#he was gonna loot earth

[glitteringcrab]

Maybe I can use that someday

Okay. I think... I have an inkling... of what Evil Morty had in mind when he said "you are a little different though Rick" and "maybe I can use that some day".

And it might provide some insight on why he's still on the Curve.

I-I think there... could be... some basis/buildup for the following theory (I can't really say there is buildup, because it's all a matter of interpretation right now), but I gotta admit there are A LOT of "ifs" in this equation, soo... It's all just a hypothesis.

Anyway, here goes. ('tis a long post)

So when S7E5 aired out, I remember thinking: What on earth is so dangerous that Evil Morty, who single-handedly took down the Citadel of Ricks, needs help to deal with???

There are a few contestants for this pedestal:

1. A civilization outside the Curve (What the f*** is that?!?)

2. One of Rick Prime's creations. I mean, we know he didn't like to manage people any more, so it's unlikely he ruled an empire that suddenly became headless after his untimely departure, but given that he liked building, as Rick C-137 put it, "elaborate shit", and that he had "free time" it's still possible we haven't seen the last of his creations. No way he was just sitting ducks in the Omega Device v2 waiting for someone to visit. Maybe he made something that hoarded resources that Evil Morty discovered and would like to loot?

3. The weird Morty cult (eh, weak)

4. Maybe Evil Morty doesn't need help to protect himself from someone, maybe he needs help to build something. E.g. another dimensional drive, that separates him from everyone else?

5. Maybe Evil Morty didn't have anything specific in mind when he said that to Rick C-137. Maybe he just recognized the potential there. (although I cannot help feeling this is NOT what it is; that CHIN TAP. What are you thinking, Evil Morty???)

6. Oooooor....

Well... I know we all think that whoever Rick is responsible for the cables in Evil Morty's head is long dead (I mean... I've read the fanfics and seen the fanart, although "Evil Rick" typically stars in those :P)...

...But I can't shake off the feeling that he is alive and well somewhere.

Which, on first thought, doesn't make any sense:

Exhibit A: That Rick (Imma gonna call him Puppetmaster Rick) is obviously not around Evil Morty any more!

Exhibit B: Evil Morty never seemed scared while in the Citadel, just fed up, tired and miserable.

He was okay with making himself a public figure by running for president; it seems to me he wasn't particularly worried a specific Rick would recognize and go after him (and it should be relatively easy to tell apart Evil Morty if you actually know what you're looking for: you only have to scan Mortys' heads for cables).

Exhibit C: Supposing that guy really is still alive and Evil Morty really is scared of him/hates him, but for some reason was unable to kill him originally, wouldn't it be hilariously easy to kill him once he got the whole Citadel's arsenal and manpower at his disposal?

So why did I think Puppetmaster Rick is alive in the first place?

The answer is this:

The mention of this... "super weird" Rick.

When this scene played out, my first thought was that "Super weird" Rick had an unhealthy obsession with tulips or something. Or that he filled all his creations with polka dolts. Something so crazy and silly that would make any other Rick go "ugh" and decide to give him a wide breadth, no matter how clever and valuable Super Weird Rick's brain was.

After the reveal that Evil Morty was the one really talking in this scene and that he had been going after Rick C-137 specifically, I reached the conclusion that this was all made up. That the "spectrum of all Ricks" was not real, it was something that Evil Morty came up with so as to provide a non-suspicious explanation on why he's targeting Rick C-137 in case Rick C-137 escaped. (Even though, you know, Evil Morty must have filtered through which Ricks to attack somehow... a Doofus Rick who specializes in baking wouldn't be particularly useful to Evil Morty. So... it makes sense that the Spectrum of All Ricks is real...?)

And I know that in Pocket Mortys Rick Prime was the one called "weird Rick"; but is Rick Prime really weird by Evil Morty's standards? He thinks all Ricks are trash, and Rick Prime seems a huge piece of trash as well, why would he be "weird" to Evil Morty?

In fact, what kind of Rick would seem "weird" to Evil Morty?

Why, we already know the answer to that! Rick C-137 seems weird.

Of course he does. He seems overly attached to his Morty. Tells him to stay out of the Prime Fight, to keep him safe. Is motivated over avenging his wife.

Other Ricks also call Rick C-137 similar stuff.

So... Rick C-137 is a... rogue, passionate, irrational Rick... Irrational for having attachments, that is.

Wouldn't Evil Morty --if he's a clone Morty who's been passed around several uncaring Ricks, if he's been discarded countless times-- also find Rick C-137 and his... unusual attachment to one specific Morty "weird"?

And if my theory is right... Evil Morty himself has also passed through the hands of another Rick who was... let's say, overly attached to him. Like, extremely so.

Wouldn't such a Rick seem... super weird to Evil Morty?

Although, why on earth would he appear on the Spectrum of All Ricks? Do dead Ricks also appear in the spectrum? It's already a spectrum of infinite Ricks, why make it even more bloated by including dead Ricks?? Because if Puppetmaster Rick did to Evil Morty something as horrible to as the implications I describe in the above link, why on earth would Evil Morty let him live?!

WELL.

Imagine you're Evil Morty. You're the sort of person who:

puppeteered Evil Rick

did not let Evil Rick commit suicide when he couldn't take it any more (although you made him pass out, which is slightly nice?)

could not tear your eyes away from Evil Rick when he got brutally murdered.

It is implied (I think) that the reason Evil Morty did all that to Evil Rick is that (a) Evil Rick was beating him up and (b) Evil Rick "adopted" him, drunkedly promising that this relationship, however problematic, would last forever, they could be grandpa and grandson-- oh, wait, no. If you don't shut up it's back to the agency with you.

Now, supposing Puppetmaster Rick did... something... to Evil Morty... which, whatever it was, reduced his resting face from this:

to this:

and abused him so much he ended up thinking this was Not A Big Deal:

...Now, if you were Evil Morty, and the option to doom Puppetmaster Rick in a Fate Worse Than Death was available, would you kill him, or would you trap him in an eternal torture of some sort?

(this comes to mind, which is played as a joke, but you get the idea. This sort of thing is possible in the Rick and Morty universe. It could be a time loop. It could be a clone vat buried deep underground in absolute darkness. It could be a modification in Puppetmaster Rick's brain implants.)

I guess it all depends on how scared vs angry Evil Morty was of this guy. It depends on whether he grasped the first chance available to finally kill him or whether he took some extra time to make sure he got to spend the rest of his life appropriately tortured. In any case, because Evil Morty is very pragmatic and patient, I cannot see him doing such a thing unless he was absolutely sure it would last forever.

Or, maybe, if Puppetmaster Rick was an Operation Phoenix expert, killing him in a finite way was a lot more difficult than simply trapping him alive somewhere.

Or, alternatively, maybe Evil Morty had no choice on the matter. It occurred to me the other day that the first Rick we have seen Evil Morty kill with his own two hands was "Nice" Rick. Every other Rick whose death he is responsible for, he has killed indirectly; whether through the puppeteered Evil Rick, a mob of furious Mortys, his Citadel guards, hacked portal fluid that he manipulated Ricks to use (by telling them "nobody leave, everybody stay" lol) or by re-routing their Phoenix Protocol to a different vat... one that simply happened to have razor blades at the bottom. So I'm wondering if whatever implant Evil Morty has in his head "forbid" him from killing Puppetmaster Rick (or any Rick) and he was able to hack through that restriction only relatively recently. Anyway, I'm aware this particular theory is a stretch (is puppeteering Evil Rick really that different from lifting a gun yourself? I don't think so) and I don't think it needs to be true for Puppetmaster Rick still being around.

So, let's hypothesize that Evil Morty did, in fact, trap Puppermaster Rick somewhere from where he was reasonably certain Puppetmaster Rick would never be able to escape. Evil Morty went on to live in the Citadel, get further abused and neglected, abandon the hope of ever having a family, puppeteer Evil Rick, become president, ESCAPE THE CURVE. HOORAY!!!

Oops.

I know we fans have been joking about whether that reset Evil Morty as well or not, but the truth is, it would only be a minor inconvenience to him (although extremely annoying). He has his own untainted portal fluid and the rift is still open, he could easily portal either right back to where he was before or to a random spaceship, then back through the rift.

But... wouldn't that free any Ricks who happened to be trapped in various places? Including the above described (hypothetical) Puppetmaster Rick?

Of course, portal travel was still broken (and apparently Evil Morty broke it so effectively that it also trapped Rick Prime, who makes his own batches) so it's not like Puppetmaster Rick would be able to go far...

...Unless he promptly Operation Phoenixed himself to escape that way.

Or unless Evil Morty never knew what his dimension number was, so there was no need for Puppermaster Rick to run anywhere because Evil Morty would have no idea where he'd be sent to.

Anyway. If we follow that hypothetical scenario, the Puppetmaster Rick who Evil Morty went into a lot of trouble to imprison (and torture) just escaped. Evil Morty could receive some notification in his eyepatch about this change, or he could reach that conclusion by the neon green wave pulsing by.

He could have immediately portaled back to Puppetmaster Rick's prison to find him gone. Or he could have been all "NOPE! I just escaped, I refuse to deal with this anymore! I've got my revenge, and I'm free now!" and went on with his life outside the Curve.

But, uh... that wouldn't negate Puppetmaster Rick still being out there.

And Evil Morty might think it unlikely any random Citadel Rick (who just happened not to be on the Citadel at the time of its destruction) would be motivated enough investigate the Citadel's ruins, reach the conclusion that the President was responsible, and decide to go after him... (it is unlikely; why would any Rick bother to do that?)

...But wouldn't you say hypothetical Puppetmaster Rick would be motivated enough to go after his previous sidekick?

SO.

In that scenario, Evil Morty is definitely hiding.

Maybe he's taking advantage of the un-rifted Curve's "wall" properties to create a shield for his minecraft base. Maybe he's taking advantage of some other, specific property of this particular universe to strengthen his shield. Maybe he's hiding his brainwaves, blending them with the brainwaves of the Morty (or Mortys) living in this one universe. Maybe he's closely monitoring the Curve for anyone going out.

But in any case, he knows that --sooner or later-- he will probably have to deal with Puppetmaster Rick. And sure, Evil Morty has already moved mountains, and defeated this guy once, so he knows he can do it again... So I wouldn't say that Evil Morty is scared of him, per se...

...but he might be. This would be the Rick who scarred him so horribly he thought hundreds of naked tortured Mortys were small potatoes (Rick C-137, Rick Prime, and any other Rick would only try to kill him; Puppetmaster Rick would probably try to pick up from where he left off). And even if he's not scared, I'd haphazard a guess that Evil Morty is repulsed by him. He wouldn't want to meet this guy again. Unlike Rick C-137, who lived to see Rick Prime slain, Evil Morty is no longer motivated by revenge, he seeks peace. Wouldn't fighting Puppetmaster Rick again be extremely emotionally taxing, probably more so than puppeteering Evil Rick and running the Citadel were?

...and wouldn't Puppetmaster Rick be particularly dangerous for Evil Morty, because he'd know all his brain-related tricks, since he is the one who came up with them in the first place...!

...Wouldn't it be better, when that time came, to not face Puppetmaster Rick alone?

Wouldn't it better to have Rick C-137 at his side; one of the most powerful Ricks? One of the most dangerous Ricks in terms of arsenal, intelligence and capabilities, but also a Rick unmotivated to turn against Evil Morty and also a Rick enslaved to him?

(and wouldn't Evil Morty appear completely cruel and heartless and evil if he demands that Rick C-137 shoot at Puppetmaster Rick through a poor Morty who is begging them not to harm his beloved grandfather... who Evil Morty would know is not saying that out of his own free will, but of course he does not trust Rick C-137 enough to divulge this detail...? Or if he handed the recently freed Morty a gun, allowing him to kill Puppetmaster Rick and therefore also gain some sort of closure and restore his autonomy, but appearing to Rick C-137 like he is forcing the poor Morty to kill his own beloved grandpa and therefore coming off as completely unhinged?)

And I gotta say, Evil Morty DID give me the impression of being huddled in his space minecraft snowglobe. Returning to live ON (but not IN) the Curve. We weren't shown him exploring the great unknown, although he MUST have done that as well, given that he discovered that weird place with the crystal monsters. He returned home as soon as possible from that weird crystal place, and didn't even bother to remove his spacesuit when he arrived home. It seemed to me that he wanted to do as little as possible with the outside world.

Compare this with how relieved and happy he looked the first moment he escaped the Curve.

Is he just too tired? Did the novelty of freedom simply wear off, the infinite loneliness wear him down? Is his shelved-away trauma catching up to him, replacing the relief, happiness and peace he seeks with emptiness...? (all probably true)

...or did something else change as well, something that prevents him from actually feeling safe?

...So.

Like I said, a lot of "ifs".

But, if the "maybe I can use that someday" is not Evil Morty simply recognizing the potential, generally speaking, of having Rick C-137 being enslaved to him; if Evil Morty did have something specific in mind, then I'd guess that --from a story-telling perspective-- it would be something for which the foundations have already been lain in the story.

I like this theory a lot, and I like to believe that the "ifs" are close to the truth, but obviously I don't actually know that :P I'm sure that whatever the reason Evil Morty is still on the Curve, the story is going to be incredible! :D

Edit: I just stopped believing and got repulsed by my own theory lol

I really hate the idea that, after everything he's been through, Evil Morty is not Free outside the Curve. I don't mind him being huddled against the horrors of the infinite, but I hate the idea that he's still scared of Ricks, and that this fear drove him to camouflage his existence by living next to the Curve. I want to believe that the reason we were not shown him frolicking in the infinite is that he already did it and has had his fill, not that it would be dangerous for him to wander around.

I hate even more the idea that Evil Morty had chosen to resort to torturing Puppetmaster Rick all this time. I want to believe that (regardless of the atrocities he has stooped to after he decided to leave the Curve) at the moment he freed himself from Puppermaster Rick in the long past, Evil Morty was not "evil" yet. That his integrity and morals and need for freedom were originally stronger than his cruelty and hate and that he prioritized feeling safe (aka quickly killing Puppetmaster Rick to be safe once and for all) over enacting revenge (aka trapping Puppetmaster Rick in a hellish fate). That he had not sunk so low yet. Otherwise it kinda... it's like it negates the message of his story. It feels like a defeat. Like another moral battle he lost instead of one where he won his freedom back. Like another thing Puppetmaster Rick took from him.

He did not seem nervous when his shield temporarily collapsed by Rick C-137 consolidating dimensions. If he thought a specific Rick was after him, specifically, and one as particularly dangerous as Puppetmaster Rick as well, wouldn't the happenings send a million alarm bells ringing in his head? And wouldn't he be a lot more careful about leaving behind tech that could be traced back to him during the Prime fight?

Adios, theory. You were fun for a while.

Maybe it's simply like Morty said: "Nobody quits twitter". Maybe Evil Morty simply wants to use the shield properties of the Curve for his own benefit. Maybe there's some plot point or lore we weren't shown yet, which will be revealed in the future seasons. Or maybe we've all been misjudging him, and his humanity and loneliness are catching up to him, and he occasionally wants to check on how other people are doing.

