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owillofthewisps · 4 years

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beckoning light - part one

notes: i saw the witcher once and immediately couldn’t leave this alone. i know nothing about anything save for the netflix show and even then, who knows. but i am nothing if not self-indulgent. this will be two to three parts. it was supposed to be one but i’m incapable of shutting the hell up.

rating: teen on the edge of mature, i suppose.

pairing: geralt of rivia/female reader

word count: 4,309

the wisps have never lead you astray, but you did not expect them to lead you to him.

There is a light in the forest.

It is not a torch beyond the branches, you know. The light doesn’t flicker and undulate the way a consuming fire would, and it’s soft at the edges, like gleam of the moon streaming through the clouds. It is a familiar sight.

Dusk has not yet fully descended; there is a glow to the sky still, a kiss of orange and pink against the encroaching night.

The light in the forest moves, an odd sort of bobbing motion, and you heave a sigh. “No,” you tell the wisp, as though it can hear you from inside your home. The wisps have spent many an eve dancing at the edge of the clearing, just peeking out from behind the trees and beckoning, but you have no qualms with letting them be lonely sometimes.

The wisp - one of the bigger ones, heavy with light, like the rounded belly of the full moon - pulsates. You pause. It pulsates again, more rapidly this time.

“Fuck,” you say, and scramble for the trousers you’d left draped over the bed when you’d changed for the night. You pull them on as quick as you can, not bothering with a real shirt, just haphazardly tucking in the nightshirt you’re wearing. You make fast work of your boots as well, tugging the well-worn leather up over your bare feet, knowing it may well rub your skin raw.

Your cloak, your dagger, they fall into place in a whirlwind of movement, and then you are out in the chill of the settling night. Asha plunges out of the small garden by your home - half-wild, the sighthound is loathe to come inside while there is still light in the sky and you suspect she’s been harrying the partridges nesting in the back of the clearing - her powerful haunches making quick work of catching up to you.

Together, the two of you hurtle into the forest’s edge, dipping around saplings and tangles of old, old roots. The wisp flitters in front of you, darting along the path that only it knows, and you follow as best you can. The forest floor is slippery still, though the last rain was a few days ago, but you have long learned to keep your balance. Here and there, as you draw close to it, the wisp drops out of sight, and your stomach always drops with it as the forest goes dark around you, barely lit by what dying light filters through the canopy. Then the wisp flashes to life ahead of you once more, marking the path.

You are panting by the time you break into the clearing that the wisp is hovering in. You take in the horse, docile now, but with hoof prints all around it that indicate she had been wildly frightened earlier, and see no rider. The wisp flutters beyond the clearing, weaving and wavering.

“Stay,” you tell Asha. You do not need to tell her to guard; she settles near the horse, her muscles rippling with barely contained energy. You slip out of the clearing.

It is not long before you find the rider. His white hair shines almost silver beneath the light of the wisp, marking his place even though he is tucked into a small hollow between the roots of one of the large trees. He has managed to drag his large frame partially upright, but his eyes are closed, and there is a great gash across his chest, blood flowing from it in small pulses. From the pale sheen of him, he has been losing blood steadily.

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit.” In your flurry, you had neglected to take even the most basic medical supplies. You are an idiot twice over, you suppose, but nothing can be done now.

You settle onto the roots he is propped against, and as you reach for him, you register the brute power of his form. He is built formidably. Formidable, however, has never deterred you, and there is often softness to be found beneath it, no matter how slight. You are intent on gauging his wound - this close, you can see that it is nastily edged, flesh torn ragged instead of cleanly cleaved from a sword’s edge, and you hope that he has left a corpse in another part of the forest, because you could not defend against something able to do this - and just before your fingers rest against his skin, he moves.

He catches your wrist. His large hand encircles your wrist entirely. The grip is strong, just on the edge of bruising. In spite of the situation, you flash upon what it would be like to have that large hand between your legs, prising your thighs apart - because, as Hadrian often tells you, you are shameless - before you glance up to meet his gaze.

Ah, you think. Hello, Witcher.

“Live or die?” you say, your voice mild.

His brow - gleaming with sweat, with patches of blood and dirt rubbed into his skin - furrows. His grip tightens.

“I cannot help you without my hand,” you tell him. You wiggle your fingers at him, the very tip of your middle finger brushing against his leather armor.

He considers you for a moment, those amber eyes keenly picking you apart, and then drops your wrist.

You shrug off your cloak. It’s a poor replacement for supplies, but it is all you have. You fold it until it is a decently thick square, and press it against the gash. The Witcher’s chest heaves, but only a small hiss of breath indicates the pain. You wrap your hand around his. Gently, you press it to his chest, to the rudimentary bandage you’ve created. “Hold it as tightly as you can,” you say, even though he has done so from the moment you placed his hand there.

For a moment, you think you see a gleam of something cross his handsome, stoic face. It might be irritation, and you cannot help the smile that flickers to life across your lips.

“Asha,” you call quietly.

The hound breaks through the brush with a bound. The Witcher tenses at the noise, but you lean to the side just enough that he can see her. Once he knows what has made the sound, his golden gaze returns to you. This evaluation is different. You pay it little mind as Asha noses against you, her blocky head pressing against your side, the warmth of her seeping through your thin shirt.

“Get Hadrian,” you murmur. She perks up, her tail wagging. You click your fingers twice, and she slinks into a predator’s pose once more. “Go.”

Asha takes off like an arrow flying from a bow. You return your attention to the Witcher and place your hand over his, adding your own strength to the pressure against the wound. He grunts. It’s a gravelly sound, reverberating through his chest. His hand is warm underneath yours, but he shifts his hand lower after a moment, out from under your touch. You do not comment, only push your own hand higher to give him more space from your skin.

“Can you stand, Witcher?” you ask. You are not sure what you will do if he cannot; you are not strong enough to get him to the horse alone, let alone on top of it.

He takes a moment. “Maybe,” he grates. His voice reminds you of river rocks tumbling against each other.

You pull back from him. “We’ll try.” True night is coming, settling over the forest like a blanket, and you know that you are running low on time.

If the Witcher has thoughts about your use of we, he doesn’t indicate it. You’re not sure he indicates much. Still, he does not protest when you slide deeper into the hollow with him, shuffling against his side and lifting his arm so that it drapes over your shoulder. He’s chilled against you. The blood loss, you think. You aren’t sure how he’s survived this long.

“Fuck,” he says as you push to your feet, his fingers tightening on your shoulder. He’s heavy. Despite his wound, he carries a good bit of his own weight. You can feel his powerful thigh flexing against you. You brace him with everything you’ve got, winding one arm around his waist, careful to avoid the tail end of his laceration. The movement seems to open the wound again, blood blooming in crimson patches through your cloak. He presses harder against the fabric. You think you hear another curse tumble from his lips.

Between the two of you, you manage to stagger back to the clearing. His horse nuzzles against him as you draw close. The Witcher’s fingers flex on your shoulder. You pat at the mare’s neck with one hand.

Getting him up on the horse is a struggle. By the end of it, your nightshirt is sticking to your skin, wet with sweat. You shiver in the night air. The Witcher looks worse for the wear. You suck at your teeth, trying to decide how best to ride with him. He’s broad enough that you would have difficulty peering around him, but his fingers had been clumsy as you had tried to get him on the horse. He may not be able to keep a good grip on you. Still, it seems the better option. You keep a hand on him as you mount up, wary of the slight sway of him.

“Hold tight,” you warn him. “And do not dare fall asleep on me.”

He grunts an acknowledgement. His arms wrap around you - you think you hear a hiss of pain - and if the strength of him is diminished by the wound, you cannot tell. The band of his arms is steel around you, his fingers biting into the flesh of your hips. It should perhaps hurt, but it does not bother you.

The wisp flits back into view as you gather the reins. The Witcher is leaning heavily against you now, his chest flat against your back, a solid wall against you. You can feel the wet of his blood starting to soak through. His breath stirs against you, warm and slow. You can just see a few strands of white hair flowing over your shoulder.

The wisp bounces forward, and you guide the horse after it. She’s a nimble thing, placid and unbothered by your inexperienced guidance as you try to learn the rhythm of her. The wisp floats near, just beyond you in the distance. Always guiding. The light stirs the Witcher into straightening in the saddle.

“A wisp?” he rasps. One hand comes free from around your waist. He reaches for the reins, but you evade him as best you can. He can’t quite manage to get the reins. That large hand envelopes your wrist instead. A weaker grip than earlier. Something you might even be able to shake off if you tried hard enough. “You cannot mean to follow.”

“I can and I do,” you say.

“If you wanted me dead,” he says dryly, “you should have just left me back there.”

“The wisps have never lead me astray.”

He grunts, reaching for the reins once more. “They never lead to anything good.”

“They lead me to you,” you say.

That gives him pause, you think. His grip on your wrist loosens. You are more and more aware of the spreading damp against your back. You spur on the mare. The wisp picks up its pace as well.

He is leaning heavily against you once more. You try to glance back at him, but with his form draped over you, it’s hard to make out his face. To see if his eyes are open or shut.

“Do not sleep,” you say.

He grunts.

“I mean it.”

He does not make another noise. You jostle him as gently as you can, and are rewarded with another grunt.

“If you’re going to sleep, Witcher,” you say, “you had best give me your name so I know what to put on your tomb.”

He shifts against you. “Geralt of Rivia,” he finally says.

You blink. Oh, you think. Even you know that name.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure,” you murmur, after giving him your own name. “But I do hate to lie.”

He huffs against your back.

You talk at him over the pound of the mare’s hooves. He is quiet the whole time, save for a few gravelly hums, but he shifts behind you when you speak to him, and you use that to your advantage. If he sleeps, you know, even Hadrian might not be able to save him. You talk at him until the horse breaks through to the forest’s edge. The wisp burns out once you can see the gaps in the trees. It has done more than its part, you know, had flared bright enough to hurt at a few points along the path, something you have long thought might be an odd form of protection for something lurking beyond your sight.

Getting Geralt off the horse is as much of a trial as getting him on was. Still, you manage it and stumble through the door with him. You settle him upright, so you can look at his wound in the light shed by the fireplace. He grunts. He’s wan in the firelight, sweat beading on his brow. You loosen his armor as best you can around the cloak before you have to peel it away. He winces when you do, but only a bit of blood wells in the gash.

Geralt’s chest is as broad as the rest of him. In another setting, you think, you would be glad to map it out with questing fingers. Instead, you scoop water from the bucket by the hearth with a wooden cup and kneel before him. You flush the wound out carefully, sending rivulets of watery blood running down his chest.

“Fuck,” he grits out.

You pay him little mind, using cup after cup of water until the wound is clear of dirt and debris. The water runs pink down your arms, dripping from your elbows to dampen your trousers as well.

Your touch is careful but firm. You can feel those eyes on you - golden and molten in the dancing firelight - as you do not shy away from him. You keep your fingers off the raised shine of his scars, focus only on the sundered flesh.

There is little you can do beyond rinsing the wound. Healing is not your strength, and not for the first time, you consider that you should learn more. You have salves that Hadrian has gifted you throughout the years, but you often forget which is what, and you know that some of them have more poisonous aspects that you would not want on an open wound. You gather a clean nightshirt and fold it. Like your cloak, you lose it to Geralt’s wound, as you press it into place over the cleaned gash. The blood is less now, but with the amount he might have lost, you would like there to be none.

This time, you do not bother to tell him to hold it in place. He presses it hard against the wound. His chest rises and falls more heavily now, and you wonder at how much pain he is enduring.

“Here,” you tell Geralt, handing him a wooden cup, this water scooped from the cauldron by the fire. “Drink.”

He drinks deeply. You retrieve the cup when he’s done and fill it once more, this time with ale. It will help with the pain, you hope.

“You chose an unusual way to get a woman out of her clothes,” you tell him. Honestly, it’s a miracle that you hadn’t needed to peel off your nightshirt in the woods. He pauses mid-swallow before gulping the mouthful down. Still, you think he is amused, think it shows in the softening of his tight fist, think there might have been the slightest tilt to his lips. You wonder what it would take to make him laugh.

Asha bays outside. You get to your feet and stride to the door. The hound comes barreling in when you open it, her tongue lolling. She stops at the sight of Geralt, but her hackles stay down, so you turn your attention to Hadrian.

“Your hound,” he says to you, stepping through the door, “is a menace.”

He pauses, then, likely because Geralt’s blood has crept around to the front of your nightshirt on the ride, staining the fabric crimson.

“Shit,” he says, taking you by the forearm, already pulling at your shirt to get to the wounds.

