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dailyadventureprompts · 11 months

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Scragglmop the Destroyer

Once feared throughout the land, a great and terrible dragon grew tired of being endlessly hunted for his hoard and faked his death with the aid of a glory-hungry gnomish bard. Living on for centuries in the guise of a street cat, the dragon is now a hair's breadth from resuming his rampaging ways after the bard's descendants have lost the fortune he gave over to them for safe keeping.

Adventure Hooks:

A series of unexplained fires has wracked the city in recent weeks, which has both the guard and the populace on edge. Rumours swirl blaming arsonists, saboteurs from a rival kingdom, even an illegal duelling society of mages, but none have yet put it together that all of the workshops and businesses were all patronized in one way or another by the famed Candlebright noble family.

Coincidentally, Hignatta Candlebright, young head of that same noble house has sent an invitation to the party to join her at a famed teahouse to discuss a delicate matter involving the retrieval of stolen property. Hignatta has all but taken over the teahouse and its guestrooms since her own family home burned down near the start of the panic, and the party might begin to draw a connection when half way through their meeting the teahouse begins to fill with smoke, panicking patrons, and a booming, sourceless voice that demands "WHERE IS MY GOLD, CANDLEBRIGHT?!"

If you really want to mess with the party, consider introducing them to the fluffy street cat completely independently of the arson plot, making a nuisance of himself in the market while they're trying to shop, or catching mice in their store-room should they have acquired a residence in town. Have them befriend the cat as they might any bad-tempered stray, only to realize after the adventure is half way through that the mice he catches are always somewhat charred. Also imagine the looks on their faces the moment the party's home is broken into by an enemy and their housecat incinnerates a wave of intruders for disturbing his nap.

Background: Everyone knows the story about how the legendary hero Gailen Candlebright saved the realm from the tyrannical dragon Slaggrath, a beast known to devour whole armies and raze kingdoms in search of treasure. It's the ubiquitous tale against which all adventurers are measured against, made all the more ubiquitous thanks to the fact that the deed is memorialized in drinking ballads, children rhymes, and even a few folk operas. Gailen was a troubadour of not insignificant skill before he became a legend, and he had little trouble using that skill and hardwon fame to ensure his deeds would never be forgotten.

As with many tales told by the bards, Gailen left out quite a bit of the truth when concocting his tale: It was a late night in a roadside tavern and the young Candlebright was approached by a sourfaced man with a tangled beard and clothes that might have once been quite fine. Gailen had sung for his supper and then some, his hat was overflowing with tips from a long night's work and a greatful crowd, and the old man wanted to know how it was exactly that the Gnome hadn't yet been robbed; The roads were full of all sorts of rough types who thought that their strength entitled them to others' wealth, bandits yes but worse yet kingsmen, who took what they wanted sure that that they were above any kind punishment.

Seeing that the old man had fallen on rough times, likely having been robbed himself, Gailen spoke from the heart: He'd been robbed a few times yes, but he got by looking like someone that no one would bother to steal from, dressing in his fine clothes only on days he'd perform, and keeping most of his riches in the safe keeping of others, such as the caravan masters he frequently traveled along with.

The old man considered Gailen's words and the two sat up drinking through the night debating the merits of the Troubador's duplicity. Was it not better, asked the old man, to defend what was yours with strength and reputation, That everyone might learn from the failure of those that had trifled with you before?

Gailen looked at the many scars the old man bore and countered that fools never learned their lesson, they just thought themselves better than the last fool who risked it and they'd keep risking it till luck won out or they went to join all the fools that had come before.

It was dawn when the two parted ways, Gailen tottering off to bed thinking he'd given council to a reformed bandit chief, the old man slipping out of the inn and taking to wing thinking he'd concocted a brilliant scheme with the help of his newest, and perhaps first, friend.

i was a week (and one pants-shitting revelation over the old man's true draconic nature) later that the legend of Slaggrath came to an end: Gailen walking into that very same tavern bloodied, burnt, and with the broken off horn of the great wyrm held above his head as a trophy. The news spread like wildfire, the name Candlebright ascended to the shortlist of the realm's great champions, and not a soul questioned when the newly knighted Gailen comissioned the construction of an elaborate series of vaults beneith the castle he'd just been awarded. The bard had everything he wanted, and in return he and his family would hold the dragon's horde in trust, not touching a single copper and adding a little to it each year out of respect for the wyrm's generosity.

Future Adventures:

Even before he charmed his way into unexpected riches, Gailen was an ardent follower of Garl Glittergold, god of ambition, wit, and wariness. Genresavvy bard that he was, he understood that this fabulous windfall wasn't just some gift from his god, it was a test, and that to keep his good fortune going he'd best abide by the exact deal he'd struck in that tavern. Gailen kept Slaggrath's treasure under lock and key all his life and made sure his children did the same despite never telling them where he got it, in accordance with his pact with the dragon . Feeling that the Candlebright family has sat on its laurels for far too long (especially since practical and buisness minded Hignatta has been increasingly questioning why her late grandfather insisted on keeping a giant pile of money in their basement and never spending it), the god has seen fit to shake things up, ensuring that some long lost blueprints for the vault have fallen into the hands of a group of thieves, who broke in and cleared the vault though the very same secret passages Slaggrath used to pop in every decade or so and make sure the count was up to date. The dragon is pissed, convinced Hignatta has reneged on her family's deal.. and all the while the thieves get closer and closer to escaping.

Depending on how the party handles it this situation could break bad in any number of ways: The dragon could give up on being Scragglmop and go on a rampage forcing the party to put him down, they could intercede on Hignatta's behalf and ensure the treasure is returned possibly earning themselves a cushy position as retainers of house Candlebright, perhaps most dangerously they could earn the attention of Garl Glittergold himself and end up being singled out for their own unstable blessing.

In addition to being motivated by the prerequisite desire to get rich, the thieves were hired by an ambitious mage who has long desired to get his hands on Gailen's Horn, the draconic trophy the bard thereafter used as the sigil for his house and hollowed out into a heavy instrument through which he channelled his most showy magic. The mage has designs on the horn as the centrepiece of a ritual drawing on the object's history of power and triumph. Given that the horn is in fact the centrepiece of a giant con it's going to bring some very unaccounted for variables into the mage's ritual which is liable to set off its own chain of problems down the line.

Art

#adventure #mid level #dragon #town #city #dungeon #thief #garl glittergold #disaster #bard #gnome #I thought this was going to be a short one T_T curse you writers brain #monster hunt #patron merchant #patron noble

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hussyknee · 1 year

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This is, bar none, the funniest fucking completely unironic shit published by a legitimate news outlet:

In recent months, orcas in the waters off the Iberian Peninsula have taken to ramming boats. The animals have already sunk three this year and damaged several more. After one of the latest incidents, in which a catamaran lost both of its rudders, the boat’s captain suggested that the assailants have grown stealthier and more efficient: “Looks like they knew exactly what they are doing,” he said. Scientists have documented hundreds of orca-boat incidents off the Spanish-Portuguese coast since 2020, but news coverage of these attacks is blowing up right now, thanks in part to a creative new theory about why they’re happening: cetacean vengeance. Now that’s a story! “The orcas are doing this on purpose,” Alfredo López Fernandez, a biologist at the University of Aveiro in Portugal, told LiveScience last month. “Of course, we don’t know the origin or the motivation, but defensive behavior based on trauma, as the origin of all this, gains more strength for us every day.” López Fernandez, who co-authored a 2022 paper on human-orca interactions in the Strait of Gibraltar, speculates that a specific female, known to scientists as White Gladis, may have suffered a “critical moment of agony” at the hands of humans, attacked a boat in retaliation, and then taught other whales to do the same. Whatever the truth of this assertion, White Gladis and her kin have quickly ascended to folk-heroic status on the internet. “What the marine biologists are framing as revenge based on one traumatic experience may be a piece of a larger mobilization towards balance,” the poet Alexis Pauline Gumbs tweeted before referring to the killer whales as “revolutionary mother teachers.” Media figures and academics are expressing solidarity with their “orca comrades” and support for “orca saboteurs.” One widely circulating graphic shows a pod smashing a boat from below, above the words “JOIN THE ORCA UPRISING.” (You can even purchase it in sparkly sticker form.) Yet all of this fandom and projection tends to overlook important facts: First, these orcas are likely to be playing with the boats rather than attacking them, and second, if one insists on judging killer whales in human terms, it’s plain to see they aren’t heroes but sadistic jerks.

A shark wrote this.

The recent incidents, none of which has resulted in any injuries to humans, are simply the result of curiosity, Monika Wieland Shields, the co-director of the Orca Behavior Institute in Washington, told me. A juvenile may have started interacting in this way with boats, she said, and then its habit spread through the local community of killer whales. Such cultural trends have been observed before: In the Pacific Northwest, orcas have been playing with buoys and crab pots for years; in the late 1980s, one group of orcas there famously took to wearing salmon hats. Is ramming boats the new donning fish? Shields believes that theory makes more sense than López Fernandez’s appeal to orca trauma. White Gladis shows no physical evidence of injury or trauma, Shields told me, so any “critical moment of agony” is purely speculative. Also, humans have given orcas ample reason to retaliate for hundreds of years. We’ve invaded their waters, kidnapped their young, and murdered them in droves. And yet, there is not a single documented instance of orcas killing humans in the wild. Why would they react only now? And though recent events may fit the story of these orcas’ being anti-colonial warriors, you can’t just anthropomorphize animals selectively. What about all the other “evidence” we have of orcas’ cruelty, or even wickedness? Scientists say they hunt and slaughter sharks by the dozen, picking out the liver from each one and leaving the rest of the carcasses to rot uneaten. Orcas kill for sport. They push, drag, and spin around live prey, including sea turtles, seabirds, and sea lions. Some go so far as to risk beaching themselves in order to snag a baby seal—not to consume, but simply to torture it to death. Once you start applying human ethical standards to apex predators, things turn dark fast.

Oh no, they gleefully torment other animals for sport!! Does this species deserve to have any redeeming qualities???

Perhaps #orcauprising was inevitable. Humanity does have, after all, a long history of freighting cetaceans with higher meaning. Moby Dick is, among other things, a symbol of the sublime. The biblical whale—or is it a large fish?—that swallows Jonah is an instrument of divine retribution, a means of punishing the wicked in much the same way some have framed the boat-wrecking orcas. The whale 52 Blue, known as the loneliest whale in the world because she speaks in a frequency inaudible, or at least incomprehensible, to her brethren, has become a canvas for all shades of human sorrow and angst. Orcas in particular have long been objects of both fear and sympathy, in some cases with an explicitly anti-capitalist tint. The 1993 classic Free Willy centers on a conniving park owner’s scheme to profit off of the bond between a child and a young killer whale. And more recently, the 2013 documentary Blackfish chronicles SeaWorld’s real-life exploitation of captive orcas. The “orca uprising” narrative fits neatly into this lineage. In our present era of environmental catastrophe, Shields told me, it’s appealing to think that nature might fight back, that the villains get their just deserts. But projection and anthropomorphization are only shortcuts to a shallow sympathy. Orcas really are capable of intense grief; they are also capable of tormenting seal pups as a hobby. They are intelligent, emotionally complex creatures. But they are not us.

Someone paid this dude actual money to conclude that Orcas aren't human.