Edit 2: I have... restarted believing my theory...?

First of all, Evil Morty seemed to know immediately who would be responsible for the "Curve Stability Compromised" alarm: the one Rick who knew how the Curve works, because he's the one Rick who actually made it! Plus some other Ricks appeared unable to create their own portal fluid (remember that old-man Rick who hung out with the Mortytown Locos, who was creating bootleg portal fluid, but whose "math was off"?) And since Evil Morty destroyed the Citadel, they'd be unable to go get more of it... So if Puppetmaster Rick was one of those Ricks who had to buy his own portal fluid, then ever since the destruction of the Citadel he'd be trapped, able to travel to different universes only by... rerouting himself during Operation Phoenix (an accommodation for Ricks Evil Morty obviously doesn't have in his home base). So in this scenario, Evil Morty is staying close to the Curve not so much out of fear, but more as a precaution. If Puppetmaster Rick can make his own portal fluid, of course, all bets are off.

Evil Morty should be adequately confident that his trail has vanished, gone cold by now. The last Puppetmaster Rick would have seen of him would be during season one, at best. Puppetmaster would have known him as "Morty 79⊢⊇V" (or something like that); but Evil Morty has destroyed this record and assumed a new identity. It would be very difficult to connect who he was before to the Morty President, to the Morty who escaped the Curve (and I bet only Rick C-137 and Morty Prime know some Morty escaped the Curve; unless they told other surviving Mortys). The best Puppetmaster Rick can do is search for his brainwaves or dimensional signature (which must probably be very effective), but he's not looking for "Evil Morty". He has no reason to think there is any Morty outside the Curve. He might not even be able to tell whether his old sidekick is dead or alive by now (if Evil Morty is efficient enough in hiding his presence).

So in all these scenarios, Evil Morty staying close to the Curve is a strategic decision based on caution, not one borne of panic (which I like, because I don't want Evil Morty to be scared any more).

And it just occurred to me that, if Puppetmaster Rick is still alive, he would have prepared himself for the eventuality of their encounter (same as I'm sure Evil Morty has done). He knows how Evil Morty's implant works, and its remains are still in his head. I'd bet anything he has fabricated a device or instrument or weapon to shoot at his head (much like Evil Morty's finger guns) to instantly override the implant and regain control. And Evil Morty would know that, he'd be able to tell immediately what said weapon is for. Man, their encounter would be terrifying.

#evil morty #rick and morty #maybe I can use that someday #I've seen this technology before

[digitaldoeslmk]

Hi hi, i wonder if red son's parents (DBK and PIF) are gonna stop thying to conquer the world and mayyyybe try to pass more time with red son as family? maybe something happening to red son that made them go for him to assure he is safe or maybe they realized that, after all the time it happened, isn't it better try to fix their relationship with their son? or no hope for that? Also, how is the relationship between MK, Mei, Nesha and Red son?

well..... eventually, but it will take time. they have plenty of reason to hold on to their stubbornness and not change, but it's thanks to MK and the gang that they see how much they are hurting Red Son and by extension themselves with refusing to just, learn to let go and start over.

by the S1 finale, Red Son has a very emotional moment when his father is rescued, which is the first step for DBK and PIF to realize just how far things have gone. by S3 they help the gang to gather allies and support to face LBD and Macaque, and once that's done, they've pretty much resigned to just taking care of their own mountain home and renounce attempts to undermine Wukong's truce.

they are still hardasses and not as emotionally vulnerable as the rest of the gang, but tbh Red Son wouldn't want them to be. He just wants his parents' affection and care, just as they are, and that much they can do. At the end of the day, they are a family who love each other deeply; canonically PIF was ready to fight Wukong to the death in revenge for taking Red Son from her, same for DBK! they wouldn't do that if Red Son was disposable to them.

As for the group!! Red Son is an incredibly chill and direct guy; centuries of cultivating the dharma does that to ya xD he has his moments of flared temper and impatience, and he definitely is a bit dramatic, but nothing like we see in the show. overall him, MK and Mei get along quite well, the two energetic gremlins making him climb up the walls but affectionately xD

Nezha is technically Red Son's brother by bond; Muzha is also Guanyin's disciple of an older generation (by JTTW timeline), who is Nezha's second brother. they've met and interacted plenty of times in the celestial realm, and whenever Nezha had duties in the mortal realm, he often found the time to visit Red Son. Nezha cares about him since he knows he has a tendency to overstretch himself, but overall Nezha is still a hellraiser of a deity; if he can get along with MK and Mei at all, it's because Nezha primed him for a lot of bullshit lmao

Nezha, Mei and MK get along like a house on fire. Nezha knows them by name before the whole Monkie Kid business cus they prayed and left offerings to him so often, begging him to grant them some rare items on loot boxes and gacha games. so getting to know the two in the flesh is an amusing experience! Mei particularly prayed to Nezha for safety on her races and motorcycle joyrides, and they talk wheels a lot.

Nezha and Red Son are still celestial agents, and they can wear the serious face when they have to, but MK and Mei get to see that these two are pretty down-to-earth guys for deities.

#lmk au #by the book au

[darlin-djarin]

Hiya! I've been lowkey stalking ur blog for the last few weeks bcs i recently got rllllllly into dinluke and saw ur recent post about fic, so now I'm wondering if you have any reccs (dinluke ofc)?! I like ur content and read ur tags so I'd say our taste in fic probably overlaps. Hope you have a nice day!! 🌻

hey!! and yeah i’ve got a few fics that i think a lot of dinlukers might like

first let me link @transmascskywalker's list because that’s where i started out originally!!

now as for my fic recs~

some of these fics might overlap, i’m just putting down the ones i loved most. i’m sure i’ve read tons more but these are the ones i found that you can busy yourself with :)

The Storm by shirozora

Din Djarin needs a new ship.

Greef Karga makes him a deal - do some work for the guild and he'll get a brand new gunship. One such job takes him to a planet with a volatile storm system to track down a double-crossing bounty hunter. What he doesn't know is that the bounty hunter is there to loot an ancient Jedi temple. What neither of them know is that someone else is also on the planet searching for the temple.

And then the storm rolls in.

in-universe

sfw

multichapter/parts

my comfort fic btw ^^ i’ve read it so many times

Mystery Man by snapdragonpop007

Luke is seeing someone, apparently.

And really, it’s none of Anakin’s business.

Really.

modern au

sfw

multichapter/parts

one of the best, funniest fics i’ve ever read ^^

Unfold by SilverScriptings

Han can’t help but be suspicious of a certain Mandalorian who’s been spending an awful lot of time at the Jedi Temple…

in-universe

sfw

multichapter/parts

A Little Farther Down the Line by Chromat1cs

Austin, Texas, 1973. Din Djarin plays the guitar, worries about his kid, and runs aimlessly from a past that pulled the roof down around his ears. When a stunningly-talented duo of up-and-coming performers turns Din’s plans of being a simple session musician clear on their head, Din must decide between the safety of mundanity or the unlooked-at thrill of following his heart lest the tape run out on this track of his life before he’s through recording it.

modern (1970’s) au

nsfw

multichapter

the warmest bed i’ve ever known by ceedawks

pre-original series, din djarin is injured on a remote planet and found by an incessantly chatty farm boy named luke skywalker || i won't ask you to wait, if you don't ask me to stay || aka "making out with hot farm boys doesn't count as breaking the creed if he's blindfolded during it".

pre-ANH/meet on tatooine au (in-universe)

nsfw

multichapter

We Two Scorched the Earth by annathaema (moony)

That left Luke with a much bigger problem: The Sand People knew he was here, they’d likely sabotaged or stolen the speeder by now, and he was stranded in a cave with nothing but a rifle with three rounds left, a survival pack good for only a couple of days, and no transport home. Great. Luke leaned against the wall of the cave and tipped his head back, thumping the back of it against the stone over and over. He closed his eyes and wished for rescue.

Someone groaned.

pre-ANH/meet on tatooine au (in-universe)

nsfw

oneshot

Never leaving well enough alone by DarkIsRising

or Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

He’s drunk, and he isn’t quite sure how that happened. That’s not true, Luke does remember vaguely how it happened, more or less, and it all started with Han.

in-universe

nsfw

multichapter

Yoda’s Academy for Li’l Padawans by MissDinahDarling

Being a new student is hard.

Being a new student whilst your socially awkward father avoids the school at all costs and your new teacher pines uselessly over a man he’s never met before is even worse.

But by god, Grogu is gonna get through this.

modern au

sfw

multichapter

Just Like Heaven by Kushana

At first, he watches.

Then, he touches.

in-universe

sfw (both aroace ^^)

oneshot

Romance As a Series of Debacles by The SexierEvilerCora

Han stumbles on a golden opportunity to make life difficult for Boba Fett, and drags Luke along as backup to crash a Mandalorian party.

Things do not go as planned for anyone involved.

modern au

nsfw

it’s unfinished with only one chapter but it’s still worth the read

Honey Lemon Popsicle by coffeecatsme

“Good morning,” Luke chirps, not even looking up from the stove, “my honey bunches of oats.”

Din blinks several times, trying to get his muscles to unfreeze, and opens his mouth.

Then closes it.

Then opens it again. “What did you just call me?”

5 times Luke calls Din increasingly weird pet names, and 1 time he finds out Din likes it.

modern au

sfw

oneshot

Restraint and Relaxation by Aureutr_Accoredge

Queen Amidala is sick of watching her son run himself ragged for every good cause he finds. When he collapses at his sister's engagement gala, it is the last straw.

Luke balks, so she summons one of her Mandalorian Knights to take him to the family's lakeside villa to make him rest.

By any means necessary

in-universe

nsfw

oneshot (v good ^^)

these are all the ones i recommend for now! i’ve read other really good fics, but these ones ^^ are the ones i’ve found myself return to at least one way or the other.

please let me know if you're looking for something more specific as well!! i'll do my best to find something for your tastes

#star wars #the mandalorian #dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x luke skywalker #fic recs #i guess idk #this took me like an hour to compile #and i have like two other things i need to write abt lmfao #the things i do lmao #pinning just to remember for a little #oil.

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde

Act 6, page 5398

DAVE: whats up with the fish punk troll following kanaya around

ROSE: Seems she's passing through. Kanaya doesn't want her to cause trouble.

DAVE: cause trouble

DAVE: what the fuck could she even do here

DAVE: like kick over an old pile of garbage and cause the property value to fall even lower than jack shit

DAVE: i say let her go nuts

ROSE: Feel free to take it up with Kanaya.

ROSE: But if you authorize her to flip a bitch, just make sure she's nowhere near my chemistry table.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: cant be droppin your vials and shit all over the floor

DAVE: the only one whos got clearance to drop science is me

ROSE: Dork.

DAVE: dont even hate

DAVE: been shoring up my muthafuckin CRAFT over here

ROSE: I know. I've been in the same room, right over there, listening to you mumble lyrics to yourself for the last couple hours.

DAVE: rose you know what sucks

ROSE: Yes.

ROSE: To which sucky thing are you referring?

DAVE: it kinda just occurred to me

DAVE: while i was spitting ill verse to no end

DAVE: i got this weird feeling that i might be getting like

DAVE: a little dated?

ROSE: Is this about Terezi?

DAVE: what

DAVE: no no

DAVE: dont be disingenuous word girl you know what im saying

DAVE: i mean sorta passe

DAVE: like a lumbering pop reference dinosaur

DAVE: remember we are both kind of stuck in 2009

DAVE: so im like popculturally frozen in that period

DAVE: all my references feel like they might be getting a little stale

DAVE: even though the earth ended and all and there was no culture after that point anyway

DAVE: but still

DAVE: i can feel it

DAVE: like in my bones

DAVE: i just know on some hypothetical earth that kept going my shit is starting to get so lame

DAVE: and i know it doesnt matter because its just us here so who cares

DAVE: but i care

DAVE: its a matter of integrity i am a fucking artist

DAVE: like i think if i make one more rap about like some fucking dane cook movie from 2008 to piss karkat off or some tired bullshit like that im going to

DAVE: i dont know

DAVE: ill just start feeling like a fraud

DAVE: my game might be drying up rose

DAVE: but its not my fault like im totally hostage to this freezedried backlog of cultural garbage that can never move forward again

DAVE: so i have to pick through it like im looting a fucking tomb while still all tryin to act RAP SASSY

DAVE: like YEAH take THAT motherfuckers

DAVE: OF THE PAST

DAVE: all in your mass graves somewhere in a dead frogiverse

DAVE: i be representing some god damn STANDARDS about your media do you feel me

DAVE: im depressing myself here

DAVE: all im saying is it would be cool to have some fresh shit to work with

DAVE: like just to know

DAVE: to know what the world would be like in the year it would be for us now

DAVE: which would be 2011 i guess

DAVE: wow 2011 really

DAVE: damn

DAVE: i just want to know what would have happened

DAVE: theres so much shit we were primed for

DAVE: it was gonna be exciting

DAVE: like barack obama just turned president remember that

DAVE: we never got to see if he fixed the economy

DAVE: remember how you were dying to see if he would fix the economy you were asking me about it every damn day

DAVE: just joking nobody gave a shit about that

DAVE: but like

DAVE: i never got to check out the next batch of stiller jams and see how bad i could mock them

DAVE: we never got to find out how the midnight crew adventure ended

DAVE: if ever

DAVE: rose

DAVE: ROSE??

DAVE: what the fuck man

DAVE: whyd you go back to your bottles and shit i was right in the thick of hella elocution

DAVE: dont give me that

DAVE: yes

DAVE: uh yeah

DAVE: yes i do ACTUALLY want you to come back over here

DAVE: im waiting

ROSE: Fine. Here I am.

DAVE: wow was that so hard

DAVE: this is what civilized people do rose they fucking talk to each other like actually in each others fucking vicinities

ROSE: You just have a tendency to go on for a while. I assumed we progressed to the traditional mumbling monologue stage of Striderian discourse.

DAVE: no thats not even a thing

DAVE: i was actually like

DAVE: trying to get your take

ROSE: Take on what.

DAVE: i dont even know

DAVE: i bet john would have stuff to say

DAVE: hes probably going through the same frozen fucking caveman from 2009 syndrome as me

DAVE: actually what am i saying the dude is a caveman from 1997

DAVE: hahaha like he could give a shit as long as hes got his cage dvds

ROSE: Oh! I saw him the other night.

DAVE: what

ROSE: In a dream. It was very brief, only a few minutes. I waved to him and then woke up.

DAVE: whoa what was he doing

ROSE: He was fighting Jack. Actually, he was doing quite well!

DAVE: oh man

DAVE: you have to tell me all about this

ROSE: I will. Later, though. I'd like to get back to work.

DAVE: ok when

DAVE: tonight?

ROSE: I have plans tonight. How about tomorrow.

DAVE: plans

DAVE: what plans

ROSE: Just some plans.

DAVE: can i come

ROSE: No!

DAVE: fuck fine

DAVE: tomorrow then

DAVE: maybe ill just dream up my own john tonight and well have an awesome time without you what do you think about that

ROSE: ...

