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mariacallous · 11 months

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Zabaykalsky Krai, located in Russia’s Far East, is one of the regions with the lowest quality of life in the country. Despite widespread poverty, its residents regularly donate money to pay for drones used by the Russian military in Ukraine. In the past, they’ve raised 700,000 rubles (around $8,740) to help the Russian army. The independent Russian outlet Novaya Vkladka sent a reporter, Yakov Bykov, to the villages of Priargunsk and Novotsurukhaytuy, located near the Chinese border, to learn more about local life and why the residents give money to the army, even though some of them barely have enough to cover their own basic needs. Meduza is publishing an abridged version of Novaya Vkladka’s reportage.

‘In times like these, you’ve got to help’

The small village of Priargunsk, with a population of about 7,000, is a four-hour drive from the city of Chita. It sits by the Argun River, which runs along the Russia–China border, but there’s no official border checkpoint in the village. During the summers, locals swim in the river, occasionally drifting over to the Chinese side of the border and back. From time to time, the coast guard arrests these inadvertent “tourists.” When the river freezes in the winter, iron poles are placed on the ice and strung with barbed wire, marking a makeshift border.

The villages of Novotsurukhaytuy and Priargunsk are four kilometers (2.5 miles) apart. The road between them is lined with tree stumps left from the poplar trees that used to grow there. The pavement is covered in cracks and potholes: the road was last repaired 10 years ago.

Since September 1, 2022, schools in Novotsurukhaytuy start each week of classes by lining up the students to sing the Russian national anthem — this helps the school comply with the Education Ministry’s new “patriotic curriculum.” In shop class, children make trench candles (to provide light and heat for soldiers on the front) and sew armbands for soldiers to identify each other by. The school’s assistant principal gives the candles to local volunteers, who pack them up and send them to the front, where their mobilized fellow villagers are fighting.

In an interview with Novaya Vkladka, the Novotsurukhaytuy school’s assistant principal Irina Plyukhina, says:

Our shop teacher taught the students how to make trench candles. Now, the kids can make almost 300 of them per month. They’ve been making them since the fall. Before [mobilization], they didn’t understand what they were for.

At the school principal’s initiative, the school runs a monthly fundraiser for Russian soldiers fighting in Ukraine. The school asks each family to donate 50 rubles ($0.62) to the cause. Sometimes, they manage to collect 15,000–20,000 rubles ($186–$248), but on occasion some parents may contribute 10,000 rubles ($123) at once. The assistant principal, Irina Plyukhina, says people in Priargunsk and the rest of the region have grown “more united” as a community since the start of the invasion.

Plyukhina is convinced that “in times like these, you’ve just got to help.” She herself earns around 30,000 rubles ($370) per month, of which she donates several thousand. “There aren’t many adults who don’t help out. The good people — those who understand we must help — outnumber the bad. And if someone doesn’t help out, it’s usually because of their financial situation,” she explains. Plyukhina’s two cousins and nephew are fighting in Ukraine. She admits she’s scared they might not come back alive. One of the school’s recent graduates came back home in a coffin last March.

Another resident of Novotsurukhaytuy, Svetlana, has three children. She’s one of the few people in the village who gives no money to the army. “My own money doesn’t always stretch enough to buy food. Every so often, I’ll borrow from my mom or from friends and then pay it back from my next paycheck. The school asked us to donate money, but I don’t send any,” she explains.

After divorcing her husband in 2019, Svetlana has been raising her children mostly by herself. Svetlana works in an orphanage, where she makes 25,000–27,000 rubles ($310–$335) a month. She gets an additional 11,000–13,000 ($136–$161) in child support for her three kids. Svetlana says she “doesn’t know everything” about the war, but hopes it’ll end soon.

‘Moved to tears’

Vera and Lyudmila (names have been changed) live in Priargunsk. Both of them have worked in the border service for over 10 years. Because they met with Yakov Bykov, Novaya Vkladka’s reporter, on their day off, they invited him to drop by for lunch. Sitting in her kitchen, Lyudmila shared a recent experience:

Volunteers asked local business owners for help with the “special military operation,” and this woman from Uzbekistan, a local trader, was standing by listening in. As soon as she heard what we said about raising money for the military, she sneered in this nasty way. I felt so disgusted I wanted to tell her off.

Vera agrees with her:

These people just keep coming. They should all leave. What are they doing here if this is how they behave? They sit here, make money off of us, and then have the audacity to laugh! Patriotism must come before all else. If you live in our country, be so kind as to respect our president and what he does.

“I, for one, donated because I support our president,” Lyudmila chimes in. “If not for him, we would’ve been trampled over a long time ago. We’d all be driving rickshaws by now,” she muses, imagining the miseries of life without Putin.

“For some reason, young people don’t understand who the enemy really is,” Vera muses. “There are, of course, many injustices about this war. But has any war ever been just?”

Both women say they donate part of their salary to the army. Each border employee must hand over 2,000–3,000 rubles ($24-$37) from every paycheck. Lyudmila and Vera consider this amount insignificant, since they make 50,000–55,000 rubles ($620–$680).

In the first two weeks after mobilization started, their office collected two million rubles ($24,800) to help those called up from the reserves. Vera says they were able to collect 700,000 rubles ($8,687) at a fundraising fair for the war in just a few hours, while local ensembles played and sang World War II era songs. Local residents and business owners brought baked goods and handmade crafts to the fair. “I was at the concert, listening to our people, and moved to the brink of tears,” Vera said.

