, at this point,

pinky activates the emergency protocol,

says blue lives scatter,

and fucks off out of the courthouse.

we stan a legend.

unfortunately brain got a fair few ouchies during his prison break, so pinky bandages him up. it’s very cute.

anyway, i’m giving this one to brain, on account there were, yknow, a fair few ways that could have been mitigated. fiero fucked him over, though, so i’ll give him that.

brain: 5 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 10

 “egad, brain! brilliant!”

“but isn’t that horribly illegal?”

“............yes.”

[killingeveperspectives]

Perspective: Eve Polastri and the invisibility of women’s pain

“[A woman] has to know how to love

know how to suffer her love

and be all forgiveness”

These are the final verses of the poem “Sonnet of the ideal woman” written by the acclaimed Brazilian poet Vinicius de Moraes, same guy that brought you Girl from Ipanema®. (Don’t start hum… too late). I remember reading this sonnet only once, but its last verses became branded in my mind like a curse. Society’s view of ideal womanhood is perfectly encapsulated in these three haunting lines. That is women’s purpose, not only for men but for humanity, her suffering frivolous in the face of the redemption to be brought forth through her selflessness. Anything else is egoistical, evil, and dangerous… for everyone. From Pandora in ancient Greece, to biblical Eve, to Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, to 90% of all horror movies ever, women are constantly warned of the dangers of curiosity and desire, which lead to destruction and death. Her redemption is to be a vehicle of someone else’s redemption, just like Virgin Mary redeemed biblical Eve by being the vehicle of humankind’s salvation. This narrative is so ingrained in our collective unconscious that it requires an immense effort to not let it slip into its familiar nest within our minds.

The biblical story of Eve’s fall from grace is arguably the most pervasive patriarchal myth to shape our patriarchal society, but if we unwrap its millennia of projections of male anxieties, the myth holds a kernel of universal truth: The flesh is weak. We are dangerously inclined to act on desire over reason by force so strong it is symbolized by the Devil: it possesses the mind. These impulses are irrational, reckless, primal and compelling. While Freud constructed much of his theory on the fascination of unconscious drives, I believe no one has said it better than W.H. Auden: “We are lived by powers we pretend to understand”. Our lives and livelihood depend on striking a fine balance between restriction and satisfaction of impulse, and to those who have ever fell in passion with someone or something, passion can be one of the most disruptive experiences of a lifetime. Thus, Eve’s myth carries layers of meaning both as we understand our nature and also as to how we project these anxieties onto womanhood.

Eve Polastri is not just Eve, she is Eve, she is the proverbial woman. She is morbidly curious, tempted by desire, gives in, and destroys the world around her. But Killing Eve is no cautionary tale, Eve Polastri Is not committing a forbidden sin against a narrative moral code which commands an imposed narrative punishment. Thus, Eve Polastri embodies and transgresses the biblical myth: she is the woman exploring her own impulses in her own story and becoming authentic through it– which makes her a remarkable character in her own right. At the core, the character is also us, a regular person urging to become whole, that sees in the metaphorical abyss of Villanelle’s indulgence a reflection of what she yearns: liberation. There is a courage to Eve, and we watch her entranced, because, whether we want to admit or not, we all fantasize about playing with fire. However, there can be a tacit perverted satisfaction in this story: we want Eve to fall from grace but when she does, we want to punish her for it, thus sublimating and reprimanding our own impulse, and falling back in the old narratives about womanhood. 

In Season 1, Eve seemed to have been taken as a surrogate for the audience quite unproblematically, nevertheless when desire starts to show its ugly face in Season 2, part of the audience started to feel alienated from the character, and even antagonistic. Which is unfortunate, because her face off with Villanelle in the finale was arguably the most victorious, honest and cathartic moment of the character so far. Season 3 opens with a recluse Eve licking her wounds, trying to pull herself together any way she can, after all she suffered and all she learned. She changed and change is painful – in an abstract sense, violent as well. Her initial isolation was self-imposed by the character but as the season progresses Eve becomes more and more distant, which creates a parallel to how women’s suffering is perceived in real life.

Ironically, when Eve is shutting down from the world around her in the beginning of the season, she is more open to us than she will ever be in the remainder of the episodes. We are allowed to exist with the character through her painfully dull, mundane day-to-day, as the extent of her suffering manifests in the blunt messiness of her exterior life and her valiant effort to keep it together with the help of a budding alcohol and cigarette addiction. Eve is not a strong woman; she is a woman that claimed herself at a great cost. This cost was depicted with frustrating realism, just like in real life, once the thrill of the battle is over, it’s time to tend to the wounded, drag the corpses and count the dead. It’s inglorious. No wonder Eve literally and metaphorically hid, she burned the bridges with the world around her. How could she possibly explain what she went through and how could an outsider possibly understand? A question that mirrors the feeling of many a person, especially women, that entangled themselves in violent dynamics: Alienation and loneliness.

Initially, the character continues the apophatic self-definition, Eve says no a lot, symbolizing her efforts to reassert control over her life. From Villanelle, to Carolyn, to her job, Eve is trying to play by her rules and her truth, she knows what she wants not, but the interesting question posed at the end of Season 2 is “Now that Eve reclaimed herself, what will she do of what she has become?” – Sartre style. However, there is a major shift in Eve’s character after her interactions with Villanelle in episodes 3 and 4. The character’s arc becomes centered towards admitting her feelings for Villanelle as the source of conflict, however one could argue that the main source of conflict is the existence of these feelings itself. Therefore, merely admitting them shouldn’t solve the main conflict, on the contrary, due to their inherent contradictory nature it should exacerbate it. 

This sleight of hand not only impoverishes the character’s emotional landscape, motivations and general arc, but also echoes the verse: ”A woman must know how to suffer love”. Like countless women before, Eve’s story is subtly telling us that the misery comes from her rejection of a phagic “love” and the metaphorical self-annihilation intrinsic to the experience, instead of the authentic ambivalence and paradoxes of the character’s inner self. Eve’s conflict should be at its core about herself not about Villanelle – who serves as a symbolic element.  In the end, good women are expected to erase themselves and to become vessels of God and of others. Coincidentally, Eve’s character becomes oddly redeemed when she becomes a vessel for Villanelle’s need to belong.

Here is where the writers quite painfully abandon an once intriguing and compelling character. Eve doesn’t find nothing new to say about herself, no new path nor synthesis of her desires, and identity – which could and should have given Eve agency in renegotiating her dynamic with Villanelle, especially if it was to bring them closer. Eve ceases to be defined by her own inner conflict and becomes defined by her attraction to Villanelle alone. As Eve obsessively seeks Villanelle, who is in turn occupied with a story of her own, at no point the audience is asked to care about Eve’s suffering nor does the writers bother to interrogate the character about it, let alone let the character process it. Eve is deprived from exploring herself and facing her own pain, almost as if Eve was so devoid of individuality that the character itself is alienated from the obvious pain and conflict it should be experiencing. But nor Eve, nor any other character and, most importantly, nor the audience is asked to care. In the emblematic scene where Eve jumps into a dumpster to literally look for scrapes of Villanelle’s supposed affection as a way of reconnecting with her, no effort is made to reframe it or question the length at which the character lost itself, because no one cares. When in the finale, Eve, who is oblivious to Villanelle’s change of heart, is interrogated with a relevant question “Did I ruin your life? Do you think I am a monster?”, the character straightforwardly reassures the anti-hero at the expense of the rich internal conflict that should have been derived and fleshed out from these points, because no one cares.

Eve believes in Villanelle unconditionally, despite all conceivable lines being crossed, despite the destruction and conflict this relationship has brought her, because Eve is doing precisely what her character is supposed to be doing: erasing her individuality, enduring her pain in the name of this love, forgiving no matter what they do to her so that they can be redeemed through her. “A woman has to know how to suffer her love and be all forgiveness”. Thus, Eve as a character becomes a device in Villanelle’s story arc occupying the same restricted space female characters were always allowed to inhabit. Villanelle goes on a somewhat muddled character growth arc, filled with redemption elements which traditionally involves the presence of a source of acceptance and love, generally in the form of a love interest, that will be granted to the hero at the end of the journey. Eve’s function in the story is not as a compelling protagonist with universal struggles, but as both enabler and trophy in Villanelle’s story. The narrative finds itself trapped in the old tales ingrained in our collective unconscious, in a jarring contrast with the previous seasons’ transgression and uniqueness.

Paradoxically, this precise abandonment gives the season the richest opportunity for the audience to interrogate the place of women’s pain. Eve’s abandonment mirrors the invisibility of the suffering of countless women, who painfully sacrifice their livelihoods in the name of their loved ones, be it Nicos, or Villanelles, or family, or friends, or their communities. Who, day in and out, are responsible for caring and supporting others through their struggles while left stranded with their own conflicts. After all, when so much depends on their self-sacrifice their pain is unimportant, even an expected part of this glorified martyrdom. Are we keen on looking at these women who inhabit these confined roles and acknowledge without judgement the enormous burden they carry? Are we ready to empathize with them when they rebel, when they fail and break, and even more so when they acquiesce? Having a queer twist on this narrative is not enough to claim it transgressive, as this cultural recipe perpetuates itself also into homoromantic relationships, as women often see themselves trapped in this dynamic with their female partners as well. Women are no less oppressed by patriarchal ideas of womanhood if these ideas are perpetuated through their relationships with other women.

 Akin to Eve’s biblical story, the erasure of female pain is also layered, as we all crave unconditional love, and its redemption, so we can be at peace with ourselves – completely satisfied, accepted and safe – which is naturally symbolized by “The mother”. Therefore, it is easy to impose these fantasies in the ideal of womanhood, as easy as it is to relate to Villanelle and romanticize the role Eve plays in her development, her acceptance of Villanelle’s character being a powerful cathartic release for our own need and fantasies of belonging. 

In this context, hidden in Season 3’s oblivious narrative, lays an interesting invitation to evaluate how we individually, and as a society, negotiate our urge to be nurtured and the necessity to nurture others and how these roles are culturally and socially informed by patriarchal ideas we collectively and individually carry about womanhood, and to what extent we are ready to challenge them.

[myfriendscallmecoelophysis]

The Fears of a Goddess Pt 4

Part 4 of my Dark! Ianite fic

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dedicated to nerf house (Blame them for the delay ;D )

Enjoy and as always

Find me on Ao3:

Selenejessabelle12626 for the tame stuff

Lady-Spieroles for the less tame stuff ;)

~

Jordan remembered when he’d first seen the Taint. He remembered working with the others to defend against it and then eventually push it back. He remembered the appearance of the grotesque manifestation of his Lady that had appeared after Andor’s confession and subsequent arrest. He remembered working with Wag to destroy it, despite it being in Ianite’s likeness and how accomplished they’d felt in ‘saving the town’ even after Martha had warned them against it. He remembered the horror that had replaced it, the eldritch and terrifying abomination that nearly took over the town of Dagrun. He remembered that all along it had been Ianite’s subconscious. 

He’d been horrified by his actions then and the realization of the part he’d played. It had been the first of many choices he’d made in the name of ‘the greater good’ that he would come to regret. Now, as he looked upon it once more, it was with guilt heavy in his heart. Once again, he’d made a mistake that had led her to pain, this was his fault. Was he capable of doing anything but hurting her? He’d just wanted to help. Just wanted to see her free. Wanted to keep her from the fate he knew she would face. How had it become this?

“Sparklez!?” “Cap?!” Tom and Karl’s voices were a surprise. This place was far from their little archipelago, their own Gods must have brought them here. 

“Jordan? Can you hear us?!” Tom sounded genuinely worried, amazing considering the way Jordan had been behaving towards him the last several weeks. He wanted to call out to them but his words died in his throat. What was there to be done? They couldn’t destroy the monster even if they had the weaponry or strength. It was Ianite. It had been her in Ruxomar and it was her now. 

“Tom! Over ‘ere!” 

“JORDAN!” 

He fell forward, tackled from behind in an embrace. 

“We were so worried you idiot.” Tom told him, climbing off a moment later so Jordan could get up. Jordan looked to him briefly but then back at the Taint. 

“That’s her isn’t it.” Tom said softly. He’d not played much of a role in the Taint debacle back in Ruxomar. He’d helped them fight it back initially but had not been involved further until the Abomination had appeared. 

“It is.” Mianite’s voice confirmed, his voice flat. “As my brother and I told the Captain, she may have found the strength she wanted but it was at the cost of herself.”

“So what do we do?” Karl asked. “Fight it?” 

“No!” Jordan snapped, turning to glare at Karl. He got to his feet shakily, stepping away from to stand between them and the remains of the temple. He’d dropped his bow in the explosion but still had his sword, drawing it with a wavering hand. “I won’t let you hurt her.” He hated the weakness in his voice and the pity in their eyes. 

“Jordan.” Tom said softly, his voice infuriatingly gentle. 

“I won’t let you.” Jordan repeated, blinking harshly to keep his vision clear. His eyes stung from tears building within them but he would not back down, not while he still had the strength to stand. 

“Captain. We have no other option. If we do nothing, that sickness will spread across this land destroying everything in its path. We have to contain it.” Dianite said.

“That sickness is your sister! You lied! You want her out of the way, all of you! I won’t let her get hurt, not again!” 

“Then what do you want us to do Jordan?!” Tom shouted. “I understand that you’re afraid for her. But tell me how this-” He gestured sharply at the writhing monster “-is possibly what she wanted? You’re saying she wanted to be free. This is not free. Do you remember Ianite in Ruxomar and how she cried when we told her what she’d done to the town? You told her about this very monster that she was responsible for and she was so ashamed she didn’t want to come back. I may not know your God as well as you but I can bet that this Ianite isn’t happy about this either.” 