“Stop,” you tell him. You manage to catch your shirt just as he starts to slide it off your shoulders.

“How much blood have you lost?”

“Hadrian. It’s not my blood.”

His hands go still against you. He lets out a breath that sounds perilously close to a whimper. “Good,” he says. “Good.”

“Hadrian.” You nod towards Geralt. The Witcher has his eyes closed, his head back against the side of your bed.

“Hell,” Hadrian says, his quick eyes already measuring the length of the cut and the shallow breaths of his patient. “Alright.”

Geralt’s eyes flicker open as Hadrian takes your place in front of him. The other man recoils, just slightly, at the sight of those amber eyes. From the way Geralt’s mouth pulls, it is a familiar reaction.

You pay little attention as Hadrian sets to work. Asha presses against you. She is dirtier than usual, dust collecting in her deep brown fur. You sigh and nudge her to come outside with you. You glance up at the doorway, and Geralt’s eyes are on you. Hadrian swipes a salve over the cut and the Witcher’s jaw tightens. His head tilts back once more. His neck is a thick column, and you consider what it would be like to set your teeth against it with his hands firm on your hips, holding you down on his lap.

Asha whines and you step through the door. You leave it cracked despite the chill of the night air. The fire warms your small house quickly enough. “Come here,” you tell Asha. You brush your hands through her coat, shaking as much of the dust loose as you can.

It takes longer than you expect. Hadrian is a careful healer, you know, and the wound had been severe, but you find yourself biting your lip as the moon climbs higher in the night sky. You busy yourself by taking care of the horse, who shies away for only an instant before letting you care for her. When you see Asha circling, ready to curl up on the dirt, you return inside.

There’s a little more color in Geralt’s face now. He is still wan and has a sheen of sweat covering him where he is not swathed with bandages, but Hadrian’s brow has smoothed out of the pinch it had gathered into when he’d laid eyes on the Witcher.

Though you are almost silent as you enter, the Witcher’s eyes open, his head rising. His eyes flicker down for a moment, and you realize that in the chill night air, your nipples have tightened into peaks, just visible under the thin nightshirt. He meets your gaze steadily when his eyes return to yours.

Hadrian’s grey eyes dart to your chest too, but that is much more commonplace. You cross the small room to peer down at Geralt. Even seated, it feels like he towers over you, but you have lived too long at the edge of the forest, where the trees dwarf even some of the largest of creatures. “Live it is, then, I suppose?” you ask him.

“So it appears,” he says, the slightest tilt at the corner of his lips. You wonder if the blood loss is why he seems to find you amusing.

“You’ll take him back to town then?” you ask Hadrian.

The healer shakes his head, picking at his long black braid with nervous fingers. “He can’t ride yet.”

Geralt makes a noise that expresses his clear disagreement with that assessment.

Hadrian quails a bit in the face of Geralt’s thunderous brow, but he rarely backs down when it comes to recovery. “The wound will open again. You need to limit movement. In the very least for the night, if not longer.”

“I can ride.”

You heave a sigh. “I did not drag you out of the forest so you could manage to kill yourself in a quest to return to a small town.”

The tendons in Geralt’s jaw flex.

“Do you need to stay?” you ask Hadrian. It could be foolish, you know, to stay alone with this strange man, but the wisps would not steer you wrong. You think. You hope.

His eyes flicker between you and the Witcher. When Asha shifts in her place by the hearth - even curled up, she is a solid, barrel-chested beast and wounded as he is, you do not think Geralt could stand long against her - drawing his eyes, he huffs out a breath.

“No,” he says. “The bandages should hold. But I will come first thing in the morning.”

Geralt, you notice, has leaned his head back again. His eyes are closed, his white hair spilling over the coverlet like a fresh snowfall. Except not quite, since the forest hollows are not the cleanest, and there is grime streaked throughout his locks.

“Up,” you say with a sigh, bending down to levy him to his feet. Hadrian bends with you, thankfully, as you’ll likely need his strength as well. “Let’s at least get off the top layer of grime.”

Geralt comes to his feet with a grunt of pain, and then you have to press against him as he sways. Hadrian braces him from the other side. “‘I can ride,’” you scoff under your breath - from the look you get, Geralt hears you just fine - before handing off most of Geralt’s weight to Hadrian.

You strip off the rest of the Witcher’s armor methodically, undoing the ties nimbly as you find them, sliding the studded leather free. He watches you steadily as you work, his gaze unwavering as you touch him here and there. Much of the grime is contained to the leather, luckily, so you leave his trousers in place.

Geralt takes the dampened rag from you when you offer it. As he wipes some of the sweat and dirt from his neck and face - Hadrian keeps him balanced with a healer’s detachment, only sharpening his gaze when a noise that could be pained issues from Geralt - you finish a few of your nightly chores.

The Witcher settles onto your bed. The frame creaks under his weight, but it’s big enough for him with some room left over.

“If you’re leaving, you should go,” you say to Hadrian. “It’ll soon be too late to even travel the main road safely.”

He glances between you and Geralt, those nimble fingers plucking at his braid once more, but nods. You bid him farewell at the door.

Geralt watches as you take the rag he’d used and dip it back into one of the buckets. You wring it out a few times, until the water is clear again, and then sling it over your shoulder.

“I would ask if you’re always this quiet,” you say to him, “but I think I already know the answer.”

“I would ask if you always talk this freely,” he says, “but I hardly think you need a question to keep talking.”

“The price of my inn is that you must hear me chatter as I would if you were not here.”

He grunts. You bite down on your smile.

You strip off your nightshirt - it’s gone stiff with blood now, crackling unpleasantly as you pull it over your head - without a care, though you’re turned just enough that he cannot see the entirety of you. You run the rag over yourself, wiping away the remnants of the forest and of his blood, the water soothing against your skin. Gooseflesh prickles at your skin as the air brushes across your damp skin, cooling you.

The bed creaks. “Do not bleed on my bed,” you warn, glancing over your shoulder at him. Geralt has turned to better face you, propping himself up on his side. You can see the bandages straining across his muscular chest.

“You cannot expect me to not turn towards such a sight.”

You pull on your shift before padding over to the bed. It is your bed, and you will sleep in it, whether he is there or not. “You have a neck,” you remind him. “I hear they turn. Without the risk of opening a dire wound.”

He grunts. It’s clearly his most fluent language. He turns onto his back when you push lightly at his shoulder. The bed creaks under you as you put a knee up on it. You consider swinging your other leg over him, to straddle his thick thighs, but there’s little point in tormenting yourself. Instead, you peer down at the expanse of bandages.

There’s no blood blossoming, so you assume the wound has not opened once more. Geralt is pallid in the dying firelight, the embers’ soft glow doing little to hide the effect of the blood loss. His eyelids keep fluttering open and closed, long, sooty lashes dark against his skin.

Still, he drags a finger over the crease of your hip as you climb over him to get to the remaining bedspace. Through the thicker material of your shift, his touch is almost ghostly. You sink into place between him and the wall.

“Sleep, Geralt of Rivia,” you say. “And let us see what the morning brings.”

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #story: beckoning light

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multiverseforger · 3 years

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The young Devil Dinosaur was nearly burned to death by a tribe of Killer-Folk, hostile beings native to his planet, but was rescued by Moon-Boy, a young member of a rival tribe, the Small-Folk. Exposure to the Killer-Folk's fire activated a mutation in the dinosaur which gave him powers greater than others of his species and turned his skin from olive green to flame red.[10] Devil's early adventures on his home world include encounters with extraterrestrials and a brief teleportation to modern day Earth.[11]

Later, Godzilla rampages through the Marvel Universe (Earth-616). In an attempt to stop the monster, S.H.I.E.L.D. shrinks Godzilla with Pym Particles and attempts to teleport him via a time machine to the prehistoric past. However, Godzilla's radiation apparently distorts the time machine so that he is transported to the alternative universe of Dinosaur World instead. While there, he briefly unites with Moon-Boy and Devil against a common foe before being pulled back to the main Marvel continuity.[12]

Member of the Fallen AngelsEdit

After Ariel, an extraterrestrial mutant with teleportation powers, teleports the Fallen Angels to Dinosaur World, the group convinces Devil and Moon-Boy to join their team and return with them to Earth-616. During his time with the Fallen Angels, Devil Dinosaur accidentally kills "Don", the super-intelligent mutant lobster on the team by stepping on him. Devil and Moon-Boy return to their own universe when the Fallen Angels eventually disband.[13]

Dinosaur World againEdit

After their stint with the Fallen Angels, the duo's life back on Dinosaur World is interrupted numerous times by events occurring in the main Marvel continuity:

During a conflict between Slapstick and his time manipulating foe, Doctor Yesterday, Devil and Moon-Boy are briefly teleported to Earth-616.[14]

In the midst of a tussle between the Technet and Lockheed inside Excalibur's lighthouse, Devil is once again briefly transported to Earth-616.[15]

Young Celestials transport the Hulk back in time to combat Devil.[16]

A renegade Skrull flees to Devil's planet and uses his shape shifting abilities to impersonate the late leader of the Killer-Folk, Seven Scars.[17]

Due to the manipulations of the interdimensional traveler Access, Devil Dinosaur's world briefly merges with the DC Comics Universe where he encounters Anthro, a Cro-Magnon man.[18]

In the midst of a battle with a Kraken, Hulkpool and his unwitting companions accidentally time travel to Dinosaur World where Devil Dinosaur, Moon-Boy and the Small-Folk help destroy the kraken. During Hulkpool's effort to return to his own time, Devil and Moon-Boy are briefly teleported to the American Old West in the year 1873. While there, Devil attempts to eat a cowboy's horse.[19]

Stranded on Earth 616 in modern timesEdit

New York CityEdit

Some time later, the sorceress Jennifer Kale, in an attempt to return Howard the Duck to his homeworld, inadvertently teleports Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy into her New York apartment. The disoriented dinosaur rampages through the city before being subdued by Ghost Rider.[20] Stranded in modern-day Earth-616 after their teleportation there by Kale, the pair is hypnotized into joining the Circus of Crime. After being rescued by Spider-Man, Devil and Moon-Boy are relocated to the Savage Land.[21]

The Savage LandEdit

The Heroes for Hire mercenaries go on a mission to retrieve Moon-Boy from the Savage Land and encounter Devil Dinosaur in the process. Devil is found fiercely guarding a nest containing a clutch of eggs that apparently he himself has laid and the dinosaur abandons Moon-Boy to ensure their safety. The discrepancy between this development and his previously presumed male sex is noted by the mercenaries, who can only speculate as to the cause of the change.[22] After returning to the U.S. the Heroes for Hire disband and group member Paladin leaves alone with Moon-Boy to collect the reward from the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists who hired the mercenaries.[23]

Devil and Moon-Boy SeparatedEdit

Moon-Boy would remain under the custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. for some time, which drove Devil Dinosaur into a sort of saurian depression. Refusing to eat, or defend himself, he was in danger of dying. However, Stegron, the dinosaur man, became worried about the survival of the Devil-Beast due to it being the last known of its species. Leaving the Savage Land without the permission of Ka-Zar and building an army of reanimated dinosaurs, Stegron marched across the U.S. attacking S.H.I.E.L.D. base after base, until he was eventually stopped by the Fifty State Initiative. However, the group discovered the motive behind Stegron's plan and, though he was arrested all the same, the Initiative recruit Reptil smuggled Moon-Boy back to the Savage Land, where he was reunited with his companion.[24]

Reunited in the Savage LandEdit

Reunited in the Savage Land, the companions' adventures continued:

When the Roxxon Energy Corporation attempts to extract vibranium from the Savage Land, the inhabitants of the Savage Land including Ka-Zar, Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy enter into battle to save their home. Roxxon's forces are soon subdued.[25]

Devil Dinosaur meets the Pet Avengers when they are accidentally transported to the Savage Land. Out of shock and anger, Devil attacks the group. Eventually, the group of animalian Avengers are able to return to their own world.[26]

An ancient entity attempts to conquer first the Savage Land, then the world. Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur fight to defend innocent Savage Land citizens endangered by the entity. They are joined by many other heroes, some lost in time. The entity is killed by Zabu.[27]

The Savage Land Mutate, Brainchild, creates an army of cybernetic dinosaurs and steals Devil Dinosaur's eggs in order to experiment on them. Spider-Man arrives and helps Devil and Moon-Boy defeat the cybernetic dinosaurs and rescue the eggs. At the end of the adventure, one of the eggs hatches revealing a red baby Tyrannosaurus.[28]