DAVE: fu

#homestuck #dave strider #rose lalonde #homestuck act 6 #page 5398 #homestuck act 6 intermission 3 #openbound

[shatteredearth-if]

Hello prend an ask you want and an ask you shall recieve

So the world is in apocalypse, tell me how creative the ROs can be when making a surprise and loving dinner for the MC.

With the limited resources and very dangerous looting.

So it's actually entirely possible that each of the ROs could've just… grabbed whatever they needed from the ship and cooked for you with high-quality ingredients instead, but for the sake of this ask I'm gonna assume that everyone's all stuck out in the wilderness with absolutely nothing, because higher stakes 💫✨ lol

Avett: He's a terrible cook even under normal circumstances, and even worse out in the wilds. He knows next to nothing about Earth's local flora, and he's not keen on poisoning himself over what he thinks might be a wild carrot. If you're carnivorously-inclined, he might roast a bird or two over a campfire for you, IF he manages to catch one, but it sure won't be pleasant—you'll probably end up picking feathers out of your teeth. If he likes you, he might try to serve up his meal with some fresh water, lol.

Yuda: You'd never have expected this, but she's actually really resourceful, and a decent cook. She knows which plants are edible, which aren't, and which taste the best in a freshly-tossed salad. She garnishes most of her dishes with white, edible flowers.

Liam: Using his remedial knowledge of what's edible on Earth, Liam manages to whip up… a can of soft spaghetti. "Sorry," he says, smiling apologetically. "Best to err on the side of caution." To his credit, the spaghetti has been swirled onto the paper plate.

Ysh'vanna: It is very likely that YOU'LL actually be cooking for HER. She'll probably try to help you prepare the meal, which will end badly for the both of you. Do not let this woman anywhere NEAR a cooking station; she's a terrible cook under all and any circumstances. 

The entity: Can't cook, but it whips you up something lovely in your mind palace. It tastes like nothing, but it fills you up as a normal meal would. Hm! Weird.

#if wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #shattered earth if #if game #work in progress #twine game #ask #shattered earth: ysh'vanna #shattered earth: entity #shattered earth: avett #shattered earth: Liam #shattered earth: yuda

[dlea203]

5 years - Hannix AU

A/N: Alright, we’re at chapter ten, everybody 🥳! And with that, we’ve reached the temporary end of this story (emphasis on temporary!). Wow, what a journey it’s been, for both the characters in this story, and for me… this last year has been wonderful/magical/extraordinary/*name any positive English adjective that exists* and difficult/challenging all at once. From physical discomfort to many feelings, to emotional turmoils, to ups and downs… Luckily, I’ve been blessed to meet some of the nicest/kindest/purest souls that grace this earth with their presence. And I’m so immensely proud that I get to call these people my friends 🥹. They’ve brightened up my life and continue to do so every single day. You guys know who you are, and I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me so far and what you keep doing!

But every good thing comes to an end eventually, and it’s not different with this story. 5 years has proven to be a very educational project with all its ups and downs. I’ve had days/weeks/even months where the writer’s block has hit me harder than I wanted. I’ve looked at these pages several times and wondered: How the fuck am I ever gonna bring this to an end?!             Well, I managed, and that is due to my wonderful readers who’ve encouraged me to go on. To try again and again and again. Your comments, reblogs and likes have made me continue and somehow believe in myself and that I can finish this, so that we all get a little closure (and the characters too, obviously 😉). 

As you’ve probably noticed, this chapter will be posted in two posts (first the flashback scene and then the “present time”). Why? Because otherwise the post would be too long😅.

ANYWAY, I should stop rambling so much. This chapter has its usual warnings like lots of fluff and angst, but it also comes with a HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING about graphic depiction of violence and injuries, attempted sexual assault (not too graphic), brutality, captivation and imprisoning of a main character, etc. (I can’t name them all off the top of my head, so I’m sorry if I missed something)! So please, all minors and everyone who gets triggered by any of these themes, please DO NOT READ the flashback scene (aka the first post!) and the first part of the present time! You can start the story where the POV changes into the second scene of present time (It’s marked with a reader-safe section separator). 

I’m not taking any responsibility for psychological damage that can be caused by reading the flashback scene/first part of the present time if you’re not 18+ or if you get triggered by the themes mentioned.

I’m also not intending to offend anyone by the way I portray the “enemy” in this story. Everything regarding the topic Afghanistan/its inhabitants/its government up to now, in this chapter and in the future (if there is one for this story) are to be filed under the creative-liberty-section! I’m not intending to make any political statements or to judge in a moral sense. I’m sorry nonetheless if someone feels offended. I can assure you it wasn’t my intention.

Now, enjoy (although it’s probably a bit outrageous to phrase it like that 😅😬) the (temporary) last chapter of 5 years and THANK YOU to everyone who’s been on this ride with me! It was a blast, and I hope to continue writing for Hannix in the future. 

Take care everyone and lots of love, your Daria 🥰

Taglist: @callsignstingray @sweetwhispersofchaos

Previous chapter

Chapter Ten - part one

August 19th, one year ago…

Jake hadn’t known that brutality like this existed on this planet. He’d never seen people with this few humanity in them like the men he was sitting across from right now as the truck sped through the desert. They laughed devilishly, enjoying their victory, and counting the loot they had snatched today. They were neither mourning the men they’d lost nor regretting their actions just a little bit. Jake was disgusted, and that is the understatement of the century. He kept his head down, fighting the tears that were trying to make their way out of his eyes to deal with what he’d seen today.

He'd never get these images out of his mind. Jake wished that he was part of a horror show, that someone would call “Cut!” any moment and he’d get to see the cameras to be reminded that this wasn’t real. Except that it was. This wasn’t a film. It was reality. And it was irreversible…

*-*

The day started normal. The men and boys went to the fields, the women stayed in the village, doing laundry and looking after the kids who weren’t in school. It was a day like any other in the Afghan desert. Except that Jake stayed in the village too, today. He made a few repairs to the houses of the village, especially on the roofs. A quite nasty earthquake had shaken the villagers out of their sleep last night and made some damages to the houses. Jake and the women tried their best to fix the damages, so that no one would get hurt.

But about two hours after the day had started, nothing was normal anymore. As if the earthquake was supposed to be a bad sign, the village got raided that day, but not by the protection money collectors. No, this was a different group of Taliban men. Much more brutal and heartless. 

They sped along the gravel road but stopped at the fields. Because the villagers had heard them too late, they weren’t able to get back to the village in time, so they looked up from their work, confused. The Taliban climbed out of their trucks, pointed their loaded guns at the men and started shooting them down. Bodies dropped left and right, the fields getting soaked with innocent blood. Among the victims: Jahan and Lianh.

In the village, the women and kids heard the gun shots coming from the fields. Everyone looked at one another, confused and with panic rising within them. 

“Are those gunshots?”, Zahra asked in Afghan, grabbing her mother’s hand. 

“Those are coming from the fields”, Jake stated dryly, already knowing that it was too late for the men and boys on the fields and fearing the worst for the village.

He’d recognize these sounds from miles away. Years of being in the military did that to you. He dropped the tools and ran out in front of the Sayyid house, yelling through the village that there were gunshots coming from the fields and that everyone should get into their house immediately. Amira’s face turned snow white, and everyone started screaming. The women hurried the kids into the houses, trying in vain to lock the doors. But it was all for nothing. Minutes after the gunshots stopped on the fields, various trucks came to a stop in the middle of the village, the Taliban men jumping out and shooting around, not caring who they caught with their bullets. They hollered things Jake didn’t understand and broke into the houses, shooting everyone inside.

Jake hid in the wall closet, as he always did, because muscle memory took over at this point. Amira wanted to run into one of the rooms at the back to protect Aarian, but she didn’t get there in time. Three men broke down the door, pointing their guns at her and Zahra, shouting that they wanted money and valuables. One man walked straight into the back rooms, collecting everything valuable he found. Then, they heard a scream and shot, before something heavy dropped to the floor. Aarian. The other two grabbed Zahra and pressed her face down onto the kitchen table, laughing devilishly and tried to push her skirts up, reaching underneath. She screamed, doing her best to defend herself, but she didn’t stand a chance. Amira wanted to help her, but the second man rammed her head onto the stove and pushed her onto the ground in the corner. Jake balled his fists. Zahra’s screams burned themselves into the depth of his mind. He rammed his shoulder into the door of the closet to open it and immediately threw his whole weight into the man who held Zahra’s arms and had pushed Amira into the corner of the kitchen. The man stumbled and hit his head on the stove as well, going down at least for the moment. Jake tore the other one off Zahra, closed his arms around his neck and tried to strangle him. Zahra pushed her skirts back down, a look of naked panic and shock on her face.

“Zahra, get out of here! Run!”, Jake screamed at her, while he fought with the offender.

Zahra stumbled backwards towards the door and wanted to run out, but the third man who’d killed Aarian darted after her, raised his gun and shot her straight in the head. Zahra dropped down on the threshold.

“No!”

Jake had never before screamed this loudly in his life. He closed his arms even tighter around the bastard’s throat and twisted them, snapping his neck. Then, he jumped onto Zahra’s and Aarian’s murderer. They fought for the gun, crashing into walls and the table in the process. Jake almost had him, but the third man stood up from the ground and then it was two on one. They overpowered him and almost beat him unconscious. When they pressed him down onto the ground, one of the two found Jake’s Dog tags.

“He’s American!”, the man shouted in Afghan, showing the Dog tags to his friend, “Let’s take him with us!”

They tied Jake’s hands up behind his back with a rope and pushed him towards the door. He stumbled over Zahra’s body as his captor nudged him forward. From the corner of his eye, Jake saw that the other one stayed behind and shot Amira in her head, before walking after his friend who pushed Jake towards the trucks. Jake’s heart clenched so tightly that he felt the pain in his ribs.

As they walked up to the vehicles, Jake saw the massacre they had perpetrated. The gravel road and village square were lined with bodies, grown-ups and children. Before he was loaded into one of the trucks, Jake spotted the bodies of Edris and Ava, a few feet away from the school building. Edris’ body lay over Ava’s. He’d wanted to protect his little sister. Jake’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he vomited into the sand next to the truck. His captor slapped him across the face and yelled something in Afghan, probably an insult, but Jake neither cared nor understood. He gave up fighting against his captors. Jake was pushed into the back of the truck, along with various bags full of money and valuables. From there, everything blurred together…

*-*

They’re dead.

It was the only thought Jake was capable of coming up with. He thought about it for hours on end, saw the scenes he’d witnessed in front of his mind’s eye. Zahra, dead on the threshold. She was on the verge of breaking free, but it was snatched from her in the cruelest way. Amira, a loving mother, died while trying to save her children. Edris and Ava, two kids with bright futures ahead, died while trying to protect each other. Aarian, five years old, had his life taken from him before it even started. Jahan and Lianh, hard workers with hearts of gold, murdered for no reason. He didn’t even want to get started on the rest of the villagers. From Babies to children, to women to old men and everything in between, murdered out of pure joy. They were innocent, hadn’t done anything forbidden, except protecting Jake. Their only sin was being good souls. To avoid breaking down in tears in front of the monsters that were his captors, Jake turned his head away to look out at the massive amount of sand they passed. The longer he did, the more tired he got. He didn’t know when exactly, but at one point, his eyes closed, and he dozed off.

He didn’t come back to himself until the truck finally came to a stop. They dragged him out and pushed him forward to an iron gate where two men stood with machine guns. Jake saw a big sign next to the gate: State Prison of Herat.

Zahra had not only taught him how to speak but also how to read Afghan, that’s why he was able to make out what the letters on the sign meant. Zahra… To make the memories vanish, Jake sighed audibly.

Great, now I’ll surely never see my family again, he thought bitterly while the two armed men took him from his captors.

They seemed to negotiate something, but Jake didn’t pay attention. He just let everything happen. They brought him into the main building, checking him over for weapons and throwing him prison clothes. Then he was handcuffed, and they walked him to a different area of the building, past some common rooms where the local prisoners eagerly made fun of him and shouted death threats at him. Jake didn’t care. He stared ahead, expressionless. His will to live had shrunk with every bullet that had been fired in the village. 

Eventually, they reached the part of the building where he would be imprisoned for the foreseeable future. After sweeping a glance through the corridor that was lined with cells, which were only separated by bars, he came to a stop in front of an empty cell.

“Get in there!”, one guard yelled and pushed him inside.

Jake fell to his knees and was made to stay like that until they had removed his cuffs. The guards exited the cell and slammed the door shut behind them. Jake dropped his head forward and checked his tunic for the picture of her. He was allowed to keep the tunic with him, although not to wear it. For a moment he’d been afraid they would take it from him when they checked him over. They hadn’t found the picture, luckily. Same for his wedding band, that he immediately added to the chain of his dog tags. He stuffed them back beneath the clothes he had on now and threw the tunic into a corner of his cell.

“Hey there, you okay?”

Jake’s head whipped around to his left where the voice had come from. A man about his age looked through the bars, a curious expression on his face. His English was accent free, which strangely made Jake feel a little more comfortable immediately.

“Yeah, sure. Best day of my life”, Jake deadpanned.

“I figured”, the man laughed, “I mean, who doesn’t want to get imprisoned in here? It’s pure luxury!”

Jake had to smile at that. The man seemed to not have lost his humor, which somehow brought even more comfort.

“I’m Ryan Hessington, by the way”, he introduced himself, trying to squeeze his hand through the bars before giving up and just offering a fist bump through them.

Jake walked over to him and bumped his fist.

“I’m Jake Seresin. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Jake. Where are you from?”

“Originally from Texas, but I’ve been living in San Diego before I came here. You?”

“From Phoenix in Arizona, baby. Best freakin’ city on this planet!”, Ryan chuckled and pounded onto his heart twice.

Jake’s heart fluttered at Phoenix, but he pushed the thoughts of his wife aside for the moment.

“I dare to doubt that”, Jake countered, smiling sincerely for the first time since this morning.

“Agreed!”, a voice with a British accent sounded over from a few cells down.

“Oh, shut up, Stronski!”, Ryan yelled back, before he looked at Jake again.

“May I present? Marc Stronski from a small town near Everton, that he keeps claiming to be the best city in the world”, Ryan said and rolled his eyes.

“It’s true!”, Marc grinned, offering a salute to Jake.

“It’s not even a city! It’s a small town!”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“Yes, it does! Whatever, moving on.”

Jake chuckled. Ryan grinned and pointed at the cell across from Jake next.

“There we have Kilian Hartmann and next to him is Theo Becker, both from Germany.”

They waved at Jake.

“On the right of Theo, we have Stronski’s british ally, the name’s Daniel White. Next to me is my friend and only remaining pal of my squad, Jared Shaw. But that’s a story for the second date. And next to him, our only remaining French buddy named François Déforel.”

“Salut”, François greeted, as Jared moved out of the way so Jake could nod back at him.

“And that’s it, that’s gonna be your company from now on.”

“Hey! What about me?!”, a Spanish-accented voice spoke up from all the way down the corridor.

“Oh my god, forgive me”, Ryan exclaimed with faux-desperation, which almost made Jake burst into laughter, “I forgot about our Spanish-german double agent! Last but not least, Circo Alcarraz.”