Just money and drones

The village residents say that humanitarian aid rarely reaches the front lines. One of the locals who was called up in the mobilization told his neighbors not to donate anything except money and drones. Another local who returned from the war said that in his half-a-year in Ukraine, he only received humanitarian aid twice: “That’s why I’m telling you — send only money and drones.”

Elena, a hairdresser, works at a hotel hair salon and coordinates volunteers who send donations to the front. “We’re social activists,” explains Elena while coloring her client’s hair. With the donations, she explains, they “order Chinese drones online and send them to Rostov-on-Don. There, local volunteers pick them up and send them to the soldiers.” Elena cannot “turn away when her countrymen need help,” she says. In order to balance volunteering and work, she works late and also collects donations from clients.

I think people contribute because they understand it’s necessary to help. Seniors come too. The oldest is 80 years old. She doesn’t know how to transfer money by messenger, so she brings 4,000 rubles ($50) in cash.

The mother of a soldier who was killed in combat once brought 100,000 rubles ($1,240). Her son is now buried at the local cemetery, one grave over from her own father.

Tatiana, the client whose hair Elena is coloring while speaking, also chimes in: “My son has already served in the army,” she says. “Sometimes when he calls I just hope it’s not because he got a summons. This is the only thing I think about now,” she sighs.

Tatiana’s husband Alexey was among the first voluntary conscripts sent to Ukraine in March 2022. He spent one month in the combat zone and brought back over 100,000 rubles ($1,240), just enough to cover what the family had paid for his uniform and other preparations for the front. Last February, Alexey wanted to go back, but his wife talked him out of it. She told him she wouldn’t be able to take care of household duties by herself. “In Putin’s last address on February 21, we were waiting for him to announce another round of mobilization,” she recalls.

Everyone was afraid. The number of people who ran away in September! I didn’t expect there would be so many. They showed cars lined up at the Verkhny Lars checkpoint and I asked my husband: “Are all those people running away?” He told me, “Of course!” Only our fellow villagers in Priargunsk didn’t run. They all support our homeland.

In the cramped room across the hall where humanitarian aid is kept, boxes sit on the floor. One box contains empty tin cans, and the others contain ready-made trench candles. There are also children’s letters, folded into triangles in the style of the Second World War.

Victory disco

Just before 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday, Valentina, a community center manager in Novotsuruhaituy, meets with the Novaya Vkladka reporter to talk about the dance night fundraiser she’s organizing. No one is there yet, but Valentina assures the reporter that dancers will show up.

Since November 4, 2022, large letters “Z” and “V” hang in the community center’s windows. For New Year’s and Victory Day, “all decorations are wrapped around those letters,” Valentina explains.

According to Valentina, 14 people in Novotsuruhaituy were called up for service during the September round of mobilization. Nearly all of them received their summons on the night of September 23. “They took away our art director’s husband at night. She was left alone with her daughter, a first grader,” she recalls.

Since the start of the war, the center hosts discos, concerts, and fairs to raise money for the war. “Occasionally, people bring 500 rubles ($6) apiece. That makes me happy,” says Valentina. “Now, nearly all low-income families receive large child support payments. That’s why they give most of it away,” she speculates (contradicting Svetlana, the only low-income person who agreed to talk to Novaya Vkladka and admitted that her money is barely enough to pay for food).

So that she could celebrate two “victories against fascism” at once, Valentina asked her fellow villagers fighting in Ukraine to win the war by May 9, Russia’s cherished Victory Day.

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cornholeaddicts · 1 year

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#ACO #ACOapprovedbaglist #AmericanCornholeOrganiztion #cornholebags

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stressisakiller · 2 years

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Confusion

Tony Stark x OFC Soulmate AU

(Metallica Really? Part 5)

Summary: Elizabeth hears something she probably shouldn't and drama ensues

Warnings: Mentions of violence, cursing

Word Count: 2k

A/N: bit of a filler chapter. I didn't want to write everything that happens in the battle so I didn't. I hope yall enjoy, please let me know what you think and requests you have.

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Watching Tony fight was the most nerve-wracking thing you ever did. Watching him fight Obadiah was one thing, but watching him confront Justin Hammer just to have to fight with hundreds of drones as well as the iron Patriot suit that contained his best friend was a whole new level of awful. But you watched, because you had to make sure that Tony was ok. You watched as he fought Ivan with his updated electric whips. You watched as he rushed to save everyone from the exploding drones, your heart racing. But it was when he saved Pepper and told her that he would always love her that you decided you couldn’t watch anymore.

“Jarvis, please cut the feed.”

“Certainly miss.” Turning away from the screen in the kitchen you look down at the chocolate cupcakes you were currently frosting. Furiously wiping away the tears that had sprung to your eyes at Tony’s confession you decided to finish the stupid cupcakes and head back to your apartment. Tony would hardly care if you were here when he got back anyway. Once you were done you set them in a container on the counter along with the chicken and sausage jambalaya you had made. You have a habit of cooking and baking when you are stressed, you blame it on your mom who is the same way.

Stepping into your apartment you are surprised to see that Sarah is still up. “Hey lovie, I thought you’d be asleep by now.” You spoke softly to the figure on the couch.

“I couldn’t sleep until you got home. I heard what happened on the news, is Tony ok?”

“Last I saw, yeah.” You can’t hide the sadness that crept into your voice, you never were good at hiding anything from Sarah.