Jordan had nothing to say, he didn’t move or speak in response to Tom’s words. All he could do was meet the zombie’s eyes. He didn’t look mad or sad, he looked concerned. But concerned for who? Himself? Surely not for Ianite or Jordan but then he spoke again and the bitter feeling in Jordan’s mind softened. 

“If I understand what's going on, this happened because of a spell World Historian wrote. Ianite used it thinking it would make her strong enough to do what? Fill me in Jordan. I want to help you but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on. Let me help you to help her.” 

He didn’t appear to be lying, Jordan had always been fairly good at spotting one of Tom’s lies, he did actually care. Jordan lowered his sword and his eyes in one motion, then slowly spoke. “She wanted to be stronger than her brothers. They wouldn’t be able to lock her away if she was stronger.” 

“Alright. Fair plan. But why the spell?” Tom prompted in the same empathetic tone, not judging or offering his support, simply commenting that it made sense and pushing Jordan to speak more. 

“She had a vision. Their father told her that his spell would give her the strength she wanted.” 

“Their father, World Historian right?” 

Jordan was once again struck by a pang of guilt. “I thought he would be different here. An alternate like Spark and Mot were to us. I didn’t think-”

“We’re not focusing on that right now Jordan. I just wanted a little clarification. We’re focusing on what happened so that we can help Ianite. If the spell was in there, why’re you out here?” 

“I was with her. She needed me, needed a mortal to go in the temple, but then I started feeling sick. I couldn’t go any farther. She sent me back out here to-” he trailed off, suddenly ashamed of how hostile he’d been. His thoughts leapt back to the tainted arrow, now hyper aware of it’s deadly power. He’d been so close to using it on Dianite or Mianite, if not for the explosion knocking the bow from his hand, he may have fired on either of them or even Tom or Karl. 

“Keep us busy?” Tom finished for him. Jordan looked away from him but nodded. “I’m not mad Jordan, haven’t been this whole time. I know I’ve been worried for you and I know Karl has too. You’re our friend mate. Us following different Gods doesn’t change that.”

“He’s right Cap.” Karl chimed in, the casual agreement drawing a reluctant smile from Jordan. 

I don’t blame you for doing everything you thought you could to help her. You couldn’t’ve known what would happen. I doubt that even she fully knew what would happen.” Tom put a hand to the side of his mouth like he was about to tell a secret then stage whispered “Between you and me, these Gods don’t know what they’re doing half the time anyway. I think they’re too young or something.” 

“I heard that Syn.” Dianite grumbled but it was without much malice. Tom grinned behind his hand, the same mischievous grin Jordan had seen on the zombie dozens if not hundreds of times since they’d met on that island years ago. 

“So let’s help your Goddess get back to herself and then we’ll find a mutually beneficial solution for all of us. See Jordan look at me being balanced.” 

“Unfortunately Syndicate, it is not that simple.” Mianite spoke up from behind Tom. “I’m afraid that there is no solution besides the one that my sister and her champion fought so hard to avoid.” 

“What do you mean?” Karl asked, looking at his God in confusion. 

Mianite frowned, the expression making him appear far closer to the wise God of Order they would come to know, instead of the young prankster he was now. “You mortals cannot sense it the way Dianite and I can, but there is a Darkness within that creature. The Darkness that has been haunting your islands and our own psyches. It is taking advantage of Ianite and the strength of this form. Her quintessence-”

Jordan’s world slowed at the mention of that word. No, not again. He would not let this happen to her again. Not in this world. Not if he could stop it. 

“To defeat the Darkness, you’re saying it will take us defeating the Abomination?” He interrupted Mianite. 

The God looked to Jordan and nodded “Based on the research I was able to find, yes. Without something to fuel itself, it will wither and dissipate.” 

“So all this time, it’s been using her?”

Mianite looked at Dianite and then back to Jordan “We believe so.”

There was a stinging sensation in his eyes as he leveled his sword at Mianite, despite knowing it would do nothing. “Tell me you’re lying. Tell me this is just a plot for you to lock her away.” “Sparklez-” Dianite began to say

“Just tell me you’re lying! Tell me I don’t have to hurt her again!” He yelled, blinking as tears welled up. Tom had fallen silent, looking between his God and Jordan with a desperate expression. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could, but to save Ianite, we must destroy the creature the Darkness had twisted her to become.” 

The sword fell from his hands as the tears fell from his eyes. He was on the ground suddenly, knees and fingers digging into the dirt. “I promised her that I would save her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This world was supposed to be different.” His glasses had fallen from his face, the lenses scratched and dirtied. “Why is it always her? Why is it always us?” 

‘It is the duty of a balanced person to bear the burden of all sides. That is our purpose, my Champion.’ The words in his mind now did not belong to this Ianite, nor to the one he’d lost in Ruxomar, instead they were the words of the wise Goddess he’d first met all those years ago. He recognized them, could recall when she had spoken them. It had been after one of his first prayers to her after she’d revealed her existence. He’d prayed for her healthy and speedy recovery, asking why she, of all the Gods, had to suffer. It was the reminder he needed now. Balance was what she stood for. Was what he stood for in her name. Balance meant feeling the good and bad, the victory and the defeat, not lending yourself to one side or another, but staying in the middle ground. It would always be her burden as the Goddess of Balance to keep things as they should. And right now, Balance meant destroying the force that threatened it. 

Slowly Jordan began to breathe and collect himself, wiping the tears from his eyes. He’d done many things in his life for the so called ‘greater good’, many of those things had been mistakes. But this, somehow he knew this was not one of those times. This had never been his Ianite, not from the moment they’d met in this world. She never would have tried to run from her fate if it meant disturbing the Balance of the world. He had no choice but to fight in her name. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but the Balance had been thrown in flux by the possession of his Goddess and it was his responsibility as the Champion of Balance and of Ianite to return things to how they should be. 

He stood and when the haze of tears disappeared entirely, Tom was there, Jordan’s bow in his hand. The wood was cracked in places, damaged from use and from the explosion, but it should hold out, it had to. Jordan took a deep breath and took the bow from him, it’s enchantments still shimmered dully, he could feel them all pulsing comfortingly under his hand. He knew what he must do. He would make this as painless for her as possible. 

With calm, measured steps, Jordan walked past Tom and Karl and the Gods to where his bow had lain. There, half buried under ash and dirt, was the tainted arrow. With care, he picked it up and cleaned the fletching of debris, straightening it so that the arrow would surely fly true. Then, he turned back to the others, who were all watching him with uncertainty. He took a deep breath and said “I have to do this alone.” 

“Jordan-” Tom opened his mouth but it was Karl who put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. 

“Let ‘im do this Tom.” He said, then nodded to Jordan. 

Before them all, the Abomination writhed, tentacles smashing through what remained of the mountain. It didn’t make a sound itself, only the slam of its limbs against the earth and the crumble of stone and obsidian. He’d seen this creature before, knew what lay in the center of the mass of purple limbs. In Ruxomar, the maw had taken them to the End and to Ianite, as that Abomination had been her subconscious, now though, it would be a weak point. 

Jordan slid the tainted arrow into his quiver, shrugged off his chest plate and switched his elytra. 

“Sparklez.” Tom said and Jordan turned to look at him. “Be careful alright?”

He gave Tom a small smile, the best he could muster with all the different emotions he was feeling. “I will.” He assured, then with a flick of a firework, shot into the air. 

The air was cleaner the farther he got from the ground, the dust mostly having settled to the ground below. He flew higher and higher until he felt a chill in his skin and his breath fogged in the air. He’d used several fireworks to get this high this fast, the hand he’d fired them with tingled from the residual heat, but that was the key. He had to get above the Abomination’s reach. He knew how far those tentacles could stretch and how much damage they did from a single touch. Already the land was turning a sickly shade of purple, the taint spreading too fast to even try to stop. It was a risk to put so much faith in the tainted arrow, for all he knew it would be entirely useless but he really didn’t have a better plan. If what Ianite had said was true, this would incapacitate her to such a point of weakness that the Darkness would have no reason to continue to use her. It would let her go entirely. At least that was what he hoped. 

Finally, he drew his wings into a glide, spiraling slowly around the entire mass of the Abomination, observing and scouting and formulating a plan. A few of the tentacles reached upward towards him, but weren’t quite long enough. He was out of their reach for now, but as he spiralled lower and lower, that advantage wouldn’t last for long. He searched for the weak spot, the throat and maw of the Abomination. It was the only place an arrow of any kind would pierce, he knew that from when he and Wag had tried to, inadvisably, destroy the Abomination in Ruxomar. As far as he knew, that had been Ianite’s subconscious and her subconscious only, this was different. This time, the Darkness was a contributing factor. Sure they’d fought the Darkness before in different forms, but never like this. 

There! A slight shift of one of the more central arms rewarded him a glimpse of the gaping mouth. He struggled with how to address this in his mind, because in the end it was Ianite. It was His Lady even if before him was a massive eldritch creature. ‘Forgive me My Lady’ He prayed, then angled into a dive. 

~

Tom watched Jordan climb further and further into the air, feeling helpless. He was capable of helping of course but he respected Jordan and his wishes. He couldn’t help but to wring his hands and fidget. He hated not being involved. For what it was worth, Karl looked to be in a similar mental state, his face contorting minutely as his eyes tracked Jordan’s flight. 

“I hate this.” Tom muttered to himself. “He knows I hate sitting on the sidelines. Him and his damn pride.” He huffed, frustration building. “I can’t just sit here!” He looked to Dianite “Can’t we do something? I get that it’s his Goddess and his problem and all that but he’s my friend!” 

“Tom, you have to give him a chance-” Karl started to say but his eyes widened, Tom turning to see what he was seeing. Jordan was diving, wings pinned back and bow in hand. Tom’s heart stopped in his chest, but then, as if in slow-motion, he watched one of the tentacles move directly into Jordan’s flight path. It flicked him away like a minor annoyance and Tom couldn’t help but cry out Jordan’s name. He launched himself in the air, the crack of another firework just behind him. 

By the time Tom got to where Jordan had been hit, Jordan had already managed to right himself and use another firework to regain some height. But now all three of them were in reach of the monster and it seemed to notice, flailing about madly in a crude attempt to strike them. Karl managed to maneuver himself level enough with Tom. 

“What was your plan here?” He shouted over the rush of wind. 

“Help Jordan! Distract the thing I guess!” 

“Any tips on how?!” 

“Nope. Didn’t help deal with it the first time around!”

“I’m gonna get that story out of you if we survive this!” 

“I’ll give it to you mate!”  He called back, Karl giving him a teasing salute before angling his elytra away. Karl wasn’t the best at using them, but he’d picked up some skills after dozens of races. Tom watched him grab his bow and shakily draw, firing at the tentacle closest to him, narrowly dodging when it retaliated.  

Jordan had noticed them by now and even from here Tom could see the displeasure in his eyes. 

“This is my fight Tom!” He yelled as he wove between two tentacles. 

“What’s a new dimension without fighting one of the Gods eh?” Because it was true in the end. In both prior worlds they’d fought one of the Gods. He himself had dealt the final blow to Dianite when they’d fought him in Aethoria, Ianite’s kingdom above the void. They’d fought Mianite in Ruxomar as well. Both times together as a team. It wouldn’t make sense for Jordan to do this on his own. 

“Besides, no harm in Karl and me providing a bit of distraction. Do what you need to Sparklez, we’ll keep it off you.” 

Jordan’s frown wasn’t subtle but as he flew past he said “Thank you.” and Tom knew that it was as good as a blessing. 

They parted, both going in dramatically different angles. Jordan went practically straight up to prepare for another attempt at the trick he’d tried first. Tom, on the other hand, chose to dive down low. He was confident in his own skills at piloting an elytra, he could maneuver through the forest of taint. If they split up like this, Karl peppering it with arrows from the middle, Jordan trying to dive from above and him keeping it busy from below, surely Jordan would have an opening. 

Being surrounded by so much of the taint was bringing back unwanted feelings. The days of paranoia spent digging a moat around the tree while the taint crept closer and closer, the panic to collect cobblestone to build a wall around the town, the desperate hunt for resources to make the flowers to fight it back. Needless to say Tom hated the taint. But what he hated more was seeing his friends suffer. And Jordan had suffered enough because of the Darkness. Tom could swallow his discomfort if it meant helping his friends. 

He took care not to touch anything except with an arrow or the blade of his sword. He’d seen what the taint did to things and he was not planning for it to infect him. He really should have warned Karl but too late now, all he could do was hope that Karl would recognize what was clearly something dangerous and not touch it.

It was worrying that his weapons did almost nothing. They barely broke the flesh, purple sludge weakly oozing from what cuts he managed to make. Thank Dianite that he had infinity on his bow or else he’d have run out of arrows long ago. Fear was starting to creep in though, if their weapons, as strong as they were, did hardly anything, what more could they possibly do? He still had a wand stashed away somewhere, that might help, but he also had no clue where he was compared to their islands. It would take too long to go back and get it. They just had to keep trying. 

He broke free towards what he thought was the center of the Abomination, here the tentacles were smaller, more agile and more dangerous. He’d seen Jordan attempt a dive or two, only to pull back at the last second because his opening had disappeared. Tom risked a glance upward, he could see Jordan circling, preparing for another dive. He had to have something he thought would work or else he wouldn’t keep trying this. 

If Jordan was going for whatever was in the center of this thing, then Tom would sure as hell help him in the best way he could. 