“I will kick your ass as soon as I get a chance, Ryan!”, Circo yelled over, but there was no harm behind his words.

Jake managed to smile genuinely at the men he was imprisoned with. They seemed like pretty cool guys. Maybe that would make this situation a bit more endurable.

“Any questions so far?”, Ryan pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You said François is your only remaining French buddy. What does that mean?”

Ryan’s face got a solemn expression, his eyes turning a shade darker.

“Your cell was the one of Sébastien Maillard. He was taken for interrogation yesterday, but they didn’t bring him back. That means he didn’t get through it…”

“Didn’t get through it?”

Ryan looked at him, his smile a sad one.

“They’re not exactly following the human rights convention when they do their interrogations, to put it lightly.”

Jake nodded, definitely not needing further details. He’d witnessed enough brutality for the day (technically for a lifetime, but it would surely not be over anytime soon).

“God bless him”, Ryan muttered, before shaking his head as if to get rid of the thoughts that ran through his head at the moment.

“Beside the habits of our guards, any other questions?”

“Not for the moment, no. Thank you”, Jake thanked him earnestly.

“Well, you know where to find me if that changes. It’s not like we have much privacy… but I promise we’re not stepping on each other’s toes here. If someone wants to be left in peace, we respect that. Is that okay?”

“Sure, absolutely. Thank you.”

Ryan nodded, before lying down onto his shady mattress. Jake did the same, lying down and staring at the ceiling. His hand brushed over the chain with the dog tags and his wedding band.

Baby, I miss you, he thought, longing for her in his arms.

He wished she would suddenly appear here, for just a minute, so he could take her into his arms and trust, even if only for a moment, that everything would turn out fine.

*-*

The first few days at the prison passed by surprisingly quickly. Jake had to adjust to this new situation, which meant staying in his cell for half of the day and working within the prison for the rest of it. Ryan and the others were kind enough to assist and instruct him though, so that the guards didn’t have too many reasons to punish him. They did punish him anyway, because they liked to demonstrate their power and superiority, but they treated all the prisoners equally. Not making a difference between foreign soldiers and local criminals. The foreign soldiers were kept apart from the locals though because the risk of a bloody fight with fatality was too high. And they couldn’t take that risk, the infrastructure was too old to withstand a riot. 

After work, the soldiers were brought back to their cells immediately where lunch or dinner was served.

“They just don’t have any class here”, Ryan joked, “they’re not even letting us eat together!”

Jake laughed. He was glad that the men he was imprisoned with haven’t lost their true personalities due to being here. He remembered one of his instructors at the academy warning them about exactly that…

“If you ever get into the situation where you’re imprisoned by the enemy, you have to do two things… First, adjust to the situation as quickly as possible. Figure out how you can get as comfortable there as possible, whatever measures that includes. Everything is allowed, just do it. Second, lock your personality, and everything that is connected to it, deep within yourself and keep it there. You have to become a shell, hollow and worthless on the inside. Because the enemy will try to figure out how they can break you. And if they find something – no, I rephrase – if you give them something they can break you with, if you give them the weapon to break you with, they sure as hell are gonna use it! Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Jake had never imagined that he would be in a situation described in that lesson but here he was. He would do exactly what they were asked to in that lesson. Lock his personality - everything that made him Jake - deep into his soul. He’d lock away his girls, where he came from, his friends and family, his passions and interests; everything that separated him from being a robot would disappear into the depth of his soul and would not reappear until he was free again. Or at least, until he was alone in his cell, and the guards weren’t anywhere near. Which proved to be helpful indeed but didn’t get easier the longer he had to keep it up. At least it disappeared into the back of his mind the more time passed but it didn’t get easier. He just kinda got used to it. It became a mandatory habit. Just like turning off his feelings and his mind completely when he was dragged to the interrogation room. Or torture cell, as his new friends told him.

“Whatever happens, whatever they promise you if you cooperate, do not believe them, okay?!”, Ryan had whisper-shouted at him when they’d heard the guards walk down the corridor towards Jake’s cell to get him for his first interrogation.

“Okay.”

“They’re liars! Same goes for the threats they utter! Don’t listen and don’t worry about them! They’re not gonna make them true, how could they? Your family and friends live far away in safety! Remember, Jake, okay?! Always remember that!”

Jake nodded, then he was dragged out of his cell by his arms, and punched in the back when he didn’t get onto his knees immediately. Ryan held onto the bars and looked him deep in the eyes.

“You got this, Jake. Just hold on. For them”, he insisted, watching the guards drag Jake away.

*-*

At first, Jake had thought that working in the burning sun was the worst part of being imprisoned here. He’d assumed that the interrogations wouldn’t be much fun, but he’d thought that the film-cliché of them being the worst wouldn’t be true. Oh boy, was he wrong about that… 

The interrogations were hell on earth. The physical as well as the mental part of them. The bastards insulted him as much as they beat him up with their leather belts and fists. His back was covered in red streaks within minutes into the interrogation. But it wasn’t really an interrogation, to be honest. It was rather a monologue by one of the three guards in the room while the other two switched the roles to beat and hit him bloody. The monologue consisted of insults, predictions on what they would do to him, (death) threats for his loved ones at home, and so on…

“You have family?”, he was asked.

Jake didn’t answer and received a punch to the ribs.

“We’ll find them. We will find them and murder them. They will suffer, oh yes… We will make a video and show it to you. How we slit their throats and hang them on a tree!”

The guards laughed, basking in their brutal fantasies. Jake just stared ahead, mind blank and ears as closed off as possible. But the images were created in his head, nonetheless. 

The worst ones always came at night, when he was supposed to rest and get new strength to get through the next day. He saw Natasha and Lynn, peacefully dining at the kitchen table, when the door is broken down and the guards enter the house. Natasha jumps up from the table, picking Lynn up into her arms, fleeing behind the kitchen island to grab a knife. She hides Lynn between her legs and the counter, shouting at the men to leave them alone. But the men just laugh at her. She tries to stab one of them, but they’re three and she’s alone with a child to protect. They knock the knife right out of her hands and grab for her and Lynn. She holds onto their daughter, screaming for help. Jake sees the naked panic in her eyes, the same he saw in Zahra’s face right after he’d stopped the bastard from raping her. They’re torn apart. Their cries are like a thousand knives that pierce straight into his soul. Jake is helpless, watching with utter desperation and shock how his wife and daughter are slaughtered right there in their home. In their safe place…

He jolted upright, shaking himself as if that would make those horrible images go away.

Don’t let them get into your head, he reminded himself.

Making sure that no guard was near, he fished the picture of her out of the slit in the wall above his mattress. Her peaceful and happy smile on said picture always grounded him.

“You’re okay”, he whispered to her, gently touching her belly with his index finger.

Oh, how he wished she would reply. Or send him a sign, just one small sign that she was, in fact, okay. That they were both okay. But he was left to trust. No guarantee until he’d be home again to see for himself. If that happened, in the first place. Which was not guaranteed either. And if the same happened to him as to Sébastien before, he’d never find out…

*-*

Days, weeks, eventually months passed. Filled with countless hours of hard work and brutal interrogations. In between, he got to know the stories of his comrades in the cells next to him.

Kilian narrated the story of how him and Theo ended up in the prison of Herat. They were part of a reconnaissance troop from the German military that got hijacked during a tour two years ago about 300 km west from Kabul. Because the Taliban barely had control over said region back then, they drove them all the way through the desert to Herat. Kilian and Theo were separated from the rest of their colleagues, who were partly transported further west to the Iranian border and partly died from their injuries during the journey from Kabul to Herat.

“My childhood friend, Jannis, was amongst the victims”, Kilian mentioned, his voice casual but at the same time laced with suppressed feelings.

Jake pressed his lips together into a tight smile, silently offering his condolences. He knew how much effort it took for Kilian to open up to him. These men were already so used to lock away their personalities that it was more difficult for them than for Jake to find back to themselves in quiet moments like this.

“We grew up together, in a small town between Friedrichshafen and Lindau. That’s in the very southern part of Germany. Almost on board of the Bodensee.”

Jake nodded, although he didn’t have a clue where Kilian’s hometown was supposed to be. He hadn’t been to Germany a lot before. Only twice in his career, and maybe once or twice as a little kid, when his parents were on a business trip and couldn’t leave Caroline and him at home. But on all those occasions he’d never been to the very southern part of Germany. The most southern city he’d been to, is Munich.

“Jannis convinced me to join the military on a professional level. I wasn’t sure if I want that, but he was so excited and fascinated by the Bundeswehr, that he talked non-stop about it in school. Right after we finished our Abitur, we signed up for the training camp and then I finally understood why he loved it so much. It took us a few years, but when we got called up for this tour in Afghanistan, we couldn’t wait to prove to our superiors why we deserved to be where we were… but yeah, now there are some days where I wish I had stayed in Germany and had pursued a normal job.”

Kilian sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“At least I got to meet some of the most amazing people. The boys were a lot of fun to be around and made this sand-hell a lot more bearable!”

They shared a laugh, with Theo joining in.

“I hope I can go home one day and tell Jannis’ family what a hero he’s been. He fought against his injuries for days… he died about four days before we reached Herat. But I bet he’s better, there where he is now. God bless him”, Kilian murmured, staring into space.

Jake tapped against the bars of his cell twice, signaling his support. 

“Amen”, Theo muttered.

*-*

Jake never really talked about what had happened to him. He was grateful and felt honored that the others trusted him and shared their stories with him, but he didn’t feel like talking about that day in the village. The others weren’t offended, luckily. He simply shared some minor information about his time in the village, like that he’d stayed with a nice family and that he’d felt like he was really part of the village by the end. He told them about their hard work on the fields, that they’d shown him how they built their houses, that he’d taught the kids English. 

Those memories proved to be helpful during the long days in prison, and especially during the interrogations. Jake was able to shut his mind off and get lost in those memories to get through the agonizing hours.

At one point in time, Ryan reminded him that it was Christmas day. Jake acknowledged this with a nod of his head. A few days later, it was New Year’s Eve. They toasted to each other with their empty cups, everyone wishing for the same thing: going home soon.

That wish was heard, although with a delay of about six months. But it was heard and granted. A united army of American and Afghan forces was able to liberate Herat from the Taliban. They stormed the city at night, including the prison. When the guards heard them coming, they tried to escape through the backdoor, but not without trying to eliminate the inmates before. The imprisoned soldiers were fast asleep, when suddenly a group of guards ran through the corridor and shot into each cell as the dashed past them. Jake was hit by at least two bullets, screaming in pain and trying to press himself against the corner of his cell. He used his mattress as a shield and pressed down onto the wound in his lower left abdomen. But he lost too much blood. Within minutes, he started to fall out of consciousness, the mattress burying him. The last thing he heard was Ryan coughing and calling his name. Then, it was pitch black.

*-*

Jake woke up again in a hospital like room. He was hooked up to a monitor that beeped in a steady tune, indicating a stable heartbeat. On his left he saw an infusion pole with various bags hanging from it. His head pounded and he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. When he tried to sit up, a warm hand gently pushed down on his right shoulder, making him turn his head in that direction. Two sympathetic green-brown eyes met him.

“Maverick?”

Maverick smiled and nodded, gently patting his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Hangman”, Maverick greeted.

A wave of comfort and relief surged through Jake’s body, and he sunk back into his pillow.

“Where am I? What happened? And what are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Hangman, take it easy”, Maverick ordered softly, “We’re in Germany, on base in Landstuhl. They brought you here a week ago from Afghanistan. You had surgery and were put into an induced coma until now, to give your body time to rest and heal.”

Jake just looked at him.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Captain Mercer called me as soon as you were rescued from that prison in Herat. He told me they would fly you out here to get that surgery done.”

“And then you just came here?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re not my family… Why would they let you see me?”

“Because I told them that I’d sit in front of your door and wait until they get tired of me and let me see you eventually. Luckily, they got sick of me pretty quickly”, Maverick joked, and Jake laughed, immediately wincing at the pain that shot through his body.

“Ah shit, laughing is a bad idea”, he huffed, holding his side.

“Easy, Hangman. Those were two pretty nasty gunshot wounds.”

“It’s good to see you too, Maverick.”

“I’m glad you’re well, according to the circumstances.”

“When can I go home?”

Maverick sighed.

“I’m not your doctor, so I don’t know. But I’ll call him in here, if you want…”

Jake nodded. Maverick got up and walked out of the room for a moment. A few minutes later, he got back inside, Jake’s doctor tagging along with him. They had a good chat; the doctor taking notes of his vitals and reporting how the surgery went. The topic of going home was a bit a tough one, but the doctor made clear that Jake wasn’t allowed to board a plane until the doctor himself allowed it. Which would not be until another week at least.

*-*

Luckily, Jake recovered fast, and that allowed him to board the plane in Frankfurt two and a half weeks after his surgery. When he sat in his seat at the window, staring at the taxiway of Frankfurt’s airport, he couldn’t quite believe that he would really get to go home now. He felt his hands shake a little bit and buried them in his sweater to hide them. In the pocket of his sweater, his fingers touched the picture of her, which made his heart race even more.

“I’m coming home, girls”, he whispered, and felt tears cloud his vision as that statement wasn’t just a wish or a dream anymore.

It was the truth. After five years full of agony and suffering, he was the luckiest man alive.

The flights were neither long nor short enough. When he changed to his connecting flight in Atlanta, he swept his gaze over the people at the airport. He didn’t quite feel at home yet, but these first few minutes on American ground felt even better than he’d expected. When he landed in San Diego and stepped through the sliding doors into the arrival hall, he breathed in deeply and felt his heart calm down a lot.

“Jake!”

A familiar voice reached his ears and he turned into its direction. Maverick waved at him. When Jake stepped up to him, he hugged him tight. Maverick gently patted his back, aware of his scars there. Jake smiled gratefully at him.

“Is she here too?”

“No, but I’ll get you straight home, if that’s alright”, Maverick answered.

Jake nodded, falling into step with his old instructor. They jumped in the car and Maverick let its engine roar to life. They drove in silence for five minutes, before Maverick spoke up, his deep voice almost making him sound like he was grumbling.

“I have to warn you… She doesn’t know. No one does, so don’t be surprised if they react strangely or push you away. I begged Cyclone not to call her, and that the office in Landstuhl shouldn’t call her either. It wouldn’t have been right, after so many years. I hope that’s okay for you… I figured she would rather believe it if she saw it with her own eyes than when someone on the phone told her that you’re still alive and–“

“Mav, it’s fine”, Jake interjected.

“Good. Just, go easy on her. And give her time and space if she needs it.”

“I will.”

Maverick watched him get out of the car hesitantly, kneading his fingers. 

“Hey Jake”, Maverick called after him, making Jake turn around and look at him, “good luck. And welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mav. For everything.”

Maverick winked at him, before he turned the car around and left Jake alone in the driveway. The latter clenched his trembling hands together, before taking the final steps up to the door that separated him from his whole world.

#5 years #hannix au #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun: maverick #fanfiction #writing

[teamrocketmemes]

[ TWISTED | ACT 1 — SENTENCE STARTER ]

A sentence starter with quotes taken from the Starkid musical: “Twisted”. Change pronouns/titles when necessary to fit your needs.

