#i think you would at least care about protecting yourself considering how selfish you’ve proven yourselves to be

[snzluv3r]

i actually feel so incredibly uncomfortable and isolated in this space right now and i know that’s silly because of how many people there are just like me who share the same feelings but idk…the fact that people even think this is defensible behavior is making me feel sick

[pigtailedgirl]

Tony Stark Ends My MCU in Endgame

Just sharing some stuff I did on dreamwidth with a few updates. I’m new to tumblr, give me patience.

Here is why I'm never watching another MCU film or giving money to them or Marvel if I can help it. Tony Fucking Stark. The capitulation to and adoration of both RDJ and that character shows me that their brand of heroism is nothing I want to do with. Endgame validated his worldview and I can't reconcile. Look. I'm no big fan of Tony or Iron Man. Been tolerating since Avengers. Been outright thinking he deserved a tell off and comeuppance since Civil War. Did not believe he'd get it, but thought, well, thought at the least he'd still be not outright unchallenged or proven right. Basically, I was wrong in that I thought the films were conscious of his flaws they were highlighting, and that even if they could never be confirmed or explored while RDJ was onboard, because I think RDJ would never consent to looking bad because he's a narcissist and he has star power, they were there, canon, and recognized with subtlety. And I had other models of heroes in Steve and Thor to say Tony is not the only version of hero to emulate. Iron Man as a character through his movies and the Avengers film is a hero born of guilt and mired in a complex selfishness. I thought this always but especially with repeat viewings. He's fascinating because he does help people, and commit good acts, but it is born not from a desire to care for others. It's often a side-affect of his overwhelming ego. That is the kind of hero Tony is. A selfishly, not selflessly motivated one.

I eventually got very tired of Tony not seeing others around him that were hurt instead of helped by his brand of heroism. A replacement for his brand of weapons at Stark Industries or his rock-star persona. Or seeing others at all. It's something that regardless of results, I think society needs to re-examine the strength of. The ego. The self. An American world doesn't need more internal selfishness to admire. It should wear Tony down in a very different way than the MCU reflects. It should have a foil and a cost. Endgame has erased and ignored this, validated and lionized Tony as a hero role-model, to an awful degree. To start Tony is made weak in the opening and given his monologue goodbye to Pepper to garner sympathy. For him. Not for Pepper. Not for Nebula do they have kindly interaction together; we are squarely with and in Tony POV. It's re-occurring, this sainted POV of Tony in this film. You'll notice it especially in his funeral, when he’s already dead, as on-lookers who have no connection or tenuous relation to him gather and mourn because to the film he's the icon of the MCU and the hero.

This POV is not extended to others, say Natasha’s loss. The film has a central character it is focusing and idenitfying with, and it’s Tony Stark.

The main thrust of argument in the film is also weighted in Tony's favor. Tony gets off the ship on Earth. To be hugged and comforted by his foil Steve. He is fragile and we linger on his emaciated frame in his argument with Steve and the others. We linger on him in bed after, surrounded by caring loved ones. Held back by Rhodey. Our sympathy is supposed to be centered squarely on him. Yet his argument itself is devoid of logic or reason or compassion for others that are not himself. 1) Ultron was evil and the Iron Legion was causing civil unrest even before and is gone through no others decision. Tony never rebuilt it. 2) The reason the Avengers were not working together in Civil War and after was entirely because of Tony. It's Tony who got the olive branch of a phone Steve sent and hasn't used it. Indeed Steve came as soon as Bruce and Rhodey phoned. It's Tony who went to space and left the others behind. It's Tony who lost trust and therefore tracking of Vision causing him to go off-grid. It's Tony who agreed with the accords, has since broken the accords, and has since not done anything to demolish them. Accords which Ross wanted to use to stay hands in Infinity War as well. 3)Tony is in a room playing photos of the dusted, came with a woman who's sister is murdered, and can only focus on his hurt about the Snap. On losing Peter, because of what it means to him. Of the others not being with him to comfort him in his time of battle and loss. His priority is his pain alone. It's supremely selfish. It's given no rebuttal because the narrative agrees his pain is what matters. So characters feel sad for him instead of anger or their own hurt. If they don’t agree with him, no time is devoted to seeing that.This is where you expect an argument. A reflection by everyone. A hash-out on the priority of one's personal pain versus the whole universe's losses. None ever comes. The film avoids another interesting conflict on selfishness vs selflessness to approve of onlyTony when in the five year gap it celebrates in Tony's family, at the expense of everyone else refusing to move on. Only Tony gets happiness in time through his not thinking about others. Now Tony does regret Peter. So Tony decides to help reverse the Snap. But he is given zero push back on the decision to do so entirely for his benefit, that it is his alleviation of feeling Peter's loss, and not for the world's losses, or Peter's loss independant of Tony. Again it’s a selfish and self-motivatied choice. 