~

Jordan saw glimpses of both Tom and Karl moving in and out of the Abomination’s reach. He’d seen Karl fumble but he’d managed to recover. Tom had hardly left the mass of arms, Jordan only caught brief peeks of his hat or the tip of his elytra. He knew that they were helping though, the way the tentacles no longer focused on him was proof of that. But yet, the Darkness still was keeping the closest arms protecting the maw. He’d missed his chance twice already, the thinner more active tentacles blocking him every time he’d gotten close. He was past the point of melancholy, he was getting mad now. He was tired of fighting this, he was tired of the Darkness ruining everything he cared about in every world. 

The bright red wing of Tom’s elytra was stark against the writhing mass of purple below, he saw Tom chance a look upward, angling his wings as easily as breathing. He had a sword in hand, the diamond blade shimmering with enchantments. This might be his chance, if Tom could distract these arms and give him an opening, Jordan could take the shot. 

“TOM!” Jordan yelled as loud as he could to get the other man’s attention. Tom looked up again and Jordan knocked the tainted arrow with as much care as he could. There was a slight inclination of Tom’s head so Jordan took that as a sign that Tom understood his intentions. 

With a deep breath, Jordan angled downward, determined that this would be the final time. The world blurred around him, his eyes focused on the gaping darkness at the center of the Abomination. The wind rushed past his ears, drowning out all other sounds as he flew faster and faster. The purple mass grew larger as he approached, flashes of red obscured the flailing tentacles, Tom’s glowing blue sword swinging wildly, trying to do as much damage as he could. 

Just a little bit more, just a little bit closer, just a little bit more power. And suddenly the tentacles moved as one, standing straight up then slamming down towards Tom. Without hesitating, Jordan drew back his bowstring. 

“I’m sorry Ianite.” 

The arrow left his bow straight and true, lighting with toxic flame as the fletching slipped past his knuckle. He watched it fly down into the writhing tentacles below, miraculously missing every one of them. Farther and farther away until he had no choice but to pull up his flight, forcing himself to keep from looking back while he questioned if he’d made the right choice. 

Moments later, a heart wrenching wail of agony erupted from below him, every tentacle thrashing. Noxious violet smoke began to fill the air and Jordan could only hope that Tom and Karl had managed to get clear in time. Jordan landed on a nearby mountaintop, the closest safe place of earth, his legs wobbly beneath him. 

He fell to his knees, tears in his eyes as he watched the Abomination dissolve into smoke and dissipate in the air. 

~

Ianite came to in the scattered ruins of the temple. Her memory was foggy and pain filled but some part of her could still feel the void where the power had been. She’d been stretched so full with strength, vast and limitless, but now there was nothing. She was on the ground, but her body would not cooperate enough to let her lift even her head, let alone turn over off of her stomach. She’d never felt this weak in all her life, like every ounce of divine power had bleed away. Deep in her chest was a straining ache, all of her body ached but there was something even further, a pinprick that almost stung with energy. 

The arrow 

The realization hit her in an instant. He’d used the arrow on her. She could feel it not just in her chest but in her heart. What had she done that he, her most loyal follower, had felt the need to use that arrow on her? But then she noticed the dark cloud that had been in her mind for as long as she could remember, was gone. It was like a weight had been lifted and replaced instead by the gentle ache of the arrow. 

A cloud of dust flurried around a pair of boots that filled her vision. She blinked, trying to clear the haze from her eyes and look up but she was just so unbelievably weak she couldn’t even manage that. 

“Milady?” It was him, her Champion. He’d come back to her. There was a heaviness to his voice and with horror she realized it was fear.

“Sparklez?” Her own voice was rough, hoarse with fragility.

“Are you alright?” He was keeping his distance where before she thought they’d always been closer. 

“What happened?” She asked in lieu of answering.

He shifted from one foot to the other, hesitating in answer. 

“Jordan?” She asked, a cough tearing itself from her throat in between syllables 

“The spell, it wasn’t what you thought it was.” 

Four more clouds of dust kicked up and she desperately wanted to look but for the life of her could not move. She’d told him the arrow would weaken a God but she’d not imagined it would be like this. She could feel the slightest remnant of her power but it was like grasping for something just out of reach, smoke drifting through her fingers.  

“Sister.” So, that’s what had happened. Her brothers had intervened. Wait, why was that a thought that crossed her mind? She loved her brothers. Why had her first thought been filled with such malice? 

Jordan crouched down and she nearly cried from the sadness in his eyes. “Please, just someone tell me what happened.” She begged. 

“You told me you remembered parts of your other selves. Do you have any memory of a world where you and I were more than follower and Goddess? The other version of me left the other version of you behind. And your, her, subconscious, she lost control of it. It manifested in the form of a, of a,” he struggled to find the words he was searching for but she realized he’d already said enough. She knew of the world of which he spoke. She’d seen that world through her other selfs eyes. She’s seen the other Jordan leave and felt the acute and painful sadness her other self had felt. She knew that she’d sequestered herself in the End for years, wallowing in her own trauma and that from it, a great darkness had emerged. 

“A monster.” She finished and she could see by the way his jaw tightened, that she was right. “You used the arrow.” 

“I did.” 

She wasn’t sure what to say at first but as she thought about it, there really was only one thing to say if she had become that Abomination. 

“Thank you.” 

“I failed you.” He said, hanging his head. 

“You didn’t. If I became that monstrosity, there was nothing else for you to do.” 

“But milady, the future.”

“We’ll find another way, a safer way. But truly, I’m not sure that I am strong enough to do anything but accept my fate.” The more she thought about, the more true it became. She wanted to rest. All these last years had been spent desperately searching and longing for an escape but now, there was a lightness to her, an apathy towards her impending destiny. Her concern had melted away. The darkness that had clouded her mind had dissipated in the wind along with her fears of what lay ahead. No, he had not failed her. He had saved her. As he always had and always would.

“What are you saying?” His melancholy had morphed to concern, his brows furrowing above his glasses. 

She reached out with what little magic she had to speak to her brothers “I’m ready. It is time for me to rest.” 

Sparklez had a look of fear and confusion in his eyes as Dianite stepped forward to lift her into his arms with care. They’d always been close, the two of them, she’d wondered what circumstances could possibly lead to him being the one to lock her away, but now, she knew. 

“What are you doing? You can’t!” Her Champion began to protest, desperation and turmoil in his voice.

She gave him a small, sad smile. “Thank you My Champion, for your many years of loyalty and your devotion. I have you to thank for saving me in this life and all the rest. I look forward to the day where we meet again, however long it may take.”

“Milady” He breathed and she could see sparkling tears on his cheeks. 

Ianite mustered one last smile for Her Champion and chose the words of her other self for her last goodbye. 

“See you soon, my man.” 

[cityofwexfordsl]

The Fate of Gunne Sitricsson

It was a completely shock to Gunne that he was still alive. Slania Sargenis, in a primal and almost supernatural fury, had managed to overpower him. Yet, she did not kill him, but rather took him in as her prisoner. He was put in chains and was put in the center of their camp at first.  Then, they put him in a semi-burned building which they deemed a suitable ‘prison’ for him. No one spoke to him at first, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He felt humiliated. Not only had Jacob Adair outwitted him, and won against him despite having a smaller army, but he, along with Slania, had bested him. Just as Geir tried to bait Jacob, Jacob and his allies baited him, and unlike Jacob, he fell for it. He spent a long time in that prison of his, wondering if either Geir Lundsson would arrive, or his son Ottir back home in Waterford would go and save him, perhaps at least arrange something with the Adairs and Sargenis.

One night, Gunne had fallen into a slumber and was stirred awake by the sounds of the door opening. Instead of the usual soldier who silently gave him scrap sof food and water every few days, it was Jacob Adair. The door was closed behind him, and he approached, eventually setting down a plate with scraps of meat, and a cup half full of water. Gunne eyed it suspiciously, only to earn a smirk from Jacob.

“If you do not eat or drink on your own, we will have to force feed you. You’ve been told this before, so do not make this harder on us both.” Jacob said as he backed up a few steps, and sat down, his back against the wall by the door.

Gunne silently nodded, and slowly began to eat. The meat was dry, but secretly, he was thankful to eat for the day.

“...Aren’t you planning to kill me? Why have you kept me alive this long?” Gunne asked wearily, looking up at the new Jarl of Wexford.

“I wanted to, but my dearest cousin Slania wanted to prevent another war, so she actually got in contact with your son Ottir and I believe she’s retrieving his response,” Jacob said as he watched Gunne eat, “...Why did you do it?”

Gunne paused and smiled to himself. He finished his meal, and set the plate aside. “The Sargenis are Saxons, people who abhor my people. They did harm to the northerners who were here first, and I’ve seen first hand how they work. Geir wanted your kin out, and I was more than happy to help with that. It was for our survival.”

Jacob crossed his arms and raised a brow, “I was raised with Northerners. Why the fuck would I side with Saxons?”

“You are an ambitious man. I could always see that in you. Ambition makes men dangers,” Gunne replied, “Your cousin who claimed earldom was dangerous. He called upon Saxons, did he not?”

“That cousin is long gone. You should have not mistaken me for him. He made your plight possible. Those of us who remain are not as blinded he was.” Jacob grumbled, looking more irritable.

Gunne smiled bitterly, “You can say that now. But, it happened to even my friend Geir. It’s why he lost this settlement. It will happen to you.”

This prompted a confident grin from Jacob. “I have my wife and my cousin to keep me in check. I’m not worried.”

As if on cue, the door behind Jacob opened and Gunne stared as Slania Sargenis stepped into the room with them. The tall, redheaded woman was just as stunning in plain clothing as she was in armor, but while she looked terrifying on the battlefield, there was a grace to her movements then as she stepped forward and gave Jacob a hug in greeting before handing him a piece of folded parchment. When she turned to him, she nodded.

“Jarl Sitricsson,” Slania greeted him, her calm voice almost soothing to him.

“Uh... hello,” He replied, feeling uncertain, “Did you see my son?”

Slania frowned and Jacob made a face upon reading the paper; a surprised one. 

“You may want to read this yourself,” Jacob told him, handing him the paper, sounding surprised, and also somewhat amused.

Gunne took the letter, to his horror, read Ottir’s response:

Your tactful suggestion surprises me. I appreciate this, but I write to tell you that such negotiation is not possible.

Gunne Sitricsson, the man who calls himself my father, made a decision that has cost Waterford greatly. My warnings and pleas went on deaf ears, and he must pay for the damage he has cost us as well. 

I give you my word not to retaliate upon whatever you decide to do with him. In fact, after you do what you need to do, let us meet formally. I heard you are the right hand of new Jarl of Wexford. Perhaps this is a gift from the gods to allow us to start our relations anew.

Gunne felt a great rage as Jacob reached down and took the paper from him, and Gunne felt his hands go limp as he did, feeling defeated. He looked down, realizing that Ottir truly intended to take the Jarldom from him, and would not go to save him, as a good son should have. There was no sign from Geir or his son. He was there, alone, and at the mercy of his captors.

“What shall we do with our poor prisoner?” Jacob asked Slania, putting an arm around her as she continued to look at Gunne. “He is, after all, your prisoner.”

There was silence in that small room for a while, and finally, Slania declared in placid tone:  “He is to pay for his crimes and bloodshed here in Wexford. I call to sentance him to death.”

Gunne’s eyes widened and as Slania turned to leave, he took a hold of the hems of her tunic, causing her to turn around in startlement. 

“No, please,” Gunne weakly begged, the fear of mortality and death suddenly seizing him, “Lady Slania, please --”

Jacob knelt down and took his hands, forcefully taking them off his cousin’s clothing. “You have no right to fucking touch her, you pathetic piece of shit,” Jacob snarled angrily, “You are to die, Gunne Sitricsson, because this is the fate the gods have written for you. This is your destiny.”

---

Days later, in the middle night, the doors of his prison opened. A large, tattooed man entered with Finnegan Hall, the inn keeper, coming in right behind him. Finnegan unlocked the chains binding his feet to a wall in his prison.

“It’s time, Gunne,” Finnegan told him as the taller man took a hold of his arms roughly, forcing him to stand up. 

“...I can walk.” Gunne mumbled, and he saw Finn nod to his counterpart, causing the man to release him with a shove. Gunne looked over his shoulder to look at the man. He remember seeing the larger man on the battlefield briefly, and there was an odd glint in his eye that made him afraid enough to turn back around. He was led out by Finnegan, followed by the intimidating man.

A crowd of people were outside, waiting for him. Torches were lit, making a path to what seemed to be the middle of the city. Gunne was led down his lit path, with the people of Wexford eying him with disgust, hatred, and fear. The moon was full in the dark sky, and there was a cool breeze that sent a chill down his spine.

As Gunne walked, he could feel his heart beat painfully hard in his chest, and a few times, he felt like fainting, but he was determined to take his sentance like a man worthy of the gods. Eventually they made it to the center of the city, and the torches then formed a circle. At the center was Jacob, with a beautiful dark haired woman holding a baby in one arm, and a young blond boy’s hand with the other. His family, thought Gunne, who to his surprise, had survived Geir’s direct attack.

Standing by the Adairs was Slania Sargenis, and a man who as tall as the giant of a man following him. He had seen him on the battlefield too. Beside the tall man was a very petite woman, who coldly glared at him. He next saw Katy Areli, a woman he once knew when they were much younger, and behind were her parents, and a younger blond man he assumed was her brother. 

They had all come to see him die.

Finnegan led him to a block in the center of the circlr. He and his tattooed companion stepped aside as Jacob walked forward, holding a large sword. He gestured for him to step towards the block, and he did, fighting the urge to vomit as he did. Jacob then motioned for Gunne to kneel by the block, and he did, looking around at the people one last time. He then put his side of his head upon the block. He watched as Jacob’s wife leaned down towards their son, speaking to the boy in his ear. Then, he observed Jacob circle around him, and soon, he heard his footsteps approach him from behind.  He looked towards Slania, who watched intently as she stood directly in front of him alongside Jacob’s family. He then looked towards the roofs of the buildings there, and that’s when he saw it again.