In conclusion:

#this is a White Gladis stan account sorry #I don't care if she's doing it for shits and giggles in fact that would be even better #support orca rights and orca wrongs #orca splatoon #the atlantic #capitalism #joining the war on orcas on the side of the orcas #yachts #orcas #marine life #ecology #marine animals #class war #eat the rich #anti capitalism #cetaceans #knee of huss

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theresattrpgforthat · 4 months

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I'd be interested in any dieselpunk or clockpunk recommendations you have, particularly if you play as some sort of inventor.

Theme: Clockpunk & Dieselpunk

Hello friend, I’ve got a decent number of Clockpunk or Dieselpunk settings, and while I think there might be be individual character options that allow you to play something of an inventor, I don’t think there’s anything in which you solely play as inventors. Perhaps some of my followers know of some though!

Tomorrow City, by Osprey Publishing.

Tomorrow City was one of the cities of the future, built to usher in a new age of prosperity, seizing upon scientific achievements at the dawn of the twentieth century. Then came the War. Radium-powered soldiers assembled, diesel-fuelled nightmares rolled off production lines, city fought city, and the world burned in atomic fire.

Tomorrow City still stands, an oil-stained beacon of hope, part-refuge, part-asylum. Beset by dangers from both within and without, a secret war now rages on its streets. Diesel-born monstrosities stalk the alleyways, air pirates strike from the wastelands, mad scientists continue their dark work, occultists manipulate the city’s strange geometry, and secret societies plot in the shadows.

Tomorrow City is a roleplaying game of dark science and dieselpunk action. Swift and simple character creation and an easy-to-learn dice pool system places the emphasis on unique personalities and the momentum of the plot. Join the Underground and fight the crime and corruption at the heart of the city. Sell your dieselpunk tech, occult knowledge, and sheer grit as troubleshooters for mysterious paymasters. Hunt down spies, saboteurs, and science-run-amok. As weary sky rangers, fringe scientists, and radium-powered veterans, you might be all that stands between a better tomorrow and no tomorrow at all.

This is a game that pools together your positive and negative character tags, has you roll for both and aim to come out on top. Gear is very important here, and acts as a great vehicle for communicating the kind of world that you’re living in. I don’t own this game so I can’t speak to much more than that, but if there is a big focus on gear, I’d assume that having a character that can create that gear or make it better would be fairly easy to make in this game.

Age of Steel, by Isolation Games.

Age of Steel is a dieselpunk roleplaying game set in the world of Neres; a world not unlike our own in the first few decades of the 20th century. Neres has just emerged from its first global conflict; the ‘Great War’ in which hundreds of thousands of men and women died in the mud and horror of the trenches.

Technology in Neres has taken a slightly different route to our own world; personal mecha powered by diesel engines are used for numerous applications from war to common labour; huge airships ply the airways; bipedal automata act as servants for the rich and gadgeteer inventors construct homemade ray-guns in their basement laboratories.

In the wake of the Great War, Neres is a hotbed of political scheming and economic growth. Industry and commerce have come to rule the world which, thanks to the airship, aeroplane and radio is rapidly becoming smaller. Little do the majority of people know but an ancient evil is at the heart of the conflict in their world. Eldritch monstrosities from before the dawn of time seek to unmake reality, aided by cults of insane worshippers. Into this world come the heroes -the players- who are the only thing standing between the cosmic evil and all that they hold dear.

Age of Steel uses d6s as the base for their rules, and characters are built using a point-buy system, meaning that instead of character classes, you can custom-design your character as you see fit. I think that since everything about your character is customizable, there may be some options that would help you construct an inventor-like character.

One piece of your character is your backgrounds - that is, what assets your character has to pull from as they play. Some of these assets include Cash, a Job, a Reputation, and a Personal Vehicle. Since the release of the base game, the designer has also added a free supplement called Better Backgorunds, which also includes some more character options when it comes to assets.

Steel Horizons, by Wandering Pilgrim Games.

Steel Horizons is a Dieselpunk TTRPG set on the continent of Algara. It has been 43 years since the discovery of the powerful mineral, Pyricium, which jumpstarted technology ahead decades and began the 3rd Age.

In this new world, the nations of Algara have barely survived the Great War, fought over the precious Pyricium deposits, and now seek to rebuild themselves even greater than before with the might of their technologies and cultural advancements. Using the combined power of diesel fuel, pyric energy, and the brute strength of man, the world presses ever forward.

You play as a Wanderer, a traveller making their way across the land in search of their own legacy. By choosing your own Archetype and customizable Background, you can create the Wanderer you want to tell the best story!

This is a custom system that uses d12’s for all of your rolls. While Steel Horizons is meant to be a complete setting, the creator’s overarching goal appears to be a core set of rules that can be used in a number of different settings. Currently there’s the Quickstart Guide (linked in title) that is meant to bring you through character creation and gives you some example encounters, but you can also get the Lore Keeper Codex for the Hydra System, which is the base rules without setting details, as well as the Player’s Guide, which introduces new character options for you to play with.

Clocks and Punks, by Ikari.

You are misfits in the mega city Meccavena, dwelling in your precious hideout, the Sanctuary, looking for your next gig. Your gang leader, Archelle, has dosed into an endless sleep after she stole the Anomaly Device from the Clockmaker's tower. Now, it's your job to regroup and explore that crazy, conspiracy-infused, clockwork powered city, and maybe find a way to wake Archelle up!

Clocks and Punks is a rules-light, clockpunk inspired hack on the Lasers and Feelings RPG by John Harper. As is the standard for games of this type, your characters will enter play with a goal already in mind, but how they decide to go about achieving that goal is up to them.

If you want to create an inventor character you certainly can - there are Artificer and Alchemist roles that might fit that niche, and you can create a character goal that encourages you to create or invent. You can also make your character better at CLOCK tasks, giving them an advantage when performing tasks that require precision or technical aptitude.

This game is best for a group that wants a short session, or minimal bookkeeping. It’s probably also easier to run if you have experience playing ttrpgs before, just because there’s not a lot of room for GM guidance on a single page,

Flying Fortress, by Planet Gnome.

Flying Fortress is a trifold pamphlet RPG about pulp adventure, diesel punks, and airship pirates.

This is a hack of Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland by Chris McDowall, and should be compatible with any other Mark of the Odd games.

What I really enjoy about pamphlet games is that they provide a lot of neatly organized information that is easy to navigate. This game has your character sheet on one tab, rules on another, gear on another, and then information on the back for the person running the game - things like potential enemies, factions, and roll tables. There’s no particular inventor role per se, but there are Aristocrat and Mechanic options that I think you could tailor to be more about invention if you wish.

The biggest downside to this game is that it dedicates all of its space to game info, and leaves no room for world-building, so the setting you place yourself in is going to have to be crafted whole-cloth by the play group. Then again, if your GM is a natural world-builder, maybe that’s an asset rather than a downside!

Goblins in Shadow, by Color Spray Games.

GOBLINS IN SHADOW is a roleplaying game about goblin resistance and revolution in an age of elven oppression. It’s a world of clockwork and magic, of smoke and shadow.

Players will take on the roles of a cell of goblin revolutionaries, working to undermine the elves and humans who have conquered their homeland and built an empire on its corpse. They’ll advance their goals by taking on scores, missions that gather sympathy for their cause or take direct action against their oppressors, ending in a final attempt to assassinate one of the elven ministers ruling the city. To do that, they’ll need to avoid being caught by the Watch or the Hounds, the elite special police of the city; they’ll also need to balance their obligations to the various factions of the city, as well as their own personal obligations.

The rule of elves will be broken by goblins in shadow.

As a Forged in the Dark game, this will likely be familiar to anyone who has played Blades or similar games. The core of this game is about combat, and the setting around it is clockwork. If you want to play an inventor type character, there looks to be a playbook called The Hand, equipped for sabotage and front-lines engineering. Just through skimming the playbooks I feel like a lot of pieces of the world around you are baked into your playbooks - for example, the Hand might have been branded by an entropic form of goblin magic that allows you to invoke rapid decay or drain life. Now that’s evocative!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #dieselpunk #clockpunk

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concerningwolves · 1 year

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Also, this talk about scapegoating ND people because of "incorrect" or "weird" behaviours vividly reminds me of this time in middle school when our entire year group did this desert island survival team-building exercise.

I've blanked most of it from my memory because the whole scenario was unspeakably miserable, but I don't think I'll ever forget what happened when the teachers introduced a Traitors-type mechanic. Basically, they randomly picked a student who would "sabotage" the "supplies" by stealing some (iirc, these were a stock of those little beanbags we used in PE), and we were supposed to work together to salvage the situation.

What actually happened was a witch hunt for the saboteur, and because I (undiagnosed autistic) wasn't reacting "correctly" to the situation, everyone came down on me. I remember standing in the corridor while a bunch of people that I called acquaintances, and some who I considered friends, all crowded around asking me if I was the thief. I think I might have been almost hysterical, because I started laughing and grinning in that painfully embarrassed way while I protested my innocence, and they took this as further "proof" and pressed me harder. I remember feeling absolutely filthy with hot-and-cold sweat, so frustrated I wanted to cry, because nobody would believe me. They were convinced it was me, because I'd committed some social transgression or other that I didn't understand, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

The teachers put a stop to it in the end. (I think they actually cancelled the entire exercise, but maybe it was just that particular aspect they scrapped). Our form teacher gave everyone a very disappointed talk and revealed that the real thief was someone nobody had even glanced at, because he was popular and well-liked. I don't remember if anyone ever apologised to me. One of my friends told me I'd been "over-reacting", because it was "just a game", but to me it'd felt like a microcosm of my social life with the stakes dialled up a 100%.

I will always be able to point to that instance as the first time I became really, excruciatingly aware just how Different I was. For some reason, I'd put a target on myself, I thought. I know now that it was actually a case of ableism and inherent biases against neurodivergent behaviors, but that's a recent revelation. And my heart breaks when I think about how that kind of thing happens every day, all across the world, because so many societies train people to see ND traits as red flags.

#Autism #Autism stuff #Ableism #Neurodivergent

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countesspetofi · 2 months

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Today in the Department of Before They Were Star Trek Stars, George Takei guest stars in "The Silent Saboteurs," episode 10 of the second season of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (original air date November 28, 1965).

Takei plays a Chinese officer who teams up with David Hedison's Captain Crane to hunt down a mad scientist who's built a superweapon to shoot down American spacecraft, from a secret base in an unnamed Southeast Asian country I can only assume is supposed to be Vietnam. A native guerilla fighter helps them locate the base. If you find the politics of this episode confusing, that makes two of us. Then it turns out that Takei is not a Chinese officer after all, but one of the mad scientist's henchmen. And then it all turns into sort of a mini James Bond movie, with the added confusion of starring an actor who went on to play Felix Leiter. But it's all good fun.

Other Trek connections: The guerilla fighter is played by Pilar Seurat, who played the empath Sybo in the Star Trek episode "Wolf in the Fold."