That Tony refuses to give up his 5 year family, which will come at the expense of 5 years lost to the returned, of the collateral we saw take place in Infinity War, at the deaths and changes since is not examined because the narrative doesn’t care to disagree with Tony. I'm not saying erasing Tony's family is right, heroic, or a choice he or the film should advocate for. But there is zero thought or discussion to the idea that Tony's family or pain is not all there is to consider in this plan. Where is Thor, saying how dare you value your happiness over all the dead of Asgard? Where's Natasha mad at her effort to keep everyone together, including world crisis prevention? Where is Carol with the universe as a whole perspective? Where is Banner saying help me at least not kill ourselves trying? Where is Clint not wanting to be a killer when his family comes back? Where is any nuance that just because Tony wants this in this way, it's not the only way everyone would feel. This film never puts anything above Tony's feelings. This extends to his heroic sacrifice at the end. The final two ways the film absolutely prides Tony's view versus anything else are his death and mourning. Tony is treated as the ultimate hero. Out of 14 million scenarios, it takes him alone to win. Him using the stones barehanded when all others couldn't. Him saving the world. His ultimate sacrifice and entirely his choice. All about him. It's not selfless that way. It's killing yourself yes, it’s saving others, but you are the ultimate universe saver. The ultimate avenger. You defeat the bad guy. Not bring people back in an act of return, but in an act of rightfulness you fix what you've been complaining others wouldn't let you and defeat evil all by yourself. Your entire motivation is rewarded, because you protect the universe by killing all your bad guy enemies. Rooted in how you feel and what you want. His final line "And I am Iron Man" a rebuke to anyone who doubts the greatness of him. Tony was right and perfect everyone. Listen up.  But there is no self-sacrifice here, because it's not about him losing. Oh, fans will mourn him. Lament Tony's lost family and happiness. Rally against his pain in dying. But Tony doesn't. There is no reflection in the film from him on the potential cost or the reality in the moment. No care is extended to the daughter's feelings or Pepper's or his friends. Nothing is about the impact or loss he'd feel of leaving them. Instead he's, like always, the focus. The film is entirely about losing him and how it's the worst for you and the world. That is what the film wants you to be sad about in these moments. Every character props him. Steve's tears. Peter's "Mr. Stark we won", and Pepper's "You can rest now." It's all about making Tony look good. This continues with the funeral. Morgan talking to Happy being about a callback to cheeseburgers Tony loved. Tony Stark 's first reactor is “Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart” floating away, wreathed in flowers. It's all tribute to the man and only about him. That's not selfless, it's self-aggrandizing. The character has gained no humility or grace. Just more fame. I'm not interested in that. In fact I'm angry. The overarching message of his rightness also destroys his foil, Steve. Who stands behind Pepper at the funeral? Steve. Who stands with Tony throughout the film? Steve. As his character's end, Steve adopts Tony's mindset of not being a selfless hero and chooses to do as Tony did and think only of what Steve currently wants. Peggy. In the past. At others expense. Steve chooses to be a selfish hero. As does Thor going off the rails in film and off with the guardians and abandoning his people. Marvel thinks that's the right way. A summation of all their films and a thing to look back on and celebrate as Tony hologram's monologue tells us. All heroes are reduced to the Tony Stark role model. It tells me they never thought Tony's world-view was a problem. And I disagree. Or they wanted to honor him so they warped everything else to work it. If they do it once, twice, always...well, what next? So I'm done.