“Duty and devotion — the two D’s.”

“The Happiest Place on Earth became ‘Da Crappiest Place on Earf’.”

“My book! It’s covered in mud! Oh no, wait it’s that shit?!”

“That smell is me, [Name].”

“We try to catch him, but he’s always just one jump ahead.”

“[Name], you’re alive?! I thought you choked on shit!”

“This is all your fault, [Name].”

“Now, I’m not sure if the thief meant that the prince had a big horsey ass or a horse ass for a face.”

“But [Name], isn’t she known to sicc tigers on visiting princes?”

“Dead bodies in the street. The state of this kingdom… It’s no place to raise a monkey!”

“And most importantly, you get to loot ‘em.”

“I steal only what I can’t afford… And that’s everything.”

“My ass cheeks… They’re hanging out…”

“It is because your Princess just sicced a Bengal tiger upon my ass!”

“Well, I am grateful for your tiny ass, my lord.”

“And she treated it as if it were a throwaway joke!”

“Well, perhaps we don’t want to share the credit any longer!”

“Nobody makes an ass of [Full Name]!”

“He wanted to fuck a fish!”

“Will anyone ever live up to your impossible standards?”

“Marriage is a medieval construct that represents the ownership of women. It’s like slavery.”

“That’s supporting a corrupt system. You’re a part of the problem.”

“True beauty lies within, but no scratch could tarnish your heavenly glow.”

“Sorcery is a craft for fools and dreamers.”

“Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.”

“I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.”

“Change scares old people.”

“There she is, guys! Get her, right there!”

“Unlike [Name], he probably had a family who loved him.”

“Colorful expressions in the marketplace these days.”

“I’m gonna have so much gold! I could swim through it, like a pool.”

“THEN you can get your nut out… Your eternal nut out.”

#★ mod james. #★ our memes. #sentence starters #rp meme #ask meme #inbox meme #musical memes

[kayssweetdreams]

Mirror Mirror Mayhem Ch 7

The reflection narrowed her eyes at the kids blocking the exit "Get out of my way guys. I have some things to do." She said, hoping they'd still by the façade, but Rebecca didn't budge "Quit the lies, you're NOT the real Mei." She said. Mirror Mei was getting angry. "C'mon Rebecca. I don't have all day." She said, hoping to push through them. Trisha Jane caught her arm "Uh Uh. Tell us what you did to the Real Mei!" She said.

Mirror Mei pulled her hand out of Trisha Jane's grasp. "STOP THAT. I am NOT getting back in that Mirror." She spat out. "Well Mei's is getting out and you're getting back in. One way or another." Leo said. The kids blocked the exit to ensure that she couldn't bolt out. However, the reflection had another idea. She began to put her hands up "Alright. You win."

The kids looked confused. That was it? "W-Wait. Really?" Emma asked. Mirror Mei flashed a smile "Of course! I'll go wherever you're going." She said, placing a hand on Rebecca's shoulder. The kids gazed at her suspiciously. This seemed TOO easy. Mirror Mei wouldn't just give herself up...right? "Hmm...Alright." Rebecca said, never dropping her guard.

However, just as they reached the door, Mirror Mei gave a very hard push on the door, making the group tumble out of the door, and the alarm start blaring out, much to their confusion. That confusion however turned to shock when they saw Mirror Mei hoping over them and running off "HEY! COME BACK!!" Leo yelled, only to be stopped by the security guard.

"STOP YOU LITTLE PUNKS!" He yelled, as more guards surrounded them "Wait! She's getting away!" Emma said "Nice Try. She's your little accomplice isn't she." The guard said "We're serious! What on earth could she have-" The words in Kaylo's mouth died when she saw jewelry in Rebecca's pocket...Mirror Mei had framed them with her stolen loot to slow them down. "W-We didn't-But-We-" Leo was cut off by the guard giving him a hard glare "You're coming with me." He said sharply.

The kids panicked, they didn't have time for this, they had to catch up with Mirror Mei before she caused more trouble. That's when something strange happened...The guards eyes lit up, and turned bright neon pink "Please excuse the confusion officer. We were trying to catch the REAL culprit." Kaylo said, before taking the stolen jewelry from Rebecca, and giving it to the officer "Please return these to the store these were taken from while we go after her" She said.

The guard absent-mindedly nodded as he turned around and walked back into the mall. The pink haired girl turned to the others "That should buy us some time, let's go!" She said. The kids ran in the direction Mirror Mei ran off to "What did you do?" Leo asked "Just a small spell I learned from Mirabella's book. It makes people do whatever you want. It doesn't last very long unless I'm around" Kaylo explained. "Well, if it helps, it helps. Where's the compact mirror?" Trisha Jane asked.

The kids looked around, but unfortunately the heart shaped compact mirror had been shattered to bits. "Uh oh...What do we do now?" Emma asked "We'll...We'll have to find another mirror to use to talk to the real Mei." Rebecca said. "Well we better do it fast, the more that we wait, the more trouble the real Mei could be causing." Emma reminded. "Well then. It's a good thing that I buy in bulk!." Kaylo said, pulling out a star shaped compact mirror, and giving it to Rebecca.

"Mei! Can you still hear us?" She asked "...Yes!...I still can!" The real Mei replied "Phew...Thank goodness. Can you still see where the reflection is going?" Trisha Jane asked "...Erm...Sort of...I can't see her right now, but I can hear her." Mei replied. "Where could she have gone?" Leo asked. "I don't know. But Mei, keep an eye out in there. We're gonna scout around town for her." Rebecca told her.

"...OK...Be careful." Mei said. "Don't worry Mei! We will!" Trisha Jane said.

Unaware of where the reflection was now...

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

#Balan Wonderworld

[sewercl0wn]

Could I have a random Writing Tip? Thxxxxx

-Azzie

Hey! Ty for the ask, here ya go:

make characters skilled in the art of war_.

Just a suggestion to bring something new to the table and develop character and conflict around war and combat!

This point applies to both antagonists and protagonists, but I prefer giving this skill and knowledge to the opponent. As the name suggests, it’s not of much use if there isn’t any war or physical fighting involved in your story so this bit won't be useful to your writing so just skip ahead if you want, but fun to know anyway! (This part might develop not only the antagonist, but plot conflict)

I've read Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” and will definitely recommend that read for an in-depth understanding of what I'm going to explain (I’m just gonna loosely summarise the first three chapters because I'm lazy). Having the villain display this knowledge shows how intelligent and dangerous they are, especially if you have the typical underdog newbie protagonist - this leaves a lasting effect on the reader and other characters. 

(Please don’t sue me for teaching you how to successfully wage war, thanks. For legal reasons this is for writing purposes only)

(Read the book for more detail, there are loads of great points I’m not including to stay concise) 

Laying plans:

Thoroughly studying the art of war could be the difference between death or survival. Keep the following 7 points in mind when developing a war plan. Consider not only about your own side but the enemy as well:

Which of the two sovereigns (or just which of the two sides, this works for missions too) is imbued with the moral law? (moral law: trust with their people, so they follow them even when their life is at stake)

Which of the two generals has most ability? (Which side’s leader is more skilled)

With whom lie the advantages of heaven (Season, weather, time) and earth (terrain)?

On which side is discipline most rigorously enforced? (This advocates for more compliance and therefore a higher success rate)

Which army is stronger?

On which side are officers and men more highly trained?

In which army is there greater constancy both in reward and punishment?

With this in mind you can forecast both victory or defeat.

Remember: “All warfare is based on deception”

Trick the opponent

When able to attack, seem unable

When using your forces, seem inactive

When near, make the enemy think you are far

When far, make the enemy think you are near

Waging war: 

Do not be hastily stupid and waste resources, strength, and manpower on unplanned urgency-based choices, but lack of decisive speed will give your opponents the upper hand. The following failures can be caused by that:

Hunger 

Thirst

Attachment to accumulated loot

Outrage at injustice

Human lives and money are at stake when waging war, and recklessness will cause more harm than good. Make use of all the resources you have. Don’t kill who can help, don’t burn what can be used. Victory cannot be achieved without preparation or organisation. Understand your troops and resources so you do not have to rely on second provisions. Keep track of your troops strengths and states of mind.  

Attack stratagems:

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

Predict victory when:

If the leader knows as much about the opposition’s troops as he knows about himself and his troops. This knowledge will allow the leader to know when to advance and when to retreat.

If the leader knows the correct use of both small and large forces.

If the leader knows how to forge ranks unified in purpose.

If the leader knows how to be patient when the opposition might struggle to be patient. 

If the leader knows that his sovereignty should never interfere with the decisions he is making. 

This quote also aligns with the 7 points to consider from before (1. Laying plans). 

Mass destructive and prolonged warfare benefits no one, the goal should be to subdue and subsume the enemy. Try to attack the enemy’s strategy or plans or separate the enemy from its allies - attacking the army when there is no alternative. It’s better to catch something whole than destroy it. 

The following tips should be kept in mind:

Surround the enemy if your forces significantly outnumber the enemy’s forces.

If you have five times more troops than your enemy, you should attack them. If you have two times more, then you should divide the enemy and fight them that way.

If your enemy outnumbers you, then you should hide. Plus, if they significantly outnumber you, then you should escape.

You need a general who can make his own decisions without people above them interfering.

Basing a characters personality around aspects that benefit them in violence and combat not only serves as an easy base for you to model your characters, this also helps you shape how battle and fight scenes can be carried out in your story

#writing #creative writing #writers block #Writing tips #writers #writers on tumblr #written #writeblr #writing help #writing prompt #writing life #your local sewer rat #writing inspiration #writing characters #anti heroes #character development #writing conflict #writing battles #story writing #sun tzu #the art of war

[britcision]

Mooooore Dragon Age Inquisition Crimes!

Should I be working on the serious part so I can yeet this self indulgent nonsense onto AO3 where the partner @ekwolfwood can peruse it as his leisure?

Yes

Am I doing that?

No

What am I doing? Silly bs, snippets, and extremely gently whumping his best boy! So he’s not gonna mind

Gonna whump him for real later when Corin is not around to be the adult 😈

Today’s is based on a very real in game occurrence where our good boy somehow wound up 8 stories deep into the storm coast cliffs, alone in the dark, surrounded by spiders

But this time he doesn’t find his way back

Featuring:

Lluciano Lavellan, team dumbass who forgets he goes invisible before accidentally teleporting out of the battle (he/him)

Corin Cadash, extremely reluctantly the responsible one only because no one else is taking the job (they/them)

—————————

Spiders

The cave was dark, all angular pillars of rock broken off at different points to make a floor and ceiling. No natural light this deep into the earth, and precious few torches.

Lavellan wasn’t sure how far he’d left the others behind, but he really hoped they’d be catching up soon.

He’d been relying on the lights the others carried as they delved deeper under the cliffs, and Vivienne’s spells.

But at some point he’d stepped off the edge of a taller ledge than he’d thought, or turned a corner, and now he couldn’t see anything. Except the spiders.

They’d come to these damn cliffs to hunt spiders of all things, and gather their silk for the requisitions officer. And, well, he’d found lots of spiders.

Lots. And lots. Of spiders. The big ones. The ones that came up to his waist, and he could stick a dagger in to the hilt and not have it come out the other side.

He knew; he’d tried it.

That had been bad enough before too, with Vivienne’s magic freezing and stunning them, and the Iron Bull charging in with his massive warhammer.

Cadash had finished it just before they’d left, and it was the perfect weapon for spider smashing.

Being practically dripping with spider guts also wasn’t helping his mood per se, but it was a distant second place to being alone in the dark, surrounded by spiders.

Every time he thought he’d killed the last one, he’d turn around and another would lunge out of the darkness.

Surely he should at least be able to hear them behind him.

Cadash wouldn’t leave him unsupervised.

There still wasn’t even a glimmer of light.

“CORIN!”

**

“Why the hell are we gathering fucking spider parts anyway?” Cadash growled, wrenching their axe out of another scuttling corpse.

Still not quite happy with the weight on it. Might go back to the mace when they got back to camp.

Vivienne let out a tinkling laugh behind them, a direct counter to the burst of chain lightning that pierced another two darkspawn and a spider.

“Darling, this was your idea. Don’t you know?” She asked archly, quick on her feet as she surveyed the area and planned her next attack.

Corin grunted and slammed the bottom of their shield down onto a darkspawn tail, knocking the damn thing back and into a wall before Varric put half a dozen arrows into it.

“Look, they tell me what they need, we go find it. I don’t try and remember why,” they grumbled, kicking at a spider corpse when it seemed they’d cleared the immediate area.

That meant it was time for looting.

The Iron Bull was already elbow deep in one of the spider’s guts, pulling out a throbbing gland with every sign of enjoyment. Varric had finished rewinding Bianca and begun wandering through the others, poking at likely bodies.

“They want the ichor to make antivenoms. Not everyone has a big strong qunari warrior to hide behind,” he added with a cheerful nod to Bull.

Bull grinned and flexed, utterly uncaring of the ooze spilling from the gland in his fist.

“Thedas can barely handle one of me,” he boasted proudly, then tossed the gland at Cadash. “One more for the bag.”

The gland splatted against their armour, falling to the floor as Corin looked around, frowning. Counting their friends once more for good measure.

“Where the fuck did Lluciano get to?” They asked into the sudden silence.

Vivienne glanced around, the tiniest frown crinkling her brow.

“Now don’t be a mother hen, dear. Surely we’d have noticed him going anywhere,” she said carefully, her staff glowing brighter to illuminate the cavern.

Not exactly as unconcerned as she pretended. Maybe for good reason; more than half the Inquisition considered Lluciano Lavellan to be Corin’s moral compass and impulse control, rolled into one.

Varric didn’t bother pretending, checking Bianca’s fresh bolt and safety catch and looking around too.

“With that invisibility thing he can do? I’m damn good at not being seen, but the kid’s unnatural. I lose track of him more often than not, and none of you are as good as me.”

It was the kind of comment Vivienne loved to argue with, with some prim noise of doubt or sly comment. The fact that she didn’t only highlighted her worry.

No fucking way they were splitting up to search down here; this deep in the caverns if they lost one another, they were more likely to fall through the world than find daylight again.

And no need to duplicate the original damn problem which came from splitting the party anyway.

Corin was about to call them to search when a faint noise echoed down the tunnels.

The Iron Bull turned after it like a hunting hound, eye narrowed before he charged.

“That’s him!” He called, stomping over darkspawn and spider corpses alike. But they probably had plenty of ichor now.

“Definitely a voice,” Varric agreed more half heartedly, but he hurried after Bull nonetheless, Vivienne and Cadash hot on his heels.

The tunnel went down a little further, curving under the rock and then the Iron Bull leapt and disappeared completely. Varric slammed into the wall to avoid following him, swearing loudly.

Cadash nearly hit Varric, and then Vivienne hurried to the top of a very steep ledge and held her staff out over the edge.

Bull had found Lluciano alright, and was currently pouring a potion into his mouth.

Their elf friend looked like hell; dripping with ichor more than any of the other four, battered and scraped, and surrounded by nearly as many corpses as they’d handled in the cave above.

Even with cuts healing as they watched he was pale, exhaustion clear in the way he sagged into Bull’s chest as he finished the potion.