“Ok Lizzy, I wasn’t going to pry but you ran away for 6 months and now look like a kicked puppy. What is going on?” You sigh and walk over to the couch from your spot by the door plopping down you throw your head back and look at the ceiling not wanting to see the look on Sarah’s face.

“Tony is my soulmate but I’m not his.” You say, feeling like it is better to get it out there, like ripping off a bandaid.

“I’m sorry what?” You breathe in deeply, turning your head to look at Sarah.

“Tony is my soulmate but I’m not his,” you repeat your voice wavering.

“That’s not possible, there has never been a case of a one-sided soulmate. How do you know that he is yours?” You sigh and pull up your sleeve to show her the music that wraps its way around your forearm. She looks at you quizzically.

“It’s the music for Black Sabbath’s song Iron man.”

Sarah can’t help but snort at that “Of course it is,” she pauses for a moment thinking. “What makes you think that you aren’t his?” she asks, truly curious about why you seem so sure.

“Tony doesn’t have a soul mark he told me one night while drunk.”

“Well that doesn’t mean you aren’t his soulmate, it just means that he hasn’t gotten his mark yet.” You roll your eyes at her, you had wanted to believe Jarvis earlier when he said the same thing but after what you heard Tony say you weren’t so sure.

“Yes it does, and anyway he’s in love with Pepper, always will be, he said as much tonight.” The last part comes out as a mumble and you aren’t sure if Sarah heard. She did.

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“Jarvis let me watch everything that was happening via Tony’s helmet display, including when he told Pepper of his undying love for her.” You murmur playing with the hem of your shirt as you speak, trying to keep yourself distracted from the lump in your throat and the prickling behind your eyes.

“ Oh, oh fuck.”

“Yup” Sarah looked at you for a moment before pulling you into her embrace, you had been so strong up until this moment but feeling her arms around you, you lost it. Great blubbering sobs left your mouth, leaving your body shaking, you are barely able to hear her softly cooing calming words in your ears. After minutes or hours, you aren’t sure which, you run out of tears, taking a minute to compose yourself you stay in Sarah’s arms sniffling. You finally take a deep breath in and break away from her, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. You hate how silly you feel, you haven’t cried like that in ages and it makes you feel a bit like a child. But looking over at Sarah you see no judgment in her eyes at how you broke down. Instead, she gets up and brings you a cup of water before taking her place back beside you on the couch.

“Thank you,” you croak out your throat a little sore from how hard you had been sobbing, “I’m sorry for crying and snoring all over you.”

Sarah just laughs and says “You would do the same for me.” She gives you a soft smile before standing back up, pulling you with her. “How about we go to bed? You’ve had an exhausting, stressful, emotional couple of days and you need a good rest. Don’t worry about work tomorrow, I’ll let Tony know you’re sick. Just get some sleep ok?” You nod at her words dragging yourself to your room, your limbs feeling like lead. Falling onto your bed without changing out of your clothes, you’re asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

The light filtering through your window is the first thing that you register as you start to wake, followed quickly by the feeling of sandpaper in your throat. Smacking your lips together trying to get the feeling of cotton out of your mouth you sit up and look around your room. You hadn’t been back since you left on your trip and it was weird to see it looking exactly as you had left it, even the half-empty water bottles by your bed. Man, you really need to clean in here. Throwing your legs over the side you stay for a moment giving yourself time to blink away the sleep in your eyes. Muttering to yourself about sleeping wrong you miss the other person in your apartment as you walk to the bathroom. Looking at your reflection in the mirror you wince at the bags under your eyes and the appearance of your makeup. Washing off your face and throwing your hair up into a messy bun you step out of the room heading to make a bagel as you brush your teeth. Stepping into the living room you choke on your toothpaste when you notice Tony sitting on the couch taking in your appearance and smirking. Rushing back to the bathroom you quickly rinse out your mouth mutter what the fuck and head back into the living room.

“Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?” Tony frowns at the use of his last name and the feeling of deja vu at the phrase.

“You left me.” He says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Actually you left me to go confront Ivan and Hammer.” You reply confused by his meaning.

“Yes but I had to and you told me to come back to you but when I got back you weren’t there.” You can tell he’s upset but trying to hide it. His voice is just a little too nonchalant, his posture just a little too stiff. You debate with yourself on what to tell him, you can’t really tell him the truth, so you go with a believable lie.

“I haven’t slept in my own bed in months Tony, I was exhausted from the anxiety of the past couple of days and just wanted to sleep in my own room.” You realize a little late that you are pleading with him to believe you.

“And yet you stayed long enough to make me dinner and cupcakes?” Tony raises his eyebrow at you, his voice taunting as if he is challenging you to continue to lie.

“I stress bake,” you state a little too quickly, “and anyway I stayed until Jarvis told me that you were ok and then I went home. I just thought you would appreciate getting home and being able to go straight to bed without worrying about me.”

“But I wanted to see you first,” Tony says not backing down, he is getting a little agitated by your calculated replies. You never lie to him, you never hide from him so why are you doing it now?

You’re getting exasperated by the conversation, not understanding why he was pushing it so much. “Why, why was it so important for me to still be there?” You are trying so hard not to yell or start crying, you hate it when you angry cry.

“Because I was worried about you.” His voice is a little raised and you hate how your heart skips at his words, he doesn’t mean them how you want him to.