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #voyage to the bottom of the sea #1960s tv #tv sci fi #george takei #pilar seurat #david hedison

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colorfulmetaphors · 6 months

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(An Attempt at) A Maul Masterlist

hello folks! after seeing multiple requests in the tag for recs for Maul content or help finding Maul stories, I decided to make a list trying to do both for everything I've found because it took me a lot of searching to figure out what's actually out there for this man. and the answer is a lot, actually. So, hoping this saves others the time and the struggle, here's all the Maul stuff i've found along with what I would rec and why:

Stuff specifically about Maul

Books:

Episode 1 Adventures 3: The Fury of Darth Maul by Ryder Windham | junior novella

As far as I'm aware, this is the first published work for Maul. It's a junior novel about Maul carrying out a mission for Sidious, and it can be accompanied by a game book for a choose-your-own adventure. The novel itself though, is one of my favorite Maul stories because it defines his characterization for me.

The Wrath of Darth Maul also by Ryder Windham | junior novel

Maul's og origin in Legends. I think it's a must-read. This book was published alongside Maul's revival in TCW and seeks to reconcile his Legends background with that character by gathering his previous lore into one cohesive story. It notably includes and expands upon the events of the following three items:

Star Wars Episode 1 Journal: Darth Maul by either Judy Blundell or Jude Watson | novella A story that offers some of Maul's narration on his upbringing and his training with Sidious. "Darth Maul: Restraint" by James Luceno | short story Published in the second edition of Shadow Hunter (listed below), this story details Maul's time at Orsis Academy, the relationships he's forming, and his run-in with Mother Talzin. Great for showing his inner-conflict and devotion to Sidious. "Darth Maul: Endgame" also by James Luceno | short story This one is published in the paperback 2012 edition of TPM novel by Terry Brooks. It's an introspective piece that takes place after Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Obi-Wan escape Maul's attack on Tatooine.

Darth Maul: Saboteur also ALSO by James Luceno | short story

Originally published as an ebook, this story was also published in Shadow Hunter. It follows Maul on one of his first missions as a true apprentice of Sidious and shows his characterization when he's just outside that restrictive control. I really like this one for the Drama and the Subtle Characterization tm

Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter by Michael Reaves | novel

One of the two blessed full novels for Maul. In it Maul is on a mission to hunt down a target and has a very early encounter with the Jedi. This one is great for characterization and narration; I have it fully marked up with highlights, sticky notes, and bookmarks.

Maul: Lockdown by Joe Schreiber | novel

The second blessed full novel. So. Much. Fun. Maul goes to jail! Takes part in cage fights! Chases birds! Reveals the depths of his anxiety and need for attachment! Mystery and gore! 10/10.

"An Unwilling Apprentice" by George Mann | short story, found in the Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge edition of Myths and Fables

Maul's canon origin. Personally, I Do Not See It.

Stories of Jedi and Sith - "The Ghosts of Maul" by Michael Moreci | short story in the listed anthology

I highly recommend listening to the audio book for this one if you can. Sam Witwer narrates it and it's fantastic. Love hearing Maul wail in despair. (and also love a man being haunted by his past.)

The next two are unique because they're re-tellings of TCW episodes. I like seeing how different writers interpret those events so I like them, but I don't know if that counts as something folks would want to read for Maul.

The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark - "Dark Vengeance" by Rebecca Roanhorse | short story in the listed anthology This one recounts TCW "Brothers" and "Revenge." I don't remember much specifically from it, but I do remember it being told as if to a small child, and I thought that was neat. The Clone Wars: Darth Maul: Shadow Conspiracy by Jason Fry | junior novel Covers "Revival," "Eminence," "Shades of Reason," and "The Lawless." The author writes like they're obsessed with Maul's voice, and frankly, I don't blame them.

Comics:

Darth Maul (2000) by Ron Marz | comic series, 4 issues

Maul goes on yet another mission for Sidious (unsurprisingly, this is the basic plot of most of his Legends materials). Violence ensues. Maul is certified Cool.

The following two comics can both be found in the Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: Rise of the Sith Volume 1 and Star Wars Legends: Rise of the Sith Omnibus

Star Wars Tales 10 - "Nameless" by Christian Read | single comic, found in the listed issue, Star Wars Tales Volume 3, or the above 2 collections Maul is sent to kill a Jedi master. To do so and improve his prowess in combat, Maul constructs his infamous double-bladed lightsaber. Star Wars Tales 24 - "Marked" by Rob Williams | single comic, found in the listed issue, Star Wars Tales Volume 6, or the above 2 collections A comic about obedience and fear; Maul grapples with the thought that Sidious might take another apprentice.

The Clone Wars: The Sith Hunters by Henry Gilroy and Stephen Melching | graphic novella

It's very funny to me that this is considered Legends even though it features TCW Maul and Savage. This one takes place after TCW episode "Revenge" and I'm gonna be honest-- I don't remember a lot from this, but I do remember that it shows Maul's earliest days on Lotho Minor so that's sick luv u spidermaul 4 5ever.

Darth Maul -- Death Sentence by Tom Taylor | comic series, 4 issues; also found in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Clone Wars Volume 2

Maul leads a revolution while trying to rescue his brother. The story takes place between The Sith Hunters and TCW season 5 "Revival," filling in some of what Maul and Savage were doing in that time.

Darth Maul (2017) by Cullen Bunn | comic series, 5 issues

Luke Ross and Nolan Woodard just get it okay. I love the way Maul looks in this series. In my head, this comic is the canon alternative to Shadow Hunter, where Maul confronts a Jedi early on, but the differences between his characterization in these two stores is the basis of my understanding of the difference between Legends Maul and canon Maul.

Age of Republic - Darth Maul by Jody Houser | single issue comic, found independently or in the collection Star Wars: Age of Republic - Villains

Maul goes on an (Sith ashes) acid trip while on a visit to Malachor with Sidious.

Darth Maul -- Son of Dathomir by Jeremy Barlow | comic series, 4 issues

This series is especially interesting to me because it's adapted from TCW season 6 scripts that weren't produced. It follows Maul as he's rescued by Death Watch after the conclusion of his arc in season 5, and shows his alliance with Talzin as they confront Sidious. I think it's great for fleshing out that relationship and that side of canon Maul's character.

Star Wars Adventures (2020) 3 - "Tales of Villainy: The Hostage" by Shane McCarthy and Michael Moreci | single comic, found in the listed issue or in Star Wars Adventures: The Light and the Dark

Maul allows himself to be captured in an attempt to bring another crime syndicate into the Shadow Collective. Is this one monumental? No. Am I unreasonably fond of it? Hell yeah. If you've seen that panel of Maul and Savage drinking at a diner, it's from this comic. Also has Maul in chains for those of yall that are into that.

Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle 1 - "The Horned Devil" by Cavan Scott | single comic found in the listed issue or in the collections Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle and Star Wars Adventures: Beware Vader's Castle

A "sPoOKy" story about Maul on Lotho Minor. Once again, luv u spidermaul 4 5ever. The cover art is fuckin sick.

Star Wars Visionaries - "Old Wounds" by Aaron McBride | single comic found in the listed graphic novel, in Star Wars Omnibus: Wild Space Volume 2, Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Empire Volume 4, and Star Wars Legends: The Empire Omnibus Volume 2

In this comic, Maul tracks Obi-Wan to Tatooine for revenge. Sounds familiar, but this was published in 2005, before Maul's revival in TCW. His design in that show, though, was based off of this comic, and his episodes in Rebels show a similar influence. I like this one because I think it's fun to see how his narrative was evolving as different writers took on the story, and to see the path from where he began in Legends up to his end.

Stuff Maul is in: (not specifically about him, but he makes an appearance)

Books:

Darth Plagueis by James Luceno | novel

Our man JL is back with more Maul... just not as the focus. If you're going to read one thing from this "Stuff Maul is in" list, let it be this one. Granted, it's a loooooooooong book, but it's really great for fleshing out the Plagueis and Sidious and Maul dynamic. Maul does have some sections of his own narration, but the best bit of this novel is seeing how Plagueis and Sidious see him. It also has some of his original Legends origin!

Queen's Peril by E.K. Johnston | novel

This book is about Padme! Who I love dearly, so I enjoyed reading it. Maul has a few sections of narration in it that show his canon headspace.

Comics:

The first set of these is a mental collection I like to call "Legends writers just Try Shit" and it's a bunch of different ways Maul was brought back before TCW.

Star Wars Tales 9 - "Resurrection" by Ron Marz | single comic found in the listed issue, in Star Wars Tales Volume 3, or in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Empire Volume 8 The Maul in this one has been resurrected by a dark side cult to be the true apprentice to Sidious. The story is mostly about Vader, but his duel with Maul is cool. Star Wars Tales 17 - "Phantom Menaces" by Joe Casey | single comic found in the listed issue, in Star Wars Tales Volume 5, or in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The New Republic Volume 5 While on a diplomatic mission, Luke Skywalker is attacked by a hologram of Maul and goes off to investigate. This is the one I use to bless my friends with the cursed knowledge of Maul's brain in a tank. Star Wars: Jedi Quest 1 by Ryder Windham | first comic in a series, also found in Star Wars Omnibus: Menace Revealed and Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Menace Revealed Volume 3 Truth be told, I have not read this one because I can't find it for free. In it, Maul is a training hologram? I think? For Anakin? idk. There's also a novel series by the same name and I got annoyed looking for what isn't really Maul anyway.

Star Wars: Republic (1998) 40 - "The Devaronian Version, Part 1" by John Ostrander | comic in a long ass series, but the one you want is found in the listed issue, Star Wars Omnibus: Quinlan Vos: Jedi in Darkness, or Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Menace Revealed Volume 3

I don't know what this is about even though I have read it; Maul is in it for like 3 panels; he gets called "nasty boy" and makes someone wet themselves in fright. Obviously core reading for the Maul experience.

Jedi Council: Acts of War by Randy Stradley | comic series, four issues by the listed name, or in Star Wars Omnibus: Rise of the Sith and Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: Rise of the Sith, Volume 1

Once again, I do not know what this is about because I have a very difficult time reading comics when Maul is not there. And in this series he's there for < 15 panels. But he looks pretty when he is there.

Obi-Wan -- A Jedi's Purpose 2 - "A Shadow Falls on the Padawan" by Christopher Cantwell | issue of a comic series

This comic includes a brief scene showing Obi-Wan remembering his and Maul's final battle on Tatooine and commenting on Maul's mental state. Makes me super emo.

And finally, encyclopedia-type stuff!: (not necessarily stories, but has neat info-- especially because they show what was considered canon at the time of their publication)

Darth Maul: Sith Apprentice by Jo Casey and Catherine Saunders | children's reader

Yes, you read that right. But this kid's book has fun information about Maul based on TPM. I especially like the image call-out for his "heavy action boots." It brings me joy.

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace: The Expanded Visual Dictionary by David West Reynolds and Jason Fry | what it says on the tin

The adult version of the above book. Shows the inside of Maul's lightsaber, which I love. Also still points out the heavy action boots. Clearly, they are a key component of the character.

And that's everything! There are some re-tellings of like, TPM, in novel or comic form but I was never super interested in those so I haven't read them.

If you know of something else please let me know! (Both so I can add it and so I can read it). Similarly, if you see any mistakes on the list, please tell me. It took me like 7 hours to type it up and check and cross-reference everything and some mistakes probably crept in there. If you're like me and you've gotten through (most of) this list, but still want More Maul, please check out my fic rec! There's a bunch of banger Maul fics there. Tagging @maul-my-heart. Hope you have fun in your reading!