[tintinwrites]

the stars were made for falling | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Six

A/N: Hey, it’s been a while since I posted a chapter of this! Holiday season was crazy busy and when I had the time to write, I just didn’t want to. But I got the chapter finished and I think it’s ok???????? It’s not that great, but I hope you guys like it anyway lol. Work is back to normal so I’m hoping to write more!! <3

Rating: Hard T, soft M for just the dark themes of the story

Warning: Reader has to kill someone. Poe is broken and nearly unrecognizable it’s gr8. Hux is lowkey into you bc you’re hot. Naughty language. Lots of crying or almost crying. These kids are in a lot of pain. Poe deserves a hug. Everyone deserves a hug.

Word count: 2,975, apparently!!

Summary: You prove your loyalty to the First Order, and your move to the dark side destroys Poe.

Masterlist

GIF credit: No idea, but it’s not mine.

Tags: @marvelous-revengers @fandomnerdxox

You fantasized that the First Order would immediately set you free and let you do as you pleased, but that was pretty unrealistic.

You were put into a bigger, well-lit cell, at least.

A cell which stormtroopers actually entered to give you food.

Food that was more than sludge; slightly fluffy bread was delivered to you with your usual water. You ate it like it was the finest meal you'd ever been given.

Much to your surprise, it was only a day or two before a stormtrooper came and lead you rather gently down the hallway.

Gently meaning that you weren't dragged or forced with a blaster to your back.

Even though you had a new plan and things were different, you were still a little scared as you were brought into Hux's office. There was obviously the possibility that he knew your plan and was lulling you into a false sense of security, and was about to kill you.

But he smiled at you and stood as you entered, walking around his desk to meet you. "I must say, I wasn't as surprised as I expected to be when you said you wanted to join us. I knew you had potential all along."

Good. This was good. Well, it wasn't good that you had some clear potential to be evil, but it was good that he wasn't suspicious of you.

"But I do wonder how much they've ruined your mind. If you can really come back from years under their ideology." He didn't see your face fall as he moved to speak into your ear. "And a small part of me wonders if you are...lying?"

"I'm not," you said almost too quickly, too nervously, trying to keep a level stare as he moved to look at you. "Poe Dameron and the Resistance have brought me to captivity and torture, and I can see what they are now."

Liar. Liar.

Did you lie better than Poe, you wondered.

"Only looking out for themselves, yes?" He hummed. "Oh, it's so easy to act. No, I want you to prove yourself; prove that you've learned, that you're strong enough to be with us. Strong enough to kill your pilot, perhaps. I won't have a pathetic traitor running around this base, trying fruitlessly to escape. Bring the girl in."

The girl? What girl? Weren't you 'the girl'? Weren't you pretty much the only girl around here as far as you knew?

Apparently not. A young woman was dragged in, your age or perhaps younger, crying and struggling against the cuffs that bound her arms behind her back.

"She was conspiring against us, helping anyone she could to fight back. It's a good thing we took control of her planet before she could do any sort of damage." As Hux explained, you felt a weight in your hands and then he was guiding your arms up. "Go ahead."

You were confused for a moment; you looked at Hux, then at your hands. You knew what was going on when you saw the added weight was a blaster.

"No!" You immediately lowered the blaster. "I...I mean, I want to kill Poe because I hate him. I don't hate her."

"Killing has nothing to do with hate. It has to do with necessity." He grabbed your arms firmly and raised them up. "Hatred just happens to make it more fun. Now, prove yourself to me."

If you didn't prove yourself, he would know everything was a lie and you imagined whatever came of it would make you consider your previous arrangements to be enjoyable.

But you had to convince him by murdering an innocent person.

You must have been watching the woman weep for too long as Hux moved to speak in your ear again.

"If you think what you went through was difficult, you would be horrified at what's in store for her. You'll be putting her out of her misery, just like your pilot should have done for you, and just like I would do for you. I can be loyal if you are willing to do the same."

"I..."

You wanted to turn the blaster on yourself.

But you couldn't leave Poe.

And if what they would do to the girl in front of you was worse than isolation, practical starvation, torture of you, and torture of someone you cared about, how could you let her go through that?

Was killing her really the better option?

"I know you. You're from the Resistance!" The way she looked at you and sobbed in relief had you trembling harder than you already were. "Please, get us out of here..."

"Do the right thing." Hux spoke so softly, his words should have been sweet. "Do what the Resistance is too selfish to do."

If you killed her, she would be out of harm's way.

Your plan would continue.

But you would kill her.

She was looking at you like a hero, expecting you to save her when you were going to do the opposite. Or at least save her in a different way.

"Please...I want to go home."