Adventures with Moon GirlEdit

In the Savage Land, a group of Killer Folk got their hands on the sacred Nightstone. Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur fought to reclaim it, but Moon Boy died as the Killer Folk were sucked into a vortex through time with the Nightstone. Moon Boy's dying wish was for Devil Dinosaur to reclaim the Nightstone and to avenge him.[29]

Going through the portal, Devil Dinosaur ended up in New York City. The Nightstone had fallen into the hands of Lunella Lafayette - a genius 9-year-old - who deduced the Nightstone was actually a Kree Omni-Wave Projector. Lunella had identified the Inhuman gene within her own DNA and feared being transformed into a monster due to the changes brought about by Terrigen Mist. Due to several Terrigen clouds that had been drifting around the city following the Inhumans' detonation of a Terrigen bomb, she took drastic action and intended to use the Nightstone to find a way to remove the Inhuman DNA. With Lunella refusing to give up the Nightstone, Devil Dinosaur was forced to bring her on his rampage through the city as he searched for the Killer Folk. Although Devil Dinosaur fought the Killer Folk, they managed to escape with the Nightstone.[30]

Lunella ended up harboring Devil Dinosaur in her laboratory that she had built in the depths of her school, growing more and more frustrated that she was stuck with the "big red dummy" but found him useful when he helped save the lives of her teacher and class during a fire.[31] However, the Hulk (Amadeus Cho) arrived, seeking to apprehend Devil Dinosaur for his earlier rampage and accused him of the fire. Lunella refused, declaring that she needed Devil Dinosaur and, growing frustrated with Amadeus patronizing her and undermining her intelligence, drew out a few homemade weapons to fight him, but only accidentally ended up knocking out Devil Dinosaur.[32]

Lunella, feeling responsible for Devil Dinosaur's arrest and, feeling kinship to the beast stuck in a place he did not belong, broke him out under the moniker of Moon Girl, a nickname the other students used to bully her.[33] After the Killer Folk - who had conquered territory previously owned by the Yancy Street Gang - failed to kidnap Lunella from school to be their blood sacrifice to the Nightstone on a full moon, Lunella decided to end things. She and Devil Dinosaur fought the Killer Folk once more and won, reclaiming the Nightstone. Lunella hoped she could finally use it to ensure she would not transform into an Inhuman, but at that precise moment she was caught in a Terrigen cloud.[34]

Devil Dinosaur took Lunella's cocoon to her lab and watched over it for several days until she hatched. Lunella was at first relieved she had not changed physically, but was dismayed to learn her Inhuman power caused her consciousness and that of Devil Dinosaur's to switch. Devil Dinosaur proceeded to make her even more ostracized at school due to freaking out in class and attacking other students whilst Lunella rampaged through the city. Eventually though they returned to normal.[35]

Devil Dinosaur and Moon Girl's next opponent came in the form of Kid Kree - a misunderstood Kree boy who had failed to enter the academy twice, who sought to capture an Inhuman to impress his father and make a name for himself on Earth as Captain Marvel had - who disguised himself as a new student, Marvin Ellis, in Lunella's class. Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur fought Kid Kree several times,[36] once being separated by Ms. Marvel, who recognized their fight as the childish squabble it was, but still entrusted Moon Girl with a device to contact her if things ever got out of hand.[37]

Lunella is then approached by Hulk, who gives her the Banner B.O.X. (Brain Omnicompetence Examiner), and is surprised when she solves it in mere seconds, proving that Lunella is the smartest person on Earth. After consulting experts, Moon Girl, Hulk and Devil Dinosaur encounter Mole Man, who was attacking the city with a group of monsters. The next day, at her lab, Lunella ends up having a vision of herself in the future, where she is approached by Earth's smartest heroes. After school, she is approached by the Thing, who takes her for a walk when Hulk appears. When the two start fighting, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur manage to contain them while protecting the civilians, until both of them are left unconscious. Meanwhile, Doctor Doom is surprised to discover that Moon Girl is considered the smartest person on Earth and vows to prove himself superior.[38] During science class, Lunella is attacked by robot drones until she is saved by Riri Williams. They follow the drones to a nearby alley, where Moon Girl encounters Doctor Doom. After Doom escapes, Moon Girl and Ironheart go to Moon Girl's secret lab, where they discover that the energy signatures of the drones are mystic in origin. While tracing Doom's location, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur arrive at the Sanctum Sanctorum and are found by Doctor Strange.[39] Waking up from a dream, Lunella is reunited with Devil, who was shrunk down by Strange. While walking back home, Moon Girl and two of her classmates are attacked by Doctor Doom and his Doombots. Moon Girl uses an enlargement potion on herself to help Doctor Strange fight Doom and his robots. A few nights later, while installing an energy sensing probe, Moon Girl is found by five members of the X-Men.[40] Arriving at an abandoned mall, Moon Girl reengineers a Cerebro helmet with the Omni-Wave Projector to locate Doom, only for her and the X-Men to travel back to the 1980s. Once there, Doctor Doom arrives with an army of Doombots. The X-Men and Devil fight the Doombots until Moon Girl takes off the helmet, sending them back to the present, where they discover that Doom is actually a Doombot. Lunella takes the Doombot to her lab to analyze it.[41] Lunella later makes a major discovery about her Inhuman power: it only activates during a full moon. She then encounters an army of Doombots, along with Thing, Hulk, Ms. Marvel, Ironheart, Doctor Strange, Kid Kree and the Killer Folk, who went to her aid after being recruited by Lunella.[42]

Lunella then receives a call for help from an alien girl named Illa and, after building a spaceship, goes to space with Devil and crash land on a moon. While exploring, Lunella discovers that Illa is the moon.[43] She soon realizes that Illa is lonely and wants company and does not understand Lunella at all. After a brief fight between Devil and some giant bugs, Lunella leaves, despite Illa's objections. Unfortunately, in the process, she is sent to a parallel universe where she meets another version of herself and Devil Dinosaur. Meanwhile, the Doombot head creates robotic versions of Lunella to avoid suspicions of her absence.[44] After fighting their counterparts, Devil Girl and Moon Dinosaur, Lunella and Devil get back on their spacecraft and return to Illa who tells them that they'll never leave her. Back home, the Doombot head begins to have problems with one of Lunella robots. Moon Girl and Devil manage to find Ego the Living Planet and reunite him with Illa, while the Doombot discovers that the Lunella robot is acting independently.[45]

Meanwhile, the Doombot head has created multiple Moon Girl replacement robots who to his surprise are acting like real little girls.[volume & issue needed] He tells them that they will be obsolete when the real Lunella returns.[volume & issue needed] While up in space Lunella has united Ego and Illa as a family.[volume & issue needed] On the way to Earth she uses the Omniwave projector to tearfully return Devil Dinosaur to Moon Boy in the Savage Land where she thinks he belongs and then returns to New York where she tosses it away in the trash.[volume & issue needed]

Admitting she was wrong MooN Girl brought him back as she, Ben Grim, and Johnny Storm reformed the Fantastic Four and even gave Devil his own uniform.[46] Afterwards while Wilson Fisks's daughter Princess is enrolled in her school Moon Girl decides to turn Devil into a human boy and enroll him in her class to tone down his destructive accidents. Taking attention away from princess causes her to begin focusing her and her father's negative attentions on the two.[volume & issue needed]

During the Monsters Unleashed storyline, Devil Dinosaur was with Moon Girl when she was studying the different Leviathon attacks.[47] Later, Kei Kawade demonstrates his abilities to the heroes present by summoning Devil Dinosaur, though Moon Girl was also brought along during Devil Dinosaur's summoning.[48] When the Leviathon Servitors attack the Baxter Building, Kei Kawade summons Devil Dinosaur to help fight them.[49] Moon Girl, Devil Dinosaur and other heroes later encounter other monsters until the Leviathon Queen is defeated by Kei Kawade and his new creations.[50]

During the Secret Empire storyline, Devil Dinosaur and Moon Girl join up with Daisy Johnson's Secret Warriors. After rescuing Karnak from a prison camp, the Warriors encounter the Howling Commandos after falling into a trap. While driving West, the team is found by the X-Men. After escaping New Tian, the team meets Dark Beast, an evil version of Beast, who's tortured by Daisy and Karnak on information of an Inhuman who can help them. After receiving their information, the team encounters Mister Hyde along with Hydra's Avengers. After a brief fight, the team is captured until they break out when Daisy uses her powers to destroy the Helicarrier they were in. While trying to break Devil out of his cage, Moon Girl meets Leer, the Inhuman Karnak mentioned, who knocks her unconscious when the Helicarrier crash lands. Fortunately, Moon Girl and Devil have switched brains just in time, enabling Moon Girl to lead the Warriors to an Inhuman prison camp. There, the Warriors plan a jailbreak with the imprisoned Inhumans when the Underground resistance arrives to help them. It's later revealed that Leer is Karnak's son and that Karnak had sold him to Mr. Sinister to help activate his powers.[51]

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inquisitoraberfort-blog · 5 years

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Under the shadows of a blood drunk moon, part 2...

The trees are sick, the roots taste blood and leaves grow thick and anachronous, like those of an older, sicker, unordered world.

I had been deep in these woods before, seen this rot and felt the rippling sickness of the land. But for the Mainlanders, the Ambassador, who is a night elf, this sight and feeling was … New, and sickening.

We pushed deeper into the forest, we saw the decorations and the effigies of the Coven and their ilk, the beating drums and monstrous rituals in the night illuminated the distances and the canopy above.

We moved quietly, slowly, carefully. I knew we were in the nest of the vipers and acted accordingly.

In the distant clearing, we saw the object of my expedition, a ruined, destroyed house, the trail lead here and I knew that this “Unborn King” as I had taken to calling him would not be far away.

It was then that I heard it, the gushing whispering wind rush, - I knew - in my bones that we needed to hide.

After a scramble, out feet planted into the loamy earth of a long dead tree trunk, fallen across a river. The rushing beat of wings was answered.

A monsterous being slammed into the earth ahead of us, nearby the house that we’d been moving toward, this was a creature of pure nightmare…

I had never seen anything like it, and I don’t believe any of my party had either.

A huge, hulking thing, of many limbs, pale skin and ravens rings, the head of a crow, or a hellish approximation of it, leered and peered around the clearing as if looking for us… Or something else.

We stayed there in total silence. We knew what would happen should we move. We watched and we waited.

The thing towered above, its shoulders easily reaching the roof of the building, atop was a casque, a place for the rider, the thing I was hunting, but to attack now would be a fool's errand.

It tore the door from the home, stretching and cracking the doorway as it thrust its bulk inside, soon after we heard feverish screams and shrieks as the thing set about its bloody work.

No sooner had the beast landed, it was gone… Taking my prey with it. Things would have to wait.

We couldn’t abandon the mission, traces of the movements, of rituals or some other clue might be left behind and there was still Maelforth to account for the damn traitor had to be apprehended.

We pushed forward toward the house, staying low and slow as was proper.

I won’t go into extensive detail as far as what was inside, but Maelforth was no more…

Clinging to life, he began to laugh and the blood that was smeared around the room begun to be pulled toward him, some kind of disgusting congealing, twisting mass.

What happened next was wholly unexpected and in equal measure horrific.

We were blown from the house that quickly started to fall into ruin. Choking vines and foul magic bound us, petrified and otherwise subdued us.

From the bloody mass, a being stepped forth. A hideous, lanky think that vaguely aproximated a human form, with antlers and teeth protruding from the head, three blue eyes set across the visage.

Miss Taylor, the Archmage, who was quickly becoming a necessary accompaniment to our expeditions seemed to earn the things ire somehow.

We were stuck fast, bound, unable to move or assist her.

The thing had somehow paralyzed her, moving forward to distend its jaws opening wider than any mouth of natural beast would be able to do so. It licked her with some foul serrated tongue and would have devoured her had it not been for a chance, a twist of luck.

She had, braided into her hair a silver ring. I reflect that the chances of its tongue touching the object, or her having it in the first place are so slim as to almost show providence.

Whatever the factor, the thing recoiled spitting and cursing in its ancient tongue, its spell falling from us, the roots dying and being pulled from the soil, it was our chance to strike.

Not for me.

As soon as the frantic combat begun, I was struck by one of the things spiked, thickly coiled limbs… They penetrated my chest and threw me clear, I crashed into the cliff side, the trees. I don’t recall, all I remember was the blackness that took me.

How long was I unconscious? I can’t say and what had happened in the interval between my waking moments? I would include them in the report but I was unable to debrief my men efficiently to do so.

I remember waking to a strange but familiar feeling. I can’t say why, or what. Perhaps it was a dream. It was as if the lips of waking life itself were upon mine, warm and moist.