“I was on the other side of the United States from the action. Why would you be worried about me?” You are so confused now, surprised by his anger and confused by the feelings swirling around in your gut.

“I was worried that you would leave again,” It wasn’t quite a yell but he immediately stopped after it came out, his next words are much softer and more resigned. “I was worried you would be gone. I was worried that you would leave again, that you would run away again. And then you wouldn’t answer your phone this morning so I had to call Sarah to see if you were ok.”

You feel all of your fight fade away at his words and tone. You had been so wrapped up in your own swirling emotions you hadn’t thought about how worried he would be when you weren't there. Your head drops a little bit and your graze is on the floor when you speak. “I’m sorry, Tony.” you move your eyes back to his face. “Truly. Something happened while I was waiting for you to get back and I needed to have some time to collect my thoughts. Coming back to my apartment seemed like the best way to do that.” You notice his posture starting to relax at your words. “I’m not going anywhere, Tony. You’re stuck with me.” At this Tony finally allows himself to relax completely and smile. He walks over to you from where he had been standing to pull you into a hug. You stand there for a moment frozen in surprise before wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him back. After a moment he pulls back clearing his throat, surprised by his own actions.

He gives you a small smile before his expression turns serious. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You let out a small laugh. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“Nope.” He says popping the p. “Only I get to make that request.” He gives you a pat on the shoulder as if he can’t keep himself from having some sort of physical contact with you before pulling away and heading towards the door. “Enjoy your day off, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. I hope that you start to feel better.” You roll your eyes at the final jab, knowing that he is messing with you.

“See you tomorrow Tony, try to stay out of trouble for once.” You hear him snort at your words before the door closes behind him. That man is going to be the death of you.

Tagged Reader: @graniairish

#tony stark fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel imagine #soulmate au #soulmate #soulmate tattoo #marvel #avengers imagine #iron man fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark x original female character

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sunder-the-gold · 3 years

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Take 2 on [Arknights] enemy-force composition through the lens of [Magic: The Gathering] Colors

Link to the first post. Covers enemy forces in Episodes 1-6 and all events before "Who Is Real?"

Patriot's Guerillas (Episode 7: "Birth of Tradegy")

I hadn't faced Patriot's "Aegis of the Infected" before I wrote the last one. At the time, people told me they would be White/Red.

No, they're very thoroughly White. Sure, they seem aggressive, but in a tower defense game all enemies will seem aggressive, because they're literally the attacking side. The difference is in how they aggress.

Patriot's forces have the typical weenie units everyone initially throws at each other first, but except for the dogs and the Shieldguards, all of Patriot's guerrillas gain specific and dangerous advantages the moment that a Herald arrives to provide them with their customary organization and coordination, in addition to the Herald's global inspiration effect.

And while the Shieldguards don't gain a specific power-up, that's because they ARE the specific power-up for the whole team. They draw fire away from both the frontlines and the vulnerable and vital Heralds, doing everything they can to maintain the working order of the whole.

White is also one of the better Colors for aerial support, and Patriot commands a number of paratroopers ready to drop behind enemy lines.

Where you might begin to argue any other Color is in regards to Patriot himself, his Sarkaz Altars, and his Sarkaz Guerillas who rely more on their brute strength and Arts than on modern equipment or tactics. The Sarkaz Guerilla Fighters and Casters both know how to protect themselves from the Altars and draw strength from them, making the Altar zones especially dangerous to their enemies who wither under the pulse waves.

But to me, that all seems possible within the bounds of White. As a defensive Color, White knows how to punish others for transgressing its territory.

Ursus Imperial Army (Episode 8: "Roaring Flare")

Thoroughly Red. Their military organization and discipline seems rather loose, as none of the units support each other or take real advantage of the openings or opportunities provided by their fellows. They simply seek to crush with personal strength and sheer numbers, without much regard or any real counter for enemy tricks like FrostNova's Originium Ice Crystals or Patriot's Sarkaz Altars.

Their disorganization is also seen in how they'll opportunistically attack harmless targets (like fleeing civilians) rather than actual threats, and how they'll be herded by roadblocks.

The most coordination or cooperation (White) seems to come from the Artillery Corps. Ironically for the most destructive force, their spotter drones and artillery strikes offer the most aid to the soldiers on the ground by creating safe zones where enemies dare not approach and attack Ursus infantry.

Talulah/Kaschey fits right into the Ursus forces. Both puppet and puppeteer, both ally and enemy... there's no real cooperation or unity, there's only self-interest briefly working in the same direction.

Dusk and the Ink Spirits ("Who is Real?")

"Who Is Real?" is a Blue horror show.

As an illusionist who fights primarily by trapping people within fantasy worlds and attacking them with their worst fears and regrets, Dusk herself is thoroughly Blue.

Then there's her Ink Spirits. Normally, Blue is the least creature-focused Color, preferring to rely on spells. But when fighting Dusk, you're already caught within her spell, and the sheer number and strength of the Ink Spirits is really the least of your problems.

The Ink Spirits have a number of ways to screw with you. At first it seems like the earliest and weakest Ink Spirits are weak, since you can use Dusk's own environment against them, but this is a trap.

Once Dusk tricks you into using the ying/yang zones of her painted world, she unleashes the stronger Ink Spirits which are designed to fuck with you. Those that specifically focus-fire on opposite-attribute targets, those that inflict greater damage against opposite-attribute targets, those that can only be blocked by the same attribute, and those that can flip attributes on their heads so that what seems like a winning scenario becomes a total defeat.