#darth maul #maul #ptp #text wall #maul my beloved #long post

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katelouisepowell · 1 year

Text

Fox hunting is where animal torture meets organised crime. Week in week out we see more and more evidence of the depravity happening in the countryside, documented by sabs, monitors, investigation teams, and so on 🦊

For the most recent example, the footage published by Hunt Saboteurs showing the Avon Vale Hunt gleefully throwing two foxes to the hounds as hunt staff watch on and shout excitedly. All it boils down to is a small group of people terrorising animals because they enjoy it and think they can get away with it.

How many times does this frenzied cruelty need to be exposed before it’s properly stamped out? If you are angry, turn that into action, and see what you can do to help extinguish bloodsports for good.

For now have some vengeful foxes drawn by me over the years ✏️

#my art #hunt saboteurs #hunt sabs #anti hunt #animal rights #illustration #artists on tumblr #art #vegan #drawing

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megamindsecretlair · 9 months

Text

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 8

Chapter 7 Chapter 9

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Angst. Oral (male receiving) Soft Loki, use of magic, and heavy mentions of survivor's guilt, negative self-talk, violence.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. When you arrive to open the club, you find Loki in his office. You intended to help him, but nothing ever goes according to plan when dealing with the God of Mischief.

Word Count: 4,311k

Masterlist

A/N: WHEW! This drained me LOL. In a good way, I slept like a baby after this. This is definitely one of the heaviest things I've released into the wild. Also, sorry babes! I'm going on vacation next week so no new chapter next week. I was going to try and type something up and save it as a draft, but no go. Too hectic at home. You can definitely use this chapter to tell me your theories! Who do you think the saboteur is? When will Y/N give in? Can Loki's patience outlast Y/N's stubbornness??? Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings

It was no secret that you had trust issues. You did not trust how quiet it had been from the saboteur. You did not trust that the person just gave up their reign of terror. You didn’t care for the silence. Every shadow was the saboteur. Every delivery had an air of doom.

You were on edge and it made the others on edge as well. It had been a few quiet weeks since the last surprise from the person out to hurt Loki and by extension, his club. And you realized that the more you thought about it, the more the person won. This was what they wanted. For you all to cower in fear, jumping at shadows and mistrusting the person next to you.

Fuck that. You knew every person here. Inside and out. You were not going to go on a witch hunt. Loki wanted to, desperately. It took all of your concentration to keep him at bay and keep the club running smoothly.

You looked over your notebook, running through the calendar for the evening. You were due to have a large party in the Helheim room. Your heels echoed in the quiet space. You liked to arrive early and have a bit of peace to yourself before the hustle and bustle started. You were able to collect your thoughts for half a second, before the complaints started.

You ran through the list of special requests. You rolled your eyes. Those were always fun. Not. Loki promised decadence and your every fantasy fulfilled. That translated to entitled assholes who thought that they could treat the waitstaff like personal servants and entertainment. You grabbed a pen from your pocket to make a note for yourself. You had to talk to the waitstaff and bartenders to cut the party off if they got too rowdy. You’d deal with the consequences.

You passed by Loki’s office on your way to yours. The door was propped open. You put your hand on the cold doorknob ready to close it when you peeked inside and saw Loki sitting at the desk. He was rubbing his jaw and staring down.

You knew he’d sense you in a moment but for a brief second, you watched him. You watched the angles and lines of his face. The sharp turn of his nose, his downturned mouth. His jacket was off and hanging over the edge of his chair. The sleeves of his black shirt were pulled up revealing pale flashes of his forearms. His long, delicate fingers were clenched in a fist.

He looked like a statue made real. One of those old statues built long before your time that decorated the palace where Loki resided. The ones that were carved from real artists. Who turned cold, unyielding stone to breathing moments of life. The humans on Midgard had similar statues in their museums.

The kind where detail was paramount. Fingers dug into skin, clothes were draped just so, and faces held that serene pain you often found on Loki’s face when he thought no one was looking.

You pushed into the room. Loki didn’t stir. You walked up to the desk.

“Loki?”

Loki took a deep breath as if you roused him from a dream. “Darling,” he said. His voice was deeper and raspier than normal.

“Have you been here all night?” You asked.

His desk was littered with paperwork. His once neat desk was cluttered and haphazard. It was so unlike him that you stared at it in shock. You looked back at him. His hair was dry and lifeless. It hung on his shoulders but there was none of the ethereal otherness to it.

“Has the morning passed already?” He did not sound like your Loki. He sounded tired and unfocused.

“Did you sleep here?” You looked around the room and noticed that his couch remained untouched. You made him keep a blanket draped across it for decoration purposes but also in case he wanted to take a nap. He thought you were joking. He could just conjure one up. But why waste the effort?

“Sleep would imply that I closed my eyes and rested. I assure you, no such luxuries were forthcoming,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and you crossed behind the desk to get closer to him. You grabbed his chin and made him look at you.

You cursed softly at finding his eyes red. He smirked at you. At least the bastard hadn’t lost that.

“Worried for me, Darling?” He asked.

“This is what the saboteur wants.” You looked around his desk once more. Sure enough, there was the card he found on top of the ale delivery. He glanced at it too and his frown returned. You turned him once more to look at you. “They win if we let our guards down and obsess. This is no way to live. We’re constantly on the defensive.”

He smirked once more. “That’s why I spent the evening reviewing security measures. Whoever this person is, they know how to sneak past them. I planned to add more today.”

“You need to go home and get some rest. You’re no good to anyone like this,” you said.

“Is that an invitation?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “If I take you to bed, it will be with your full faculties. Not…whatever this is,” you said. Even you knew to tread lightly. You’ve seen Loki on rough days. This went beyond rough.

Loki looked…defeated. Which was impossible. Gods weren’t defeated. Certainly not your dark prince. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He spread his legs, one knee bent and the other thrust in front of him. His office chair was his throne and you were a lowly peasant seeking an ounce of mercy.

But damn if he didn’t look delicious. Damm him. Sleep-deprived looked good on him. Everything looked good on him. He sat there as if he were ready to entertain noblemen or hold court. The dark circles under his eyes gave him an roguish air.

“If you take me to bed?”

“If,” you confirmed.

“Don’t you mean when?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean, Loki,” you said.

“And you don’t deny what has been said between us. I say you’re mine and you’ve yet to correct me,” he said.

You pursed your lips. Was he right? Had you never denied him when he claimed that you were his? You thought back to your recent interactions and you realized with a start that it was true. You never corrected him. A slow grin crossed your face.

He held up a finger. “Don’t try to start now. No lies between us,” he said.

Your grin faded. Irritatingly enough, he was correct again. There was no use lying. While you weren’t quite ready to say the words, you were his. No other man did it for you. No other man consumed your waking thoughts and your dreams.

You sighed and crossed your arms. “Off to bed, Loki. Alone,” you added before he could come up with another dirty remark. He chuckled and looked you over.

You wore your signature fishnet stockings and form fitting dress that hugged every curve you had. It stopped mid-thigh but rode up with every movement. You stood with your boots crossed at the ankle and Loki took his time looking you over.

The heat in his eyes must match yours. A pillow appeared at Loki’s feet. A plush black pillow from the looks of it. “On your knees,” he said.

“You can’t be serious,” you sputtered. It was one thing to ogle each other. But he had been up all night obsessing. You stood up straight and glanced at his still open door.

“I never say anything I don’t mean, Darling,” he said with a smirk.

Your lips parted as he threw his words right back at you. You bit the inside of your cheek. Indecision froze you to the spot. It was getting harder to resist him. Harder to not give in and say the damn words.

You woke up feverish now. Every night this past week, you woke up in a pool of sweat with dark images of Loki floating through your mind. You dreamt of him in between your thighs, wringing pleasure from you as a musician plucked music from a violin. You dreamt of his lips on your neck. His breath in your ear.

Your night clothes stuck to you now as you woke up drenched in sweat and arousal. Always, you were denied. As if he commanded your dreams as well. That he would not let you have one ounce of peace until you gave in. Until you surrendered. And you were running out of excuses to say no.

It was maddening. This sick twist and pull between you. But you couldn’t stop. Found that you didn’t want to stop. You liked driving him crazy. You liked that he drove you crazy. He was consuming you inside and out. It would be too easy. Far too easy to grovel.

“I won’t repeat myself, Darling,” he said.

His office had a window behind him. The sun rose on the opposite side so there was only ambient light slashed across his features. It highlighted the shadows across his cheeks and his nose.

You bent at the knees and he tsked. “Slower,” he said.

You walked closer and then looked at him in his gorgeous crystal blue eyes. You kept eye contact as your hands slid over his knees. His thighs. Two can play this game. He’ll not dominate you completely just yet.

You used him as a crutch to sink softly to your knees. The pillow was incredibly soft. Like kneeling on marshmallows, the funny little concoctions that humans made. You stayed up right, blinking at him.

He smirked and reached out with one hand to trail his fingers across your cheek. You nuzzled into his warm palm. It smelled like him and whiskey. He trailed his fingers over your lips.

“Please me, Darling,” he faintly commanded.

You leaned forward and unzipped his pants. You pushed it down far enough to free his hardening cock. This, this you could do. You could please him and remain your own person. You were his in all but that. You could not give all of yourself to him. Not when he was incapable of doing the same.

You watched him and his expression didn’t change. Oh but his eyes. His eyes were narrowed, cataloging everything that you did. You smiled at him and your tongue darted out to catch the single drop of precum beading on the tip of his cock.

You trailed your hands up and down his dick, trying to learn him. Learn his sighs and hints of encouragement. You alternated increasing pressure and letting go to learn what he liked. You’d done this before but it was like you did it for the first time again. He smirked at you when you got it right and the thrill of pleasure went down your spine.

He widened his stance when you bent your head down and took him into your mouth. He sighed as you slowly licked him up and down. Last time was a frenzy. A desperation to get as much of him into your mouth as possible.

This time, you were able to tease him a little. To lick the underside of his dick and enjoy the way he jerked in his seat. He chuckled. “Remember Darling, whatever you do to me, I do in kind,” he said.

You paused as you thought about just how badly you wanted to tease him. But that meant that he’d only tease you back. And he was infinitely better at it than you were. It dawned on you that you may never best him. Never beat him at his own game. He was always a step ahead. Planning, plotting, scheming.

You let him go with a wet pop and used your hand to stroke him. Perhaps you can’t win. But you’d enjoy trying.

You grinned evilly and put your mouth back on him. Sucking in the salty, heady taste of him. More pre-cum flooded your mouth and you greedily sucked it down. Loki was not selfish with his pleasure. He hummed and cooed whenever you did something he liked in particular.

His moans made you go faster, take him deeper. You took him anyway you could get him at the moment. You sucked and licked and slobbered all over him. Chasing his pleasure and taking none for yourself. It wasn’t enough to satiate the burning flame inside of you. It would never be enough.

You needed him inside of you. You burned with the ache every time you went to bed. There were moments when you were finally alone in your office and you indulged in the fantasy of him not needing those stupid words. Of him getting so worked up that he just stormed into your office and took you right then and there.

Your panties were already flooded. Soaking through with each swipe of your tongue against his tip. Distantly, you remembered that his office was still open. The thought of nearly getting caught made you take him deeper than before.

Loki groaned and stroked your cheek. Your hair was pulled back this time, so there was nothing for him to move out of the way. Instead, he gripped the back of your neck and pulled you down faster. He drove his hips up to meet your eager mouth.