"Oh, fuck." Tears were filling your eyes, but you held them back because otherwise Hux would know that this was destroying you too much for someone who claimed to want to kill a friend.

You tightened your grip on the blaster. You had to do this.

Even if the girl's eyes widened in recognition and she started to cry harder.

Even though your finger hesitated on the trigger, refusing to move enough to cause any action.

You had to do it for you, for Poe, for the Resistance, and for the girl in some fucked up sort of way that protected her from a life of torture.

But it hurt so much. Your chest was squeezing, your entire body shaking, your tears were begging to fall, and a sob was building up within you.

She wept with everything she had.

You noticed the weeping stop and everything go silent before you actually noticed you'd pulled the trigger.

And there she was, on the floor, eyes staring at nothing and one of her shoulders bent awkwardly in her position. Not that she would feel it, since you had just—

You dropped the blaster so quickly that Hux had to catch it more than simply take it from you.

"Remember, this isn't the first time you've killed." He was right about that. "But it is the first time you've done it rightfully. You have proven your strength and loyalty. Now return to your cell for the time being."

You barely listened to him, walking in almost a trance as a stormtrooper took you out of the office. As the door shut, you snapped out of it and every emotion that you forced back came rushing forward.

You wept like the girl.

"No, no, no, no. Oh, fuck." Your knees gave out and the trooper had to pull you back up, practically dragging you down the hallway. "What did I do? What did I do?"

You knew exactly what you did, and that didn't help.

Seeming insane to any passerby, you continued to sob out 'no's and profanities, even as you were shoved into your cell, You stumbled and collapsed, crying against the floor as your actions continued to dawn on you.

You could see her eyes.

You could feel her eyes.

It took you a moment to notice that the stormtrooper was standing in the doorway, staring at you. You tried to pull yourself together. "Plea—please don't—don't tell Hux." You figured they were watching to report that you were weak, but they kept staring. "Wha—what?"

Your breath hitched in slight hope, your sobs softening just a little as you forced yourself to sit up. "Finn?" They just kept standing there, proving themselves in a much tamer way than you'd just had to prove yourself. "Finn!"

You practically crawled towards him, seeking comfort from a friend that you didn't deserve. It seemed to spook him out of whatever reverie he was in, making him back up and shut the door.

Alone. It took you a moment to process his quick departure, then your tears returned.

Finn was irrelevant at the moment, compared to what you did.

You killed a completely innocent woman who was begging you to save her, all so you could follow through with your stupid plan.

You curled up against the wall, shivering and sobbing.

You always considered yourself to be on the light side, that you would never turn to something as obviously wrong as the dark side.

But could you be sure of that now?

Would killing someone innocent be the start of something you wouldn't be able to stop?

You'd been staring at the wall for hours.

She wasn't the first person you killed. How many stormtroopers had you taken out, not considering that there were human beings underneath their armor?

Those had been life or death situations.

Was killing that girl life or death, or just your selfishness? You wanted to save Poe — and yourself, if you were being honest — and put so much importance in your plan to do so, that you had done the unthinkable.

She was so innocent. She was good, better than you could ever dream of being.

So desperate. So afraid.

Of you. It wasn't Hux who killed her, no matter how many times you tried to rationalize that you were forced into it.

No one forced you. You killed the girl all by yourself, with too little hesitation in your opinion.

If you and Poe did get out, could you really just join the Resistance again? Now that you were a murderer?

More of a murderer.

You didn't look up when the door opened. You didn't look up when a stormtrooper walked over to you. You didn't look up as they spoke to you. You didn't look up when they held out pristinely folded clothes.

"General Hux has requested for you to change."

You might have made a biting comment before, but you couldn't now. You were on their side and you killed someone to prove it.

Instead, you took the clothes and unfolded them. It was some sort of First Order uniform, though of a very low rank. It was dark and plain, with their symbol sewn into it. You didn't even get a hat.

"Thank you." You weren't sure why you thanked them.

"Come to the door when you're finished."

You watched the stormtrooper leave, and you made yourself stand, and you made yourself change, and then you slowly walked to the door.

The stormtrooper allowed you to walk by their side, so you certainly proved yourself.

You still couldn't manage to be happy about it.

When you approached Hux's office, you felt a jolt of fear go through you at the possibility of having to kill someone else. Or maybe they left everything and wanted you to clean it up.