A crow, but it wasn’t the black crow he saw with Jacob a few times before. It was the hooded crow, with grey on its back, and as it perched on a roof directly behind Slania, it stared directly at him. Gunne stared back, and there was a thought that emerged in his head: Our gods are not the only ones here.

Jacob began to speak in a loud, thunderous voice:

“We offer to the gods Jarl Gunne Sitricsson of Waterford. May they find pleasure in our sacrifice.”

Gunne felt the cool sharpness of the edge of the sword Jacob held on his neck. Gunne kept his eyes open, as  he felt the sword’s edge leave his neck. And then there was a swoosh and then ...

He suddenly fell to the ground and felt strange. The world became distant. He heard echoes of cheering as he felt himself be lifted, but he felt so light. He looked to the side slightly and briefly saw the shoulder of the tattooed man who had escorted him before he was raised higher, and higher. He could see Jacob, splattered with blood, smiling up at him.

As echoes became more distant, the world around him became darker. He felt cold, but oddly, the cold didn’t hurt him. It comforted him.

The darkness consumed him, and everything went still.

[hinerdsitscat]

Two Can Play At That Game: The Horror Story Version

While working on the main Two Can Play At That Game story, I received a lot of amazing questions in the comments section that helped me flesh out the world of that AU quite a bit, enough that I probably have enough material for another dozen stories in that ‘verse.

There was one question, however, that I was surprised no one asked: In Chapter 6, what would have happened if Harry had asked the Monks for help?

The short answer is: it would have been a horror story. So I wrote one.

Since it’s a bit off-topic for the main series and extremely grim, I’m posting it here on Tumblr instead of on AO3.

Brace yourself, reader: this is going to hurt.

(cw for consent issues related to memory alteration)

Question: How often do the Monks succeed in getting someone to take their offer?

Answer: Almost every time.

Explanation: The Monks may claim to follow a certain set of rules, but the truth is that they are more than willing to bend the rules if they can get away with it.

Addition: They almost always get away with it.

Question: Why was this the time and place where they chose to reveal themselves?

Answer: Because the world was in danger of ending.

Follow-up Question: But this can’t be the only time. Why now?

Conjecture: The Doctor was present on Earth at the time and vulnerable.

Further Analysis: Some worlds are easier for the Monks to rule than others. Species with short life spans or low reproduction rates are difficult, as it adds risk that the link may not pass through a bloodline.

Time Lords, despite being on the lower end of the reproduction rate spectrum, are very long-lived. Uniquely so.

But Gallifrey would never consent. No one with power there would relinquish it to another, especially an outsider.

(Footnote: Besides, they’re all dead now anyway.)

But there is a very famous Time Lord, one with power, one with absolute conviction, and one whose allegiances lie with a planet other than Gallifrey.

Conclusion: Getting the Doctor’s consent would give the Monks dominion over Earth for thousands of years.

Counter-argument: The Doctor would never agree to such an arrangement.

Correction: The Doctor would almost never agree to such an arrangement.

Recent Development: The Doctor is not the only Time Lord on Earth at the moment.

(Footnote: He’s not even the only Doctor on Earth at the moment.)

Objection: Jenny Smith and Harry Jones are not Time Lords.

Revision: They are still technically Time Lords.

Reminder: The Monks are more than willing to win on a technicality.

Question: If Harry Jones counts as a Time Lord, then wouldn’t the Master need to be the one to consent?

Answer: Yes. Both Harry and the Master would need to consent.

Reminder: Love is consent.

Hypothesis: The only way this will work is if the maniac inside one human loves the maniac inside another human as much as Harry Jones loves Jenny Smith.

Result: It works.

Design: While the Monks would have preferred the Doctor as their link, the Master is still more than suitable for their purposes. He spends almost as much time on Earth as the Doctor does, and therefore the Monks have collected a useful amount of data on him (or her). His willingness to make a deal in desperate circumstances is well known, but so is his tendency towards backstabbing his allies at the first opportunity. He must be dealt with before he has the chance to cause trouble.

Conjecture: If the Monks have the power to hypnotize the population of an entire world, revise history, and orchestrate events in their favour, then opening a locked biodata module would be comparatively easy.

Opportunity: It is also comparatively easy to rewrite the memories of a Time Lord when her memories are stored in a convenient external location free of her usual psychic defenses.

Analysis: The Master is at his most vulnerable when he has gotten what he wanted.

Conclusion: So the Monks give him what he wants more than anything else.

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

Observation: 

It would be easy to say that they were lucky. Easy, but not correct: luck had nothing to do with it.

No one on Earth has ever needed luck. That’s what the Monks are for. 

“Blessed” might be a better term. The Monks have given humanity so much: guidance, resources, power…

But more generously than any of that, they gave humanity the Caretakers.

The Monks’ representatives on Earth, who watched the dawn of humanity and guided its progress over thousands of years. Two beings from another world: ancient and wise and mighty enough to be everything that this world and its inhabitants would ever need.

There was no need for gods or religions. The Caretakers were undeniably present and active on Earth.

Worship them carefully. Invoke them at your own risk.

The Master was the one that you called upon when your back was up against the wall and your only other option was death. Granted, the outcome might still involve you (and everyone you’ve ever met) dying horribly, but slim odds were better than no odds at all.

The Doctor was the one that you called upon when you were somehow more desperate than that. You might get everything you ever wanted… but the cost would be higher than you could ever comprehend. You’d give up things you never even knew you had, things you never thought it possible to lose.

And you would be grateful.

The Doctor would drop out of the sky and tear down your world and all you would be able to say at the end of it was “thank you.”

The Master was capricious and ruthless, but at least he could be reasoned with if you caught him on a good day.

There was no reasoning with the Doctor.

Most of the prayers and invocations to the Doctor were pleas to not be noticed. 

The Earth was full of stories and legends that, before the Doctor arrived, used to be places and people.

There was a town that had once been the epicenter of decades of unrest, and one day the Doctor arrived with the intention of helping. That aid was not wanted by everyone present, however, and tensions rose until someone made a mistake.

A very foolish mistake.

The Doctor’s blood had barely hit the ground when the Master arrived.

That town is no longer there. Neither is that region. Neither is that country.

No, not destroyed. Not burned or nuked or anything like that.

It was unmade. 

It never existed.

But the story remains. The Master made sure of that.

The Earth was as much of a gift to them as they were a gift to the Earth.

“We were so close to falling apart, back then,” she reminds him. “All of our rivalries and petty jealousies… they would have torn us to pieces if the Monks hadn’t arrived on Gallifrey and taken us to Earth.”

She calls it their “garden”—one that they have tended together for thousands of years, wearing so many different faces.

And for every single one of those years and every single one of those faces, they have loved one another: through beauty and decay, age and injury, madness and passion… always them, always together.

All thanks to the Monks.

It would be easy to say that they were lucky. Easy, but not correct: luck had nothing to do with it.

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

Discussion:

The link always knows, to some extent, what has truly occurred; however, this knowledge takes effort to keep in one’s conscious mind.

It is very easy to bury this knowledge if the link does not want to remember what has happened.

Or if they do not want to remember what they have done.

He does not want to remember what he has done. He does not want to remember what he has done to her with the bargain that he made.

It is a cruel contradiction: he would not have been able to do this if he didn’t love her, but how could he do something like this to the person he loves?

The truth is monstrous. So is he.

So is his love.

This is why he does not want to remember what he has done… and besides, he has always been more comfortable with lies.

So he rises in the mornings, kisses his beloved, tends the garden they were given, and tells himself that this is a happy story.

Even though we all know that it isn’t.

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 107

[Date: 28/03, 3:41 AM GMT - 28/03, 4:33 AM GMT]  

[Direct continuation of pt 106]

jayyyyyyyy: “actually now that I think about it-- you're allowed to talk to us, but the rest of the court isnt. any idea why?”

Duke: “Today is the only exception on discord, the crown said that we may only do an introduction and answer any questions you few may have! curiosity when running rampant can be dangerous you see. With regards to twitter however, the truth is that we are simply more mature.”

jayyyyyyyy: “definitely seems like it-- you guys seem to be a lot more compact with how you respond to things”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke do you remember meeting crown? just curious!”

Duke: “Do not tell the others I told you this but many times I have crept down and listened to the scoldings our siblings have given each other, the brutish way they bicker and the consequences of their actions. Poor Baroness, her dress I mourn for! the Crown understands that despite us being young and despite us being newer members of the family we certainly have much more of a handle on things than the other poor lions do.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Oh”

jayyyyyyyy: “do you like dresses, Duke?”

Duke: “Meeting Crown? it was a summer's day, Ibelieve. My sister and Iwere having an outing at a beach with our family and we went off to explore and then...... Hm. It is quite interesting how joyous occasions can just slip past the mind! how time goes so quick when you are having fun it seems as though Icannot quite recall.”

jayyyyyyyy: “that-- I. hm”

Kate 👑: “Oh, the beach sounds lovely! I've never been, unfortunately- I'd get too many weird stares...”

Duke: “Dresses I do find intriguing! I prefer trousers and shirts though - much easier to clean and outfits do not come to ruin if a seam of either garment rips.”

jayyyyyyyy: “oh! I was asking because you said you mourn for her dress?”

emuhlee: “Oh Duke, what kind of music do you prefer?”

Duke: “Oh beaches can be quite lovely! the water usually is so soothing and lovely. Kate, perhaps one day my sister and I may escort you? there are private beaches although I am unaware where the closest one may be.”

jayyyyyyyy: “I’d love to go to the beach-- its always seemed so nice, but unfortunately water burns me :')”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I’ve never been allowed to any beahes but from what I’ve heard they're lovely!”

Duke: “I adore multiple composers, it is hard to say! Niccolo Paganini my rank among my preferred if it may help.”

Raeva: “I've never been to beach but I have been to the coast and watched the waves crash and turn.”

Kate 👑: “I've been considering... filing down my antlers so I don't get weird looks, so maybe I can go out in public- but I'd love to maybe come with you one day!”

[jayyyyyyyy: “oh! I was asking because you said you mourn for her dress?”]

Duke: “And I do mourn for her dress. It was crafted with such care and deocre. Beautiful dresses are already difficult to maintain and it is a shame when one falls due to petty arguments.”

jayyyyyyyy: “aah I see”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke, how old are you and your sister? just curious!”

Duke: “I feel selfish for taking so much time and attention onto myself, do you have any interesting things about yourselves you would care to share?”

Duke: “My sister and Iare seventeen years of age.”

jayyyyyyyy: “oh! uh”

jayyyyyyyy: “well, uh.. I’ma full enderman, if you havent guessed already. a few people have commented on my eyes being green instead of purple though :]”

Kate 👑: “I mean...I have antlers like a deer... I don't know if that would be considered interesting...”

S T A L: “I'm not quite sure. Ithink I'm a human if that helps”

Duke: “These are quite interesting things! Tell me, jay are you able to teleport?And Kate do you grow velvet?”

Raeva: “I like your antlers Kate even if you tried to gouge me with them once~”

Duke: “There is no shame in being human, it is what my sister and I are afterall!”

Big G (they/them): “17 yrs old gang pog”

jayyyyyyyy: “I can teleport! Ihave a lot of control on where I teleport to, though I also tend to panic teleport if it gets to that point”

Big G (they/them): “Also I am definitely not human, which is interesting I'd say.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I have fox ears and a tail but sometimes my ears play music against my will- and I have like black holes for eyes- not sure if that's interesting but its something abt me :/”

Duke: “Oh, that is intriguing! how does it feel to teleport?”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Sorry I haven't spoken much, I am more of a listener; but I'll properly introduce myself. The name I go by is Moth. I am also an enderman... Sort of. Long story. Green eyed as well :]”

Duke: “Your ears play music?”

Duke: “Oh goodness, so many endermen! It is a pleasure to meet you, Moth. I am Duke.”

jayyyyyyyy: “it feels.. well, at first it felt, erm.. strange? it upset my stomach a little, moving within the folds of space and all. now all it feels like is as if someone flicked my stomach”

Kate 👑: “They do... it's such an awful experience. I always look like I came right out of a horror movie...”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Pleasure to meet you as well, Duke.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “uhh yeah, my fox ears sometimes switch from normal to mechanical and play music- I don't have control over it though so it gets annoying at times

like sometimes I'll be half asleep and my ears are like "mmmm melohi go brr" and then I cant sleep”

Duke: “You all are such interesting individuals! Teleporting sounds like such fun but also like such pain, Jay. It sounds so unpleasant and yet it is as natural to you as breathing is to I.

Your ears truly are a mystery though Ren! Do you know what causes it to be as such, or have you suffered from this affliction since childhood?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “like dont get me wrong mellohi is a poggers song but it's unsettling when its playing in a dark room at 2 am”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “uhh I have an idea of why ears switch.. although I’m not sure as to why they only play music-

and I mean I technically have had them since  I was a child but I wasnt born with them-”

Duke: “Was it a curse?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “depends on what you mean by that..

Duke: “Nothing bad, I assure you. I am simply just curious.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “if you mean like someone said some magic words and now I have to go on some quest to get rid of it, then no

but I see them as a curse or burden”

Kate 👑: “I'd take those ears over antlers any day...”

Duke: “My sincerest apologies to the both of you, it sounds painful.”

Raeva: “We all look like we crawled out of hell somedays.”

Big G (they/them): “lol”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I currently look like I crawled out of my hell tbh-”

Duke: “You should see me in the morning before I had my first cup of tea, I am truly a sight to behold!”

emuhlee: “You've mentioned tea a few times, what's your go-to type of tea?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I've been wearing the same clothes for like- how long has it been- for like 2 weeks because these are the only clothes that fit me rn, god there's so much dirt”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “yeah what type of tea person r u??”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Ren, do we need to go get you more clothes?”