Of course, even if you outsmart and beat her monsters, you're still trapped in her illusion, which was the real threat the whole time.

Sargonian Redmark Assassins ("Originium Dust")

In my opinion, the Redmark assassins and the sandstorms are a single enemy, since at least some of the assassins are native to the region. Indeed, the Eradicators are explicitly and thoroughly specialized for operating in the sandstorms.

The Infiltrators, by contrast, could be foreigners or assassins who travel beyond Sargon -- their holographic decoy technology is explicitly Columbian, but they didn't necessary need to come from there or go there to buy it. Regardless, the Sandstorm slows the Infiltrators down but doesn't otherwise harm them.

Altogether, they seem Blue to me. The sandstorms reflect a sort of battlefield control and denial that Blue spells could achieve, and which definitely reflect Blue's reliance on spells over creatures. The Eradicators are invisible within the storm and the Infiltrators hide behind illusions, which are both very Blue. The Eraditor's ability to instantly delete any Operator or bomb deployed out in the open could almost be considered part of Blue's banishment/unsummoning spells.

The irony that Blue is normally associated with water and oceans rather than landlocked deserts just goes to show that a Color should be more than its environmental trappings.

Originiutants ("Originium Dust")

The Originiutants are a simultaneous but separate force from the Redmark Assassins. They're not native, not natural, and make no real use of the sandstorm, nor do they interact with the sand-barrier walls.

Most of what we fight are creatures or corpses puppetted by parasites, used as meatshields and discarded as soon as they die, with the parasites trying to flee to safety. And both puppets and parasites are thoroughly weak.

The diseased horde is Black, whose cheapest creatures tend to be weak sacrifices, and whose strongest tend to come with high costs.

The strongest Originiutants -- the ones actually called Originiutants, neither puppet nor parasite -- are the rarest ones encountered. Of course the strongest are the rarest, but even by that metric, the true Originiutants are rare. There's basically only one stage that features many of them, and they don't appear at all in the boss fight. They were simply too expensive to make, even for a monster who gladly resorted to human sacrifice.

The Essence of Evolution either killed its creator unexpectedly or required him to die to become the threat we actually faced, and that definitely fits Black's M.O. of sacrifice for power. It's constantly spawning parasites to make more zombie slaves, it spams waves of extinction energy, and in its own efforts to make itself stronger and invulnerable (tearing itself apart and putting itself back together without regard for nature), it ends up sacrificing its own life for transient power. A self-consuming, self-defeating abomination.

Rhodes Island ("Arknights")

Someone asked me to categorize Rhodes Island, and initially I politely refused, on the grounds that Rhodes Island doesn’t have faceless classes of Operator like the enemy factions do.

But, if one were to try to see Rhodes Island from the outside, and homogenize its Operators into a collection of faceless units…

Kal'stit, Amiya, and the Doctor are all loathe to throw away the lives of their Operators to achieve their goals, and the Doctor in particular is supposed to be a tactical genius who can figure out how to make a bunch of weenies work together to become greater than the sum of their parts. So, there’s a lot of White.

As a pharmaceutical company, Rhodes Island also attracts people who practice healing Arts, which is also White.

On the other hand, most of Rhodes Island combat Operators are Infected, either because Rhodes Island is the only place they can call home or because fighting for Rhodes Island is the only way they can pay for treatment. Together with the fact that some of them are badly Infected, and some will abuse their Infections to gain power at the cost of their lives for the sake of protecting Rhodes Island, and…

Well, rather than representing Black, that just might play into some of the more uncomfortable parts of White, such as martyrdom effects. No one is being sacrificed for anyone’s personal gain as with Black (Amiya very explicitly orders her Operators not to sacrifice themselves for The Cause), but rather the harsh realities and self-sacrifice are about individuals bowing to the needs of the community (Frostleaf nearly killing herself to protect everyone from FrostNova).

So, appropriately for an organization that hearkens to the Order of the Knights Hospitaller, we’re probably looking at a predominantly White organization.

In general, Green would be the largest supporting Color (for community, healing, strong Elite Operators, and virtually no air support).

Other Colors would step in depending on which internal faction of Rhodes Island (Followers, Mudrock Squadron, Sweepers) takes the field, or which of their allies (Glasgow Gang, Penguin Logistics, Blacksteel Works, Kingswand, Abyssal Hunters) are present.

#arknights #magic: the gathering #mtg #trading card game

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Episode 1: Marvel and MCU Easter Eggs

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This article contains Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier episode 1 spoilers, possibly spoilers for future episodes, and the wider MCU. We have a spoiler free review here.

Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier episode 1 has finally arrived on Disney+. Now, those of you hoping for mystery box storytelling and surreal weirdness the likes of which we got from WandaVision may be a little disappointed. But those of you looking for some gritty street-and-spy-level action with a deeper look at life in the post-Snap/Blip MCU, well, you’re in luck.

Oh? But you’re here for Marvel Comics and MCU Easter eggs, you say? Well, you’re still in luck, friend! The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is full of subtle nods to Marvel and Captain America history, and continues to connect the dots in the ever-expanding MCU.

Here’s everything we found…and if you spot something we missed, let us know in the comments!

Sam Wilson

The stuff with Sam ironing his own shirt, or trying to help his sister get a small business loan is some real “the mundanity of superhero life” stuff that we rarely get a glimpse of in the movies, but that was such a hallmark of what separated Marvel Comics from their competitors in their early days.