“My precious Darling, fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so sexy with my cock in your mouth,” he said.

You made a noise but it was muffled by the slide of his dick in your mouth. Your gagging filled the quiet office.

“That’s all it takes, is it? My cock in your mouth? My cum down your throat?”

His dirty words made you wetter. You were pitifully mistaken. You thought one more taste of him would hold you over? That it would quench the need inside of you? You had no idea. You would never get enough of him. Never.

Your hands were braced on his thighs for leverage. But since he took over fucking your mouth, you moved one hand up to fondle his balls. He groaned deeper, a rumbling bass in the back of his throat like thunder on the horizon.

You played with him, giving him just enough pressure to give you that look. The look that said he’d fuck you into the ground if he could. He’d swallow you whole if he could. He’d consume you from the inside out and not think twice about it. He pumped your head faster.

Your jaw ached but you didn’t care. You wanted his pleasure. You sucked harder and he yelped. Hot splashes of cum coated your tongue and you swallowed him down. He shoved one last time, hitting the back of your throat and making you truly gag this time. You coughed around his dick and he released you.

He caressed your jaw, your cheeks. He placed kisses around your sweaty forehead, your lips. He licked himself off your tongue and groaned. “I like the way I taste on your lips,” he murmured.

You kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair. It was still smooth, though dry, but you just liked touching him. Being connected to him. The thought alone chilled you to your bones.

Loki sensed the change in you. “What is it?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. You heard the panic in your voice. Try as you might, you couldn’t will yourself to calm down. It was a stray thought, nothing more. So what if you liked touching him?

So what? Only that you wanted to keep doing it. You wanted to crawl into his lap. No, you wanted to crawl deeper. You wanted to climb inside of him and live there. You wanted his heart. You wanted his desperation. You wanted his obsession. You wanted his rage. His passion. You wanted to dance in the flames that burned within him. And it scared the ever living shit out of you.

“Don’t pull away from me. What is it?” Loki gripped your shoulders and shook you. You shook your head. Words were clogged in your throat. You gripped onto his forearms to keep from flailing around.

Fear jackhammered inside of you, pumping your heart painfully against your chest. You needed air. You needed away from him. You never ran in your life, but today was a day of firsts. You pulled away from him but he held onto you.

“Tell me!” He yelled. “Tell me what happened!”

“Let go,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I swear by the gods in Valhalla…”

“No!” You thrashed and slapped at his shoulders. You didn’t want to hurt him. You just needed away. Time to collect your thoughts. Sex was muddying your mind and he hadn’t even been inside you yet! You needed time to rebuild that wall.

Loki grabbed your face and made you look at him. He made you see him. In return, he saw you. His eyes softened as he gleaned what you didn’t want him to see. He had no right to see.

“Fuck you!”

Loki leaned down and kissed you, pressing you into him and not leaving you room to escape. “You have to feel it, Darling. You have to,” he said. He pulled you into a hug. Your arms were trapped against his broad chest.

Still you struggled and bucked like a wild horse. “You have to feel it,” he said. His breath fanned across your ear.

You didn’t want to feel it. You liked the icy interior of your heart. You liked the cage you set it in to keep from feeling everything too much. The minute you opened it, the minute you let it free…it hurt too fucking much.

Loki held on to you. His arms were like a cage around you, encasing you. Your hands fisted his shirt. You wanted to shove him away. You took ragged breaths, your face crushed against his chest.

He wasn’t letting go. You couldn’t win against him. Not by strength, not by wit. It was futile to try. You slumped against him. A keening whine leaving you. Tears stormed down your cheeks and ruined his shirt. The dampness spread and plastered against your face.

Oh gods…it hurt. All of the ways that you tried to keep it in these past five years. The way you neglected yourself. Became a version of you that your siblings needed but didn’t appreciate. All the ways you stepped up to the plate, taking on more and more responsibilities.

You collected burdens like a child collected seashells. The more you took on, the prouder you felt. You were handling it and handling it all without a problem. You bragged about being overworked. You bragged about not having a life outside of work and home. Look how responsible you were!

You liked that you clapped yourself on the back. It was a thankless job looking after your siblings after your family was gone. The bouts of fatigue were just because you worked too much. Not because you were grieving. Silly little feelings like that didn’t apply to you. You didn’t get to grieve.

The moments when you first woke up and were disappointed was harmless. Everyone experienced that. The moments when your heart seized, thinking back to the look on Thanos’ face. How he split the ship in two. You were shoved on one side with no idea what was going on.

You would stand there, frozen. Clutching your chest as if he had killed you instead. You didn’t deserve to be there. Yet every day, the alarm sounded. You got out of bed. You did what needed to be done.

You took this job to care for your siblings. You worked your ass off to earn more, do more, be more. To be useful. As long as you were useful, you could buy time. Time to find your family so that they could take over. So that they wouldn’t need you anymore. So that you could finally repay the life debt you owed them.

A soundless scream left you. Loki rubbed your back, whispering something you couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

It felt selfish wanting him. You had no right to him. No right. Your life was not yours. You were living on borrowed time. You were a placeholder. Holding space until you found your family. It wasn’t right, receiving pleasure.

Things like laughing and kissing for the hell of it weren't for you. Things like running your hands through his hair, your heart soaring knowing that you made him smile, trading witty banter. All of it. You didn’t deserve it.

“Yes, yes, you do,” Loki’s voice penetrated the deep fog you descended into. Had you said it out loud?

Loki called you by your real name. You knew that he knew it but he only used it once, when you first introduced yourself. To hear it on his tongue was too much to bear.

You sniffled and he leaned back far enough to look you in the eyes. “I ruined your shirt,” you said. Like you ruin everything else. Your makeup, snot, and tears stained his shirt. You’d have to take it to get cleaned.

Loki growled and a beam of his magic passed over him, erasing your filthy fluids. “It’s just a shirt. I can make a hundred more.” He wiped your tears away, his thumbs passing right below your eyes.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he said.

You shook your head. It was your fault. You stood on the wrong side of the ship.

“Eyes on me,” Loki said. He waited until you finally blinked up at him. “It was not your fault. I was there too. I mourn for them too. You’re here because the gods willed it so. Because I will it so.”

“Loki,” you whispered. Your voice was rough and it burned with every inhale.

“No. Haven’t you punished yourself enough?” He asked.

“It’s never enough,” you admitted. “Nothing feels satisfactory,” you said.

“You keep moving the goalposts for satisfaction. You create impossible hurdles for you to cross. And then blame yourself when you can’t see the end in sight,” he said.

Fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t know how to stop,” you said.

“I know. I know,” Loki said. He smiled at you. What a mess you probably looked like. You came in here with your armor intact, bossing him around, and ordering him to bed. But you were the one sobbing on the floor, stripped raw.

“Let me in and I’ll help,” he said.

“It’s not fair…”

“Let me worry about how I choose to spend my time, Darling. I choose you. I choose your burdens. Your sorrows. I am a god. I can carry it,” he said.

You sighed and wiped your face. There was no use fighting him, so why bother trying? You nodded. Gods help you, but so far he hadn’t let you down. He was there. Day and day out just like you were.

He already had so much to deal with. Now you were one more thing added on. On top of the stress of dealing with the club and the saboteur. Guilt ate at you like a vulture pecking a carcass. How could you even begin to repay him?

Loki placed one last kiss to your lips. He lingered, his soft lips against yours. Sounds started to filter in from the club. The employees were starting to arrive. Loki kissed your forehead and released you.

You missed his arms instantly as you got to your feet. The pillow disappeared and Loki zipped himself back up. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re not done, Darling,” he said.

“I know,” you said with a deep, wonderful sigh. The kind of relief that came after a good cry. Or a good fuck.

Shrill screaming tore your eyes away from each other. You passed a hand over your face and your makeup was pristine one more time. Besides a few wrinkles, no one would be able to tell what occurred here.

You and Loki left his office and raced down the hallway. Honey stood outside of her assigned room and screamed and screamed. Why was it that she was always in the middle of it all?

You turned to the room…except the oppressive heat of the Helheim room greeted you. What the hell?

You checked adjacent rooms and it was more of the same. The rooms were all switched around.

“Motherfucker!” You screamed.

Again, acidic guilt soured your gut. While you were busy crying like a baby, the saboteur struck again. Just waltzed in without a sound. And switched entire rooms around.

On the outside of the room that Honey and a few other employees gathered around. There was another card. Loki plucked it from the wall and flipped it over before handing it to you.

“Vengeance,” was all it said.

You were going to find whoever was doing this and you were going to rake them over hot coals. You were going to find the nearest frost beast and help curb stomp the evil, vile coward.

Magic burned beneath your skin, ready to become any weapon you chose.

“They will find that vengeance is mine,” Loki said. He was uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes locked with yours. “It’s ours,” he said.

You nodded and handed him back the card. Damn right it was both of yours. There would be no hole to crawl into, no hell to flee to, no cave to hide in, that you wouldn’t find them and erase them from existence.

Count your fucking days, bitch.

Masterlist | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Loki Files #Loki x Black!reader #Loki x Black reader #Loki x Fem!reader #Loki x Fem reader #loki x plus size reader #Loki x reader #x Black reader #Loki x You #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Marvel smut #Marvel Loki #Loki fanfic #Loki fan fic #Loki fan fiction #Loki fanfiction

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sleepyfan-blog · 2 months

Text

Questions

Author’s note: A third fic for Nadesir! Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets

Warnings: none! Please ask me to tag if you find something squicky or triggering

Summary: You ask about those strange teal marines. What you get is a peek into Astartes Internal Politics.

"Vanya... Who were those strange marines? Please tell me why you've been hovering so closely, as of the past three months. It's not as if those shape-shifting marines have been back... Right?" You ask, staring up at your Night Lord, resisting the urge to put your hands on your hips or cross your arms over your chest defensively. Currently you were in the break room of the hospital you'd been working at, with him as your own personal - if very large - shadow. When he wasn't off on a hunt, he'd decided to stick to your side as if you'd disappear if he didn't see you all the time.

"... I still go on hunts. We aren't together all the time." Vanya pointed out, a small pout on his lips that you refused to think of in the moment as endearing. His wings shifted and flexed against his back a little, and you noted the way that his claws extended and sheathed themselves. You silently wonder if he's aware he's doing that, or if it was a nervous tic. You wanted to know why he - and every other marine in town - had been so stressed. No one was able to get them to talk about it,a nd it was beyond frustrating and worrying.

"Yeah. As if I wouldn't notice the Salamanders or Ultramarines lurking in my bushes when you're gone. None of you did this before those teal marines showed up, so why? Who are they?" You press. You stand up and make your way over to where he's standing - leaning against one corner of the room, eyes on the windows and the door into the room. You gently take one of his large hands in both of yours, running your fingers over his knuckles and tracing the lines of his palms "You've mentioned that we're bonded... That makes us partners, right?"

"I... Yes. We are bonded. I will protect and care for you for as long as I am able." Vanya responded, his free hand reaching up to cup your face, and gently rubbing his thumb across one of your cheeks. "Never doubt your safety while you are with me... Please." His voice broke a little on that last word, and you could see tears in his midnight black eyes.