Duke: “My preferred blend is Da Hong Pao. It's rich blend is truly something worth tasting.”

emuhlee: “maybe there are doll clothes laying around for you, ren/j”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “*normal clothes wouldn't fit me anyways we'd have to get van manto shrink them-”

Duke: “Have you ever crafted your own garments?”

[An argument breaks out between two of the server members that continues alongside this conversation]

Duke: “Getting in contact with a tailor may be in your best interest. While the needlework will have to be fine due to your small size the amount of fabric you use up would be less than a yard, likely evening out the cost.”

Duke: “Oh dear me. Be kind to your flock members, they are all you have.”

Kate 👑: “This is what I meant when I said that some of them don't appear to like the family, Duke...”

Duke: “The grandfather clock ticks away and I know I must leave soon. It is a shame Kate seeing your words proven true. Before I leave would you all enjoy a story?”

emuhlee: “A story sounds nice. Do indulge us?”

Duke: “"Do you love us?" asks the star to the moon, "Do you love us as you love the sun?"

"No," said the moon, for it could not lie to the ones it loves so preciously, "I love you more."

"Do you love the sun, then?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then how can you love us more?"

"Because," the moon said, gazing down at earth, "I love the ocean most of all."

Goodnight little sheep, I hope you all have sweet slumbers and lovely dreams. I myself will be having tea before bed, so I do hope you indulge in something nice before you sleep. I do hope you cease your arguing to find peace.”

[love-killed-the-superstar]

tw for mentions of death and injury for this one lads!! but on the flip side of that, i finally wrote actual cassunzel interactions, yaay

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 6 - FIGHT/BATTLE

Cassandra tries not to worry Rapunzel too much.

If she had it her way, Rapunzel would never have to know about a single dangerous situation she ends up in, whether its by accident or diving in with both feet. Unfortunately scars are telling, and if Cass doesn't give her an honest play-by-play Rapunzel will be up til the early hours in agonies over the dangerous life she is living out on the road. So, like a good girlfriend should, Cass measures the kind of exploits she should tell Rapunzel about in her letters with whether or not she has sustained injury. Anything more serious than a scratch and she'll tactfully leave it a secret until the next time she's within the palace walls.

So when she runs into Vex on the road a few miles north of Vardaros, she figures this will just be another one of those events that she'll paraphrase in a strait-laced letter to Raps. Perhaps she will share some good-natured sparring with the townsfolk, pal around with Vex, taste-test some fresh honey from Quaid; all the fun, low-stakes stuff. She only intends on stopping over in Vardaros to stock up on supplies and take it from there – but upon her and Vex arriving back at the sheriff's office, she's met with the sight of three men hanging from the bridge overhead, being fished down by stricken townspeople simply wanting to remove the sight lest it scare away travelling patrons.

“Raiders,” Quaid says solemnly from behind her, as Cass watches on in muted horror. Vex strides ahead, avoiding looking at the sight altogether. “We chased a group of them out of town two weeks ago. Yesterday they struck again, so I sent a trio of our new town guard to scope out their base. And, well... it looks like they wanted to send a message home this time.”

Cass feels sick to her stomach. She's no stranger to how fucked up the world can be, especially since striking out on her own, but this is something she can't simply stand by and watch.

“What's your next move, Captain?” she asks quietly, following him towards the sheriff's office. From somewhere beyond her line of sight, she hears a man crying as his husband's body is lifted down.

“We fight, of course,” he says gravely. He takes a seat at his desk and mops his brow tiredly. “But with three of our men down, I'm not sure how well we'll fare in the fight. Our town guard is small as it is, and those raiders are ruthless. But the people of Vardaros don't back down. Not anymore.”

“I... I could write back to Corona,” Cass says quickly, grasping at straws for a way to aid the situation. “The guard there is huge, I'm sure Eugene wouldn't mind deploying a dozen or so soldiers to assist...”

“Wow. And here I was, thinking you were the only one of your friends that understood how things work here,” Vex snorts, as the front door slams shut behind her. She stalks past Cassandra, leaning back against the wall with a deep scowl.

Quaid shakes his head and smiles wanly at her suggestion. “I don't need to tell you of all people that Corona to Vardaros is at least a four day journey on horseback. We have no time to waste. The next time they come knocking, we have to be prepared to fight, no matter the cost.”

“Then I'll fight.” Owl hoots nervously on her shoulder, and Fidella, though resting just outside, looks equally perturbed by the notion of sticking around. “Captain, I have been training for my whole life. Whatever these raiders have planned, I can at least help even the score.”

He watches her with narrowed, haunted eyes. “Your life will be at risk. This is no game, Cassandra.”

“Of course it isn't! People are being killed, Captain, you can't seriously expect that I would sit back and watch this happen?”

“I only insist that you understand what you're getting yourself into, Cassandra.” He folds his arms, regarding her in silence for several dragging seconds, all while Vex mutters some choice expletives under her breath. “If you understand that and still wish to fight alongside us... I would be more grateful than you'll ever know.”

“I'll do it,” Cass promises. “You can count on me.”

…

Things move quickly after that. Vex gathers the townsfolk in the square to rally the locals into fighting for what's right. The people of Vardaros, beyond infuriated by the hangings that morning, are already fired up and ready to fight. For her part, Cass runs through basic drills – calling for everyone to bring forth their weaponry, teaching basic attack stances, offensive and defensive manoeuvres, everything she thinks she can squeeze into an afternoon. The idea that she is potentially sending these people to their deaths depending on how well she's taught them is nothing short of terrifying; but Quaid seems relieved at her assistance, and takes the valuable time to discuss strategy with his remaining guard.

They will defend Vardaros at any cost. They surrender to nobody. And Cass can't help thinking, despite her willingness to fight alongside them, that this mindset coupled with the minimal planning and inexperienced fighters is how entire civilisations get wiped off the map.

That night, while the townspeople grab a few precious hours of sleep, uncertain of when exactly the raiders are planning on striking next, Cass finds herself restless. Despite Vex and Quaid's dual pessimism, she finds herself reaching into her satchel for a pen and paper anyway.

Hey Raps,

It's funny that I should write to you now, when I never like to worry you on my journey. But Vardaros is in trouble, and I think that if you wake Eugene as soon as you get this, send out a dozen or so men as soon as you can, you might just be able to help. The town is being threatened by raiders, and it's bad. I'm going to fight with them, but I don't know that we'll prevail. Not to be an alarmist, but please, send some assistance. I really think we'll need it.

Captain Quaid believes that Vardaros is beyond outside help, but all I've been able to think about today is something my father once said to me: 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' Well, here I am, trying to do SOMETHING. I only hope that it's enough.

I love you, and I don't want these people to die. I'll write again soon.

Sincerely yours, Cassandra.

“Owl,”  she murmurs, so not to wake Vex, lightly snoring against her shoulder. Owl looks up, eyes blinking rapidly. “I need you to get this to Corona as fast as you can. You know how important this is.”

She binds the letter and hands it over, and Owl bows his head a little, meeting her gaze. There's an unspoken feeling there – be safe, don't you dare get yourself killed – and then with a quiet hoot he launches himself from her arm, making his exit through a window pane missing its glass. She watches him until he leaves her sight and then exhales.

Well, if she does end up dying tomorrow, at least she can do so knowing she tried her hardest to help this town. And, a thought equally as comforting, she can accept dying as long as Raps knows she loves her.

All that's left to do now is shut her eyes and wait for sleep to take hold.

…

A lot of things happen that day, in the battle that historical records will one day refer to as The Great Strike Back of Vardaros. Nearly three hundred people lose their lives. Most of them, in a twist of events, happen to be the raiders.

The landslide victory comes without the help of any outside soldiers, save for one brave drifter who, despite the dismissal of the the captain, sent out a pleading message to the nearby kingdom of Corona the night before, begging for reinforcements. It doesn't bring any soldiers in time to assist in the fight; however, they turn up in spades to help the clean-up operation and bury the dead, all in awe at how well a small, untrained town of people could hold its own just out of sheer spite towards the enemy.

In Cassandra's case, the majority of this information is learned days later – when she awakens, weak and confused, in a dimly lit room that she soon comes to realise is one of the town's makeshift hospitals for casualties of the battle.

It takes a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, but when she finally tilts her head to the left hand side of her Cassandra spots a petite figure slumped back in a chair beside her, chest rising and falling as she dreams.

Rapunzel.

Cass lies there in stunned silence, unable to peel her eyes away from the sight of her girlfriend dozing beside her. It's almost enough to distract from the pain she's in, but as she grows more and more alert it's glaringly clear to her that something bad happened.

“Cass, you're awake!” Vex bounds over to her bed and Rapunzel snorts a little at the noise, eyes blinking sleepily, opening and closing a few times before ultimately closing again, losing their battle with the tiredness plaguing her head. The relief on Vex's face only makes it more obvious to Cass that the injury must have been pretty damn awful. “God, I – shit, it's good to see you're awake. How's your wound?”

“I... hmm. It hurts,” she grits out. “I, uh, don't really remember anything.”

“Yeah, I bet. You, uh, got hit over the head pretty hard in the fight. And, er... got yourself impaled on the way down.”

“Well, fuck.” Cass doesn't really know what else she's supposed to say to that. Now that Vex mentions it, she does remember the searing pain from the blow to the head. She's just grateful she was too out of it from the blunt force trauma alone to feel the impalement. “God. How'd I make it out of that one alive?”

“Quaid said you're just someone who isn't ready to die yet,” Vex says with a shrug. “Sounds like a total cop-out to me, but you're alive, so who cares how?”

“Seriously, Vex, I should probably be dead right now.”

“Then shut up and just be thankful that you're not.” Vex's eyes narrow, her patience for Cassandra's bewilderment waning already. “We patched your abdomen wound up fine, and we gave you some stitches on the back of your head too. That was like two days ago, though.”

Cass blanches. “Shit. Two days?” She glances over to Rapunzel, who is only just starting to wake up properly. “And when did Raps get here?”

“Few hours after the battle was over. She came in this huge balloon thing, you wouldn't believe it. She said the captain had to stay back to watch over Corona but she still brought like, eight guards with her in the balloon to help us treat the injured. Rapunzel barely left your side once she found your bed, though.” A sly smile creeps up on her. “Must be nice, having your girlfriend come to watch over you.”

“Can it, you.” Cass can barely keep her eyes off of Rapunzel, though, as she yawns and stretches. “Raps?”

“Mhmm... Vex?”

“That wasn't me,” Vex says flatly. With that, Rapunzel's eyes snap open and she whirls around to see Cass.

“CASS!! Oh my gosh, Cassandra!”

Before Cass even has a chance to try to sit up Rapunzel leaps from her seat, tackling her with such a force that it sends a spike of pain through her stomach, in what she guesses is the sensation of her wound being jostled. Raps squeezes her tight, rocking a little. Next come the kisses, peppered all over her face as she laughs weakly in protest. Vex makes an exaggerated puking sound effect, and Cass waves her off with a roll of her eyes. But as Rapunzel goes back to hugging her, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra's neck, she feels her body begin to tremble.

“Hey,” murmurs Cass, reaching up to rub Rapunzel's back in a soothing motion. “Hey, come on, it's all right.”

Rapunzel shakes her head, and her voice is wet when she speaks. “It's not all right! Cass, you could have died! You've barely been conscious for two days, my god!”

“Raps...” Cass gently steers her back by the shoulders and Rapunzel watches her, large eyes brimming over with tears. Reaching up, Cass thumbs them away and tries to smile in a way that will convince Rapunzel that she really is okay. “I'm all right now, really. Sure, my head is a little sore and I'll need to take it easy until my wound heals up, but look. I'm here with you now.”

Rapunzel sniffles and moves back, nodding. She pulls her chair right up close to the bed before sitting down again, reaching over to take Cassandra's hand in her own and turning to Vex.

“Vex. Would you mind, um... giving us a moment?”

“Oh, no problem, I was feeling queasy anyway,” she drawls. Despite her tone, Vex flashes them a small smile and nod before leaving to check on a man four beds to Cassandra's right. Cass exhales and squeezes Rapunzel's hand, pushing herself upright into a semi-sitting position. It's painful on her torso, but she just feels dizzier trying to hold this conversation lying down.

“I'm sorry for worrying you. I... I didn't think you would come, though. I only meant that we needed back-up out here.”

“I didn't come on official business, Cass,” Rapunzel begins, reaching up to wipe at her eyes again. “I mean, I came to help, of course, but – but god, Cass, how could you send that to me and not expect me to freak out?!”

“Uh.” Cass chews her lip. “I don't know. I hoped you'd overlook the part about me being there and just, uh, focus on the part about rallying the troops.”

Rapunzel sighs loudly, eyes still shining with tears, and Cass feels her stomach drop. Geez, Raps is still mad.

“Cassandra,” Rapunzel says slowly, as if to spell it out for her, “you wrote that you desperately needed reinforcements. You wrote that you were going to fight, but you weren't confident that you would win. And you actually wrote the words 'I love you'. In ink. In a letter that you knew I would be showing other people.”

Cass nods just as slowly.

“...Cass, it sounded like a goodbye! Don't you think? How did you expect me to – to just stay put, in Corona, knowing you were here and you might be dying?!”

“I said I'd write again soon,” Cass protests, but it's a weak defence and she knows it. “That part was supposed to be reassuring. I didn't want you to worry, but-”

“But you don't get to decide for me if I should be worried, Cass! We are in love, and if you think for one moment that I wouldn't come to you if I had even an inkling that you could be hurt...!”