“Last one too,” the Iron Bull noted, glancing up at Corin as his arm tightened on Lavellan, “think it’s time we head back.”

He didn’t usually make tactical calls unless asked, eager to keep the hierarchy between himself and the Inquisition as clear as possible. They ordered Bull, Bull ordered the Chargers.

This was more a statement of the obvious and Corin didn’t bother agreeing, frowning down the drop. Most of the sheer columns that made up the cliff had broken cleanly, leaving little to climb.

The drop was more than twice Lluciano’s height, and worse for the dwarves. Getting the two out would be problem number one. Bull could do it, but preferably not carrying someone.

“Varric, if we both lie over the edge and reach down Bull can pass Luci up first, then all three of us can be ready to help him. Vivienne, a little mood lighting and an eye out for trouble?”

“Of course,” Vivienne agreed, too poised to show her relief but amused enough they all heard it. Her staff flared, sending the shadows (and what was in them) scurrying away.

“I can make it,” Lluciano argued, already struggling as Bull shuffled him into position to lift, “I’m-”

“Short for an elf, and this is tall for qunari, so be a good boy and stand on my shoulders,” Bull ordered, hoisting him as he stood.

Cheeks flushing, Lluciano shut up and let himself be manhandled.

Setting the axe aside, Corin heaved out a sigh as Varric came to join them on the edge of the ledge, both lying on their front.

“I’m making a fucking bell for that boy,” they grumbled as they settled. Varric snickered from beside them and Vivienne laughed, bracing a foot in the small of Cadash’s back to keep them steady.

“Perhaps a leash?” She offered innocently, and Lluciano huffed a laugh of his own, scrambling his hands up the wall until he could reach their outstretched hands.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Vivienne,” he teased back, still a little wan for Corin’s liking even after the potion. Still didn’t weigh a damn thing though, and between them the dwarves hauled him up the last few feet.

Then shuffled apart, Cadash nodding to the space between them.

“C’mon Luci, same for Bull,” they commanded, and Lluciano enthusiastically threw himself flat, despite all physical injuries.

Yeah, Corin was sloshing him down with a bucket when they got back to camp and checking for infections. Anything a potion didn’t manage to close didn’t need extra help, and Lavellan never bloody mentioned when he was hurting.

Below the Iron Bull chuckled, cracking his neck and taking a few steps back from the wall, gauging the distance thoughtfully.

“Don’t strain your tender back on me, boss,” he chuckled, checking one last time for any magically appearing footholds.

“If I pull it, I’d rather you be up here to carry me home anyway,” Cadash shot back, slapping the wall beneath them.

“But by all means, feel free to show off,” Varric added quickly, giving Bull one of his charming smiles. The qunari snorted a laugh, backed up, and took a running leap.

He damn near cleared the whole thing, getting to waist height where Corin and Varric grabbed onto his belt to pull him the rest of the way, Lluciano almost wrapping him in a hug.

Even Vivienne stepped in, reaching over them all to take his hand and guide him delicately to step between the three.

“Impressed?” Bull asked hopefully, waggling his eyebrows as he moved away from the ledge for the others to stand up.

Vivienne hummed noncommittally and his face fell, the light fading back to its previous levels as she turned to walk back up the tunnel.

“Have you tried doing something impressive?” Cadash teased, rolling their shoulders and making a face. Lofty claims or not, they’d feel that for the rest of the day.

Probably worse by morning.

The Iron Bull rounded on them, good mood immediately restored by a new target.

“Well, I could certainly try tonight if you need your back fixed,” he offered with another suggestive waggle.

Corin gave him a cheery backhanded slap on the chest as they passed, gauntleted hand unerringly catching the nipple. It was one of the skills they’d had before any freaky Fade marks.

“Ask me again when we get back to camp. You good, Luci?” They asked the elf, bending to grab their axe and groaning as they straightened.

Lluciano nodded quickly, reaching back and patting his bag.

“I got a lot of spider parts. We should have all we’ll need,” he added hopefully, casting a distasteful glance at the cave around them.

“Not what they were asking, kid,” Varric sighed, patting him on the back as they trudged back to the surface, “but I’m sure we’ll see what you’re not telling us soon enough.”

**

The journey back to camp was less eventful than the way out, at least half because Lluciano stuck to the middle of the group and asked when he wanted to wander hither and yon for every elfroot he’d missed on the way down.

An improvement over his habit of randomly disappearing (sometimes literally) to wander up hills and behind rocks for herbs, but not one that was lightly to stick.

It did give the rest an idea of how he was doing, though they were all looking forward to the end of their long day. Even Vivienne was less pristine than usual, her tiredness showing only in a lack of complaints about the mess the rest of them were in.

The scouts watched with wide eyes as they reached the camp, the poor requisitions officer utterly speechless as Corin dropped their bag and Lluciano’s on the table.

“Should be all the ichor you need, anything you don’t send back to Adaar at Haven. Maybe we’ll go,” they added as an afterthought, brows furrowing.

“Heat some water, several buckets,” Vivienne commanded imperiously, gesturing to the soldiers who’d paused to watch their return.

“You’re not gonna get a full bath out here, first enchanter,” Varric teased, easing himself down to sit in front of the fire and unwinding Bianca.

Someone else could take the next problem to wander past camp; he was done.

“No, but you all need a wash and I thought you’d prefer it warm before I dumped it over your head,” Vivienne told him coolly, the soldiers already hurrying to comply.

Varric wasn’t going to argue with that, or with the Iron Bull thumping down beside him.

“I’d rather have a meal, an ale, and some company,” the qunari sighed, shooting a hopeful glance at Vivienne.

She pointedly pretended not to hear him.

“Wash first and I’ll cook something,” Corin offered, almost dropping their axe and grimacing as they fought spider gore out of the buckles of their armour, pointing at Lluciano before he could disappear, “and you’re staying where I can see you til I’m satisfied you’re all wrapped up.”

The elf pouted, shooting a longing look that was definitely at his tent, which was purely coincidentally directly behind the Iron Bull.

“I’m fine. I had a potion,” he argued half heartedly, but stopped moving anyway.

“You’ll have another,” Corin told him flatly, the requisitions officer already reaching into the supplies with a smile on her face, “and then we’re getting you cleaned and a poultice on anything still swelling.”

“I can take care of myself, Corin,” the elf whined, but it was a token protest and they all knew it. He gave the requisitions officer a small smile and drank the potion she offered without comment.

Corin snorted, tossing their greaves on top of their breastplate and dropping in front of the fire.

“Yeah, saw that today. You’ll be lucky if I let you out of my sight ever again, you’re a fucking trouble magnet,” they grumbled, beckoning him down beside them.

He obeyed, not solely because that put him between them and the Iron Bull, and gave his own gloves a disgusted look. The spider gore hadn’t exactly dried in the constant drizzle of the Storm Coast, but that didn’t help.

“What if we just burn these?” He asked only half joking and the Iron Bull snickered, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, no need to waste ‘em, kid. Hows about I get you cleaned up and out of those leathers so Cadash can make us something that doesn’t taste a month past its prime?” He offered with his usual lecherous appreciation.

Lluciano flushed cherry red in all the spots not streaked with gore, but before he could voice his hearty approval Vivienne made good on her threat and dumped a bucket over them both.

“As delightful a show as I’m sure you’d make, nothing is going anywhere interesting while you’re both dripping it spider gore,” she told them both in no nonsense terms, setting the bucket down upside down and sitting primly on it.

“Now Bull, you start with his feet while I attempt to get some of this out of his hair. Unless you’d rather I shave it and save the time?”

Lluciano stifled a yelp, hands jumping to his cropped red hair, eyes darting back to Bull for another second.

“No! No thank you, Vivienne, I can wash it myself if it’s too much trouble!” He rushed to assure her, tripping over his words.

The Iron Bull liked redheads.

And being told what to do by beautiful, powerful women, even if they were mages. He accepted a warmed bucket with good grace, scrubbing at his face with one hand to clear some of the muck.

“No problem, ma’am. And Luci, you tell us if something hurts or you’ve any injuries that still need seeing to,” he told the elf firmly, decidedly enjoying the way it made him squirm.

“I’m fine, really,” Lavellan protested one more time, glancing at Cadash from the corner of his eye.

Cadash had their head in a bucket, both hands busy scrubbing gore from their short brown hair. They surfaced a moment later and scrubbed their face clean much the same way the Iron Bull had, sighing contentedly.

“Right. Are you going to behave for Bull and Vivienne, or am I washing you down myself?” They asked firmly, dipping their hands back in the water to wash.

Before he could answer, Vivienne gave him a gentle but firm tap on the head, another bucket of water held between her knees.

“He is going to behave for us, because he doesn’t want to see what will happen if I don’t get at least one edible meal in a day. These rations are all well and good for playing soldier, but magic requires real food and I come with you on these jaunts from the goodness of my heart,” she declared firmly, her expression daring him to argue.

Lluciano sagged, head bowing forwards until she put a single finger on his brow to guide him backwards into her bucket.

“Yes ma’am,” he grumbled, eyes shut rather than meeting her gaze as she got to work on his hair.

Across the fire, Varric had already acquired himself a mug of something that he raised in a toast.

“Hell, if Corin’s cooking I’ll go see if I can’t find something to shoot. I’m sure no one in camp will object to fresh meat,” he offered, glancing around at their audience.

Who probably hadn’t seen a Herald of Andraste stripped and bathed before, but that’d change soon.

Before he could wind Bianca though, the requisitions officer stepped forwards again, a slight smile on her face.

“Actually, scout Harding went out when she heard you were on your way back. I doubt she’ll be long.”

“Harding!” Varric cheered, throwing his hands into the air and settling back into his seat. “Our own little guiding angel. Anything else you’ll need, Corin?”

Fighting a smile, Cadash forced themself back to their feet and began to stretch, groaning as aching muscles creaked. Sitting down at all had been a bad idea, but better to remedy it now.

“I’ll do a stew. Easiest way to feed everyone, and the pot’s big enough. What do you have that’s fresh?” They asked the requisitions officer, turning to follow them to the stores.

“There’s vegetables in my bag!” Lluciano called, but wisely did not try to move from his new place pinned between Vivienne and the Iron Bull.

Bull had gotten his boots and socks off already, and was checking the small remaining cuts along his lower legs. Totally unnecessary in Lluciano’s opinion, but.

Well.

He was being manhandled. He wasn’t going to argue that part.

And that was just another perk of having the Heralds around, however temporarily. Not only could Cadash cook, Lavellan knew every herb and spice in Fereldan, and picked every one he saw.

Most of the edible plants too, though on his own he’d just eat them raw. He could supply a scout camp easily with enough to make rations not only edible but tasty, just from his own pack.

Not even notice the loss by the time he moved on, because he’d have harvested everything in the area before he left. And while he moved through.

It wasn’t that the heralds’ parties were better supplied by the Inquisition. It was that they supplied a reasonable chunk of it personally, all four being hopeless fucking packrats.

Which just might have been a factor in the rising personal loyalty from their soldiers and scouts especially.

Settling back to tend the fire, Varric watched Cadash move off with their requisitions officer, then Lluciano being interrogated by Vivienne about how much blood was washing out of his hair.

Some self preservation might have been nice though.

———————

No one told Luci until the next day that he’d been gathering the wrong thing from the spiders. Luckily he was wearing more than enough ichor not to need to go back out 😏

And hey, the silk was also useful eventually

EDIT: BEHOLD! The masterpost!

#dragon age inquisition #dai fanfic #inquisitor lavellan #inquisitor cadash #the four heralds au #four heralds au #dai fanfic: spiders #spiders #luci does not like the spiders #we have mishaps in game and then i make them worse

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Epilogue 15

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: knife/stabbing, theft, some bleeding

"Healer! Please, we need your strongest medicine! Hurry!"

Morgan turned from where he was straightening the contents of a shelf. He didn't recognize the pair of men stumbling through his door but they were breathless, as though they'd been running. Urgent business, then. The clean-shaven one bent double, bracing his hands on his knees and leaning heavily against the door as his bearded companion took in their surroundings.

"All right," Morgan said. Correcting them on his title was not likely the best course of action. "What's the problem?"

"We need medicine, man, are you deaf?" The man spared Morgan an annoyed glance before continuing to examine the shop, scratching his beard.

"No, but I need to know what I'm treating," Morgan explained.

"Please," gasped the bent-over man. "It's for our sister. She just – she just started screaming. We can't see anything wrong with her, but she won't stop moving. Threw us both off her when we tried to hold her still."

Morgan frowned. That didn't sound like any medical issue he could place. A gap in his knowledge, most likely. "Has anything else unusual happened recently? Does she normally take anything to control these... fits?"

"Sure she does. That one looks familiar," the bearded man said, pointing to something on a shelf behind Morgan.

He turned to see what he was indicating. "The rectangular bottle? That's just a distillation of–"

Frigid cold split the top of Morgan's right shoulder, wedging down behind the scapula. Molten pain seared after it. He cried out and reached up with his left hand to press it against the injury, except he didn't. His assailant shoved him roughly to the ground.

"What did you stab him for?" That voice belonged to the clean-shaven man. "I thought we were just going to take the good stuff and run!"

Ah, so this was a robbery. Not very well coordinated, evidently. Morgan reached out mentally, intending to use the packed earth floor to grasp the men, but nothing happened. The blade lodged in his shoulder pulsed cold and hot in alternating waves as realization clenched into a sick weight in his stomach. His golem arm hadn't responded either; the weapon was enchanted against magic use.

"Yeah, and now he knows better'n to follow us, doesn't he?"

Morgan opened his mouth to agree. All that escaped was a surprised wheeze as a boot drove into the middle of his back, pressing him firmly into the floor. He gritted his teeth and stayed silent instead, trying to remain calm. Breathing slowly, as best he could. He could feel the shape of the man's foot through the worn leather sole of his boot. It was better to focus on that than on the fire and ice warring in his shoulder or the gradually spreading stickiness of blood soaking into his clothes. Bottles clinked as the other man looted quickly, then approached his accomplice.

"Come on, Emil, lay off. He's just a little guy, what's he going to do?"

"Nothing," Emil gloated. "He's gonna stay down there and not move until we're gone. Isn't that right?"

Morgan considered. He badly wanted the blade removed from his shoulder. It was going to be difficult without the use of his opposite arm. If he antagonized the men enough, they might try to stab him again; that could leave him a window of opportunity. But there was a good chance they might use a different weapon instead, or that they would take a different action altogether. Cooperation was the path of least resistance here. It would be inconvenient to have to replace the bottles, but none of the items on the shelves had been especially complex to prepare. It would be much more inconvenient to be injured further.

"Isn't that right, I said." Emil ground his heel down harder to emphasize the question.

"Yes," Morgan gasped out, trying to squirm just enough to shift the focal point of that heel. His lower ribs felt dangerously close to dislocating under the pressure. "Sir," he added, for good measure.

"Look, he isn't going anywhere, but we are. Come on." That declaration was accompanied by the soft crinkle of parchment and the sound of a portal opening.