In the MCU, Sam is from Louisiana. But in the comics, he was born and raised in Harlem, New York City.

Sam’s sister, Sarah Wilson, also known as Sarah Casper, was introduced back in Captain America #134 back in 1971, and created by Stan Lee and Gene Colan. She’s made only a few appearances over the decades and mainly exists for the novelty of having the patriotic superhero be known as “Uncle Sam.”

The boat that Sam’s sister maintains is named Paul and Darlene, named for their parents, and those were indeed the names of his parents in the pages of Marvel Comics.

Sam’s drop out of the back of the airplane at the start of the Captain Vassant rescue mission mirrors Steve’s in Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

The MCU’s version of Bubo is also back in action! Redwing is still very helpful during Sam’s “government contracts” it appears, as long as no one else messes with the drone’s wires. Also, Sam’s personal devotion to the Redwing drone is a nice nod to the fact that Redwing is a real falcon in the comics, and Sam’s pet/buddy.

Sam gets to have a sombre conversation with James “War Machine” Rhodes (Don Cheadle) in what is perhaps just the first of many unannounced The Falcon and the Winter Soldier appearances by other members of the MCU. We already know there will be a larger role for Sharon “Agent 13” Carter in later episodes. Who else might show up?

Bucky Barnes

Fittingly for his Marvel spinoff series, Bucky is introduced in the same way he was back in Captain America: The First Avenger – catching the tail end of an alleyway fight.

Bucky Barnes has now been pardoned for all the terrible crimes he committed, it’s quickly revealed. Doesn’t look like he’s pardoned himself, mind. Not by a long shot.

Bucky mentions having a sister. While it hasn’t been brought up much, he did have one in the comics. Rebecca Barnes was introduced in The Marvel Holiday Special #1 in a story written by Len Kaminski (hence the notebook Easter egg, which we’ll get to in a minute) and tremendously underrated ’90s comics artist Ron Lim. After the deaths of their parents, Bucky and Rebecca were separated. Her namesake was reintroduced during Heroes Reborn, where Rikki Barnes was Cap’s sidekick in Counter-Earth.

In Derek Landy’s new Falcon & Winter Soldier comics, Bucky has adopted a very chill white cat called Alpine. No sign of Alpine in episode one, but we refuse to give up hope.

Lieutenant Torres

The eager Lt. Torres (played by On My Block star Danny Ramirez) who clearly idolizes Sam appears to be none other than Joaquin Torres, who eventually took on the mantle of the Falcon in the comics. So if Sam is destined to become Captain America on this show, will Torres become his sidekick? We hope so!

Batroc

Just like at the start of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, we get a confrontation with Georges Batroc (ze leaper!), once again played by Georges St. Pierre. Batroc is such a cool but minor Cap villain, and we never need to spend a lot of time with him, but we do hope he keeps showing up from time to time for cool fight scenes, just like he does in the comics. It’s nice to see that while they’ll never give him his ridiculous comics costume, he’s wearing his comics-appropriate colors here.

The Flag-Smashers

The masked baddies of this episode are known as the Flag-Smashers, an organization who want to do away with all national borders. There’s lots of ways this show deals with the weirdness of the MCU after the Snap, but the increasing radicalization of underground supervillain groups appears to be one neat side effect.

They take their name from the comic book supervillain Flag-Smasher (singular). Flag-Smasher was created by Cap writer supreme Mark Gruenwald and artist Paul Neary back in 1985. The original Flag-Smasher was Karl Morgenthau (remember that name, we’ll come back to it in a second), and he was a non-powered costumed terrorist who led an organization known as ULTIMATUM, “The Underground Liberated Totally Integrated Mobile Army To Unite Mankind” (folks, ‘80s Captain America comics absolutely freakin’ RULE).

The woman handing out the Flag Smasher masks was tough to make out, but that appears to be was Erin Kellyman (Enfys Nest from Solo: A Star Wars Story) playing “Karli Morgenthau.” In other words, she’s probably the leader of the organization, not the big, scary dude with super soldier strength. But speaking of him…

The big scary guy is credited as “Dovich” and he’s played by Desmond Chiam. How did he get so strong? Well, the words “Power Broker Watching” appear in the credits, and the Power Broker was key to John Walker getting his super soldier strength, as well as several other minor Marvel characters. Remember what we said about how awesome ’80s Captain America comics are? You’re about to find out!

Sam’s crack about “bad guys” with “bad names” in regards to the Flag-Smashers also applies to real world nitwits who go around calling themselves names like “Proud Boys.”

Bucky’s Notebook

There are some standout names in Bucky’s notebook, notably L. Kaminski (probably ‘80s Marvel writer and editor Len Kaminski) and H. Zemo (as in Captain America: Civil War and this very show’s baddie Helmut Zemo).

We wrote more about those names here.

Captain America

In the Smithsonian exhibit where Sam and Rhodey chat, there are lots of artifacts from Steve’s life, mostly taken from the era of Captain America: The First Avenger like the Howling Commando uniforms, but there’s something else cool there: the actual cover of Captain America Comics #1 by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby, the first appearance of the character. Remember, as part of the propaganda effort during the war to make Captain America a symbol of the wartime effort in the MCU, these comics were a thing. This means that Joe Simon and Jack Kirby also existed in the MCU, but their stories were meant to be chronicles about a real person.

Where’s Steve Rogers?