"Oh... Vanya. Of course I trust you." You murmur, going up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the shoulder - the highest part of him that you could reach without him bending over or you finding something to climb on. "I just want to know what's going on. Why. and I'm not the only one who wants to know why my partner's acting as if we're going to be invaded at any moment. The bright yellow space marines building defensive structures all over town isn't in the least bit subtle. Nor are the steel grey and hazard striped marines trapping the roads in and out of town. What's going on? We want to be able to help! Or at least understand why all of you are preparing for what feels like war."

Vanya flinched a little at the mention of war. He stares into your eyes intently for several moments before letting out a long, deep sigh. "The teal marines are members of the Alpha Legion. They are dangerous, not just because they are Astartes, but because of their... Specific skillset and abilities. They are spies, saboteurs. Social engineers - but unlike the Blueberry Boyscouts who maximize the efficiency of everything around them in order to ensure the optimal happiness of everyone around them - the only ones aware of why and what their goals are is the Alpha Legion themselves... And most likely, their -" He abruptly stopped talking, ducking his head a little.

You were about to ask more about this Alpha Legion when one of the Space Marine Apothecaries (their equivalent to doctors) came walking in. He was in his primarily white armor, with some green. It was a darker shade of green than salamanders' wore, and the emblem on his pauldron was different. Instead of a drake's head, it was a sword pointed down, with a pair of wings coming out from the hilt of the blade. Two dark green and black painted Astartes followed after him, followed by a chaplain of the same chapter. You didn't recognize the legion emblem, but it was very clear to you that Vanya did.

Vanya scooped you up and tucked you behind him, his wings wrapping around you tightly. You could feel him trembling slightly. He began talking in Gothic - the language that all Space marines spoke (at least in the area you lived in) - very rapidly. He'd been teaching you the language, but you could only pick out a few words "Why." and "You." and "Here." but that was far from the only thing he'd said.

One of the dark green marines began to speak, the bass rumble demanding attention. You caught the words "Legion." and "Reseach." but his accent was very different from Vanya's, making it more difficult for you to begin to understand what he was saying. "Vanya, what's going on?" You ask, gently touching one of his wings to get his attention after the strange marine stopped talking.

Vanya flinches under your touch. "Interrogator Chaplain wants to talk to us. I don't know why he's here. I don't want him here. I've told him that unless I'm being arrested, I refuse to speak to him or his brothers without Captain Urar or two of his lieutenants present."

"... Why would these marines be the ones arresting you? I've never seen them before." You ask. You'd also like to know why he might be getting arrested, but that's a different kettle of fish to fry later.

"They're Dark Angels." Vanya says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. It really does not, but you can tell that this is Not The Time to ask clarifying questions about strange astartes. "Is there any way I can help? I do have my phone." You are barely whispering, but are well aware of just how sensitive Space Marines' hearing is.

"Please text one of your coworkers who is bonded... To an Ultramarine. I think they have a better relationship to the first than Salamanders do." Vanya responds. He isn't making much sense, but hopefully he will explain once this situation is dealt with.

You nod and text Melody [Four Dark Angels - including someone called an Interrogator Chaplain according to Vanya are in the break room. Can you send Arrios and Vitius in here to help? Vanya's scared :(]

The bass-voiced space marine spoke again, this time you could clearly understand him "Night Lord Raptor, you will set down the human you are currently holding in your wings and come with us. We'd like to talk to you about your encounter with a squad of Alpha Legionnaires."

"... There isn't much to tell, chaplain." Vanya countered, and you could tell he was trying very hard not to sound as worried as he was to these strangers "As I informed Captain Urar months ago, I was headed back to the home I share with my bonded - who I am currently holding and she has not asked me to put her down, so I won't - after hunting some of the... I believe they are called elk? and was carrying the elk I had killed home in order to dress the body and prepare the meat and bones for consumption when I heard her speaking to someone who was using a copy of my own voice. I dropped the deer and sprinted to her side at full speed, calling for assistance as I had noted the tracks of more astartes around our home territory and knew that none of the local astartes would tread so close to our home and not be in easy sight line so as not to provoke a misunderstanding. I found an alpha legionnaire pretending to be myself and drove him out of the house. Two squads of flamer-wielding Salamanders chased them into the woods."

"You did not hunt down the Alpha Legionnaire for invading your home territory and pretending to be yourself to your bonded?" Bass asked, sounding equal parts skeptical and surprised.

Your phone buzzed. You read the text from Melody [Vitius and Arrios are on their way. ETA 1 minute. Any bloodshed?]

That didn't help your nerves at all. Thanks Melody! You think sarcastically as you text her back [None yet. Four against one aren't good odds, even if Vanya can fly. Though he's currently wrapped me up in his wings.]

"I was focused on making sure that my bonded felt safe in our home and securing the internal perimeter. I have been working alongside the other tracker-trained astartes who live here to try and find the Snakes hiding in the woods, but, as you should well know, trying to find a hiding alpha legionnaire is about as easy as catching smoke in high winds when they don't want to be found. I do not know if anyone else has had run-ins with these particular shapeshifters, you'd need to request information from the acting chapter master." Vanya answered, his wings tightening a little further around your body, though his shaking had slowed down a little.

"... And the acting chapter master is...? Do you recognize him as your chapter master, and all that entails, Night Lord?" Bass-y Astartes asked.

Vanya's answer came after a long pause "The acting chapter master of this town is Captain Urar... And if you insist on knowing the answer to the second question..."

"I do." Bass pressed.

"... I do recognize captain Urar as my chapter master, while l live in this area. In this time." Vanya responded, voice quiet but steady.

"Interrogator Chaplain Sariel, is there a particular reason why you and your... Brothers have deigned to grace this hospital with your presence? None of you are injured." The familiar and welcome voice of Apothecary Arrios called out, sounding equal parts annoyed and exasperated. "And I know for a fact that there aren't any injured Dark Angels being tended to in this hospital."

"We have been tracking the movements of several different alpha legionnaire squads in this region. When I noted that one of the more influential squads came here I brought my brothers to investigate why they came here." Bassy responded with a small huff in his voice.

"Well if you figure that out, please do tell the rest of us. As far as any of us can figure, the damned snakes decided to try and steal one of our bonded humans for the entertainment value. If you have any more questions, please direct them to captain Urar or Lieutenant Dexrial, who are our acting Chapter master and first captain respectively. Please stop badgering random members of our rag-tag community without warning, it's stressful for everyone involved." Vitius interjected, also sounding annoyed and mildly bored.

"... Fine, although I will remind you of just how dangerous allowing traitors in your midst is. Good day, brother apothecaries." Bass growled.

You could hear the sounds of several astartes leaving the room. Vanya did not put you down.

"How are you holding up?" Arrios asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I am unharmed. Your arrival was quite timely." Vanya murmured. You could hear the gratitude in his voice.

"Good! Throne, this is getting more annoying by the week. First hydras trying to steal our dear humans away, now a throne-cursed Dark Angel Interrogator Chaplain and his goon squad here. Fuck! I was hoping to avoid this kind of nonsense when my human decided to move to a town of this size. See you around." Arrios called out, before you could hear another set of astartes sized footsteps leaving.

"You sure you're alright?" Vitius asked after several moments had passed.

"Yes, I'm fine. A little off-balance from one of them showing up unexpectedly, but nothing I cannot handle." Vanya responded. "... Tell my bonded's boss that she's coming home early with me. I... I need to keep her close. Keep her safe in our nest. She really doesn't like it when I growl at her patients."

Vitius answered "Of course. Captain Urar's likely going to want to talk to you, when you're ready to handle that."

"I... I know. It's... I will." Vanya responded, his wings curling a little tighter around you.

You gently rub his wings, hoping that the touch is grounding for him. You'd like to protest that you'd like to finish the rest of the work day... But Vanya is still shaking, and he sounds so vulnerable. If extra cuddles is what he needs to calm down, extra cuddles are something you're happy to offer him.

"Thank you, Cousin." Vitius murmured. "Take care."

"I will." With that Vanya, still holding you, walked out of the hospital. You wiggled a little, but all that provoked was a small, anxious whine from your Night Lord, so you stayed still until he eventually put you down, wings unfurling from around your body.

You weren't surprised to find that he'd taken you home. You smile gently up at him and ask "Hug?"

"Hug." He agrees, once again picking you up as his strong arms wrap around you. He buried his face in your shoulder, breathing in deeply as you ran your fingers through his long black hair.

#my writing #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #oc: nadesir #night lord #dark angels #reader insert #you just wanna know wtf is going on with those teal marines #but things are getting weirder #oc: vitius #oc: Arrios #ultramarines

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months

Text

Shadow and Light: Chapter Two

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC: 3853

Other Pieces: This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW: Slow-burn; plot-building; canon violence; minor injuries.

It was Mando’s own fault that he got hurt within seconds of landing the Crest on Arvala-7.

You had woken up in the co-pilot’s seat, nestled under your own cloak and a little sore from sleeping in an awkward angle. Mando was in his pilot’s seat, and he gave a quarter turn and the barest of nods as you woke up by degrees. You swiped a surreptitious hand over your mouth in case you’d been drooling. Hoped you hadn’t been snoring too loudly or worse, talking in your sleep.

“Where are we?” you asked, and your voice was rough with sleep.

“Nearly there.”

You watched him a moment as he adjusted course. “I’m going to go clean up a little,” you finally said, and Mando gave you that same curt nod.

You made your way out of the cockpit (smiling at the squeal of the door on its track) and into the ship. You had scouted it out quickly when you had crept on board back on Navarro, so you knew the basic layout. The tiny berth where he likely slept, if Mandalorians slept at all. The weapons locker, where your weapons were likely stashed.

You went into the refresher and slid the door shut behind you. It was a cramped space, but there was a tiny mirror over the sink, and you winced at your own reflection. There was a deep groove in your cheek from where your face had rested on the co-pilot’s seat as you slept. Your hair was a mess.

You did your business, then washed your hands, then undid your braids. Finger-combed your hair and redid the braids, and hoped that you looked presentable. Like a helpful partner and not a saboteur.

If the Mandalorians had their creed, you had your own too. You weren’t exactly sure what culture you came from, and you’d been raised by non-humans, so you had cobbled together your own sort of dogma. You had a connection to Ashla, which some cultures called the Force, and your foster-mother had encouraged that gift. It informed most of your rules, which weren’t really rules as much as a loose framework that you lived by. Try to do no harm. Try to tilt the balance of the galaxy a bit towards the good.

The only real rule you really followed was to always be mindful of the signs sent to you. It would be easy to pretend you didn’t see – you could just settle down on some backwater planet, get a job as a mechanic, get a little house with a garden. But your foster-mother had been certain that the galaxy had plans for you, and you tried to honor her. Navarro had pulled you in like a magnet, and you soon found out why – that secret, guarded science facility. You could sense the malevolence circling it like a storm. It was not unlike the feeling you got all the time on Lasan as you grew up in the shadow of the dying Empire.

So when it came to Mando and this job? You wouldn’t kill him, and you wouldn’t harm him…but if he tried to stop you from destroying the asset you both came to retrieve, you would have to incapacitate him somehow. One way or another, that asset was not going to fall into the hands of that malignant client.

By the time you got back to the cockpit, the Razor Crest was approaching the dessert planet. You sat down and buckled in, just in case the landing was bumpy.

“How do you know where we’re going?” you asked. “Which part of the planet, I mean?” Despite your ulterior motives, you were curious about the technicalities of bounty hunting.