The boot gave one final push before disappearing from Morgan's back. He carefully and deliberately did not move, not that he had a great deal of choice in the matter. Lying on the floor and simply breathing unhindered was a relief in its own right. He savoured it briefly as the men went through the portal and closed it behind them. Silence settled in the shop once more.

It didn't take long for the pain throbbing in Morgan's shoulder to outweigh his relief. It seemed he was going to be keeping the weapon. The thieves really hadn't been very good at this; a magic suppressing tool could likely be sold at a high price to the right buyer, whereas Morgan charged very little for the simple preparations on his shelves. He regretted not pointing that out to them. They hadn't seemed keen to talk, though, and there was no point pondering what might have been.

Morgan took a deep breath and shifted, rolling his weight onto his uninjured shoulder so he could get his legs beneath him. With a grunt of effort he heaved himself upright. His right knee twisted under the stress and rewarded him with a stab of pain to rival the one in his shoulder, but he managed to catch himself on the counter. He took several more slow breaths to push the pain back to a tolerable level, then tried to raise his right hand.

That was a terrible idea. A high-pitched shout ripped out of him as agony bolted all the way down past his elbow, painting a white wash over his vision. It was accompanied by a distinct, dangerous sensation almost like a bowstring being plucked. Morgan rested his forehead on the counter while he caught his breath and considered. The blade had likely missed the arteries of his shoulder, or the bleeding would be much heavier. But that other sensation had probably been a tendon. Not being severed – that felt different – but in harm's way nonetheless. He needed to remove the weapon before it could do any further damage.

Morgan turned his head gingerly, grimacing as the motion caused a shift in the pierced muscle. The visual evaluation was not promising. It was a sleek transition between the knife blade and its handle, lacking a guard or even a bolster. Just smooth metal, nothing to offer any purchase. A dagger might have pierced further but at least he could have used the crossguard to lever it out by working it against something stationary. Any such attempt now would just jostle the blade and further aggravate the wound.

Morgan's lower ribs issued a complaint as he straightened. He ignored that minor inconvenience. Without the functional use of either hand, he wasn't going to be able to remove the blade on his own, and that was the more pressing matter. He had to find help somehow; it certainly wasn't going to come to him.

Luckily, the front door was still slightly ajar. Morgan shoved it the rest of the way open with his foot and paused at the road. The hunters' cottages were nearer, but they lay in the opposite direction of the town, and there was no guarantee anyone would be inside. One would definitely be vacant. He turned away from that thought with both mind and body, setting off toward town.

It was slow going as he tried to find a balance between pain and expedience. The sooner he could find someone, the sooner he could be free of the blade still emanating pulses of heat and cold through a slowly increasing radius around his shoulder. But he had to mind his bad knee; if it gave out on him as it was threatening to, it would be nearly impossible to avoid falling with his weight on his injured shoulder. So he proceeded as carefully as he could, rallying his focus on his footing.

After having relied upon his golem arm for such a long time, it was unnerving to suddenly feel nothing past the point of connection. Just weight hanging uselessly at his side, bumping against him with each step. A new concern began to take shape as he walked. The prosthetic had always drawn a barely perceptible amount of magic from him. All constructs required some amount of magic to keep them together. He wasn't sure how long it would take to exhaust its stores, or what would happen when it did. All of the possibilities were distinctly unpleasant. He walked a little faster.

A figure came into view around a bend in the road ahead. Morgan couldn't make out their details but decided to hail them anyway; avoiding people wasn't the goal at the moment. None of the locals had any particular reason to fear or shun him, he reminded himself. The worst that was likely to happen was that they would ignore him.

"Hello," he called.

"Akarat smiles on me," the person exclaimed, advancing. "Here I was hoping to catch you before the girls come by this afternoon, and along you come."

"Madam Pansy," Morgan said. He could hear the relief in his own voice. He'd already met with the spinster a few times. She had been friendly, if rather more prone to casual touching than he preferred. Not necessarily a drawback in this particular situation. "Do you need more of the nettle salve?"

"Yes, dear, if it isn't too much trouble." She continued approaching at an unhurried pace. "The fences have been wanting mended and I've been feeling so much better, I thought I could manage it. Shoulders are giving me an awful time about it, though. Can you spare a moment for me?"

"Of course, madam. But first, I'm afraid I need to ask for your assistance with a small matter."

"Oh? What have you got in mind?" Pansy stopped in her tracks, brushing her greying hair out of her eyes as she gawked at Morgan. "Heavens above, is that a knife? What on earth happened? You poor thing, let me help you with that!" She picked up her skirts and bustled over with haste.

"Thank you, madam. If you could just pull it straight up, please; try not to twist it." Morgan quelled the shudder that wanted to crawl through him as work-worn hands pressed on his chest and good shoulder, turning him to give Pansy a better vantage point.

"Dear me, you're really all skin and bones under there, aren't you? Never mind that, now, let's deal with this knife first. On three, all right? One, two, three." The knife slid out smoothly and Pansy quickly pressed a folded handkerchief to the spot where it had been.

Morgan stifled a groan. He'd been prepared for the physical sensation of the knife being removed, but forgotten to brace for the sudden hunger of his golem arm. It drew a great deal of power from him to refill its reserves, leaving him swaying as dark spots faded in and out around the world's edges.

"Easy now," Pansy said, "are you all right?"

"Yes," Morgan replied, catching his balance. "Thank you, madam." It was a substantial relief to be able to reach up and apply pressure to the wound with his left hand. Pansy let her own hands fall back down, slipping them into the pockets of her kirtle.

"You're quite welcome, dear, and quit calling me madam. Makes me feel stuffy and old. Now what in the world happened?"

"I was robbed. Don't worry," he added at her surprised exclamation, "they didn't take that much. I should still have some of the salve ready for you, and I have the ingredients to make more."

"Forget about me, that must have been awful! Did you get a good look at the bastard? My brother-in-law is in the militia, you know. They can catch whoever it was, no doubt. I'll get Prim to have a word with him, don't you worry. I've met the commander, too, he's a fine young man. Smart as a whip."

Pansy continued in this vein the entire way back to Morgan's house, hardly pausing to draw breath. He found he didn't mind the chatter, which gave him something to focus on other than his injury. Besides, it was polite to take an interest in the business that clients regarded as important enough to share. She only stopped talking once they had reached the back room of Morgan's house, giving up in the middle of a sentence to stare in open-mouthed surprise at the golem that rose up to pluck a tin of salve off a shelf while Morgan loosened the ties of his shirt to better examine his wound.

"Here you are," he said, taking advantage of the momentary silence as the golem offered the tin to Pansy. "Remember, this will mitigate your pain but not the injury causing it. Please try not to strain yourself for at least a week. Two would be better, but I know you're busy."

"Is this..." Pansy reached past the outstretched hand of the golem to touch its arm. "Are you doing this? You have magic?"

"Yes," Morgan said cautiously, glancing up from the laceration to gauge her expression. He couldn't quite parse it. There had been fewer mages in this part of the world than in others he'd visited with– no, this was not the time for rumination. Magic seemed less common here, was the point. He hadn't often used it visibly around the townsfolk, but now he'd gone and done it right in front of one without a second thought. One friendly alderman might not reflect the views of the other citizens.

"My da was an earth-mover," Pansy said. "Used to make little men just like this sometimes, to help him in the workshop. I haven't seen something like this in years."

Ah. Her expression was one of nostalgia, perhaps. Caught up in memories, but it didn't seem like they were unpleasant ones. Morgan relaxed slightly. "I take it you didn't inherit his ability," he guessed.

"No, none of us did." Pansy gave her head a little shake. "Thank you, dear," she said, finally accepting the tin from the golem. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. I needed your help and you gave it, so consider this payment in kind."

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "I won't just take something for nothing. Come over for dinner tonight if you won't take anything now. I'm sure we can work something out."

Morgan fought back the grimace that was his immediate response to that proposal. It was too intimate by far. He could not afford to forget his place on the outside of other people's affairs. On top of that, he was not at all confident in his ability to eat like a normal person at the moment. He had been subsisting mainly on strong broth and tea in a bid to avoid the seemingly inevitable nightmares about– no, this would not do at all.

"Actually," he said tapping one finger to indicate the wound on his shoulder, "if you could help me stitch this closed, we could call it even." It was a hasty compromise, far from ideal but safer than the alternative. The temporary discomfort would be more manageable than the repercussions of the other option.

"Oh, all right," Pansy said. "It wouldn't be the first time. Here, let's see what we're working with." The golem fetched the necessary supplies as Morgan used his other sleeve to wipe the blood away from where it had started to congeal around the wound. Pansy made a tutting sound but set to work with steady, sure hands.

Morgan managed not to flinch at the sharp, stinging burn of the needle as it pushed down and through. Pansy's deft fingers held the skin taut where the needle's point curved up again, easing its path. She really was rather good at this. Perhaps it wasn't such an undesirable compromise after all. Morgan breathed through the pinch and pull, pinch and pull, and after several careful stitches the small laceration was closed.

"Thank you," Morgan said. "Our debts are settled," he added, just to be clear.

"That's as may be," Pansy replied, casting a critical eye at the sharp lines of Morgan's shoulder as he tugged his shirt back into place. "You'll still have to come over for tea sometime. We'll get some good home cooking into you."

"Perhaps another time," Morgan tried. "I hope I haven't kept you from your young wards."

"Ah, that's right, the girls! I'd best be getting back."

Pansy pocketed the tin of salve, frowned for a moment, then fished the knife out from the same pocket and offered its hilt to Morgan. "Might as well keep this, I suppose. Can't go wrong with a decent knife. At least you know it's sharp," she chuckled.

"Indeed. Thank you again, Pansy," he said, accepting the knife gingerly. "Remember, work slowly and rest often."

"You too, dear," she replied, and left.

Morgan took a few minutes to examine the extent of the losses he'd suffered. They were not great; the thieves clearly had very little idea what they were doing, and had made off with all of the largest bottles on his shelves. Unless they had a very colicky infant or a lot of friends with digestive trouble, they weren't going to be able to make much use of what they'd taken.

Pansy's handkerchief caught his eye when he returned to the back. It lay crumpled on the floor; he must have let it fall without noticing. His knee protested sharply as he knelt to pick it up. He ignored it, turning over the bloodied fabric in his left hand.

The spinster had been quite helpful and kind, Morgan reflected. To a greater degree than he warranted, certainly. He sent his golem to fill a bucket from the pump outside. The handkerchief could still be usable if he gave it a thorough soaking and laundering.

A plan began to form as Morgan swished the fabric back and forth through the water. He wasn't likely to sleep tonight anyway, and the moon would be bright enough to see by. He could go and deliver Pansy's handkerchief after she was asleep, and examine the fence while he was there. He vaguely recalled seeing what had looked like leaning posts when he'd called on her previously. Those would be simple enough for him to right and reinforce. Then she would have no reason to strain herself further, which would then lead to a better recovery, which would also lead to her having no reason to invite him over to eat.

Yes, that was a suitable plan. He could repay Pansy's kindness, make himself useful, avoid getting inadvisably close. Everything he needed to do. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he scrubbed his blood out of her handkerchief. It was good to have a plan.

#my writing #story: unbidden #knives tw #blood tw #bleeding tw #robbery tw #? #wound stitching tw

[galaxofmuses]

TEAM SONIC HAVE BEEN DEFEATED. 

↳ what loot items do you drop?

COMMON:  1 ring - Man you really gonna steal this hedgehog’s money? 

UNCOMMON: Chili dog - A favorite food for the Blue Blur, It’s still fresh and ready to eat! Gain 20 hp and a nice Sonic Boost!

RARE:  A Dried Sunflower -  Dried and carefully preserved, the scent of the warm summer still lingers, yet it holds a lot of precious nostalgia from the Green Hill.

EPIC:  A worn ring  - A rusted ring that seems to be worn out of love and there is some bits of fake gems embed into the ring. Seems like it’s a custom job, but has some strange glow to it.

LEGENDARY: Old Pair of Sneakers - A Classic Drip look well...during the 90s. Still keeping it in his closet for keepsakes that was the only comfort of his beginnings. But it’s still quite worn out so the protection from legos and rocks? Not so much. -10 Def

Mythical : An old torn photo - A photo of all of his friends. It seems like it’s about to fall apart, but yet there is a sense of great care. On the back of the photo it is written “Don’t forget your Family.” 

// Post cut for Tails and Knux’s info! :D

COMMON: 2 rings - You stealing rings from a kid now?! Brah.

UNCOMMON: Mints- A favorite food for the good boy, All of the mints are neatly tucked into a worn out tin. It seems that he carries this around for awhile. Gains 10 hp and feeling quite refreshed after. 

RARE:  A Screwdriver-  A precious item that he carry during the past! Fixing small items and toys to escape from the bullying until he met Sonic. It’s still in pretty good condition and can open up anything. 

EPIC:  A Plane Model Chart  - His first plane chart design that he upgraded for the Tornado. It was quite a risk, but with careful planning and redos, you can see lots of the eraser marks that is shown in the paper.

LEGENDARY: Old Wristwatch Communicator - A very old school broken communicator that has been worn out from the journey and through space. This has a etched writing on the back that says “Sonic”.

COMMON: 3 rings - Man you guys are monsters.

UNCOMMON: Grapes- A favorite food for the Guardian himself, The grapes are still ready to be consumed and tasted quite fresh! Gains 25 hp and a strength boost!

RARE: Explorer Hat - A worn out leather hat that seen many adventures. There is a scent of earth and some wild floral.  

EPIC: A small emerald shard  - A tiny shard that does not belong to the Master Emerald, but a small keepsake that kept since he was a small child.

LEGENDARY: An ancient carving slab - His first discovery which turned into a very passionate routine hobby. No one knows what the carvings mean, but it has some resemblance to the ancient echidnas.

#:: Memes; Just for fun :: #:: headcanon :: #sonic's zones #tails’ flight #knux's destiny #:: Ver; Main; I can chase another day :: #:: Ver; Main; Fight you all the Way :: #:: Ver; Main; Like a Hero :: #// holy heck this took forever but I am proud of this so much ahfjsk #long post

[frienderbender]

anyway i’m gonna talk some more about my new AU :^] stuff below the cut

so basically most everyone on earth has been wiped out. the reason why is something i’m still tossing around, but the point is everyone’s gone and will thinks he’s the only person left.

so he’s just kinda traveling around, going to places/landmarks he’d always wanted to visit (and probably destroying them in the process because what the hell! why not.) anyway one day while somewhere in the southwest, he sees a sign of life and investigates further…only to turn around and be greeted by a frightened norwegian tourist. after the initial shock dies down, will and toki decide it would be nice to have some company at the end of the world and agree to travel together. toki wanted to see all the fun sights he could, but the world ending kinda put a stop to that, so will agrees to travel around with him and show him everything. and taking whatever cool thing they want in the process ofc

unfortunately for will, he quickly realizes that…wow…this other person he’d been praying for is actually the most annoying guy he’s ever met. but it’s too late now! anyway. they meet everyone else through their travels and so their group grows.

as far as like. roles i’ve decided thus far. i think skwisgaar is the next person they meet. he’s a guitarist just looking for a generator or building with power so he can plug in his guitar and amps😔 pickles and nathan come as a pair that they meet after him. they were looting the same bar in miami and knew they had to stick together. they probably meet those three in florida as well. after that, they run into charles. charles was still a CFO but just for some random company, and was doing a really good job surviving by himself. then these guys run into him and are like “oh this guy knows what he’s doing……” *follows him around*

i have stuff for other characters but i’ll wait another time to talk about it bc i don’t want this first post to get too long😭 feel free to ask stuff tho!