It seems that only a few people might know what really happened to Steve Rogers. Has Old Cap now passed on, or is he alive somewhere ready to make an appearance in the show at a later date? Many fans are still hoping for a Chris Evans cameo, and we’ve seen trailers for the series where Sam and Bucky apparently practice throwing Cap’s shield around out in the woods. Perhaps there’s a secluded cabin nearby…

The conspiracy theory about Captain America secretly watching us from the moon is likely a reference to Nick Fury in the comics. The events of Original Sin showed that Fury had been secretly waging wars on potential alien invaders for years. Uatu the Watcher put a series of events in motion so that he would die, but Fury’s immoral actions would be exposed. In the end, Fury was forced to become the new Watcher — the Unseen — and was imprisoned on the moon, looking over Earth as his new job. Coincidentally, Bucky took up his alien-fighting job in the aftermath.

It also feels a little like The Last Avengers Story, a dystopian Avengers comic from the mid-90s. It’s explained that at some point, Steve Rogers was President and was assassinated. In the final scene, it’s revealed that he’s been secretly recovering and has been watching over the world in a bunker.

Who is the New Captain America?

The new Captain America that we meet so briefly here is Wyatt Russell as John Walker. Who is John Walker, you ask? Well, John Walker was ALSO the new Captain America in the comics! But before that he was the reactionary supervillain known as the Super-Patriot. He took over the mantle of Captain America after the government decided they wanted Steve Rogers to be more of an employee and less a free agent symbol of liberty. After his time as Cap was up, John became the U.S.Agent. That’s all you’re gonna get out of us for now, for fear of spoilers.

You can read more about John Walker here.

Unanswered Questions

No, we don’t know who the L.A.F. are supposed to be, either.

The “government official” who introduces John Walker is played by Alphie Hyorth, and is simply credited as “government official” in the credits. That seems pretty suspicious to us, and we wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up being revealed with a recognizable Marvel Universe name like Henry Peter Gyrich or something down the line.

Names like Captain Vassant, Congressman Lockhart, Senator Atwood, or Bucky’s therapist Dr. Raynor appear to check out Marvel-wise.

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lovinlikeloki · 3 years

Text

The Lone Wolf

Masterlist // 02

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4k

The door slides open and I shift back, startled.

I hear a man's voice as I sit up, "Had to put a little coffee in him...," the door slams and Scott wakes up, "but he should be good."

"You got coffee without me Wanda?" I growl, standing up, my eyes burning at the sudden light, "You really are a witch."

Scott gets out of the van and I follow behind him.

"What time zone is this?" he groans.

"Come on," the blond man I heard speak before says before lightly pushing us both away from the van, "Come on."

Scott then steps forward, realizing that standing before him is Captain Steve Rogers. Which is cool I guess, I mean he's an avenger, he fought in world war two, he fought aliens, he fought robots. He fought leis.

(With him)

He begins shaking Rogers's hand vigorously, before speaking in disbelief, "Captain America."

"Mr. Lang," Rogers replies, making Scott begin to fanboy a bit.

"It's an honor. I'm shaking your hand too long," he realizes, before dropping him hand to look at everyone. "Wow! This is awesome!"

He points at Rogers, smiling, "Captain America," he says, realizing he's looking at Wanda, "I know you, too. You're great!"

He then looks back at the Captain with a grin on his face, choosing to then, for some reason, grope his biceps, "Jeez."

The captain looks over his should to the Falcon for a second, possibly regretting his decisions. Scott then continues his rambles.

"Ah, look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so...thinks for thanking of me."

Really? Wow- really? He's on the team? I'm glad I decided to come because no offense to Scott, but he's a bit of a plonker.

Scott then looks to who I assume is Falcon, pointing, "Hey, man!"

"What's up, Tic Tac?" Falcon quips, they must know each other already.

Scott seems a bit more hesitant now, "Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I..."

Wilson interrupts, "It was a great audition, but it'll," he laughs, "it'll never happen again."

Someone seems to finally notice me when Rogers nods to me, "Hey Wanda, who's this?"

"Fianna MacBhfloscaidh at your service," I smirk, holding my hand out for him to shake. He gets a simple up down before I let go, not wanting to be even close to a repeat of Lang.

"And what do you do?" Falcon asks.

"I'm a hyper sentient lycanthrope with the ability to transfigure from a homo sapien to a canis lupus," I reply.

"You what?" Scott asks, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"I'm basically a werewolf with complete control over when I shift and how I act," I explain.

"Okay..." Rogers says, probably still a bit confused. But he moves on nonetheless, "They tell you what we're up against?"

"Something about some psycho-assassins?" Scott says, saying it more as a question.

"And possibly some of your own team," I add on.

Rogers nods, "We're outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you're wanted people."

Scott shrugs, "Yeah, well, what else is new?"

When Rogers looks at me I simply grin, "Yeah, well it's always nice to be wanted."

"Fianna, not by police," Wanda scolds and I smirk at her.

The Captain shakes his head at me, though I can tell he's amused.

"We should get moving," a long-haired guy in the back pipes up. I didn't even realize he was there.

"'Got a chopper lined up," the blond who let us out the van chimes in.

Before anyone can respond the airport PA begins to sound some sirens before a man speaks through it in German. I'm just able to make out what he's saying.

"They're evacuating the airport," long haired man informs those who don't speak German.

"Stark," Falcon says, but we all been knew.

"Stark?" Scott questions, well maybe not all.