There was a beat of silence. “I usually land outside of a settlement,” he finally offered. “Close enough to walk, far enough to not draw too much attention. Get intel, then go from there.”

You watched him as he piloted the ship over some mountains until he found a valley. He circled around, his hands moving over the controls in a series of smooth motions. The Crest settled onto the planet with a slight jostle that, if you weren’t mistaken, was due to one of the landing skis engaging a second later than the others.

Mando stood up and hesitated a split second before striding past you, and you followed him down the ladder into the cargo hold. You stood back and watched him unlock his weapons cache. He armed himself and then locked it again.

“Can I get my rifle?” you asked. You still had the vibro-knife he hadn’t found when he searched you the night before, but that was barely a weapon.

Mando only shook his head and informed you that he didn’t trust you yet. Fair enough.

So you watched him stride down the gangway, scan the horizon with his tracking fob…and you watched him get mauled by the leathery grey beast that bore down on him from out of nowhere.

You frantically looked around the Crest and found a loose wrench by the carbonite chamber, and you sprinted out to help. You got there in time to find Mando on his back, his arm trapped in the mouth of the dead beast. Another dead one lay a few feet away. You looked closer…no, not dead. You could see the tranquilizer darts sticking out of their hides, and a distance away, a rider mounted on a third beast, his dart gun still in hand.

You walked over to where the Mandalorian lay on his back, his breath a little ragged through his helmet from his skirmish. You brandished the wrench at him.

“I can’t help with just this,” you told him, and he only answered with a huff.

“C’mon,” you said. You extended a hand that he looked at for a beat, then took it with another huff. You helped haul him up and resisted the urge to knock some of the dust off of his armor. “There’s a local who wants to make our acquaintance, I think.”

*****

Mando wasn’t used to working with a partner, so after he rested and returned to the cockpit to begin the approach to the planet, he was startled to see you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat. You didn’t wake as he carefully stepped past you, and you were curled up like a lothcat under your cloak.

He frowned under his helmet. He hadn’t forgotten you were there, exactly, but he wasn’t as on-guard as he usually was. When he worked with Ran and his crew of mercenaries, he was always on guard. Jumpy, even. Distrustful and nearly paranoid. He should have felt the same about you – you’d stowed yourself away on his ship, for Maker’s sake, and you had nearly held him at rifle-point. But you’d been mild as anything as he disarmed you. Calm, collected – and not like the practiced calm he could exude when needed. It seemed to radiate from some deep place in you.

You were calm when he refused to return your weapons to you. You were calm and bemused as you helped him stand after he was attacked by the squat leathery creatures, the blurrgs.

He relented only a moment later and retrieved your bo-rifle from the weapons locker, and he tried to ignore the smile you were obviously biting back when you took it from him.

The local turned out to be an Ugnaught named Kulil, and you and Mando followed him back to his moisture farm. Kulil gave his insight into the encampment that was causing strife on the once-peaceful planet.

“Many have passed through,” he told the two of you. “They seek the same one as you.”

So you hadn’t been lying about that bit of intel you had offered. The asset was dangerous, guarded by dangerous people. Mando caught you watching him, and you gave him a nod as if to say, told you so.

The Ugnaught agreed to help guide you both to the encampment in exchange for the blurrgs, and then in the next breath, he informed you that said blurrgs would need to be tamed and ridden to the encampment. Maybe you couldn’t see under his helmet, but you still looked at Mando and must have sensed his discomfort, because you burst into a gale of laughter. Then you stood up and followed Kulil to the blurrg enclosure with obvious excitement.

Great.

*****

Your foster-mother always told you to try and do things the easy way, and that lesson had taken a while to sink in. You’d spent most of your adolescence frustrated and angry as you tried to do everything the hardest way possible. But you’d eventually learned.

Mando apparently never got that lesson.

You and Kulil stood side by side against the fence and watched the armored man get tossed, trampled, and otherwise mangled by the ornery blurrg.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet,” Kulil offered helpfully.

“Perhaps he remembered I tried to roast him,” Mando bit back.

“This is a female. The males are eaten during mating.”

You snorted at that as Mando marched over to you.

“We don’t have time for this,” he told Kulil. “Do you have a landspeeder I can hire?”

You didn’t wait to hear the answer. You pulled off your cloak and hung it over the fence, then ducked under the rail to stand beside Mando in the enclosure. “Come on,” you told him. “You’re just approaching her wrong.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his reply, making his voice staticky through the modulator of his helmet. “Oh, so you can rebuild engines and ride blurrgs? Any other skills you failed to mention?”

“I have many talents,” you said in mock seriousness as you both approached the blurrg. She eyed you each suspiciously, but she had an especially wary eye for Mando. “But you need to be gentle. Like this.”

You demonstrated by reaching a careful hand out to the creature, letting her sniff your palm at her own pace. Then you laid your hand on its head, stroking the rough skin between the wide-set eyes. The blurrg gave a growl, but it was a low rumble of contentment. You turned and looked at Mando. His helmet was tilted a bit as he watched you.

“See? Gentle. No need to overpower.”

“Gentle rarely works in bounty hunting.”

You grasped the rope around the blurrg’s thick neck and swung up onto her back in a smooth motion. She snorted and growled…but let you keep your seat. You looked down and couldn’t, obviously, make out Mando’s expression behind his beskar helmet. You imagined him rolling his eyes in irritation – but you were wrong. He was studying you closer while pointedly ignore the growing spark of feeling that made him study you at all.

*****

Once properly mounted, the three of you rode across the harsh landscape towards the encampment. When Kulil showed you the encampment and then left, you followed Mando carefully, laying low on the ridge beside him and watching him as he surveyed the situation. Theoretically, he was supposed to be teaching you the trade, so he cleared his throat and offered some insight into what he was seeing.

“Nikto guards,” he told you. “Not sure how many, but a lot. They are tough fighters.” He turned and looked you over. You were in your dun-colored cloak, and he could see the outline of the rifle on your back. He certainly didn’t trust you fully, but you hadn’t done anything to disabuse him of the little trust he did have for you now. And you had helped him tame the blurrg in record time.

“How good a shot are you at a distance?” he asked. You gazed at him, and while he knew you couldn’t see his eyes, it felt almost like you could see him. You had looked at him like that on the Crest when he first captured you, and you had looked at him like that again when you had tamed the blurrg. It made his stomach dip curiously.

“I’m good,” you finally answered. “I was raised in the mountain ranges of Lasan, and we went on missions to snipe imps all the time.”

“Good.” He scanned the surroundings and then pointed at a nearby ridge. “You’re good at sneaking around. Do you think you can get to that ridge over there and cover me when the firing starts?”

You shifted a little and leaned closer to him as you followed his pointing, and Mando felt that churn to his stomach again when your shoulder brushed against him. “That one? Yes, I can get there. Give me, say, ten minutes?”

“Good,” he repeated. “Don’t fire until I start, and try to take out their snipers first. I can handle the close range Niktos.”

You nodded and crawled away, and he was only able to watch you for a moment before he lost you in the shifting landscape of browns and reds. You were good.

And then an IG-11 unit marched onto the scene, and Mando forgot about you for a moment or two.

*****

The shooting started before you were set up, but when you took a prone position and sighted your rifle, you saw that it was a droid – an IG unit, you guessed – that was drawing most of the fire from the guards. Then Mando arrived on the scene, and you followed his directions. One by one, you picked off the Nikto guards and snipers that popped up on the roof and parapets of the fortress.

It was almost too easy. They were so focused on Mando and the droid, they never even looked up at the ridge where you lay. Which was good, as far as you were concerned: the moment Kulil showed you the encampment, you felt a strange feeling creep over you. It was the same feeling when you channeled Ashla, and it got stronger and stronger as you holstered your rifle and made your way to the door of the compound to join Mando and the IG unit.

That feeling? It had to be a sign. You were on the right path, and you had to destroy the asset before it fell into the hands of that scientist.

But when you got to Mando, he was already talking to the droid. The Mandalorian held up the beeping tracking fob and the IG remarked that there was a life form present.

“Another Nikto?” you asked, and Mando gave you that short, curt shake of his head that he did.

“The bounty,” he replied.

You shook your own head now. “No, I thought…” You trailed off, tried to form your thoughts. “I thought we were tracking an asset. A weapon. A thing.”

Now Mando tilted his head, and you swore you heard amusement through his helmet. “Bounty hunting usually entails the living,” he said. “Whether we bring them in warm or cold depends on the job.”

You felt the blood rising in your cheeks and shook your head again. “No, I know that. I just…this was off the books. The man who hired you…” You gazed at Mando, at the slit in his helmet where you figured his eyes were. “Didn’t he hire you to bring him a weapon? They kept calling it an ‘asset’ in the cantina.”

He didn’t answer. The IG unit did it’s jerky, mechanical march inside the compound, and Mando followed. You followed too, your mind racing. You had expected a piece of some weapon, some component for the Empire to rebuild, some piece of a new weapon to exterminate entire worlds, entire species…

It was a living creature. No, a child. The egg-shaped container opened to reveal a green creature with huge ears and black eyes, and the feeling that had been growing all afternoon hit you so hard that you gasped. Whatever the creature was, it was linked somehow to Ashla, or the Force.

Not a weapon at all. A child.

Everything after that realization happened in slow motion: the droid raising its blaster, Mando replying, you shouting and reaching across Mando’s armored chest to try and knock the blaster out of the IG’s grip. The IG hitting you, not hard enough to kill or seriously injure, but hard enough to make your ears ring. You on the ground, stunned by the blow, hearing the blaster shot. You, looking up in shock when the IG unit fell to the ground beside you, destroyed.

Mando, holding his own blaster as it smoked in the half-light of the room.

And Mando, looking down at you for a moment before extending his hand to help you up. And once you were back on your feet, his hand on your shoulder just a beat longer than necessary as he asked if you were okay.

*****

Mandalorians were notoriously distrustful. Mando definitely did not trust you.

He would begrudgingly admit that you were a good partner during this job. You took out a shocking number of Nikto guards and had half-trotted, half-slid down the loose scree of the hillside afterwards like it was nothing at all. Your confusion over the bounty was charmingly naïve, but he supposed he understood – the job was off the books and no exactly straightforward.

Afterwards, as the two of you walked with the floating crib, you had been ambushed by other bounty hunters. You had proven yourself there too, fighting with your weapon as an electrostaff. You moved gracefully, like a dancer, without a wasted movement.

And that evening, over the campfire, you proved yourself a different way.

Mando had been injured in the ambush, and the gash in his arm wept blood steadily enough to need attention. It was his dominant arm, and he fumbled with his cauterizer. Dropped it. Picked it up. Dropped it again with a muttered curse in Mando’a. You watched him a moment across the dancing flames of the fire, and then offered to help.

“I can do it,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain. It was a deep cut into the muscle, and he could only go a fraction at a time with the cauterizer before he had to stop and catch his breath from the searing hurt.

He could feel those eyes of yours on him, those big doe-eyes that seemed so expressive and seemed to see through his beskar helmet. You didn’t reply though – you just stood up and made your way over to him, and you sat down beside him.

“Let me help,” you said. “I have a gift for healing.”

Mando snorted, but he dropped the cauterizer again with his clumsy hand. “Fine,” he said.

You didn’t pick up the tool. You stood back up and retrieved your bo-rifle, and you stopped a moment to scoop the escaping child back into the crib. Then you settled back to kneel beside Mando.