#will and toki are the last dudes on earth (but not really) au

[nightcoremoon]

I accidentally nuked the NCR (and the Legion but fuck those guys they all deserve to die) because I wanted ED-E to survive (but actually that’s a lie because I want the NCR hit squads to come after me so I can kill them and loot their corpses for their armor and gun because they have some badass gear AND I WANT SOME OF IT) and it’s okay because once I have sex with kill benny and get the platinum chip then amb. crocker will pardon all of my crimes against the NCR, I have it all planned and routed out for the perfect run in order to get all the companion quests done so I can have all of my friends with me as we slaughter the legion at the final battle of hoover dam and have the most epic conclusion to the best rpg ever made. except… I made one very tiny error in judgment.

“any enemy of the ncr is an enemy of mine”

“get out of my sight”

BOONE HATES ME T.T

but but but Boone please no I’m on your side trust me I swear caeser hates me too and I want to help the NCR please believe me Boone I think they’re the best choice for the Mojave and I’m gonna put them in power Boone I’m gonna smash House’s head in with a golf club (and eat his corpse) and I’m gonna stab Caeser (and eat his corpse) and yeah admittedly I’m going to fuck over the King and get him to die fighting the NCR (and then I’ll eat his corpse), and also I’m absolutely going to shoot Kimball in the face with a pistol and then eat his corpse but COME ON THE MAN DOESN’T GIVE ONE SHIT ABOUT THE NCR OR THE MOJAVE BECAUSE HE’S THE PRESIDENT AND HE DESERVES TO DIE and get eaten so that I can get the meat of champions challenge achievement because I’m a filthy piece of shit cannibal but I’m also going for 100% completion so I have to eat him but Boone. Boone ol buddy ol pal ol friend my light my life my blood my favorite MY LOVE. Please forgive my transgressions, my treason, my teensy weensy itty bitty teeny tiny atomic bomb I dropped on your country, and my teeth marks all over your beloved president’s delicious flesh and bones. I want what you want! I want the whole legion massacred and chopped into pieces and thrown on the grill and slow roasted for a long long time and then I wanna eat Lanius and then hunt down every single last legionnaire like I’m the motherfucking Nuremberg trial of Arizona, I want those rapist slavers eradicated from this earth JUST LIKE YOU DO BOONE! I want the NCR controlling the Vegas Strip because they are truly the best hope for the post nuclear apocalypse

(since the Followers know best but they have no power and the Brotherhood are useless (Mojave Chapter) or actively harmful and borderline evil (Maxson Chapter) and the Enclave cannot be trusted and House is Right but that Sucks just like Kaathe and the Darkwraiths where yeah Kaathe is Correct and Gwyn is an Asshole and Gwyndolin is a Filthy Liar and the Gods are Cunts but since Kaathe is Actually Evil and represents the Downfall Of Civilized Society it would be incredibly stupid to allow one person to usurp the fire and a bad time for anyone who is not the usurper themselves, in which if I was House I would make me win but granted I am also a Thieving Murdering Cannibal and should not be allowed to make any decisions WHICH IS WHY IT IS A VERY BAD IDEA TO GIVE ONE MAN ALL THE POWER just ask Dave Mustaine about his destructive symphony)

and that, Boone, is why you should come with me so we can kill the legion. I WANT WHAT YOU WANT. COME WITH ME AND EXPLORE our bodies THE MOJAVE WITH ME! PLEASE! I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO PUT MY FACE BETWEEN YOUR BOOBS! I WANT TO BECOME YOUR NEW WIFE! I WANT TO HAVE A WHITE PICKET FENCE AROUND OUR HOUSE AS I BAKE YOU A CAZADOR QUICHE WITH AN AGAVE & CACTUS GLAZE AND HAVE TWO BEAUTIFUL BABIES WITH YOU AND TEACH THEM HOW TO KILL DEATHCLAWS FROM FIFTY METERS AWAY! right after we kill Caeser.

I swear once we win the battle of Hoover Dam and I am digesting Lanius I will never eat another human, never steal another item, never cross the NCR, never never ever ever do anything that would displease you my love. Just… stay right where you are. Give me time. I swear I will come back for you. Vide infra, semper invictus, and all of that weird Latin shit that arcade will tell me does not at all mean what I think it means. Just stay right there in Dinky the Dinosaur’s mouth. I will make things right. I will make the NCR forgive me and prove myself to you because you’re worth it Boone. I swear I’ll add you to my polycule with Veronica, Cass, Lucy, Sunny, Beatrix, Sarah, Joana, Raul, Fisto, and… well Arcade declined my offer because he’s not into ladies or ghouls or robots but hey maybe the two of you might hit it off? Oh you don’t swing that way… that’s okay. Manny and Chris are in an open relationship. Oh you didn’t know Manny was gay? Goddamn you really are heterosexual. Oh well. Anyway yeah I heard you the first time I’ll get out of your sight.

*sniff sniff*

I’m sorry I nuked the ncr just to kill your friends and stela their armor… I really am. please let me get 5 friendship points with you in the future. please. I love you boone T.T

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Twenty Two: Don't Fear the Reaper Pt. 6

“Oh my gods Greed!” Dolly couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous makeshift Dante Puppet as Greed went on to perform.

 “Hello! I’m Dante! I make the lives of those around me an absolute hell fest! I like to wear hideous chartreuse dresses on Sundays as it makes me think of suffering orphan children living in their own filth! My personal hobbies are picking out the most uncomfortable younger bodies imaginable and obsess over my exes when no one is looking! Did you know I can sing too?! LALALALALALALA AAAAAAAA!” Greed mocked a high pitch voice for Dante’s puppet as he began to sing very off key to portray the rather loathsome lady.

 “Hey Dante, we’re gonna eat all of your expensive imported sweets!” Ernest laughed aloud as he took a truffle to stuff into his clay monster face. “Not my super expensive sweets, anything but that! It’s the only thing I can eat right now after the doctor told me to stop devouring the souls of young children! What will I ever do without that unnecessary necessity in my life!” Greed made the hand puppet throw its ‘head’ back in complete angst over the pillaging of her luxury items, wailing away in that high pitch voice.

 “Hey boss…you should come outside for a moment..” Dolcetto walked in from the outdoors to witness Greed’s little puppet show.

 “I thought you were getting up some of those rare plants Dante owns.” Greed paused in his little puppet show in confusion.

 “I know, but the capital has large blooms of smoke erupting from it.” Dolcetto explained looking rather concerned about the smoke plumes outside.

 “Shit, for real? Alright, everyone grab the loot and take it outside, the Capital is on fire!” Greed barked out the order as the chimeras scrambled with the looted items and trinkets from Dante’s Household, leaving it completely trashed on the inside.

 “What about the others?! They might be still down in the underground!” Dolly gasped out in horror before having to be led out by her two clay monsters who had also taken the luxury sweets with them.

 “We’re going to assume they got out of there through another exit, for now, we need to leave the villa, it’s a hazard.” Greed ushered Dolly and her monsters out of the villa, partially because Dolly was part of the team and the other because Greed still was a highly combustible gentleman.

 “Shit...Dolcetto wasn't kidding…look at all that smoke coming out! That had to be from the carbonized underground…” Dorian was in awe of the thick, dark, toxic clouds of death erupting from the Capital.

 “It had to have been from it…but how? None of them would be stupid enough to like cause a fire down there given what Dante did to the joint.” Greed was in full shock as he glanced over at Dolly who was looking very tempted to teleport at that moment.

 “Dolly don’t, they’re going to be fine.” Ernest caught on and snapped Dolly out of that mind frame. “I know that Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Tim, and Hughes will be fine. What about Freddy and the Elrics!? They’re not fireproof!” Dolly looked down at her clay representations of her abilities in horror that she wasn’t being allowed to do just that. “The Elrics should be fine, they both have brains. Freddy…I think nature had every right to reclaim him back into its womb after his brief time on earth.” Dorian reason, rooting for mother nature to do its magic involving Freddy.

 “Dorian!” Dolly was thoroughly mortified at what came out of Dorian’s horrible clay maul as he bleeped his makeshift tongue a bit. “It’s true though! If Mother Nature wants Freddy, then Mother Nature gets to keep him in her fiery inferno embrace.” Ernest thoroughly supported his brother’s statement of letting nature lay claim on Freddy. “As touching as this debate is, I’m surprised that Dante’s villa isn’t up in flames yet.” Greed interrupted after noticing there hadn’t been a sign of smoke billowing from the building.

 “Boss…the ground is shaking…” Dolcetto froze a bit once the tremors became a bit noticeable after standing for a moment. “Well that’s fucking delightful..” Roa grunted as he too felt the tremor as the villa shook. The gasses had built up thanks to Survive’s intervention, gradually building up more and more until everyone was out. Moment the occupants were free from the luxury death trap, the villa became loose from its very foundation and launched upwards as though it were a rocket on New Year’s. The debris of shattered wood and glass rained over the area where the villa had launched itself before as a pillar of fire erupted from where the house once stood. The second half of the group stood still in shock at just how strong the inferno was as it came pouring out of the former residence like a geyser. Ernest and Dorian stood silently watching the intense blaze coming from the underground as both came to realize what they had wished upon Freddy was maybe, just maybe not the greatest thing to wish on another living being. Dolly’s heart sank a bit as she watched the blaze, not knowing if Envy or the others had managed to escape safely before dropping to her knees a bit from the shock. Greed’s usually smug face wasn’t there anymore as he watched the fire continuously billow out of the passageway knowing full well if a Human had been down there still, they would’ve been cinders by now. It also didn’t help matters that another massive explosion could be seen right from where the capital was.

#The Wayfarer #Writing #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #Fan Ficiton #FMA Fan Fiction #Greed the Avarious #Greed #Envy the Jealous #Envy #OCs #Homunculus #Homunculi

[fantasypictures]

Beneath Miscellanium - what lay beneath

So, last time I explained what happened in the real world for the first game in my D&D setting. From here on out I'll be exploring things that came up in game, and from there extrapolating onwards to what I want there to be in future games. I'm gonna be focusing on the end state of the campaign, but if even one person asks for more detail there will be no stopping me providing it. Onward and downward!

The City of Miscellanium - An inland city built on a river, surrounded by farmland with some nearby forests. The city is ruled by a Dragonborn Lord Mayor (or possibly a Lord whose surname is Mayor. There was some confusion about this), has a large church devoted to the Cataloguist faith (more on that at a later juncture, hopefully), a unusually sizable public library, and a small wizarding school that probably grew out of studying the main odd thing about the town - small treasures and trinkets periodically appear around the city. Most inhabitants make a habit of giving their house a deep clean every few weeks because there's the chance some coins, a bit of jewelery, a nice vase, a very minor magic item, or something else of that nature has randomly materialized in an un-noticed corner. For centuries this was considered to be a blessing on the town, and traders and travellers would come to buy the weird random stuff.

Turned out the appearing loot was a symptom of strange things happening deep below…

The Sunken King There's a legend in this universe, akin to our King Midas. A ruler who wished for infinite treasures, and an ever-growing castle to protect them. The weight of the gold and the castle eventually became too much and the entire thing was swallowed by the earth.

The being at the bottom of the dungeon wasn't the Sunken King, but may well have been an inspiration, and was called such by many people.

In my original premise, I envisioned the King as being the devine offspring of Tiamat and Asmodeus, a devil-dragon, banished to the mortal realm, who ultimately fell to the consuming greed and evil of his parents. He had lusted after an elven princess, and waged war on all that was good in the land, killing or kidnapping her sisters and dwarven husband, until she eventually submitted to being his bride. This was a trick - she had learned some ancient magic of stonework from the dwarves, and combined with the power gifted by the King so she could stand beside him forever, she cursed him to sleep and wove the dungeon around him, forever digging deeper and drawing in treasures and curiosities to keep him satisfied in slumber for a thousand years. Until some brave heroes discovered the dungeon, and slew the Sunken King.

(This was somewhat inspired by/ripped off of Zelda and Calamity Ganon in Breath of the Wild.)

Looking back at that story, I kind of want to revise it a little. The King still has (well, had, he got killed by a bunch of PCs) divine powers. He's still a dragon. He still looks like a devilishly handsome man with great horns and glittering armour when he wants. And he still claims to be the chosen ruler, the destined some of the queen of all dragons

…but in my re-write, he's worse than a demigod laid low by bio-theo-essentialism. He's an entitled mortal empire builder who should have known better, but chose to be the way he is.

Ordelnax the Just was a gold dragon (taking inspiration from here) whose hoard was a kingdom. He had liberated land from a tyrant, and taken their place as a king, albeit it a reasonably just one. Hence the name. He had made friends and alliances with his neighbours - including a kingdom of elves. He met their many princesses (who I will probably do a post on later because they kind of have a lot of impact on some setting things). He fell in love with one of them, and was disappointed when she did not return the interest, instead marrying a dwarf (a dwarf! of all things! Why would she settle for 4 feet of hair when I have 40 feet of glorious scales?!).

So, he goes and festers a bit on that, before being visted by an angelic messenger. The gods have chosen him - the mortal realm has gotten too chaotic, there are too many tiny kingdoms fighting over too many things. He will be given power, and the duty of bringing it all to heel under one rule - his rule.

(I am currently imagining that this may have come from a cabal of gods, some of whom were 100% down for colonialist assholery, some of whom were a bit naive about how this would turn out. Bahamut is in here. As a god of justice, gotta hope he's part of the naive half)

So, we've got an empire growing under the rule of a shining beacon of justice and might, bestowed a quest from the gods themselves to bring all of creation to heel - and he's still lusting after the girl that got away. Not a healthy situation. Not helped when Asmodeus and Tiamat offer to back him. Maybe with a wager? They'll throw their divine might behind him, and if he takes all the lands, he gets to keep them and have his elven princess. If he fails, they get his soul. Or something.

So he signs up. Ordelnax ramps up the empire-building. He threatens the lands of elves and dwarves. Enemies fall before him, divine and hellish power allowing him to slay, enslave, or both, as he pleases. Until the princess has enough, comes to meet him, and curses the both of them into an eternal dream-dungeon.

But all that's in the past. What impact is this supposed to have on the setting now?

Yeah, fair point. The Sunken King was slain by adventurers, but I'm thinking that Ordelnax the Just Emperor is a figure that most in the world don't think of as the same being - few would know of his devil-dealing and nice-guy-syndrome-ing. So perhaps to some he is a Julius Ceasar - a mighty statesman laid low for the betterment of the empire he built. Or a King Arthur, who will one day return to save his subjects. A saint of the god Bahamut (who is maybe too embarassed to mention what he actually got up to). Somebody whose symbol modern asshole colonialist empire builders can rally around.

#Jarrah does an RPG blog #miscellanium