The sensation was captivating and all encompassing, it was then that I felt the jolt.

There was something surging inside me, a preternatural strength, speed and vigor. My eyes snapped open and there was a face.

Miss Taylor’s face. Curious, considering but I could hardly dwell on it in the moment.

I sprung to life, like the arm of a rats trap, propelled forward with only a singular goal in mind. A desire to rid the world of my assailant, to kill.

I remember vaguely being airborn, my sword in hand, I pinned the thing to the wall of the building, sinking the silver deep into it. The others joined the fray, reinvigorated by my revival perhaps.

Flashing and scorching reports of vivid purple magic blasted into the thing, swords, gunfire. The combined works of my men, who were - quickly - becoming expert combatants against the the coven and their monstrosities.

In short order the thing was recoiling, screaming and desperately fighting back, it struck at my men and got in front of me, pulling away from the wall.

I ran at it again, jumping onto the things back, sinking my silver dagger into the back to make a hand hold, I was continuing to climb. The others cut at its legs, forcing it down. As it quivered and breathed, and I hope begged, I prepared my pistol.

Under normal circumstances I would never have used witch-rend shot at so close a range, but the rage and adrenaline that were surging through be clouded my good sense.

The report was deafening, the fire blazed and in a shower of shattered gore the thing was defeated, and our mission concluded.

Without unnecessary detail we returned to the Stand, dogged and harassed on the way by the coven and their airborne beast, forcing us to at points hide.

When we returned the Field hospital had been fully staffed and set up, our comrades who had left us earlier to thank. We took to mending, to healing and to reconciliation.

Soon I will return to that ruined house, to resume the trail.

WE WILL have our justice, and we will end this “Unborn King.”

By fire, by silver, and by the sweat of our brow.

For House Waycrest.

Lord Inquisitor, Carver T. Aberfort.

#dangers in drustvar

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magpiejay1234 · 3 years

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I have been playing FFIV GBA for a few days, and here are my scrambled thoughts:

*Game is definitely cinematic in both best and worst ways. You can definitely understand why half of the script was cut from the game. Many of the plot-relevant dungeons like Tower of Lot and Giant of Babel are one-off dungeons, latter appearing temporarily on the overworld and the former never appearing in the overworld.

*While Cecil’s redemption story is wrapped up earlier in the game, the game doesn’t hold itself with Cecil’s war crimes during the invasion of Mysidia. Even though most of the people you fought in the opening turn out to be in Baron’s prisons, there is at least one person missing. Meaning you begin the game with Cecil killing at least a guy willingly. The prisoners don’t show up when you return to Baron, the implication being Cagnazzio, while disguised as King of Baron, executed them for the show. Ew.

*There is a weird theme of fatherhood here. Both King of Baron (essentially Cecil’s adoptive dad) and Kluya (Cecil’s dad) are important characters both in the plot and the overall lore. However, you also have Cid (deliberately designed as a father figure), Yang, and Tellah. For the other NPCs, you have King Giott (who stored the key to the Sealed Cave in her daughter Luca’s neclace) and King of Elban, who is the only monsterous parent of Edge you must defeat in the pseudo-boss battle. Of course, Cecil himself becomes a dad at the end of the game. It has become such a rare event to see a game focus on this theme, but here it is.

*The mysticism around the crystals definitely made me understand why people hate The After Years. In the original game, though the Crystals are implied to Lunarian artifacts, there is still something mysterious about them, as Lunarians, despite their technological advancements, are still clearly a religious people.

*The world building of the FFIV feels a bit weaker than the FFI and FFII, since they clearly designed backstories for the different kingdoms you see throughout the game, but they are not discussed in the game. Is Eblan supposed to be Japan with its ninjitsu? Is the town of Tomra a mining town?

The After Years of course develop these ideas further (yes, Eblan is Japan, yes Tomra is a mining town etc.), but I don’t feel the ideas are fully realized here.

With FFI all locations in the game had eleborate backstories, but the real connections the current script is focused on are the connections between the overworlds (Underworld, Overworld and the Moon). The relationships of the kingdoms before the death of King Baron isn’t described to its full.

*What is developed are the airships. Sakaguchi loves these. And they really sell you on the destructive power of the airships. This is because you have an entire regiment of airships, instead of one superweapon, like it was in the case in FFII (yes Mateus had an entire regiment as well, but you only saw it in the cutscenes.)

There are few more interesting things about the military power of Baron as well. The highest authority who willingly joins Golbez is Captain Baigan, who gets the power to transform into a demon. We don’t know if this is due to sorcery of Golbez, or a foreshadowing of Dr. Lugae’s experiments. In addition to our boy Baigan, Baron also has a regiment of the honorable Dragoons, who in the FFII were Wyvern Riders (they are just knights errands in FFIV). They really push the idea of aerial superioty screwing up the feudal system of FFIV’s world, while also noting that Baron has given up on its navy (despite the fake King Baron turning out to be Cagnazzio).

*There is also an interesting thing about the Elemental Fiends. Each of them have a sub-boss before you fight them. Scarmiglione has Mom Bomb, Cagnazzio has Baigan, Barbaraccia has the three Magus Sisters (a pastiche of the three Magi), and Rubicante has, grudgingly, Dr. Lugae and the mutated parents of Edge. The Elemental Lords themselves also become the subbosses of the Giant of Babel’s CPU, but I haven’t fought it yet (I lost to a random Mech Dragon encounter, so I’m stuck grinding here.)

This nested dolls boss system also works with Golbez, who has supposedly King Baron as his superior (turns out to be false), only to end up being the minion of Zemus, while also having, de facto, Kain as his minion throughout the game, who gives the final crystal to Golbez (this would be later homaged by both Cloud and Rinoa, obviously, despite being such a bad and undercooked idea.)

*Sylph Cavern was the first time I couldn’t grind my out of a debacle. I forgot Yang was in the first floor, so I ended up going to the next floor in the Sylph Home to end up outside. When I decided to do the item Monsters, the second set of Evil Dreamers defeated me for the first time (Giant of Babel’s Mech Dragons would defeat me the second time, since I didn’t grind on the Moon, and couldn’t get the Lunar Whale to defeat Bahamut.)

The floating gimmick is annoying even if the cavern (and the Cave of Summons) give you good EXP, which is really the only thing of value in later dungeons.

*FFIV obviously inspired Pokémon’s tropes in a big way. One way is the EXP/money system. Early battles you had would give you lots of money with minimal EXP. Later battles, predictably do the opposite. However, you need around 9 million EXP to get to Level 99, and unlike Pokémon, random encounters don’t get easier as you Level up. Lack of Ethers but abundance of Phoenix Downs, alongside the abundance of save locations, definitely seems to have inspired Pokémon.

Because of the abundance of save locations, the game wants you to use tents and cottages much more so than FFI-FFII. Most dungeons are not places you can casually escape, you must do the plot or otherwise you have to backtrack from the beginning. Even if most dungeons are fairly linear, secret items still require a walkthrough. This gives off a weird wibe, the main plot is linear but game is designed with exploration in the mind. Just like most Pokémon games, again.

*There is weird thing around Goblins. You have dwarves, who are humanoid creatures with their own cities and established culture (in The After Years, they are just dark-skinned people.) But Goblins, for whatever reason, decide to work for Golbez, in both Tower of Babel and the invasion of Fabul. Since you have an entire society of summons (who would later inspire Espers in FFVI), and you have Mythril Village for all the freaks out there, it feels weird to see Goblins be so prominent in the game as antagonists. I feel like there is an interesting plot here.

*Strangely enough, both Edward and Edge turned out to be really useful after I leveled them up to a playable stage. Rosa, in contrast, turned out to be really useless, since she cannot wear heavy armor, and game is designed against magic abuse. So even though she has insanely large amount of MP and HP, because arrows are perishable and don’t deal much damage unless you use Aim, you might have a better show with a staff or with her bare hands. Her punches ended being more reliable for most of the game until I got proper bows.

Tellah was another surprise, even if I couldn’t use him much, because I needed to grind a lot of time before Magnetic Cavern, his character eventually grow on me (especially now that I could level him up, unlike in Underground Waterway), so I feel his death worked better on me than most people.

*Speaking of Magnetic Cavern, there is also a lot of FFI and FFII in FFIV. Dark Elf is obviously a reference to Astos, Leviathan swallowing Rydia is a reference to the Leviathan in FFII, Kain’s initial equipment and Cecil’s intitial titles are both a reference to Leon in FFII etc. Kain is also left-handed just like Leon, which is a not-so subtle hint that he will betray the team twice.

#ffiv #ff4 #ty plays ff4 gba

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zenosanalytic · 6 years

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Solo Bouno

So I saw Solo on Tuesday and it’s a Good movie; not great, didn’t make a Huge impression on me, but Fun and Enjoyable and certainly something I’d happily watch once it makes it to cable, with a few quibbles.

The Good:

The acting was (mostly)good

The characters were well-written

The Dialogue was fun, funny, and unforced

While the Plot had Issues, it flowed well and felt natural, and there was nothing really eye-rolling in it.

All the technical aspects -Design, Cinematography, sound work, editing- were Proficient

Establishes the stakes quickly and effectively

Chewie is Great

Lando is Great

L3-37(yes, they REALLY named the robot l33t) is Great

The Quibbles:

It was a VERY Generic origin story

They didn’t set up themes they needed to, and didn’t really deliver a good payoff on the themes they did set up

Related to this, there are important character beats and payoffs that are never really setup(or “Planted”).

It could have done better with its female cast. I’ll get into this a bit more under spoilers

Alden Ehrenreich NEVER STOPS SMILING! I mean, that’s an exaggeration obvsl, but it was REALLY noticeable to me. IDK if this is an artifact of the editing, the directing, or Ehrenreich’s choices about the character(tbf, Han is BSing people A LOT in this film, and the smile was Ford’s BSing expression so...), and it wasn’t really grating or anything but, by the end, it did take me out of the story a bit.

Glover does Williams’ accent for Lando a few times and, while it isn’t bad, I liked his take on the character better without it.

The writing doesn’t really do enough to sell the second job and, while all the action which constitutes it is Fine, I kinda grumbled at how thin and absolutely not convincing that bit was.

Ok I think that’s it. On to my lengthier Spoiler-Quibbles:

Solo falls into the common prequel/origin story trap of trying to explain everything about a character. This is always a bad idea but, with this movie and this cast, it is a particularly Horrible idea. Han, Chewie, and Lando are the perfect sorts of characters for a series of matinee-type adventure movies -think Indiana Jones- and Solo, by shoving his whole backstory into one film and leaving him practically where we find him in Star Wars, really, really, really, makes that unlikely. An added negative of that is it takes what the OS establishes as years -maybe decades- old relationships between Han, Chewie, and Lando and turns them into a one-job acquaintance. That was a Very Bad Idea.

Han starts off speaking Wookie(albeit badly), and I feel like that choice leaves a lot of potential comedy&bonding on the table.

They really misuse Thandie Newton and her character, Val. She dies practically as soon as she’s introduced, and in a way that doesn’t feel honest to the character or situation. If they’d just put the bombs on a timer rather than a detonator this would have been less bad

This is compounded by how little mourning and upset Beckett, her lover and longtime partner, is allowed to displayed over her death(oh, and the deaths of his entire crew. Oh, and the loss of the future they’d planned together).

Half of Beckett’s initial crew disappears between scenes, and this is never explained. It really isn’t a big deal and I didn’t even realize it until thinking about the movie just now, but it seems like kind of a significant continuity error. Maybe they die, and I’m just not remembering it?

This actually could have worked, though, if the movie were a bit more willing to invest in characters other than Han. Later in the movie Beckett betrays Han over what to do with the Hyperfuel they’ve stolen. If he’d been shown as really angry and upset over these deaths, or if he’d been shown to be the sort willing to sacrifice lives for the score, then all of this stuff could have tied into a really neat ambiguous antihero narrative for him. Unfortunately, he’s consistently shown to be sentimental, friendly, even fatherly. He only gets visibly angry at Han once and only for an instant; isn’t angry at the Cloud Riders at all, even though they’re responsible for the deaths of Val and Rio; and only once comes even close to suggesting a score matters more than their lives, and only does that right after Val and Rio’s deaths. As a result, his betrayal feels detached from the character we’ve known up to that point. And what’s his motivation? The life he planned to live once his debts were cleared is gone and, by stealing the Hyperfuel for himself at the end, he’s guaranteed to live under a bounty for the rest of his life. It just doesn’t fit.