All you could focus on was how hard your heart was beating. Hadn't you done enough? Couldn't you get a break and figure out the rest of your plan, and get somewhere safe where you could destroy yourself for what you'd done?

The sight of Poe there, on his knees with his gaze on the floor, only served to make your heart beat even harder because were they going to have you kill him already?

No, you needed time. You had to complete your plan and get the two of you out before killing him became a real option.

Beneath your fear was something pitiful; the desire to collapse before him, to crawl into his lap and weep about what you'd done. To admit that you killed someone to save your and his asses, that you might as well turn to the dark side, that you were awful, that you should have turned the blaster on yourself instead.

But you couldn't. You wanted to kill him as far as General Hux knew, and you had to keep your entire being neutral. Your legs and your chin trembled, but you stood tall and kept your tears at bay. You decided it would be best not to look at Poe.

"Eyes up, dog," said Hux from where he stood behind his desk proudly.

You heard a strangled noise, and then you realized why they had given you this outfit and why they brought you to see Poe.

Today you would be killing him, but not physically.

"No, no, no, no, baby, not you. Please, not you." You could tell he was crying just from hearing him speak.

There was a sudden force against your legs that would have had you toppling over were it not for the arms wrapping around you, Poe's face pressing to the front of your pants.

You stood stiffly and stared straight ahead as he wept, fighting your damn hardest to keep from crying with him. If you thought seeing him in pain was difficult, nothing prepared you for seeing this strong, good man completely falling apart at your feet.

You thought he had been broken before.

You couldn't say sorry. You couldn't fall to the floor with him and hold him, and tell him that none of it was real.

You could stand there and pretend you didn't care. That was it.

"Do you know what she said, dog?" There was the prideful, amused general, walking from around his desk. "That she hates you. That she wants to...kill you." Now he did laugh; apparently he was capable of it.

"No, this is a lie." Poe pulled away enough to look up at you desperately while you continued to stare straight ahead. "Tell me this is a lie! Tell me they didn't get to you, please."

"Kick him away."

"You can't do this to me, you're supposed to get out. I have to get you out."

You closed your eyes against the coming tears, forcing yourself to nudge him with your knee, which barely made him move. You nudged a bit harder, managing to get him to give away enough for you to start to move back.

He followed, grabbing at any part of you he could. "You're so strong, sweetheart, you can't let them turn you into this. Please tell me you're faking this."

The Poe you knew might have gone along with this, might have realized you were doing this for protection.

But the Poe you knew had not been a broken man who saw his kindest friend turned into a heartless stormtrooper. If Finn had fallen, what hope was there for you?

He kept begging as you squirmed to get out of his grip, so pitiful that your tears were trying to fall and you knew you had to get out of there. You were seconds away from diving into his arms, admitting everything, and begging for forgiveness that wasn't even his to give.

He was completely breaking because of you when all you wanted to do was to get him out and help him heal.

Was this plan worth it? Would you succeed? And if you did, would Poe be okay? Or would this be what completely brought him down?

He grasped desperately at your ankles when you pulled away, causing you to fall to the floor, scrambling to get away from him. Your plan would be ruined if you broke with him.

A stormtrooper dragged him back and you hurried to your feet, running out of the room without a care if you got in trouble. Even if it revealed to them that this was all a ruse, at least they might put you out of your misery.

You hadn't realized you were barely breathing until you stumbled into the hallway and took the deepest breath you were sure you ever had in your life. You held onto the wall to stay standing, closing your eyes tightly as you reminded yourself, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

There were footsteps behind you, followed by a suspicious tone, "Is something the matter, Y/N?"

Your name sounded strange on Hux's tongue. It made your skin crawl.

You would be absolutely fucked and not at all put out of your misery if you admitted that this was all fake.

Slowly straightening up, you turned to face him. "I...hate being touched by him. He betrayed me and I..." You trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

You didn't realize you were avoiding his gaze until he gently grasped your chin, lifting your head to search for the truth in your eyes.

"I see." His thumb ran over your bottom lip, with no Poe to jump him. No actual you to kick his ass because you had to pretend to tolerate him. "Once your last thread to the Resistance is gone, you and I could make...quite the team." The way his fingers trailed along your jawline told you clearly what sort of team he had in mind.