“I know,” croaks Cass. “I know, Raps, shit. I know. I'm – I'm sorry.”

Now it's her turn to well up. She looks away, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, trying to make it look like she's fiddling with her hair. Rapunzel lets her keep her pride.

“I didn't come all this way to yell,” Rapunzel promises. “...Well, all right, I did a tiny bit. Cass, I know I can't tell you to stop doing this, I just want you to be careful.”

“I am careful, Raps, but these people were in trouble. Do you think I should have stayed out of it?”

“No,” sighs Rapunzel, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Of course not. Even if I did it's not your way of doing things, I know that. I would have done the same. It doesn't stop me from wishing you would value your life a little more, though.”

“I swear to you, I don't plan on getting myself killed when I get into fights like this,” Cass emphasises, reaching up to cup Rapunzel's cheek. “I'm sorry for scaring you.”

She leans forward and, with Rapunzel's eyes flickering to her lips receptively, kisses her softly. Rapunzel returns the enthusiasm and Cass realises, in a real moment of panic, that she might never have kissed Rapunzel again.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Rapunzel whispers, before kissing Cass again. “I love you so much.”

“I'm really sorry,” Cassandra utters, trembling as Rapunzel pulls her in close. “And I love you too, Raps.”

[killmebutneverinsultme2]

Rules for mobile (Pinned Post)

The Code

Success. I’ve sufficiently pestered the wench to make me a blog, much to the cost of a certain behorned mischief god whose presence I must share. Follow the rules below, and there’ll be smooth sailin’, savvy?

This be an exceptionally selective blog. I was me mun’s first ever muse yonks back and I’ve pestered her into writing me again, BUT, she’s horribly pressed for time. Partners will likely be very few, else ones doubling up with Loki’s. Anyone is welcome to approach and enquire, but she and I will be leaning toward those either from me own universe or crossovers with which she’s highly familiar and characters in whom she’s especially interested. Ye have been warned.

Replies are like to be slow, up to a few weeks at most.

Partners must be 18+. Various themes of an adult nature may be found here. Sexual things will be tagged ‘#filthy pirate’ with whatever level/variety of sin I deem them. More details below.

Behave. There shall be no rudeness, no passive aggression, no hate, no censorship or generally being a twit. Do I make meself clear?

The Code - Extended (below the cut)

Hi, guys. I’m Pirate (oddly known as this long before I made Jack a tumblr). Here are my more detailed rules and guidelines for writing with me on this blog, though the absolute basics are at the top as, honestly, it’s never easy to remember everyone’s requirements.

Jack is a sideblog. If you’re being followed by a benevolentgodloki that means I’m following you back. I don’t need us to be mutuals (both following each other) for us to write together, but there is a greater chance of us having a partnership if we’re letting each other know we’re interested.

How I Roll

I note myself as ‘highly selective’. This isn’t to be an elitist bugger, it’s because we all only have a limited amount of time we can put in. I want to write what I enjoy with people I enjoy. I am married with two attention-seeking cats, two jobs, a slow-brewing intended writing career and a video game addiction.

Asks/Memes - I will usually answer these no matter who they are from but I may or may not turn them into a thread I intend to keep. Some memes are very much designed to be something that continues so context can be key. If you would like to know in advance whether I intend to answer and/or keep something, please do pop me a message and I will be kind and honest.

My Threads - While Jack’s blog is still exciting and new, I’m being a bit all over the place with who and what I reply to depending on which way Jack’s.. compass.. is pointing. I do have a rolling turn order that I adhere to (to the point that I can genuinely tell you who is next at any given moment) but it’s all piled in with Loki’s threads, meaning I can take a few weeks to get round everything. Every partner gets one of their threads answered within that ‘round’ and then I go round again. However, when I’m really into something/finding something easy to pop back, I treat myself to spamming certain threads or partners at my whim. I use rpthreadtracker.com to maintain what I have. 

I will remind partners of threads that have not been replied to for more than three months. If I do not do this, I have either forgotten/lost it myself, I’m not too fussed about keeping it at that stage, or you were absent for a long period of time. 

My Style - I will write in both past or present tense depending on partner preference. My default is past but I like either. Please kick me if I screw up and write the wrong one. I prefer using regular size font but I will make mine small on replies to people who use the smaller so that it looks neat. I will often match partners’ lengths and some formatting details e.g. bolding dialogue, but I struggle with doing novella-length posts for reasons below.

I have a bugbear to admit about role-play. What we call splicing. A good half of my partners write this way so I’m not about to tell everyone to stop but if you’re someone who does this, you will occasionally run into some frustrations when writing with me. ‘Splicing’ is when you retrospectively write dialogue or actions as having previously happened during your partner’s last post. These things are fine when they’re passive i.e. your character muttered them, thought them or you were writing what your character was doing at the time because that’s pretty much essential. The trouble comes usually when my characters talk a lot/ask rhetorical questions and partners choose to answer every single one despite the fact my character carried on talking. I know it’s an ass that I have talkative muses and you really want to respond to every point/get a word in, but putting words and actions into the past effectively godmods my muse into accepting they happened. If you feel your muse would have full-on interjected midway through their ramble, please ask me to edit my post/stop it at that point. Otherwise if you do prefer to splice, my muse will only respond to whatever it is your character did or said last in their post. This is one of the reasons I can’t write novella, because often there is only so much you can write before you’re stepping into the territory of changing what went before and not allowing your partner to do anything about it.

TL;DR don’t ever worry about your post being too short for me. If it’s one sentence long but it’s because something fast-paced is happening, I won’t be miffed.

Shipping! - no not that kind of ship, Jack. I love shipping. Ships all around. Let’s face it, romance can be one of the most exciting reasons we bother writing. I am open to a lot of ships for Jack, practically all of them. Yes, even that one. I will do downright nasty, toxic, horrible stuff, savvy? It’s fiction and Jack is a great indulgence for bad things happening to him as much as good. That said, of course don’t force something on him without prior agreement between us. Well, I mean, your muse can try and accost him and see what he does, just don’t expect him to definitely reciprocate. Jack and I are bi/pansexual. We’re open to everything. I will admit a heavy lean toward m/m but, that said, Jack is extremely fond of the ladies, more so than Loki. I am very into Sparrington especially.

Not Safe For Ye Olde Work

Sliding down from the above topic, I enjoy the occasional smutting. It is not a requirement from my partners. In fact, I’m warming very much to fading to black depending on the context/mood/if things feel a bit repetitive. I do feel a touch more comfortable with partners who don’t need that boundary but as I’ve recently figured ‘if it needs a cut, then it’s smut’ I know when to skip on.

Saucy material will go under cuts/Read More’s and be tagged as mentioned above with ‘filthy pirate’. Additional tags will be based on the citrus scale: ‘lime’ for general grabbing, ‘lemon’ for full on sexual content and ‘grapefruit’ if things get extra kinky. I will tag things such as ‘rape tw’ or ‘noncon tw’ or ‘dubcon tw’ where necessary. Please blacklist any or all of these at your leisure, or search them if you fancy :U I do NOT tag these as ‘ns.fw’ because tumblr just completely hides them from being searchable which is useless for my partners.

OC’s - Due to my time constraints I am extremely picky when it comes to OC’s. This is a good fandom for well-thought-out muses and I know firsthand how hard it is to make headway as an OC in the RP world. However, I also understand that for people like me, I want to dip in on this site to mostly play with the characters and worlds I’m really absorbed in and ship my weaselly black guts out. Some people have more time than others to really give your OCs the time and love they deserve. Unless I’ve played with you a long time and I really like the cut of your and your muse’s jib, it’s very unlikely I’ll bite. Apologies! The same goes for crossover muses from fandoms I’m unfamiliar with, but I will let you know if that’s the case.

Limits

Threads - I don’t have a strict limit on how many to have per person but please bear in mind that the more of these you have with me the longer it will take me to get to a particular one (unless I’m spamming it back and forth). This is more a mun/muse context how many I accept.

Exclusives/mains - I don’t do these although I may consider having a maximum of 3 or 4 of one muse depending on activity levels and to ensure plots don’t get mixed up or attention feel unfairly balanced.

Triggers/squicks - I don’t like body horror e.g. graphic detail of squishy bits having bad things happen to them. I’m writing a pirate so there’s absolutely allowed to be elements of torture/violence, just don’t stab him in the eye or chop bits off him. One torture-related thing sends me into a complete freakout which I’ll discuss with partners if we’re doing a thread of that ilk as needed. Kink-wise I’m not into mpreg, A/B/O or infantilism or toilet things. Just ask me/Jack if you’re after something XD

Who I Am/What I Need From You

Being yourself is the most important thing and I promise I am not a scary person (usually). We’re only human and it’s natural that we’ll get along better with some rather than others. This is more to give you a gist of the sort of person I am and who I gel with best.

So I’m a shy hermit at the best of times. I’m trying to be better at engaging and enthusing with partners over our threads because I realise more than ever this does keep things alive and make for a more enjoyable experience. I’m not always great at it. I work best with people who are patient and don’t worry too much on what I think of them and their writing, with people who are happy to keep threads going for the longhaul rather than keep dropping everything before I’ve had the time to get to the next post, and most especially people who accept that fiction =/= reality. I do need a certain level of quality, which doesn’t always mean perfect grammar, but it must be coherent, fun and creative. I like a relaxed approach, sharing mutual enjoyment in silly fantasy world sandboxes as escapism from (and exploration of) this complicated world we live in.

If you managed to read all of this, have a drink (even if it’s water). You’re a diamond. 

Pirate xxx

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DIANA! You’ve been accepted for the role of DIANA. Admin Rosey:  There is a freshness and charm that Daphne brings to everything - her interviews, her conversations, her reasoning. This decision was not at all an easy one because both applications highlighted different aspects of her that we love and adore. But ultimately it was this voice, this distinctly Daphne voice that brought the decision to a close. She makes you fall in love with her that much more. I can't to see what she does when you bring her to life on the dash!  Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Diana

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | y’all know, but I’m about to graduate college + be unemployed for a bit, so I’ll have writing time.

Timezone | PST

How did you find the rp?  | Div Stanning since 2017.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Castora’s account.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Daphne Adèle Allard / Diana

What drew you to this character? | Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Daphne knows this, even if the crown she wears is a halo of thornless roses – and she fucking loves that halo, no matter what the cost is. What draws me to Daphne is that even though she’s an impeccable pickpocket, even though she loves power, and even though she’s got plenty of vices despite her cherubic features,  Daphne loves. She knows what it’s like to suffer (even if it’s not like what others have gone through) and she wants to do something. She wants to help, but how much of that is her ego and how much of that is genuine is ambiguous. There’s that line between a good person and someone who does  good deeds that’s very blurred when it comes to Daphne, and that fascinates me. She looks like someone who would get chewed up and spit out by the mafia, but her light shines brighter. In some ways, she’s like an anti-Marie Antoinette; she’s got that aesthetic, but she’s too bright to do a “Let them eat cake” moment (even though I know she didn’t actually say that) or play peasantry at a fancy cottage. She’s privileged and beloved and smart enough to know how to combine the two.  I also find it fascinating that she almost wishes that she was that princess in an ivory tower – so everyone could be safe – and that while she embodies a little of that trope, she’s this really interesting reversal, where she’s both the princess and the dragon. There’s this interplay between the corruption of power and the trope that the people who don’t want power are the ones best suited for it; Daphne is not as angelic as she looks. She wants to save. She wants to be a heroine. She is hesitant of the power she wants to wield because she knows herself too well. But at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with wanting power. Power and goodness is a zero-sum game, especially in Verona. There’s also something relatable about Daphne that I really like, as her experience with getting bullied is reminiscent of my own. She’s incredibly beautiful, incredibly rich, incredibly powerful, and incredibly adored, but she’s still relatable, or at least, knows how to manage her image so that she comes across as aspirational and human, as well. Also, I adore that she’s 31. She’s got some naivete, but she’s a grown-ass woman with her own ambitions. In addition, her mob name is my name, and I’m shallow.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | (1)  A CROWN FOR YOUR PRINCESS – Daphne doesn’t look like it, but she’s got ambition. Right now, she has not let the fact that’s sees a member of organized crime taint her. She is deified, but there is yet to be blood on her hands. I think it would be interesting for Daphne’s mask of heroism to be pushed when she has to do something truly horrible, truly unforgivable in the name of the Capulet’s. Her desire to do good with her desire to get (and keep) her power at war with one another is interesting to me, and I think pushing her to define her moral compass (or lack thereof) and figuring out where she wants to go in the mob power structures could be interesting to play out. (2) A HEART FULL OF LOVE? - Daphne is a lover. She wants love. She wants it to be real. But she’s also engaged to a man that she doesn’t love and is fascinated by Renzo to the point that he’s described as her Achilles’ Heel. Beau can help her get everything she wants – on the paper, they are a fairytale couple – but he doesn’t inspire passion in her yet; at the same time, she would be upset if he were to step out on her. I think it could be interesting to see Daphne’s own feelings for Beau become more real and have to deal with the implications of real love. Because Daphne wants power. She wants to be a heroine. She wants to be adored. But all she’s let the world see is a mask, a symbol. Not a real woman. And it’s impossible to love a symbol; you can be cherished and adored, but never truly, heartbreakingly loved in the way that she wants to be. (3) O, DEATH – Something about Daphne’s bio that fascinated me is that it describes Beau as an Apollo figure whom Daphne sees more like Hades – a man of death, of isolation, and of riches. She’s darkness where there is light. But Daphne is more of the same – she is Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, but she has her own affair with the darkness inside of her. She is a Persephone and her own Hades. She knows she’s capable of great horrors, and that she could destroy Verona if she wants to. It would be interesting to see Daphne be pushed to that darker place where she wants the city that she adores to burn. People want to destroy beautiful things. Daphne and Verona are both beautiful, and ripe for rot.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | (Devastatingly) yes.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? She smooths down her hair, subconsciously rearranging the artful brown curls. Daphne doesn’t need to double or triple check in the mirror whether her lipstick is perfect or her eyeliner is crisp. She knows her angles. She knows herself. And she agreed to this interview. Not to talk about her love life, but to talk about the shelter she had just joined the board of. “I’m a Verona girl through and through,” Daphne laughs. “You’re a Verona native, too – right, Signora? You know that this city can be a lot, putting it mildly. And you know I’m just not being facetious when I say that it’s hard to pick a favorite spot. Hmm…but if I had to pick, I’d pick the Castelvecchio Bridge. For so long, it was a symbol of unity in our divided city. My parents used to take me on long walks around the city when I was little, and I remember stopping and looking out over the river. I just have fond memories of Verona at that bridge. And it’s so horrible what happened – the explosion. To have that bright for the city get taken away, it’s just horrible. I’ve been working with the Verona’s Children Relief Fund to help civilian parents who’ve lost their jobs due to the explosion. They’ve been working with families hurt by Verona’s mob war for over a decade, and really, they’re work is incredible. For example, Carlotta Alberti. She’s a single mother living in Borgo Roma with the cutest 12-year-old ever. Give me a sec –” Daphne pulls out her phone and shows the interviewer a picture of her posing with Carlotta and her son, Leo. “The warehouse Carlotta worked in was damaged during the explosion and it hasn’t been rebuilt. She’s got bills to pay. She’s got a kid to provide a future for. Through the Relief Fund, we’ve managed to set Carlotta up with an entry-level position at Falco & Company that has full benefits and room for her to grow.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Daphne grits her teeth. She knows the interviewer means no harm with this question. It’s a chance to show that she’s vulnerable and that even though she’s been blessed to the Heavens with fortune, good looks and renown, Daphne Adèle Allard still has it in her to be a woman of the people. And a woman of the people is good, and kind, and loving, and doesn’t think badly of others. Still, the first thought that pops into her head is Beau. Arrogant, useless, cold-hearted man, Daphne thinks, careful not to let her absolute frustration with her husband-to-be show on her face. “That’s a hard question to answer,” Daphne starts. “Not because I haven’t made mistakes. God knows that I have.” Her heart thunders. Daphne Allard could never escape the feeling that she was on the precipice of destruction – not of herself, but of destroying others. “It’s just that I’m a perfectionist, you know? When I do something, I need to do it right because people are counting on me. A mistake is a ripple that can turn into a tsunami.” The interviewer nods, seemingly embarrassed at having to draw attention to the fact that Daphne avoided her previous question. “But if you had to say?”