The same arc-confusion plagues Clarke’s Qi’ra. She also betrays Han in the end -maybe out of a desire to protect him, maybe out of pragmatism, but most likely from ambition- but the conflict her choice is a solution to is never established. It’s never established that she might be using Han and he’s unwilling to see it. They suggest Qi’ra is morally different from the person Han knew as a kid with(I think?) one passing line of dialogue, but the film doesn’t show anything that’d convince the audience she is, and shows lots of things(like her attempts to hide her brand from Han) which suggest she regrets her current life and wants out, not deeper in. Her making the choice she does thinking it was the best way to protect them both would make sense with the character on the screen(though, given that Han is Beckett’s only living accomplice by the end, it seems more like he’d catch the blame for it too, particularly once Beckett’s dead), but the movie presents it as a power-grab.

There’s a lot of stuff in here that’s either changes to, or taken from, the EU. References like this can be fun, but they’re always a gamble since you’re relying on information from outside the movie which the audience might not be aware of, and thus be confused and annoyed by. The Wookies have, apparently, been forced off their homeworld and enslaved en masse. Darth Maul’s not dead, but rather the head of the Syndicate Qi’ra (literally)belongs to(they even have him pull out the double-headed lightsaber and brandish it while he’s holoing her at the end so people will realize who he is; it’s ridiculous). The Cloud Riders who interrupted their first attempt to steal Hyperfuel turn out to be working with the Rebellion. The last one’s not a HUGE deal, but the others I thought were pretty odd choices.

They give Han a (very generic)rough backstory, but then present him as just a totally unambiguous, noncynical, non-gritty, good guy and softboy. Which, yes, he should have a heart of gold absolutely, but without ambiguity there’s no tension; no concern over what sort of choice he’s going to make. The whole “Rogue with a Heart of Gold” dynamic only works, narratively, when the character is both a Rogue, and kind-hearted to people hanging by a thread. This Solo isn’t really a Rogue; hell, he doesn’t even cheat at poker!

Miscellaneous Spoilers:

They kill off L3 ~halfway through the movie, and I’m ambivalent about it. She dies cheering on an enslaved rebellion she unwittingly started, which fits the character, but I think it would have been more fitting if she’d set it off intentionally, and if she’d died in a more active way; she is shooting at the slavers earlier in that sequence, but during the scene where she’s shot she’s cheering the rebels with her back turned to the danger and gets blind-sided. I mean, just having her get iced while shouting advice, or while looking back to Lando while still fighting, would have been much better. Also, while I didn’t think it was manpainy(Lando is justifiably and visibly upset about it, but that doesn’t become the focus of her death), they do then later strip her harddrive to merge it with the Falcon’s navigation computer, and that sort of direct utilizing of a female-coded character’s death and body to advance the (male-protags’)story didn’t sit right with me in the theater. It’s not handled really terribly or anything, in fact they do it in crisis as a sort of last-resort, but I still kinda |:T’d at it.

Lando has A LOT of capes, and it is Wonderful uwu Also he is an author and possible vlogger, which is Also Wonderful uwu uwu

Erin Kellyman as Enfys Nest has a small but important part, and she makes a big impression with it. We have the whole movie to get to know Han(on top of already liking him from the previous films) and I still found myself more interested in her story and her crew when they revealed their true nature at the end, than with New!Han(who wasn’t really even that bad; I know I’m ragging on Ehrenreich but he did alright with what had to have been an intimidating part). I guess this is also an excellent example of how important Mystique --NOT explaining things; leaving them vague-- can be to character-charisma.

That’s everything I can think of right now. Don’t be fooled by the length of that quibblelist though; it’s absolutely a fun movie and, if you like Star Wars and the Star Wars setting and, if the price of a ticket won’t hurt your wallet, it’s definitely worth seeing. A Fun, Funny, Entertaining, Summer Movie, and a good way to spend an afternoon.

P.S.: Plus, for the more politically minded and spiteful among us(read: Me), it’ll piss off legions of entitled manbabies online who want to get Kathleen Kennedy fired for having the temerity to be a woman while running Star Wars.

#Star Wars #Solo: A Star Wars Story #Solo Spoilers #Movie Reviews #zA's Outside Viewing

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dweemeister · 6 years

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NOTE: The following contains full spoilers.

Solo (2018)

Officially entitled Solo: A Star Wars Story, Solo is the second Star Wars anthology film to be released by the Walt Disney Company after their acquisition of Lucasfilm. It is an origin story for the character of Han Solo – who has been played by Harrison Ford until now. The Star Wars franchise is increasingly being treated like the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) with its release dates planned years in advance, short and rigid production schedules for astronomically-budgeted movies, the studio’s growing dependence on these franchise films for profits at the expense of smaller projects, and the interconnectedness with other corners of the franchise. Yet I admit a bias: Star Wars – and Solo, by extension – has already proven its cinematic legacy (which is mostly distinct from popularity); I predict the verdict on the MCU will be quite unkind in several decades. Thus, I can tolerate the frequency of Star Wars films for now. But my patience here is not unconditional.

A rollicking space Western adventure picture, Solo is not without sizeable weaknesses – potentially exacerbated by the fact that the last Star Wars film was released less than a half-year ago and that Ron Howard had to replace co-directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (the Jump Street series, 2014′s The Lego Movie) late into principal photography. Lord and Miller were dismissed by producer Kathleen Kennedy (president of Lucasfilm and co-founder of Amblin Entertainment) after creative differences with co-writer Lawrence Kasdan (1980′s The Empire Strikes Back, 2015′s The Force Awakens). Hiring the capable Howard steadies the film, even if it means this is the one Star Wars film that takes the least amount of artistic risk.

Beginning thirteen years before the events of Star Wars (1977), Han (Alden Ehrenreich; who plays the role with some youthful hesitation appropriate to this version of the character) and lover Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke) are attempting to escape their home planet of Corellia. They are separated in their escape attempt, and he promises to find her again by joining the Imperial Navy. Three years later, Han has been expelled from the Imperial Flight Academy and find himself an infantry grunt. Here, he befriends the Wookiee Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo) encounters a band of criminals posing as Imperial soldiers who are interested in a shipment of coaxium (a substance that enables faster-than-light travel): leader Tobias Beckett (Woody Harrelson), his partner Val (Thandie Newton), and Rio Durant (voiced by Jon Favreau). Fleeing from the Imperial Army, Beckett’s gang attempts a train heist, only to be fatally thwarted by another criminal gang – the Cloud Riders, led by Enfys Nest (Erin Kellyman). Afterwards, Han and Chewie will follow Beckett to see Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany) – who masterminded the operation. Vos requests another heist, but not before Han reunites with Qi’ra, who has become Vos’ assistant.

There is also the matter of charmer/pilot/smuggler/cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover), his droid L3-37 (Phoebe Waller-Bridge), and a piece of garbage christened the Millennium Falcon. After nineteen years since The Phantom Menace, Ray Park returns as Darth Maul with Sam Witwer (reprising from Dave Filoni’s two animated Star Wars television series) voicing the character in a late MCU-esque cameo.

The screenplay is co-authored by Lawrence Kasdan and his son, Jonathan (2007′s In the Land of Women, 2012′s The First Time). Before Disney’s purchase of Lucasfilm, the Kasdans had been working with George Lucas on a young Han Solo film since at least 2012. Lawrence had to depart early to finish the script to The Force Awakens, and it is unknown how much of Lucas’ influence is in the final product. Nevertheless, Solo is a movie that is running through a checklist of references it must include. That pair of dice Han Solo keeps on the Millennium Falcon? Yup. Befriending Chewbacca and establishing a complicated relationship with Lando? Of course. Explaining Lando’s fashion sense that would make him a bête noire to Edna Mode? Fashionistas rejoice! The Kessel Run? Oh yes – if the Imagineers at the Disney parks ever decide to include the Kessel Run as a Star Tours option, prepare for the most whiplash-inducing amusement park ride ever! It is the moments in between these scenes – scenes with characters we are less familiar with – that leave the greatest impressions.

Of interest is scene-stealer Tobias Beckett (Harrelson has played roles like this for ages now, and he might give the best performance other than Glover here), who is to Han as Obi-Wan was to Luke Skywalker. For literary types, imagine Long John Silver from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island if Long John Silver treated Jim Hawkins more like an adult. Beckett has lived his life looking out for himself, disallowing himself to put complete trust (and, as a result, love) in anyone – including his partner, Val. There are layers upon layers to his personality, to whatever Beckett might show up on a given day to an employer or client. He is not cynical for the sake of being cynical; the least interesting people in the world are cynical for the sake of being cynical. Circumstance and horrible luck has made him the way he is, as he passes along the lessons he has learned to a young kid who is walking down the same hard-nosed path he has chosen.

Compared to most other popular Western media franchises, Star Wars has handled major character deaths with sensitivity – in peace or through trauma, death is shown as disruptive, eventually strengthening, to the consciences of the living. Solo may be the first film in the franchise that does not adhere to any of that. Death is a regular part of life to these outlaws and the deaths of Rio, Val, and L3-37 in the opening and middle third of the film registers no impact. Perhaps their deaths are shocking to some, but we have not learned enough about these characters (even if they were established in other Star Wars media, these moments will not have worked for a general audience) to care. I cannot decide if Val or L3 has the most mishandled death. Where the former’s death should cut Beckett to emotional pieces, it is but a momentary setback to him and the film refuses to more fully explore why his reaction is as cold as it is (trust is a part of love). For the outspoken L3 (and love interest to the recently-established pansexual Lando Calrissian), she has raised points about droid enslavement that Star Wars rarely acknowledges. Her beliefs are treated like miscalculated comedy, with only the droids in the movie taking her seriously. When Lando weeps over L3, the comedic framing of his beloved droid renders the scene either uncomfortable or unintentionally funny. Deaths of major characters should not be funny nor should they leave audiences perhaps even without sympathy. Following Snoke’s shocking, almost decontextualized killing by Kylo Ren in The Last Jedi and the numerous deaths in Solo, Star Wars is in danger of cheapening the value of life. To do so profanes cinema.

Inconsistent performances plague Solo. Ehrenreich, who looks nothing like Harrison Ford nor acts anything like him, is fine in the role – to imitate Ford’s take on the character would only set himself up for failure. The performance is his, although his vocal inflections are too distracting to forgive. Emilia Clarke is no disaster, but her failing performance is scattered. She is unconvincing in the many roles the screenplay is calling her to be: femme fatale in space, lover, ruthless killer, backstabber. Clarke herself claims that she was confused on set because of Lord and Miller’s ineptitude as directors. As that cannot be independently verified, all I can say for now is that Clarke should sack her agent and find some smaller-budget movies to work on. Seriously. Paul Bettany, as Vos, may be the first Star Wars villain that I forgot about hours after seeing the movie. Donald Glover is not in the film long enough to save it from mediocrity (and his Lando is, like Billy Dee Williams’, too reactive a character because of the screenplay), but from what he is able to do his comedic timing and charm is exactly what Solo needs. Glover’s starpower has progressed rapidly in the last several years, and one suspects he is not slowing down soon.

Earlier I mentioned Solo’s lack of artistic risk. Much of that conservative filmmaking comes from not only from Ron Howard, whatever Phil Lord and Christopher Miller contributions remained in the film, the Kasdans, and Kathleen Kennedy, but cinematographer Bradford Young (2014′s Selma, 2016′s Arrival) and editor Pietro Scalia (2000′s Gladiator, 2015′s The Martian). Young’s camera moves too much in quieter moments and he uses close-ups and medium-close shots to excess in both interior and exterior environments – this is Star Wars and this is Bob Iger’s money you are using, so embrace the darn landscapes you are blessed with. Solo feels drained of color and the cameras seem to have brown or black-ish filters applied at the brightest moments, making it the least interesting film in the franchise to look at. For Scalia, the transition from Han and Qi’ra’s separation to trench warfare is baffling. Did the film projectionist make a mistake and put in a reel of an All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) remake with laser guns? Equally poor is Scalia’s handling of Han’s confrontation with Vos and the aftermath. Only twice does Scalia prove himself: the train heist (Young’s most glorious moments) and the Kessel Run (itself a visual effects wonder... now if only Young could stop it with all the close-ups).