"Yes." Now you wanted to cry even more than before.

Maybe you were in over your head with this plan. What if you couldn't figure a way out before you were faced with your 'desire' to kill Poe?

Would they kill you if you refused? Or continue to torture you until you were old and withered?

You could imagine them killing Poe in front of you and making you live with the pain.

Or maybe they would do it the other way around.

Hux pulled away, seeming almost satisfied. "His public execution will be held two days from now. You may choose the weapon, of course."

In over your head or not, you were going to have to go through with this.

Unless some miracle got you, Poe, and Finn out of it.

A miracle would have been really fucking helpful at this point.

[motherhen-bear]

Critical Role Relationship Week: Day 7 - Vex’ahlia & Jarett “Money Can’t Buy... Happiness?”

Jarett had long since considered himself to be a man of relatively simple tastes. He didn’t need much in the way of extravagancy to be comfortable – simple clothes, weapons in good condition, a steady paycheck, a roof over his head, a belly (or two) full of food, and enough alcohol to always get him to that sweet spot if not push him over the edge.

No, Jarett didn’t have much more than what he needed and he usually preferred it that way. Unfortunately, recent dragon attacks made it difficult to have even that much these days. After relocating to Whitestone, he’d taken it upon himself, with his now-former-but-not-really employers’ permission, to situate himself into the city guard for the time being – both out a desire to do good work, he knew he’d go mad if he didn’t have something to do, and out of necessity.

Like so many others, Jarett had escaped from Emon with just the clothes on his back, his weapons, and what few personal effects that could fit into a small burlap traveling sack. Now he found himself shacked up in the city barracks and while he had enough (bland) food to keep his belly mostly filled and enough work to keep his mind sharp, he’d be lying if he said his only two sets of clothing weren’t becoming a bit tattered.

It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

The Lady Cassandra was doing her best to accommodate not only the refugees, but her own people as well and Jarett was not about to bother her or anyone else for that matter. Resources were low enough as is.

Not only that, but with the constant threat of death from the sky or an army marching on them from the south, extended rest was no longer a luxury he could afford.

The more hours someone like him could put into keeping the castle secure, the recruits trained, and the more basic daily tasks attended to, the less the stronger and smarter of Vox Machina’s arcane allies would have to worry about, and be able to focus on the greater issue of shielding the city and ending the dragon threat once and for all.

Jarett could take care of himself.

Ultimately though, it seemed he could not avert every set of eagle eyes. On one of his breaks from training, during which he was doing his best to keep a newly sewn patch on his shirt from bursting free (he was more skilled with a sword than a needle and thread), he looked up to find Vex standing before him, hip cocked to one side, arms folded, and a very cross look on her lovely face.

“Jarett, dear,” she said in way of a greeting and Jarett suddenly felt very similar to how he had as a small child – his mother standing over him, scolding him for stealing the neighbor’s meat pies.

Doing his best to shake off the brief flashes of nostalgia and fear, he stood to greet his former employer. “Ah, Vex’ahlia. It is good to see you’ve returned. I trust your most recent venture into the unknown bore fruit?” Behind her, Jarett could spot her bear Trinket wandering around the training yard spooking recruits.

“Oh yes, it was lovely – near-death experiences and moments of idiocy for everyone. How are you, darling? You’re looking a little tired,” replied the half-elven ranger, without missing a beat or taking the bait and bringing his attention right back to her instead of on the enormous creature making his soldiers wet themselves.

Standing up straight and slapping on a winning smile of his own, Jarett shook his head. “I am simply doing my part, same as anyone should in times such as these. I may not be as equipped for hunting down weapons of power or constructing a magic barrier to keep us safe, but I do what I can.”

“Oh, no one’s debating that. You’ve proven yourself more than capable,” Vex said, her voice growing kinder, but still retaining that razor sharpness of cunning. “For example, you are extremely talented at avoiding my questions, so I’ll ask again: how are you, Jarett?”

His smile stayed in place, “I am well enough, truly. Grateful for a roof over my head, two square meals a day, and a place where my skills can be put to good use.”

Vex narrowed her eyes at him, gaze drifting down his person. He suddenly wished more than ever that he hadn’t decided to forgo the upper half of his armor for his break. His gear wasn’t of the highest quality, but he kept it in fairly good condition and more importantly it covered the admittedly tattered clothes that lay beneath. Worse then that, his traitorous stomach chose that exact moment to let out a clearly audible growl. He could practically feel his face flaming as Vex raised her head to look him in the eyes once more.