Daphne only smiles. “Not coming back to Verona sooner. I love France with all my heart, but Verona is my home. I was away for quite a while. There’s this French saying – Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. Little by little, the bird makes its nest. And I really want to make my nest here.”

The lady nods. “So, are you excited for marriage then?” “You have no idea.” You really don’t.

“Have you talked about kids, yet?” “We’ve discussed it,” Daphne responds coyly.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? When in doubt, pivot to the wedding – Daphne had learned this at a young age. Everyone adores a blushing bride. “This is a ‘I need to check my privilege’ moment, but can I say planning a wedding? There’s so much that goes into it. Finding a good venue, good security. Finding a dress when you’ve got curves is not as easy as Say Yes to the Dress makes it look. Beau and I are trying our best to plan a sustainable wedding. We haven’t announced the list of charities yet, but we intend to do a no-gift policy. Instead, we’d like to ask our friends and family to donate to an organization on the yet-to-be announced list.” Beau and Daphne had discussed no such thing….at least, not in earnest, but no one needed to do that. “Okay, but in all seriousness – one of the hardest things I’ve been asked to do is forgive. I was bullied a lot as a child because I dared to be fat. I looked different from the other girls at school, and they let me know it. I remember every taunt, every oink made behind my back, every time someone tried to put me on a crash diet. It took a toll on my self-esteem. Every insecurity I have got magnified. And I really hated those girls. And hate really hurts you; generally speaking, it hurts you more than the other people. Since my engagement, a few people who were not the nicest to me reached out to see how I was filling out my bridal party.” “Seriously?” She asks. “Seriously. For them, the past didn’t matter. But for me, it did. I couldn’t look in a mirror for a year, and even though I’ve moved on, and I love myself and I love my life and I found someone who loves me for me –” Oh, how she wishes that were true. “ – There was still this resentment in my heart that I struggled to let go of. Forgiving those small deep cuts when there’s no apology, no remorse, nothing, was difficult. But I had to do it for myself. Those girls – maybe they’ve changed; I’m an optimist who thinks people are capable of that. Perhaps I’m a bit old-fashioned? Regardless of who they are, I don’t have to go back to being that sad, lonely little girl because they messaged me.” She pauses and adds,  “I’m lucky, you know, that these are the extent of my problems.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Everyone and their mother wants to know the answer to this. Daphne has been answering this question for years. The Allard family had long ties to the Capulets, but Daphne was not going to go about advertising that or her own role in the mob. “The rivalry has been going on for years. There’s a lot of wounds on both sides,” Daphne starts. “I want peace for the people of Verona who’ve been caught in the cross-fire.” That’s why I am an emissary for the Capulets. To help, she thinks. I am a relatively high-ranking Capulet emissary because I want to be. She thrived in the darkness, in the cold, just as much as she thrived in the light. A lie. She shone in the darkness, but she craved the light. How badly Daphne Allard wanted to be bright, and shining, and good. “I’m just thinking about the Festival of Love,” Daphne starts, subtly pointing fingers at the Montagues. “So much chaos that didn’t need to happen.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

Her favorite movie is Amelie

Daphne patronizes numerous charities, but has no set one up in her own name yet. She wants to set up something that could help with homelessness in the city.

She is a Virgo (born August 29th)

Daphne is an ENFJ

She enjoys watching Bon Appetit videos

PLAYLIST (as in, a playlist Daphne would have on her Spotify account)

La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Pavane for a Dead Princess by Maurice Ravel

Primadonna by Marina & the Diamonds

Petite Suite by Claude Debussy

Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles

Spring (Four Seasons) by Antonio Vivaldi

Waking Up Slow by Gabrielle Aplin

Elegie by Gabriel Faure

Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

Mother Goose Suite by Maurice Ravel

Non je ne regrette rien by Edith Piaf

[bubbletimestories]

Don’t take him away from me (Irondad)

Summary: Tony is obsessed with Peter's disappearance and wants to bring him back at any cost. He moves away from his loved ones, sinks into depression and asks for Wong's help to save Peter.

Warnings: Major character death (?), sadness

Themes: death, father-son relationship, magic, hope, sacrifice, love, Saving Peter Parker

Translated with Google trad ^^’

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Ashes became a phobia for some, an obsession for everyone. They refused to cremate the dead, and chimney fires became rare even in the coldest winter. How could it have been otherwise?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but it’s impossible. As a guardian of the Sanctum, I cannot let you do it. ”

The whole world plunged into silence, as if the shock had taken people off the floor at the same time as their loved ones.

“We have to go ahead, Tony, to maintain a semblance of order. Take back your armour; we will be the Iron men. ”

A national mourning ceremony was organized when people ceased to hope. Captain America gave a long speech in memory of the missing, recalling that we had to keep courage, words without meaning, even for him. The world was not at war, it had lost without even being able to fight. They had failed. It was a month after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“The occult powers are not a toy, Mr. Stark, I cannot do anything for you. We all lost someone but that does not give us all the rights. I am sorry. ”

Bruce Banner embarked on research to understand where half of the Universe could have disappeared. He spent all his time there, perhaps to forget that he had lost a part of himself. But we had to face the facts: there was nothing to do, for Hulk as for the others. It was six months after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“Tony, you have to … that you stop feeling guilty about what happened. It was not your fault, it was nobody’s fault. Darling… ”

The remaining superheroes returned to service at the same time that the criminals woke up. A semblance of normality had returned, even though Absence was still strongly felt.

“No, Mr. Stark, I refuse to participate in that. The consequences are too uncertain, it is never good to play with life. We, guardians, learned it in pain. It’s no. ”

Thor had managed to find the survivors of Asgard and install them on a small planet to rebuild a kingdom, supported by Valkyrie and Korg. Despite his new responsibilities, he tried to return to see his friend as often as possible. Unfortunately, Point Break always found the genie in the same state: bitter, gnawed by guilt and obstinate not to see the truth. It was a year after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

- Tony, that cannot continue. I cannot continue … to see you destroy youself. This obsession you have … It’s impossible.

Pepper looks at the impassive figure of the one she no longer recognizes, whom she cannot understand. She had tried with all her strength to support him, to push him forward, to overcome the horrors he had lived, but as much to speak to a wall.

The engagement ring tinkles on the glass table; this break up is different from the previous ones, it is an adieu. After taking a last look at the playboy, Pepper walks away to leave this room too dark, too quiet. Tony’s throaty voice suddenly stops her:

- Will you keep your word?

-Yes. If you succeed … he will officially be your heir.

She refrains from telling him once again that it’s madness. Oh what good would it be ? The door closes without Tony moving a centimetre. He knew it would happen, how could he blame Pepper after all he did? Somehow, it’s better that way, that they separate before…. he does what he has to do. Thoughtfully, he touches his side, where a long scar bears witness to the events of a year ago. A year already … and even more.

Outside, the sea crashes on the rocks under a stormy sky, as if the Sun itself was absent. Hard to believe he was hit by a moon… An umpteenth time, the superhero wonders how a single being could trigger so much chaos, so much suffering. But it’s no longer time to think about it, Tony Stark has never been one to feel sorry for himself, and he’s not going to start today. Not now that Wong has yielded.

The billionaire genie finally gets up, surprises his reflection in the bay window, the drawn features, the hair where pierce some silver threads, and especially his eyes surrounded where shines a flame of determination almost disturbing. To mourn, he can’t, not totally. Not while May Parker hates him. And rightly so: he was supposed to protect her nephew. Every day for months, she pursued him with her anger, her hate, and her sorrow, like a more seductive harpy. It was reminiscent of Tony Stark’s memories of Sokovi’s bitter victory and collateral damages. At the time, he wanted to use the government to fix his mistakes. It was not enough. He did not feel involved enough but today it’s different, he’s ready for anything.

The rain begins to fall while the man in armour joins the Sanctum of New York whose window shines like a gigantic eye watching over the city. Memories come back, his meeting with a man he could not know very long but who resembled him on many points. He, perhaps, has found a way to not die, floating for eternity in a parallel dimension.

- I’m sure your friend teleported to a beach in the Pacific, Wong. He looked smart enough for that.

Tony walks in the door, arranges his rain-soaked hair until the wizard deigns to arrive. It does not take long before he appears, frowning as usual, living figure of disapproval.

- You should refrain from this kind of joke or I may change my mind.

- I just made a guess, no need to come to the threat.

Wong does not answer anything, guides his guest through a series of corridors, the sound of their footsteps choked by oriental rugs. However, the mystic librarian ends up breaking the silence, visibly worried.

- Are you sure you want to do that?

Silly question, it’s been more than a year since the billionaire harassed him without his determination ever faltering and yet, Wong listed the risks more than once. But he supposes that for Tony Stark, life is a gigantic bet. His host does not even bother to answer, it’s so obvious. When the kid di …when he disappeared, it was as if he had taken some of his mentor with him, something broke and the man in armour wanted only one thing: bring him back whatever it costs. Banner told him it was hopeless, Captain asked him to mourn, but it was impossible. When it was not May who was shouting her hate, he saw the teenager’s face in his nightmares. Now he has planned everything. Pepper will run the business until he’s ready, Rhodey will look after him and train him with the other heroes, Banner will take care of the scientific part … He’s been thinking about it for months now and now that Wong has accepted, he will be able to bring back Peter. Wherever he is.

Where Tony expects to see incense, bones, mysterious symbols, in short, all the paraphernalia of resurrection, he finds only one manuscript and the master of the mystical arts donning a double ring. It would not be Wong, you could think of a scam.

- You’ll only have a few minutes to find it. After that, you will both be lost.

- Oh, I thought you were going to announce bad news ..., jokes Tony with a smile but without the spark of irony that always lit his eyes once. Not really knowing what else to do, he stands in front of the librarian, waiting, noting that the wizard carefully avoids his eye with emotion. It would be almost touching.

Wong takes a breath and circles in the air with his fingertips, articulating inaudible words for the man in front of him. This could be any teleport spell at first. But the sparks are usually of a color of fire and not of a deep blue, what we see through the portal is not a gigantic dark expanse. Tony stares for a moment, hoping to see something, a silhouette or even a shape but nothing stands out in the dark.

“Mr. Stark, is it too late to go to the bathroom?»

He probably would have said something like that … if he had been there.

To think thus of the teenager revives the determination of the hero, a moment frozen by apprehension, he turns to Wong to send him a last salute.

- Thank you very much and above all, take care of him. I do not want to have to come and kick your ass.

And without waiting for the answer of the wizard, he crosses the portal quickly, no hesitating anymore.

When Tony Stark had imagined this moment, he had envisioned an intense cold, the same that takes us when we die. But on the other side of the mirror, there is neither cold nor heat, only emptiness and an absence of sensations. All around the billionaire, a deafening silence spreads into the darkness, as if there was nothing else in the world than this visitor. After the shock of discovery, Tony decides to move forward, heart beating and thinking only of the one he must find at any cost. Under his feet, the ground is wrinkled like the surface of a pond but the billionaire is not careful, focused on his mission.

- Underoos !