John Williams provided the main theme for Han Solo (which contains a noble fanfare dueling with syncopations suggesting his criminal side), but it is Englishman John Powell (his stupendous How to Train Your Dragon scores are some of the best compositions of this decade), who scores the film with a ninety-eight-member orchestra assembled at London’s Abbey Road Studios. Powell will use Williams’ theme quite often, but will add a liberal amount of percussion (an aspect of film scoring from the mid-2000s onward I am not a fan of, but that I accept given this unpolished origin story far from the operatic orchestras of the main Star Wars saga) from the opening moments, setting all this up with “Meet Han”. The score truly shines during the action sequences. “Train Heist” begins during a campfire scene as Han, Chewbacca, and Beckett’s gang reminisce about past adventures and imagine their futures, accompanied by lush string and wind melodies. By 1:30 in the cue, the scene has cut to the heist itself. The percussion sounds like something out of Hans Zimmer’s Remote Control Productions, but the orchestration keeps the action closer to the John Williams tradition. This scene makes way for the Cloud Riders’ arrival – heralded by “Marauders Arrive”. This motif features a thirty-six-voice Bulgarian women’s choir, and according to John Powell, they contributed, “an aggressive, exotic sound... to feel like a different culture had arrived on the scene.” That effect is accomplished wonderfully.

The Kessel Run scene is strengthened by “Reminiscence Therapy”. Despite initial listens, the cue is more than just a regurgitation of two disparate moments from the fourth and fifth episodes. The grinding strings, the pounding percussion, and the occasional rhythmic anarchy that would give anything less than a tested, played-it-all orchestra night terrors combine to throttle the Kessel Run into one of the most exhilarating space pursuits seen in cinema. My second-favorite moment in the score occurs at 2:55 when Chewbacca’s theme is heard as he takes the pilot’s seat of the Millennium Falcon for the first time and, twenty seconds later, Powell transitions to the most shameless quotations of Williams’ Star Wars theme.

Many motifs other than Han’s theme are present throughout the score, including the Han-Qi’ra love theme – most notably in “Lando’s Closet” and “The Good Guy”. Though their romance, like Anakin and Padme’s, might not be convincing, they receive a hell of a motif. Using some chord progressions hinting at the Han-Leia theme (because Han will fall in love again), the theme begins with woodwinds or brass immediately repeated by the strings, and in later iterations (as they realize their romance cannot continue) taken by solo trumpet and harp. Perhaps for many this following statement will not mean much, but permit this classic film buff to wax even more about Powell’s score. The love theme in Solo feels like something Erich Wolfgang Korngold (who scored many 1930s-1940s Warner Bros. swashbucklers featuring Errol Flynn) would have written had he lived to score Star Wars. Korngold may have been an exciting action composer, but his love themes are also stuff of legend – listen to this from The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). For Powell, he has composed the best film score of the year so far. Star Wars’ tradition of musical mastery continues.

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With eighty percent of the film reshot after the dismissal of Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, Solo is as good as can be expected from such a tortured production history. Adjusted for inflation, the vast amount of reshoots has made it the second-most expensive Star Wars film of all time (behind The Force Awakens) – tied with Wild Wild West (1999) and The Fate of the Furious (2017), and just ahead of the infamous Cleopatra (1963). Where Cleopatra nearly bankrupted 20th Century Fox, something tells me Disney will survive Solo (which has especially tanked in Asian markets where Star Wars is less ingrained into cinematic culture and is disappointing in North America as this review is being written).

Call me a traditionalist (in many ways, I am), but Star Wars movies are cinematic events – nothing else can attract the genuine attention of those who breathe cinema (supposedly, they hate having a good time at the movies) and those who want to go see the movies they want to see (supposedly, they are ignorant of what is good cinema). Solo – in its flawed construction and its ultimate function in the Star Wars franchise – does not feel like an event. It is a fun romp through space that introduces new characters and enriches older ones, but little else. An eighteen-month wait for the ninth episode in the main saga does not seem that long at all anymore.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

#Star Wars #Solo #Ron Howard #Alden Ehrenreich #Woody Harrelson #Emilia Clarke #Donald Glover #Thandie Newton #Phoebe Waller Bridge #Joonas Suotamo #Paul Bettany #Jonathan Kasdan #Lawrence Kasdan #Bradford Young #Pietro Scalia #John Powell #John Williams #Kathleen Kennedy #My Movie Odyssey

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letterfromtrenwith · 6 years

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Noble Blood - Ch. 3

George/Elizabeth Vampire AU

Elizabeth considers her place in the world and witnesses a potentially tragic encounter...

Elizabeth sat up in her bed and watched dust motes dance in the sliver of bright winter sunlight which pierced through the tiny gap between the drapes, cutting across the room like a golden blade. It was clearly late in the day, judging by the sun’s intensity. That was a shame; if she had awoken earlier she could have ventured out. When the sun was low and milky, before the morning mists had cleared, she could tolerate it, especially with the help of a hat or parasol. Those of her age were not quite so vulnerable. The midday sun in a clear sky was still too much, however.

She clambered out of bed, her slight shiver habitual rather than reactive. It was cold, cold enough even for her to notice. Slowly, she crossed the room, bare feet sinking into the thick rug, until she approached the shaft of sunlight. She had not seen it so bright in quite a while. It was peculiarly mesmerising. She had a memory – not quite even that, a shadow of a memory – of warm, bold sunlight on her face. When or where it had been, she could not exactly recall. So much of everything before…before, was not quite clear, and it was becoming more nebulous every day. Except…

Almost unconsciously, Elizabeth lifted her hand, bringing her fingertips to the light. For a moment, she felt the real heat of it, before she had to snatch her hand away. The pain was perhaps imaginary, but she did not wish to take the risk. She had seen too much.

“Oh, mistress! I am so sorry!” In her fascination, she had not heard Emma enter. The girl hurried, looking stricken, to pull the drapes tight, cutting off the light altogether. “Forgive me, I did not realise – “

“Do not distress yourself, Emma. There is no harm done.” The loss of the light had broken whatever strange mood had come over her. “How long have I slept?”

“Only a few hours, ma’am. It is just after one o’clock. Do you wish to dress?”

“I may as well. It will be dark again quite soon. Dark enough, at least.”

“Will you be going out tonight?”

“Yes – yes, I think I will.” She had not taken an evening walk for a few days. The moon was waning, but she did not truly need its illumination. Some drew great strength from the silvery moonlight, but to Elizabeth it was merely enjoyable. There were learned men who said that the light of the moon was the light of the sun reflected. It was a pleasant thought, if true – that she could feel some brighter sunlight still.

After a brief toilette, Emma helped her into a simple dress, suitable for walking or relaxing at home. Downstairs, she played her harp for a while. The instrument had changed so much over the years, since she had begun to play in her youth. She could still take pleasure in this, at least. Music had been a love of hers forever, something which had held over from the time before.

“Are you hungry, mistress?” Emma entered with a gentle knock at the parlour door. Once upon a time the house had been full of servants, but as time passed Elizabeth had found that she needed fewer and fewer to meet her meagre wants. She had no personal maids but Emma; there was a cook, although she provided primarily for the other staff, a few groundsmen, the coach-driver and two stable boys. Emma was ladies’ maid, housekeeper and many things in-between. Elizabeth valued her most highly.

“Not at this moment, Emma.” She found that her appetite had very gradually abated as she aged.

“Very well, ma’am.” She was about to depart when Elizabeth called her back.

“Emma…”

“Yes, mistress?”

“Do you – That is, does it…bother you? To serve me? As – as I am?” Not all of the staff knew the truth, but those who lived in the house had to. It was impossible to keep such a thing secret from people who served her so intimately- most of them had served her for years, and their families before them. She did not know quite why she had asked Emma this question – she had never asked it of a servant before. Not that she could recall, at any rate.

“You are as God made you, ma’am. As am I. It be not my place to judge.” With a quick bob, and a gentle smile, Emma left.

God did not make me, my dear girl, was the reply Elizabeth never got to make.

Some light clouds gathered as dusk began to fall, only a few hours after Elizabeth had risen. What a lethargic existence she had! Although was it her condition or her position which dictated it? Noble ladies were not expected to occupy themselves with much of significance, and that notion was not altered even amongst the different members of Cornish society. Nor any other such society Elizabeth had encountered over the years. Indeed, such people tended to be even more indolent than one might expect. It was intolerably dull, and rather contributed to the increasing ennui she had been feeling as time wore on.

It had apparently been a touch milder today – there was no hint of frost, the ground soft beneath her feet. She picked some holly from a hedgerow, toying with it as she walked. An old wise-woman had told her once that holly offered protection from evil spirits. What evil she needed protection from now she could not really imagine, but the plant had always given her an odd sense of comfort nevertheless.

She followed the bridle path until it came to the edge of the woods – the bare branches of the trees reached up into the night with long spidery fingers, their silhouettes almost black against the starlight glimmering through the wisps of cloud. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted, and she heard the flutter of its wings as it swooped overhead.

Her keen senses allowed her to fully appreciate the sounds and sensations of the night – the quiet rustle of birds in their nests and nocturnal creatures stirring in their burrows; woodsmoke drifted through the air, and she could even detect the salt of the sea underneath it.

All the time, however, she was waiting to hear the trot of hooves or the snort of a larger animal – any sign that the person she sought may be approaching. Elizabeth could no longer pretend that she did not wander this same path so often in the hope that she would see George again. Here, outside the confines of society functions, and away from prying eyes, they could speak freely.

So much had changed over the years, but that had not – the constant, rigid expectations of ‘propriety’, robbing them all of true freedom, even in her particular world. The exact rules had not always been the same, but their effect had. In her experience, at least. How stifled she had felt for so long.

Suddenly, she was pulled from her reverie by the very sounds she had been seeking – a rider was nearby. There were few who had cause to come this way, especially at night, so there was a good chance it was George. Her anticipation was quickly halted when she picked up other sounds – the footsteps of men, three or four at least. They whispered amongst themselves, too, although even she could not make out all they said. She heard enough, however – “take him”, “snatch”, “cut him”.

Footpads. They were not common in these parts – local wisdom was that it was best not to linger too long outside at night. Such ideas were born mostly out of suspicion and old wives’ tales, but it did not mean there was no truth to them at all. More than one cut-throat crook had met a sorry end attempting to practice his trade in the district. That is, if they did not disappear altogether.

Elizabeth immediately began to head in the direction of the voices. Even if the rider was not George, she wished to help them. Her heart fluttered –or at least, she imagined that it did – at the thought that it might be him, however. How terrible it would be if something were to happen to him, before she could tell him –

“Who is there?” It was George. She knew his voice instantly, and picked up her pace. One of the gang said something to him, but she was not really listening now, running in their direction, frantic with her desire to get to him. Even if George carried a pistol, as many gentlemen did, that likely had only one shot. It was insufficient defence against a bloodthirsty gang.

The moment she had that thought, the unmistakable crack of a gunshot, and the loud whinny of a horse, then shouting and thudding. She came upon a clearing in the woods, and saw almost exactly what she had feared – the scene stark in the moonlight like some dreadful grotesque upon a stage. A dead man lay on the ground – not George, but he was surrounded by the other crooks, who seemed to have pulled him from his horse. She saw him strike out at one, landing a hard blow, before another seized him. George put up an admirable fight, but her eyes caught the silver glint of a blade.

Elizabeth did something she had not done in a long time, her rage and fear for George’s life overtaking her. She flew at the men, feeling strength coursing through her, registering the split-second of fear on their faces as her widening, splintering shadow fell over them. It all happened very quickly after that, two of them fleeing in terror, haring off into the night. When she came to a standstill, back to herself, the third was on the ground, clutching at his face and neck, whimpering and cursing. But it was not he she was concerned with. George also lay at her feet, except he was not moving.

She was too late.

#poldark #george warleggan #elizabeth warleggan #elizabeth poldark #elizabeth chynoweth #george x elizabeth #noble blood #fic #f: au #f: ge #m: fic

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totentanz · 6 years

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As I Am Bahamut, You Are Iskander: Interlude

This is a continuation of my Imperial!Prompto arranged marriage fic, which can be found here. I wasn’t really expecting to have any Prompto POV in this fic, but here we are.

Prompto was in Skadi’s stall when Aranea found him. He’d never been the sort of rider to just hand his mount over to the grooms as soon he jumped off of her back - he liked taking the time brush his bird’s cream-colored feathers until they were silky smooth, clean the dirt from her claws, and polish her beak until it shone. The rhythm of the work was soothing to him. Something about Skadi’s sweet, faintly musty scent, the way she crooned softly and turned to nuzzle at his hair, and the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his palms never failed to set his mind at ease; and right now, he was in desperate need of peace.

Noctis Lucis Caelum. All throughout Prompto’s childhood, Lucis had been an ominous, unstoppable force that spread through Niflheim like a cancer, eating away at its strength and lands until the throne itself finally collapsed. Lucis was the reason his father had grown thinner, his hair grayer, and his eyes more haunted every Prompto saw him. Lucis had destroyed his family, and now Prompto had been given to its king as the spoils of war.