She seemed to think for a long moment and Jarett stood there, waiting to be lectured or teased or pitied, but instead the woman in front of him merely gave a thoughtful look before she began to speak.

“You know Jarett, the people here are very lucky to have such reliable guardsmen here to protect them. It’s clear their training is paying off. Look,” and she glanced back where three recruits were trying, quite admirably, to gently herd Trinket away from sniffing at the other recruits. It wasn’t doing much, but they hadn’t been eaten yet, so that was something.

“I don’t know many who are brave enough to stand up to Trinket, especially when he hasn’t eaten yet today,” her voice raised on that last part and Trinket let out a short growl that had the soldiers, looking even more nervous then before, beginning to back away from the bear. Jarett, who had seen Trinket furiously attack an invisible assailant in his defense in the past, was unworried and kept his attention on the bear’s mistress.

“Give them a week and they will be ready to face giants,” he bluffed.

“Grog will be pleased. He’s been looking for a new challenge. Dragons are becoming a bit predictable for him.”

“Ah, but I said giants Vex’ahlia, not half-giants.”

Vex laughed and Jarett felt pleased and hopeful that perhaps he’d be able to make it out of this with his dignity largely intact. That is, until she began rummaging through her satchel.

“Regardless, it’s always been my belief that outstanding service deserves just rewards,” and she pulled out a small, yet heavy bag from her satchel. Jarett could hear the clink of coin from inside and he stuck out his hand to push it away as she went to hand it to him.

“Thank you, but no. I appreciate your generosity, but there is no need. I am just doing my job.”

Vex raised one eyebrow, “Jobs typically entitle their workers to payment, darling.”

Jarett smirked at her. “That may be, but a “coin purse” of that size and amount would certainly go far above my monthly rate, even with the raises I am owed. Besides,” and he took a step back. “You need that far more than I do with what you are facing.”

Vex’ahlia was silent a moment, as though giving his reasoning serious thought, and then nodded. “You’re right, Jarett.”

The guardsman felt a rush of relief and a twinge of something else, before there was a sudden rush of movement and he found himself holding the heavy bag of coin in his hand.

“You’re right, Jarett,” Vex’ahlia said again with a cheeky grin on her face, but her eyes deadly serious. “We do need money for healing potions and resistances and all matter of bribes…” Now Jarett’s eyebrow raised and Vex’ahlia waved him off. “Don’t ask. Anyway, you’re kind to worry about us, but the tens of thousands of platinum we’ve happened upon in our recent fights should cover things for a while.”

She nodded her head towards the recruits, who Trinket had at last left in peace. “This gold however, is actually meant specifically to pay the soldiers for their service. You know, living and training expenses, equipment, hygiene, decent meals, bar tabs, and the like…” She gave him another look up and down. “New clothes.”

Jarett could feel his jaw hanging open, but couldn’t for the life of him find the strength to close it.

“So really, dear,” Vex continued. “I’m afraid to say this money isn’t just for you… No, no, that would be terribly inappropriate. It’s for you and the dozens of other hardworking individuals who I’m certain could use the odd comforts while they’re stuck here dong the work no one else can.” She looked him straight in the eye. “It would be selfish to deny them that, wouldn’t you agree?”

Finally closing his mouth so not to resemble a fish, Jarett stammered, “I-I suppose that’s true. Right. I will… distribute the funds accordingly and make sure everyone–” he flinched at the ranger’s glare.

“Everyone,” he emphasized, “get’s their fair share. Thank you.”

An enormous, satisfied smile bloomed on Vex’s face. “I’m pleased to hear it. I'm not often so generous, so such an occasion should be celebrated appropriately. Come along, Trinket!” she called as she turned to start walking away. “Let’s get back to the others!”

Jarett was left behind with a dumbstruck look on his face, holding a bag that must at least weigh… a lot. He watched until his former employer was out of sight, glanced over to the training yard where several soldiers were staring at him, and then weighed the bag carefully in his hand before a bright smile stretched across his own face.

There was a comfortable-looking dark-red jacket in a seamstress’s shop a few blocks from here that he’d been thinking would work very well against the mid-winter chill.