His voice pierces the ambient calmness, scatters in the void before the silence falls. It is then that a pale color task is formed a few meters from the Avenger, blurry but very real, standing out against the dark background. Gradually, the task becomes clearer, as if you were focusing on it. Peter looks around him, a picture less and less flickering with each heartbeat. Looking as after a long sleep, he blinks, tries to understand where he is. On his face passes a flood of emotions as he remembers his last moments, the battle, the defeat, his death. His whole body trembles and he curls up, hiding nothing of his fear because he believes himself alone, lost forever. My god, he’s dead … so it looks like this after?

Tony slowly approaches the teenager, losing nothing of the confusion that moves him and makes him blind to what surrounds him. He kneels right in front of him, stroking his hair like a little child, making him jump.

- Mr Stark?!

The large hazel eyes express both surprise and immense joy in recognizing their hero and this reaction expresses such innocence that Tony’s heart is tightening. It is because of him that the little one suffers all this … but this ordeal ends, he will go home.

- It’s over…

Without really knowing why, Peter feels he can reassure himself, that his mentor has found a solution and that he can trust him. It’s Iron Man, he always succeeds.

The seconds go by and Tony knows they do not have a lot of time before … being separated again. Then he draws the young man against him, serves him in his arms with more emotion than he would like. No door to open to serve as an excuse, it is a real hug this time. Taken by surprise, Peter does not react immediately as this gesture seems strange to him on the part he admires. Then he puts his arms around him, gives him back his embrace, burying his face against the scarred chest. Nightmares can’t reach him now, everything will be better.

The portal reopens too early, far too early for Tony’s taste. Seeing the sapphire sparks, his first movement is to squeeze the boy closer to his heart, so that they will never be separated again. Then he regains his composure, pushes Peter aside to look into his eyes.

- You’re going home now. Your aunt must make a blood of ink.

- Mr Stark?

Something in the attitude of his mentor worries suddenly the teenager who scans the face of Tony in search of an explanation. It is at this moment that Wong passes his arms through the portal to catch the young man and pull him towards him. Reflexively, Peter clings to the arm of his hero, suddenly sensing that they will be separated.

- No, Mr Stark!

Tony smiles painfully, hoping to be a little reassuring even though he’s never been good at these things.

-It will be fine.

And with a sharp gesture, he recoils to let go of his protégé who screams, tears in his eyes.

-Dad!

The portal closes on him, leaving Tony Stark in the dark, alone but reassured. Now, the little one is safe.

[fullymechanized-consoomer]

40K factions and you

Space Marines:

Your favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla, but occasionally you might try some Neapolitan, if you’re feeling dangerous. You’re faction’s lore is designed from the ground up to accept your self-inserts, and the models are some of the easiest to paint in the entire range. None of this matters because no matter how unique you think your super-cool “realistic marines who use real tactics maaaaan” are they’ll always come out looking like a slight variation of the ones below

8th edition has finally allowed you to feel a tiny sliver of the unbalanced and over-costed hell other factions have been stuck in for years, but unlike them, daddy GW is more than willing to spend a little extra on his bulky good bois so they still get all the coolest gear and lore. Like vanilla, small children love them, but they grow out of both eventually. 

edit: it was only a matter of time before GW stamped its foot down and made the inevitable decision that its favorite kid needs to be busted again. Then again in all fairness they toned down their overpoweredness from “godlike” to merely “demi-godlike” 

Imperial Guard:

You’re a big “history fan”. You’ve seen Enemy at the Gates, watched some history channel shows about Nazi wonder weapons, and make 54 karma post on r/history_memes recycling debunked Eastern Front jokes. Only your intelligent eye is able to conflate this factions obvious Metal Slug levels of cartoonish design and tactics with realism, and you make sure to remind everyone else of said realism by comparing your tabletop exploits to your military experience in the reserves. Everyone used to like you back when the faction was actually made up of underdogs and under appreciated, but the Guant’s Ghosts references have gotten kinda stale, and no one appreciates the brass balls of these Starship Trooper knockoffs now that 8th edition supports and rewards the very same mindless horde tactics the Guard used to be mocked for in Lore. Despite having some of the most tried and true designs in the game, as well as an incredible amount of options, you will quickly find how limiting the only “realistic” army is in terms of customization and paint schemes, as anything but camo, grey, or tan looks goofy and reveals how silly this faction actually is. 

edit: If your army consists of wrapping 30 guardsmen around basilisks I recommend you take a short fall down a long flight of stairs. Fuck you, Evan.

Eldar:

You’re a real shooter. You know what you like and you stick with it, cause lets face it, it takes a lot of loyalty to stick with these arrogant pricks. Their designs are unique but dated, their lore is a uneven mishmash of 40k grimdark schmultz Tolkien telephone, and Oliver Twist-esque whipping bois for whenever GW writers need to remind us how cool Space Marines are. But none of that matters because you know the truth: Eldar can kick tons of ass on the board, and look good doing it, as their unique designs lends them to all sorts of brilliant color combinations

And unlike other armies their rare design updates improve on their aesthetic while keeping their 40k-ness, something that is becoming increasingly rare in this era of Tacticool marines and Fantasy-creep. Just don’t expect to be taken seriously by anyone but the old-heads.

Edit: Leave it to the whipping bois to be outshined in their own event and get a single model update. Thanks GW, very cool. 

Dark Eldar

You are one of two people: a meta hopping smooth brain who only jumped ship once these guys got one of the best updates in 40k history, or a true intellectual who understood their hidden merit all along. Other faction players like to make fun of you for being edgy, when in reality you know that the Dark Eldar are just a bunch of sociopathic theater kids. They, like you, know how fucked from top to bottom this universe is, and instead of getting depressed they exclaimed “how can we be the best cartoon villains we can be?”. Despite having a relatively bare army list, the fact that these d-bags come in 3 flavors of crazy in a single army offers a ton of variety: the mustache twirling villainy of the Kabals, the crazy bloodstained snuff-stars of the Wych cults, and the BDSM horror show of the Covens. All three offer substantial benefits and drawbacks and must be played carefully in order t- 

Who am I kidding? You’re just gonna stuff  a bunch of Kabal warriors into Venoms and zoom around the map, aren’t you? Enjoy that speed, because your abysmal save stats wont protect you anything more than a furiously thrown walnut. At least your corpses will look rad clad in some of the grimest armor and gear in the game. 

edit: no longer anywhere near as dominent as they were in the earlier years of 8th, but they still look slick as hell and play great. 

Orks

Your IQ randomly jumps from 20 to 200 throughout the day. There is no predicting this, no planning around this, no stopping this. You’re best bet is just to go along with it, and that’s why you play Orks. Orks are roudy good-time buddies who love slapstick slaughter, not having thoughts, and occasionally pulling of cunning plans that human savants would struggle to comprehend. Orks seem to be the only faction that know what joy is, which is why you as a player spread it to everyone else. Yes, the memes and screaming can be a bit much to others sometimes, but like with any other mentally handicapped child  everyone around just grits their teeth through your bad episodes if it means not upsetting your unique sensibilities. And considering that this army’s aesthetic revolves around cobbled together nonsense, you have a lot of uniqueness to give. Orks are easily the most creative faction in the game when it comes to conversions. Nothing is too goofy, too dumb, or too silly to scrap together. As for performance on the tabletop? Go ham. This is an army that rewards merry bullshit and randomness. Remember, you didn’t pick Orks to win, you picked them to have fun. 

edit: So are Orks actually getting anything or what? GW’s plans for this faction is as chaotic as the minds of the ADHD scrambled minds who play them

Necrons

You have a very specific taste in... funky weird-science space Egyptians. Seriously, these guys are practically a completely different army to what they were a decade ago. Gone are the terminator references and eldritch lore nonsense, and here to stay is senility and glyphs. You lie to yourself, saying that you’re not really sure why you chose Necrons, but I know the truth: you chose them because they used to be busted. They used to be unfair. They used to be able to take out top-tier tanks with their version of pea shooters and come back after every turn. So overwhelmed were you by their dazzeling stats and bullshit cheese your brain’s wiring fried and the erratic firing of billions of flayed neurons made you think Necrons had cool lore and interesting models. But now they’ve been nerfed to hell, and you’re no longer stuck in that lasting state of sensory overload. Like a drunk snapping awake with a hangover you come to the painful reality: Necrons are kind of dull. So like me, you put them away in a shoebox forever, leaving their fragile sculpts to slowly fall apart.

Edit: FUCK WHERE IS THE SHOEBOX WHERE DID I LEAVE IT OH GOD OH OH NO OH FUCK THEY’RE ALL BROKEN MAYBE I CAN PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER BEFORE 9th EDITION LAUNCHES I’M SO SORRY FOR WHAT I DID TO YOU NOW MORE THAN EVER I NEED YOU, I NEED MY BOOOOOOOOYS!!!

Tau

You will forever be hated by the community unfairly. You are accuse being anime - and this is true - yet the Eldar get away with being copied wholesale from 80′s space anime and no one seems to notice. You are made fun of for your bad melee, despite having one of the most comprehensively designed niches in an otherwise sloppy game and dominating with nearly every edition. You are made fun of for your lore, despite being largely separate from the cliches and story traps that everyone else has fallen into. You are hated because you are different; hated because you are Asian. 

Tau are an anomaly in 40k: a completely new faction that wasn’t directly ripped off of some other franchise and with an aesthetic that is wholly their own. I won’t be making fun of them because they get enough of that, and you don’t deserve it. Just know this dirty secret: Tau outsell almost every other xenos faction, and despite the supposedly unanimous hate are probably one of the strongest factions in terms of play-style and modelling in the franchise. 

Edit: The tau are grittier than ever, happy now? They still do the same thing they have always done anyways.

Chaos

Unlike the DE you actually are edgy. You worship satan, you throw rocks at homeless people, you start fires because your dad doesn’t spank you enough. Chaos are the closest things that this cluster fuck of a universe can get to being the main villains. Their lore is at once intricate and stupid, both childish and metal as hell. You play chaos because getting your fingers pricked by the models’ spikes is the closest you can come to feeling anything anymore. Just like the chaos lore you love to hype yourself up, to puff your chest and revel in the darkness inside, but when confronted you tend to fold like wet tissue paper. You’ve stopped playing public games with these guys, because the other players don’t understand you and abuse the meta and make fun of your painting skills and  everything is so unfair and don’t you think that chaos marines should get buffs for their points cost, fuck?

Edit: The new models are slick and more power-metal minivan than ever, though the rules are still abysmal despite GW desperately wanting everyone to takes these guys seriously for once. 

Sisters of Battle

GW writers and designers hates Catholics and they hate women, so naturally they hate Sister of Battl. They also hate you for playing them. Because of this SoB are a monument to neglected potential. They have one of the best female armor designs in fiction, great lore, and an interesting playstyle that relies on faith/determination based feats of strength and valor... but GW hate Catholics and women, so SoB get shafted everywhere all the time. More often than not you will be disappointed reading about their exploits as they continually get unfairly slaughtered, corrupted into the horny service of the pervert god, or used as receptacles for blood-based paint when the writer’s favorite faction needs to fight demons. With no plastic models in sight for over a decade everyone began to come to the slow and dreadful realization that GW was looking to Squat our favorite estrogen warriors, until a new revamp was announced. Unfortunately the beta rules look as lackluster as ever, but that’s fine, because as a SoB fan you have learned to expect that GW hates you, Catholics, and women. 

Edit: GW found God and got woke because now they love women and Jesus’ one true Church, but let it be known that reformation doesn’t occur overnight, as the SOB’s faces still betray GW’s lingering discomfort in the female form:

Their rules are fun, and if every codex was designed like it 40k might actually be a fun game

Tyranids

nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom no- and that’s it that’s the Tyranids. I don’t know anything about them besides that, and neither do you, cause that’s their lore. Yes they have cool models, but next to no reliable updates. I’ll pray for you.  

Edit: it really looks like GW has just completely forgotten about you poor souls huh? The Night King, a character who is closely associated with the totally-not-reconned-Tyranid-invasion, comes back and not one word about you guys. They don’t even actively hate you like, say, they hate the Eldar. It’s just... apathy. 

Grey Knights

HAHA AHAHAHAHA HA HA UHAHAHA HAHAAHAHAAHAH HAHA ha ha Ah......... he. hehahaaaAHAHAHAHA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

edit: I hope you all realize that Grey Knights are far too specialized in fighting the permanently under performing forces of chaos to be 40ks “elite among elite.”  You and your entire faction has been made completely obsolescent by the Custodes. The rough times will continue, say hi to the Squats in heaven will you?

Custodes

You are either insufferably full of yourself or a fine practitioner of the model making craft. Most likely though you are neither, and you picked them because you only need gold and red paint to make them look good. Custodes are the space marine’s space marines, and they’re better than you and everyone else. period. At least in lore. On the table their incredible individual stats and elite status are reflected in points cost, so for most large games you will be fielding what amounts to any other faction’s skirmishing army. Unfortunately, since 40k is a stat-sheet battler that favors raw bulk of rolls and stats over the quality of them, you’d be hard-pressed to do well in any serious game. However, for the luminous of mind, the small size is a blessing in disguise since you don’t need to buy and paint as many units as the other armies, and no matter how hard the guard player trashes you his 50 unpainted manlets will never look as good as your 15 gloriously crafted golden Chads. Stick to smaller games, and the individual strength of each model will make up for the glaring absence caused by their loss.

Ironically enough despite being an elite faction from a relatively obscure part of 40k lore, these attributes make Custodes the perfect casual player’s faction. It is my personal theory that if GW didn’t grossly inflate their prices to such a high degree everyone would have a Custodes army. 

Oh yeah, Henry Cavil plays these guys, because of course he does.