“This,” you said, holding out your weapon, “is for close-range and long-range attacks. Electrostaff and rifle.”

“So are you going to shoot me or electrocute me?”

You smiled at him, and Mando felt that curious dip in his gut again. “Most people don’t realize that there’s a third setting.” Mando watched as you undid a strap, clicked the pieces of the weapon until it resembled a trident. “This setting isn’t a weapon. It’s a….conduit. For channeling.”

“Channeling what?”

You bit down on your lower lip as you pondered your answer. “It has a lot of names. Life Current. Life Wind. The Force. On Lasan, we called it ‘Ashla.’”

Mando had heard stories about that magical nonsense – fairy stories to tell children, as far as he was concerned. But you seemed so earnest that he gave a single nod, and you continued.

“I can…do things with it,” you said. You were halting, and even in the firelight, he could make out your blushing face. “When I use the trident, I can sometimes…see things. From the past. From possible futures. That’s usually how I use it, so I know what to do, where to go. Which path to follow.” You glanced up at him now. “But I can also heal with it.”

“Okay.” He didn’t believe it for a moment, but you had helped him at both the encampment and in the ambush. He owed you a modicum of belief, he figured, and when it invariably failed, he could use the cauterizer.

You nodded, but then the flush on your face deepened. “I’d have to, uh, touch you. I know Mandalorians don’t like that….”

You were right. But something made him mutter “okay” again, which made you nod again, and then you powered on the trident.

Mando wasn’t a believer of anything but the Way, the Creed, the rigid set of rules that controlled his lonely life. In the following days, he’d question what he saw – and felt – in this moment. But right now, the trident sparked a steady stream of blue electrocurrent between its points, and a lovely blue aura was cast over you and him. It made him feel that same calm you seemed to exude. You closed your eyes, squeezed them tight as you concentrated. One hand held the trident steady, and the other reached out, unseeing, to hover over the deep gash in his arm.

“Is this okay?” you asked, and your voice sounded a quarter-octave lower. More assured, too.

“Yes,” he replied, and you laid your hand on him.

When was the last time he’d been touched? When had he last felt someone else’s skin against his own? Your hand was warm, and he flinched at first…but then pressed his arm against your touch a little firmer. Greedy, almost, for the sudden contact, like a desert soaking up rain for the first time in years.

Under your warm hand, Mando could feel….whatever it was. Working. He could feel the muscle knitting itself together, the slashed veins, and then the skin. It was warm too, and he felt contentment wash over him as you touched him.

All too soon, it was over. You pulled your hand away and turned the trident off. Opened your eyes and sagged backwards a little. Mando flexed his hand and twisted his arm to look at it in the fire light. The skin was unbroken, smooth. There wasn’t even a scar.

The mostly-silent man had a million questions, but when he turned to ask you some of them, he saw that the healing came at a price: you were slumped in your kneeling position, and your trident was slipping from your hand.

Mando reached out and caught it. Then he reached out and caught you.

You weren’t unconscious though. You braced yourself as he eased you onto the ground, and you sighed your thanks as he removed his cloak to fold it and place it under your head. He arranged your own cloak around you and watched as your eyelids grew too heavy for you to fight any longer.

Then he watched you sleep for a long, long while, and he only noticed the child watching too when it made a cooing noise at you. Mando could have sworn it sounded sympathetic.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #tropes and tales

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evolutionsvoid · 9 months

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Those who live around the great conifer forests know this resident well, either from the hoots and hollers that can be heard through the canopy, or from the lumps on their head from previous encounters with this temperamental species. The agropelter is the arboreal ape of the north, living atop the pines and making sure no one forgets that. While some would say that they are famous for their bizarre boneless limbs and elastic reach, their real infamy comes from what they do with them. At this point, everyone on the continent should know that agropelters are extremely territorial, and do not take kindly to larger beasts wandering below their tree top homes. Those that intrude will hear angry hooting coming from up above, and that is your first warning. If you do not turn tail and run at the mere sound of that, the agropelter will give one more chance. What comes shortly after is the sharp cracking sound of splitting wood, like someone just snapped off a tree branch. It sounds like that because it is that, as the agropelter starts grabbing tree limbs and ripping them off. That noise is the last warning you get, as what follows is the ape opening fire. While agropelters have weaker limbs compared to other primates, they make up for it by whipping their arms with extreme speed and force. Some compare it to a whip, others see it like an atlatl, but no matter the comparison, the agropelter has one hell of a baseball pitch. When it throws its woody projectiles, it does so with enough force to crack bone and leave splinters in the flesh. They launch as many missiles as they need until the intruder is either gone or dead. And if they run out of branches? Well, that doesn't bother them, as they will just grab anything in reach and fire away. They can use pine cones, chunks of bark or even bird nests to assault the trespasser. During the winter, they may also grab handfuls of ice and snow to launch, starting a one sided snowball fight that can easily result in missing teeth.

When not raging war on any creature that intrudes on their territory, the agropelter swings effortlessly through the conifer canopy in search of food. Agropelters are avivores, with a particular taste for owls and woodpeckers. They may hide in hollow trees in wait for these birds, then lash out with a tendriled arm to snag them. Some have used their incredible throwing power and aim to snipe them from the skies, exploding flying birds into a ball of feathers and then rushing after the falling corpse. These hollow trees aren't only for hunting, but also act as their nests when it is time to sleep and a musical instrument when the breeding season kicks in. This special season only comes every four years, and the forests explode into a cacophony of noise when it happens. Male agropelters snap off tree branches and drum them against their hollow tree trunk, all while adding a serenade of booming hoots and yelps. Females seek out the loudest of them all, which means that sometimes lesser males will team up and attempt to "tone down" the bigger competition. Some males have been found sabotaging tree trunks before the breeding season kicks in, using their arms and weaponry to bust them up and ruin their drumming potential. The bigger males must keep an eye out for these saboteurs, and they unleash a flurry of angry whipping arms at them til they scatter. Those that succeed in winning over a female will soon be father to three or five pups, which will spend their early years hiding in the hollow tree. They will be raised on the mother's milk while the male goes out to fetch birds for them. The young will also dine on owl and woodpecker, and will use the leftover bones to practice their throwing arm. Trees, birds and their siblings will be the target of their aim, but at such an age their throws are harmless.

For the people who lived around these forests, the agropelter was either one of two things. To those who loved the forest as it was, they were the guardians of it. To those who saw the forest as a profit, they were a menace. Agropelters are universally hated by all lumberjacks and loggers, as every job in a conifer forest is dealing with a painful rain of wood and pine cones. Their assaults on logging camps and the axe-wielding men within became so bad, that CTE was listed as the number one condition and death associated with being a lumberjack. Quite a few injuries came to be when some of the loggers decided to fight back, usually in a drunken state. After putting back a few, some of the men would take to throwing beer cans and bottles at the apes, giving them a taste of their own medicine. However, the apes would simply grab these lobbed missiles and do an ol' "return to sender." When doctors found themselves picking glass shards out of a logger's skull, they knew how such a grievous wound came to be.

With the agropelters furiously guarding their domain, many forest loving folk came to believe that these massive pine forests would remain untouched. No logging company would risk the men and insurance costs to chop down these trees, so thus they would be left in peace. Sadly, that is not how things work in this day and age. The agropelters had their powerful throw and arsenal behind them, but at the end of the day, they were still fighting a war with sticks. A man with an axe was no match to that, and a man with a chainsaw fared no better. But when man in armored bulldozers and feller bunchers rolled onto the battlefield, they finally knew defeat. Logging companies fitted their vehicles like they were going to war, with extra armor and bulletproof glass. Some even went literal with it and hired sharpshooters to snipe the apes from the branches. The agropelters gave all they could, but mere sticks and pine cones did little against the unstoppable march of man and his machines. Many agropelter forests were logged, destroying their homes and scaring off their food source. Whenever the owls and woodpeckers left, the agropelters were forced to follow. Plenty of people in the public argued against this destruction and the eviction of these species, but lobbyists and lumber mills had the agropelter's infamy on their side. With those nasty apes gone, now you can hike in what's left of these woods in peace! Aren't you glad you can go for a walk through the pines without getting a concussion? And they eat precious owls and woodpeckers too! Why, if it wasn't for agropelters, we probably would still have the ivory-billed woodpecker around! The notoriety of these apes severely dampened whatever sympathy their fate garnered, and soon their numbers began to fall.

Though many of their habitat were lost, there were still forests left untouched and several pockets of these agropelters left in peace. Protests and legislation halted logging in some places, which added to the number of sanctuaries remaining. Here the agropelter can still remain, though threats to woodpecker and owl populations in general can still mean trouble for them. But these pine forests aren't the only place these apes are found now, as those who lost their homes didn't always lose their lives. When a forest was cleared out to set up residential areas and suburbs, what agropelters remained decided to move right in. Though their hollow trees are now gone, they found something appealing in the shiny lattice transmission towers and electrical poles. The sight of a bunch of dead branches and junk jammed into the center of these hollow towers is confirmation that an agropelter has set up shop. Some have broken into attics and chimneys, trying to make nests there, though the human residents are quick to evict them.

While the owls and woodpeckers have left these areas, these urban agropelters have seemed to develop a taste for different birds, like crows, pigeons and geese. They still have a love for owls, which was an early problem during their settlement when agropelters were tricked by decoy owls people put on their roofs. The excited primate would rush to snag this prized treat, only to find it mere inedible plastic. Depriving them of this joy puts them in a foul mood, which meant lots of property damage. Folk in these areas have banned decoy owls, as the freak out that comes from frustrated agropelters has ruined many roofs, windows and cars. To make matters worse, they have substituted their weaponry as well, since tree branches aren't readily available. Shingles, gutters, bricks, even satellite dishes are launched at people who get too close. Multiple power outages have occurred when power company employees have tried to get rid of nesting agropelters and one of these primates started ripping at the transformers and cables.

One infamous case had an agropelter taking up residence in the local church's steeple. When the church's minister was found brained by the cross that once sat atop the spire, police and animal control were called in to put the beast down. Though the agropelter was eventually shot, the famous photo of a church bell through a police car's windshield was slapped onto every paper in the country.

As of now, the fate of the agropelter seems up in the air. Those that still live in their forest homes may perhaps be safe from what the future brings, but those that still struggle to exist in the land of man may not be so lucky. They fight fiercely, but everyone knows what happens to the animal that dares bite the hand of humanity. Some believe it is only a matter of time before these urban agropelters are wiped out, and the species is kept confined to the pine trees. But some believers hold out the hope that a peace can be brokered, and that the two species can coexist. Despite their reputation, there are certainly people who have a love for the agropelter, and wish them a better fate. Most assume that these people watched the movie "Ed" as children, which was about a baseball loving agropelter. Who couldn't fall in love with Ed's wacky antics and mean pitch? Those who hold this fondness for this movie probably never looked up what happened behind the scenes during the sequel. In hindsight, it was a real dumb idea to let one of these apes near a bucket of real baseballs. You ever hear of that pitcher that killed a bird with his throw? Yeah, Ed has got him pretty beat on pitch speed and body count....

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Lets toss in an ol Fearsome Critter with the crowd. Discussed this one with Lediblock2 !

#agropelter #fearsome critter #fearsome creature #monster #art #drawing

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