He closed his eyes and pressed his face against the warm feathers covering Skadi’s neck. Noctis’ stern, handsome face floated behind his eyelids. He could still feel the ghost of the king’s lips on the back of his hand, a shivery sensation that made his stomach tighten. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was repulsion or anticipation.

“Prompto.”

Prompto opened his eyes. Aranea was standing in the aisle outside of Skadi’s stall. The chocobo kweh-ed softly at her and eyed her silver hair with obvious interest.

Prompto managed to summon up a smile. “He’s gone?”

“He’s gone.” Aranea flicked a stray wisp of hair away from her eyes and made a face at Skadi. “What did he say to you?”

Prompto shrugged. “Platitudes about how he wants to make me happy.” He rubbed at his hand. “Nothing that really matters.”

“And what did you think of him?”

“Does it matter?” Prompto turned back to Skadi and ran his fingers mindlessly through her feathers. His beautiful, faithful bird. “It doesn’t seem to.”

“Self-pity doesn’t suit you.” Aranea slid the stall door open. “Come with me.”

Prompto gave Skadi one last pat and stepped reluctantly out of her stall. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Days were short in Niflheim during the winter months, and when they emerged from the stables the shadows were already starting to lengthen. But Aranea didn’t take the path leading back up the hill toward the manor house. Instead, she set off on the path that wandered past the outdoor chocobo pen and into the woods Prompto had been riding in earlier.

“I was just out here,” objected Prompto as he hurried to keep up with Aranea’s longer strides. “And besides, I’m getting cold.”

“Getting cold?” echoed Aranea. She looked back at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re a child of the northern wilds. There’s no way this is too cold for you.” Her lips curved up in a mischievous smile. “You know who really can’t stand the cold, though? That Lucian king of yours.”

Prompto couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. “Did you see how many clothes he was wearing? I’m surprised he could even walk!”

“And he was trying so hard to look like it didn’t bother him!” Aranea was laughing too, a bright, clear sound that carried on the crisp winter air like chimes. She stepped toward Prompto and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Come on. You’re made of stronger stuff.”

They didn’t stay on the path for long. They’d scarcely entered the forest proper before Aranea turned off on a trail formed by the hooves of passing leukorns. It was so narrow they were forced to walk in single file, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow blanketing the forest floor. A few brave birds darted through the pine branches that rose over their heads, but otherwise they might as well have been the only living creatures in the world.

They’d been walking for about ten minutes when they reached a rocky outcrop jutting up from the ground. Aranea went first, carefully checking for any icy patches lurking beneath the snow, and Prompto scrambled up after her. It wasn’t a difficult climb. He wasn’t even out of breath when he reached the top and pulled himself up next to Aranea.

The landscape that stretched out before them, however...that was enough to leave him breathless.

Shiva’s Mirror was the deepest, coldest lake in all of Niflheim. Legend said that when Ifrit was courting Shiva, She demanded a mirror as a courting gift. Only it could not be a simple mirror made of silver that any craftsman would be able to duplicate - it needed to be something that no mortal hands could possibly create, a divine looking glass that was worthy of a goddess. The Infernian, delirious with love, accepted Her challenge. He caused one of His most magnificent volcanoes to erupt in a fiery cascade of molten lava, and when the peak collapsed back into itself, He went to Ramuh and begged the Fulgarian to summon a storm that would fill the new caldera with water. The Fulgarian, amused by the entire affair, complied. His torrential rains filled the hollowed out mountain and created a lake whose deep, clear waters formed an immense mirror that could never be replicated by mortal hands. And with that offering, the Infernian won the heart of the Glacian.

As Prompto stared out at the Mirror, he found it easy to believe in ancient legends about divine love and impossible tasks.The snow-capped mountains, the harsh and rugged gray cliffs, the rich blue of an early evening winter sky - every detail was reflected on the lake’s glassy surface, creating a mirror world perfect in every way. It made Prompto feel small and insignificant, nothing more than the tiniest thread in untamed Nature’s immense tapestry. He bent his head in reverence and offered a wordless prayer to the powerful forces that had created a scene of such awesome, boundless beauty.

He and Aranea stood in silence and let the immensity of the place wash over them, reluctant to disrupt the sense of sacrality with their voices. It was so cold that their breath formed tiny clouds in front of their faces, but Prompto didn’t mind. He thought he would be content to stand here forever, safe in the mountains of his homeland, and let the world move slowly around him.

But the moment couldn’t last. Aranea sighed and began to speak, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “Your father was not a particularly wise Emperor,” she said. “He spent too much time in Gralea. He believed that the heart of Niflheim was its technology, and its armies, and building new factories every year. Your half-brother had a similar mind.”

Prompto hunched his shoulders and nodded. Even though he’d spent most of time in the relative isolation of Silberberg, it was impossible not to know that his father was not especially beloved by the people. He’d seen the news reports about the ever-stricter rationing and how people were going hungry, how they resented the conscription of young men and women to feed the Imperial armies. He’d heard the constant barrage of messages condemning the stubborn pride of the Emperor and the Crown Prince, asking why they didn’t surrender and end the war for the sake of their people. And beneath all of it were the insidious whispers that the Aldercapt line had grown weak and corrupt, and it would be better for all of Niflheim if it was ousted from power.

Prompto tried to push all of that out of his mind and do the best he could with his own small duchy. As soon as he reached his majority at age seventeen, he opened the manor house on the four great yearly festivals and provided his people with feasts supplied from his own stores. He let the local children visit his chocobos, made sure that annual sacrifices were offered at the shrine of Shiva located just north of the town, and gave his blessing to any couples who. He tried to be the sort of ruler the ancient Emperors had been, wise and just, and this past solstice an older woman put her hand on his arm and told him that he should have been the heir.

Prompto hadn’t been able to come up with a response. For all their flaws, Iedolas and Loqi were his family, and he loved them. He had never wanted them to lose the throne.

“They were both wrong.” Aranea extended her hand toward the unspoiled wilderness. “This is Niflheim. You understand, don’t you?”

Prompto did. How many times had he stared out at the mountains’ distant peaks and felt his spirit rise within his chest, almost as if it wanted to fly up and join the griffons that nested in their heights? Or sought the dappled shadows beneath the pine trees when his thoughts grew troubled and restless? He loved the northern wilds with an untamed ferocity. As long as the land endured, so would he.

“I understand.”

“Good.” Aranea rested her hand directly over Prompto’s heart. “You carry the soul of Niflheim within you. Never forget that, not even when you go to Lucis.”

Prompto felt tears rising in his eyes and tried to blink them away. He didn’t want to be a child crying at the thought of leaving his home. But he was with Aranea, and Aranea would never look at him with scorn. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know. But Prompto, you have to.” Aranea grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight. “Listen to me. Aldercapt, Caelum - it doesn’t really matter which bloodline sits on the throne as long as long as they love the country. Your father lost it, and Noctis is an unknown. But you...you can guide him. You can show him what Niflheim can be. Make him love it the way that you do, and the truest part of Niflheim will survive.”

It seemed like an impossible task. “What if I can’t?”

“Oh, you can.” Aranea laughed shortly. “I’ve seen his face when he talks about you.”

Prompto thought of Noctis’ midnight blue eyes, the way he’d pulled the riding glove off of Prompto’s hand, the low cadence of his voice as he said, I will await you in Insomnia, and his stomach tightened.

“Just remember this, Prompto,” said Aranea. She looked back out over the lake. It had taken on the deep purple-blue hue of the evening sky, and a few early stars were reflected on its surface. “Don’t give him all of yourself. Always keep something just for you, so that you can remember who you are and where you came from. Don’t let him turn you into something you’re not.”

Prompto took a deep breath. His lungs were filled with the clean air of Niflheim: crisp and cold, and full of sharp sweetness of pine sap. This was his home. Noctis could give him all of Lucis, its lush greenery and black chocobos and gorgeous seaside sunsets, but it would never be his home. Home would always be here, in the mountains of Nilflheim.

“I won’t,” he said, and gave his vow not only to the Glacian, but to all of the small gods of Niflheim that lived in the stone and in the trees. “I promise.”

#promptis #prompto x noctis #ffxv fic #imperial! prompto

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imagine-darksiders · 7 years

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What if War lost himself to the blood rage while around his s/o and the other Horsemen had to get them away? Could you do an angsty reunion scenario?

Sure can my bean. xx

He was usually so good with controlling his temper around you….But today, something different happened……

—-

The Earth was safe. Death had resurrected humanity and people had rebuilt. But not everything was sunshine and rainbows, far from it. Pockets of demons remained on Earth, scattered throughout the cities and towns. The horsemen had taken it upon themselves to scour the globe and wipe out any and all hellspawn in a bid to properly protect humanity.

That’s why, after helping War clear his name, you’d offered to temporarily house he and his siblings on Earth whilst they dealt with business. Which lead to you squeezing all 4 horsemen of the apocalypse into your humble home. Normally, you would accompany one of the four out on their excursion seeing as you’d proven yourself to be handy in a fight. But this time, there was rumour of a larger group of demons that had built a nest in a run down hotel nearby. It was a job that Death felt would require all of them. Plus you.

War was, of course, reluctant to have you along on such a dangerous mission, but you were adamant. Besides, Death found it hard to say no to you.

—

Which leads to your current situation. Pinned against a rock, cut off from the rest of the horseman and staring into the fiery maw of a Gholen. You vaguely made out Strife calling for you and the sound of War roaring your name. They couldn’t see you. Not until the gholen gave a mighty bellow and lifted you high into the air, above the rock. You aimed a fierce kick to its face, striking your heel into the monster’s eye and causing it to toss you away. You slammed hard into the side of a concrete wall, smacking your head against it and slumping to the floor with a groan.

The sound of battle fades for a moment, all you can make out are distant shouts and the sound of demons roaring echoing in your ears. You shake your head to try and rid it of the pain.

All of a sudden, sound came rushing back in, and with it, came an absolutely infuriated War. He’d seen the demon throw you into the wall and was struck with an intangible, all consuming rage.

Your head snaps up as War slams down in front of you, back towards the wall. You stare up at his broad, heaving back and between his legs at the oncoming demons. With a mighty battle-cry, War unleashes hell on those remaining. Chaoseater flies in a frenzy, cutting the demons down in a mad display of aggression.

Death and Fury finish with the few that aren’t attacking War whilst Strife tries to help his younger brother. But War seems too far into his battle to notice when all the demons are dead, he aims a wild swing at Strife when he walks up to pat him on the shoulder.

The gunslinging horseman jumps back in surprise, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. “Easy, War. It’s just m-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence before the Red rider slams his Tremor gauntlet into Strife’s chest, sending the other hurtling through the air into the adjacent wall. You gasp in shock and scrabble to stand.

War is still baring his teeth and snaring ferociously as he whips his head around the room. He spots Fury as she attempts to help Strife off the ground and with a bellow, begins to rush her.

“WAR DON’T!” Mid run, he whips his head around to see who shouted, skidding to a halt and turning to face you. You’re gulping in breaths and holding back hot tears as he recommences his run, this time head straight for you.

With a startled cry, you back up until you hit the wall he’d previously been protecting you against. Strife and Fury give a simultaneous shout of alarm when War raises Chaoseater above his head. You watch helplessly as your friend came thundering down on top of you, beginning his downward swing, frenzied eyes looking but not seeing. Your own eyes slam shut.

*THUNK!*

…..

You can hear a sound of struggling, but you feel no pain.

Cracking an eye open, you gasp, horrified at the scene before you. War had made contact, but not with you. Somehow, Death had managed to reach you just in time to take the brunt of War’s crazed attack. The sound you heard was Chaoseater embedding itself in Death’s shoulder, deep, almost cleaving down to the elder’s collarbone.

Not wasting any time, Death places a palm on War’s chest and with a pulse of fierce magic, War is sent skidding backwards, away from you and dragging Chaoseater out of Death’s shoulder. But the bloodlust was still unsatisfied. His eyes still dance with blazing fire, clouding his mind and his judgement.

You’re fully crying now, only too aware of how close you came to the end, by War’s hand, no less. But before you can make sense of what’s happening, Strife has sprinted over to you, lifting you effortlessly on his horse.

“Death, we need to get Y/n out of here!” He cries, already turning the mount towards the exit. Death gives a nod of agreement, eyeing War who’s already begun another mad dash for the oldest horseman.

In a flash, Death has mounted up as well, urging Strife and Fury to get you home whilst he follows.

In the haze, War seems either unable, or just doesn’t remember that he had Ruin, because he never summoned the horse. You look back around Strife to see Despair bringing up the rear as you speed away from the hotel, War already far in the background, still gunning for your little group. Tears fall incessantly as you force yourself to look away, letting Strife use his free hand to pull you into a one armed, reassuring hug.

—

It was 6 hours after you arrived back home that War returned.

You immediately shot off the sofa when you heard the familiar sound of heavy boots approaching the door. Torn between wanting to see War and fear that he was still in that state. Fury and Death rise at the same time, nodding to one another and standing before your door, waiting for him to come through. Meanwhile, Strife places a hand on your stomach and pushes you behind himself defensively, unholstering Redemption and Mercy as he did so.

The door knob turns with some difficulty, probably due to its delicacy relative to War’s huge hands. With a click, the door swings open, revealing a very worn, very sorry looking horseman standing on the mat.

Instantly, his eyes search the room, looking for you. You shrink behind Strife’s shoulder when War’s eyes meet yours and he hurriedly strides into the room, but is met by the stern face of Fury and the disappointed eyes of Death. War glances between them, chest rising and falling slowly, he considers them for a moment.

“Is…Y/n hurt?” He asks hesitantly, still trying to look over Strife’s shoulder to see you.

“Y/n….” Death began, “Is very lucky to be alive…”

War cast his eyes to the ground and swallowed audibly. Seeing that he’d calmed down from earlier, the two horseman guarding the door move aside as he brushes past them towards you, before coming to a halt in front of Strife. The sharpshooter tenses when he feels you press into his back worriedly, but he doesn’t stop War when the latter peers around the former to address you.

“Y/n?” he murmurs, avidly trying to meet your watery gaze. You manage to flick your eyes to meet his, only to find them boring into yours imploringly. He looks so sad. You’d never seen him look so sad before.

Perhaps that was why you felt some of your fear dissipate. Yet….he’d almost killed you. He really had. If it weren’t for Death….

“War,” you gulp, “You uh… Are you okay?” Fury makes a disgruntled noise but War sounds downright broken when he moans.

“I should be the one asking you that question.” He mutters, utterly miserable.

You edge out from behind Strife a little, eyeing War cautiously. “I’m fine…” You whisper, trying to sound it.

He sees right through your lie though, grimacing when he sees the slight tremor in your hands and the dried tears on your face. “No…” he sighs, “You are not. You’re afraid of me.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” Strife spits, glaring disapprovingly at his younger sibling. War grits his teeth in annoyance, but doesn’t say anything else, simply looks down at you dejectedly. However, Strife certainly isn’t finished.

“Y/n could be dead because of you. What if we hadn’t been there, huh?” He growls.

“Easy, brother.” Fury warns from the doorway. But War is well past being angry, he only lets his brow furrow further in anguish. Your horseman reaches out an armour-clad hand towards you but the sudden movement catches you off guard, causing you to flinch back. He retracts his arm and behind him, you can make out Death’s hand fly to Harvester’s hilt. ‘So they’re still wary as well’, you think.

There passes a tense few minutes of absolute silence, now with you trying to catch War’s eye, but he’s avoiding your searching gaze. After what seems like hours, Death finally breaks the quiet.

“So,” he claps his hands together, “Can I trust, War, that you’re sufficiently admonished?” His younger brother only offers a nod in reply.

“Hmm. Good.” Death grunts, “Then I see no reason for anymore hiding.” It takes you a moment to realise that the eldest is looking at you expectantly. He coaxes you out by saying, “You’re alright now, Y/n. I believe War has more than learned his lesson.”

“Hmm,” Fury nods in agreement, “War is nothing if not a fast learner. I highly doubt you’ll have this problem in the future.”

War shakes his head, “No you will not….Because I’m leaving.”

Wait what?

Abandoning Strife’s guard completely, you stand under War’s hood, staring up into his eyes. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?” You demand. War backs up a little.

“I only came to offer you my apologies… And to say goodbye.” He states. With that, War turns to make his way back out of your door. You blink, to Hell with your fear. This is War, your best friend. You love him for goodness sake, you’re not about to let him just walk out and never come back.

“War wait!” You beg, rushing forward and clinging to his arm. Despite the horseman’s superior strength, he halts, turning his gaze down to you.

“Don’t go, War. Yeah, you scared me, and okay yes, it was bad. But that doesn’t mean you have to leave.” You give his arm a desperate shake, trying to drive your point home. You need him.

“I almost killed you, Y/n.” He says in a soft, low voice. “I am nothing but a danger to you.”

“You’re not a danger War! What happened was just an accident!”

“An accident that almost wound up with you dead.” He barks. Shaking his head sombrely, War again turns towards the door. “I have to leave. I’ll kill you if I stay here.”

“You’ll kill me if you don’t.”

He stops in his tracks, your hand still clinging to his arm. The other three wait with curious eyes, wondering what he’d do.

Leather creaks and his cloak sways as War slowly turns to look down at you once more. He takes in your pleading, trusting eyes. You still trust him. How? The horseman turns fully and crouches down to your level. He grunts in shock when you immediately throw your arms around his neck and sob into the hood. You feel his hands come up to rest hesitantly on your back, he barely applies any pressure, too reluctant for fear of accidentally hurting you.

“Y/n?” he asks. You nod into his neck in reply. “I swear,” he murmurs, “I will never hurt you. I will never try to hurt you…..I will never let that happen again. I promise, I promise...” You nod, again, muttering over and over, ‘I know.’ You do know. You trust him implicitly. How could you ever have doubted him?

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #imagine darksiders #angst #war #reader #hurt/comfort

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gta-5-cheats · 6 years

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Solo: A Star Wars Story – the 4 Most Unexpected Moments

New Post has been published on http://secondcovers.com/solo-a-star-wars-story-ndash-the-4-most-unexpected-moments/

Solo: A Star Wars Story – the 4 Most Unexpected Moments

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The latest Star Wars film, Solo, expands the backstory of one of its most famous characters. Set prior to the events of 1977’s A New Hope and 2016’s Rogue One, Solo: A Star Wars Story details the life of a young Han Solo before Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi met him in that Mos Eisley cantina. The film introduces a bunch of new characters alongside the return of some familiar faces, and has a couple of unexpected reveals towards the end.

None of what Solo: A Star Wars Story does is anywhere on the level of The Last Jedi, which took some big leaps and ushered the saga into its next era. Instead, the standalone Star Wars addition is antithesis to Rian Johnson’s ideas: instead of letting the past die, it celebrates and revels in it. That said, it does have some moments that are worth delving into. With Solo now playing in theatres worldwide, it’s time to dig in. Spoilers ahead, obviously.

Solo: A Star Wars Story Review: Lots to Show, Nothing to Say

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven’t seen Solo: A Star Wars Story, please stop reading now.

1) A red lightsaber Let’s start with the biggest and most surprising, shall we? While Darth Vader’s presence in Rogue One was known half a year before release, no one expected to see a familiar antagonistic face in Solo, let alone one from George Lucas’ prequel trilogy that ran from 1999-2005. But that’s exactly the surprise we got.

After killing the crime lord and her superior Dryden Vos, Qi’ra asks Han to go after Beckett and save Chewbacca. Now alone aboard Vos’ ship, she assumes command and contacts his superior via hologram chat, who turns out to be Darth Maul. She concocts a lie in which Vos died during the mission, and frames Beckett for the failure.

Emilia Clarke as Qi’ra in Solo: A Star Wars Story Photo Credit: Lucasfilm

Though slightly taken aback, Maul agrees to let Qi’ra ascend the ranks with a pointed remark: “You and I will be working together much more closely from now on.” His words are accompanied by him namechecking his homeworld of Dathomir, and firing up his signature double-bladed lightsaber, just in case those who saw the prequels haven’t recognised him already.

If you haven’t seen the prequels, the scene would have carried a lot less impact. But even if you have, it might come as a bit of shock, since Maul was cut in half by Obi-Wan Kenobi in 1999’s Episode I – The Phantom Menace. His survival is explained in the animated series, The Clone Wars and Rebels, which involves limping, dark magic, and a lot of waiting.

For added trivia, Maul is played by Ray Park, the same actor who played him in the prequels, and is voiced by Sam Witwer, the guy who voiced him in both TV series.

2) A teenage rebel The other big surprise was the twist reveal of who was leading Solo: A Star Wars Story’s secondary villains, the Cloud Riders. After Han joins up with Beckett and his gang, the criminal mentions them for the first time, as a band of pirates who are a nuisance on most jobs. And that’s exactly what they do: Han and Co.’s heist job of retrieving ultra-valuable fuel from a train goes badly south after the pirates intervene.

Though that conflict gives us a look at the fighting capabilities of its leader, Enfys Nest, it doesn’t put a face on the character until our heroes arrive at the planet where they intend to refine the fuel into crystals. Thanks to a tracker installed on the Millennium Falcon, the Cloud Riders were always one step behind, and then surround them to take the fuel off their hands.

Erin Kellyman as Enfys Nest in Solo: A Star Wars Story Photo Credit: Lucasfilm

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Being his cocky self, Han threatens them with non-existent soldiers waiting in the Falcon, and his ruse lands with a thud after Lando flies away. It’s at this moment that Enfys Nest takes the mask off to reveal herself as just a teenager, played by Erin Kellyman, and explains she’s trying to help the downtrodden by sabotaging the gangs, and in turn the Empire.

In other words, Enfys Nest is trying to kick start a rebellion. Since Solo: A Star Wars Story takes place nearly a decade before 1997’s Episode IV – A New Hope, the capital-r Rebellion doesn’t exist the way we know it. But what she’s doing will play a small part – just as the Rogue One crew did in stealing the blueprints – in helping Luke and others take on the bad guys.

3) An equal rights advocate While Star Wars mostly uses droids for comedic value (and merchandising), Solo does something more with its new droid: L3-37, who serves as the first mate for Lando Calrissian, and a co-pilot of the Millennium Falcon. While Han and the crew infiltrate the Kessel mine to steal the unrefined fuel, L3 goes a step further.

Not only does she free fellow droids in captivity, she also removes the shackles off the numerous slaves working in the mine, thereby instigating a riot. Add that to her offhand comment to Lando earlier about wanting “equal rights”, and it’s clear that L3’s personality and intelligence is far advanced of what we’ve seen with other droids, who are happy to serve their “organic masters”, as L3 sarcastically calls Lando at one point.

Phoebe Waller-Bridge as L3-37 in Solo: A Star Wars Story Photo Credit: Lucasfilm

Unfortunately, she gets caught in the crossfire of her own riot, and doesn’t make it. The only upside of L3’s death is that her advanced navigational algorithms are inserted into the Millennium Falcon, which will benefit from her smarts multiple times as it battles the Empire (and gang lords, given Solo worked for years as a smuggler). As Qi’ra notes, L3 is forever part of the Falcon. <insert heart emoji>

4) Han and Chewie In our review of the film, we said Solo: A Star Wars Story is designed to “help buff up the encyclopaedia pages”. Part of that are the questions no one asked for, but got answers for anyway. We now know where Han’s last name comes from, and how Chewbacca got his nickname.

Looking for a way out of his homeworld Corellia, Han volunteers for the Imperial forces. The recruiting officer needs a full name, but Han admits he has no clue of his ancestry. After a bit of thinking, the officer assigns ‘Solo’ as his last name, considering the guy is all by himself. Okay then.

Chewbacca’s nickname, Chewie, has an even shorter explanation: Han thinks his name is too long, and there’s no way he can say that every time, so he decides on Chewie, with seemingly no protests from the big Wookiee. Their first encounter is a lot more interesting, on the other hand, with Han thrown into the cells as fodder for a “beast”, who turns out to be Chewbacca.

Alden Ehrenreich as Han Solo, and Joonas Suotamo as Chewbacca in Solo: A Star Wars Story Photo Credit: Jonathan Olley/Lucasfilm

Han luckily knows Shyriiwook, the Wookiee lanuage, and is able to convince him to stage a fight to escape their mutual confinement. The lesson? Know the language of thy enemy.

Bonus Beyond everything we’ve discussed, there are several nuggets of information that are (mildly) interesting in one way or another. For one, there’s the crew informing Han that he completed the Kessel Run in “12 parsecs” only if you round down. That means the actual value is higher than 12, so Han’s boast of “less than 12 parsecs” in front of Luke and Obi-Wan is simply false.

Two, there’s a reference to Jabba the Hutt. He has to be “the big gangster” on Tatooine that Beckett spoke about, and that Han and Chewie shoot off for at the very end. And if you’re reading too much into things, you can interpret Han killing Beckett as further proof that he’s smart enough to shoot first.

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