Rogers pauses for a second before telling us to suit up.

Wanda takes my hand and pulls me to her, "This is going to be a rough fight, Volchitsa, but not the one we're preparing for. Don't waste your energy, and don't get knocked around too much."

(She-wolf)

"I can't handle myself Wanda, it's you I'm worried about," I say as she loosens her grip.

"You know that I have this, right?" she asks sarcastically, allowing a red orb of magic dance along her fingers.

"And you know I have this, right?" I mock back, turning my nails to claws.

"I guess we can both hold our own," Wanda says.

"But that doesn't mean we don't have each other's backs," I say, turning my claws back to nail.

"Of course, I watch your back, you watch mine."

"Good, because I can't lose you. We already lost him, we can't lose each other. ...We're gonna stay in contact after this, right? Because I need you in my life."

"We'll definitely stay in contact malen'kiy. I need you just as much as you need me."

(Little)

With that I put on my green face mask and prepare to kick Avenger Ass.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

I'm in the terminal with Falcon and the long-haired dude, who turns out to have a metal arm, which is pretty cool.

"So," I begin, "Do you guys have names or am I gonny be calling yous metal arm and falcon?"

"Sam," Falcon divulges.

"Bucky," long-haired dude discloses.

"Okay, cool. I'm Fianna, but you already know that..." I trail off, "Where are we at with the Quinjet?"

"Still looking," Sam says, still scrolling on the little iPad on his arm, I don't really know what it is.

"We found it," Sam then announces over the comms, "Their Quinjet's in hangar five, north runway."

After that announcement the three of us start sprinting down the terminal. Well I say sprinting, Sam and I were sprinting, Bucky was going about it as if it's a light jog. That would make sense if he's somehow Bucky Barnes, super soldier from WWII which is what I've pieced together. But what do I know? I'm a kid who's just along for the ride.

We're running along when there's a thud on the glass roof above us. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something red and blue crawling along it.

"What the hell is that?" Bucky asks.

"No clue," I retort.

"Everyone's got a gimmick now," Sam grumbles.

We keep running until this guy smashes through the glass and kicks Sam to the side, I throw a couple punches at him before he pushes me away. I slide for a second before stopping myself and standing up, by this point Bucky is already handling it, he throws a punch that the guy stops.

He pulls it to the side a bit before saying, "You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude."

Wow, clearly he's just a kid. A nerdy kid.

Sam takes his surprise as a chance to grab him and fly away.

"You good?" Bucky asks me.

"I'm fine," I assure, "You?"

"Gonna take more than a kid in tights for me."

With that we start running after Sam and the guy, who is putting his hand on Sam's mouth saying, "You have the right to remain silent!"

Sam lets go of him and flies away but the kid thwips out some kind of string to keep himself in the air. He keeps chasing Sam while Bucky and I tail them both.

The kid is thwipping this string all over the place as he goes after Sam, Sam shooting behind him every few seconds to try and get rid of him. He lands for a second and Bucky takes this as an opportunity to throw a big sign at him and we then hide behind a pillar.

I brave a look and Bucky is just quick enough to pull me back as the kid throws the sign back, quipping, "Hey buddy, I think you lost this!"

Sam does a flying kick to knock the kid off his perch which works. For about two seconds, then the kid thwips out his string and then throws some of it on Sam's wings, causing them to fail and Sam to go crashing through a kiosk-like thing.

The kid immediately has Sam... I think webbed would be the right word, to a railing while he sticks to the side of a pillar. Bucky and I begin to catch up with them when I hear the kid begin to geek out again.

"Those wings carbon fiber?" he asks.

"Is this stuff coming out of you?" Sam retorts, which is a fair question, if not a gross one.

Instead of answering the kid continues his rambling, "That would explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio which, gotta say, that's awesome, man."

This kid is super inexperienced, judging by his conversations, rambling, and just sitting on his ass during a fight.

"I don't know if you've been in a fight before but there's usually not this much talking," Sam puts an end to his tangent.

"All right, sorry. My bad," the kid says, swinging himself at Sam as Bucky and I try to shield Sam. This leads to us crashing through the glass railing and falling to the floor.

"Ahh, you prick!" I complain as he webs my arms to the floor.

He then, annoyingly, begins monologuing again, "Guys, look, I'd love to keep this up, but I've only got one job here today and I gotta impress Mr. Stark, so, I'm really sorry."

Just as he's about to web us up even more Redwing, Sam's little drone, latches onto him and pulls him through a window and far from us.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" Bucky askes, annoyed.

After a beat, Sam responds, "I hate you."

"God, are all the Avengers kids?" I sigh, turning my nails to claws and getting the stupid webbing off of my arms before turning to the other two.

"No, just him. And he's not even an Avenger, god knows where Stark picked him up," Sam tells me.

"Wait, how'd you get out of this shit?" Bucky asks me.

"These," I reply, showing my claws before tearing the webs from him and Sam. "Now let's get back to the others."

We keep running and link up with the others, all running towards the Quinjet.

"Come on!" Steve yells, we're almost there when a yellow laser makes a large crack in the ground in front of us. We look up and see a maroon person, I believe his name is Vision.

"Captain Rogers, I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now." He announces.

Does he think that Steve's just gonna say, 'Oh, well the red guy said it, so that's what I'm gonna do!' or something? Because that is crazy.

And, with the help of Vision's stalling the whole Iron gang gets together opposite us. Stark and Romanoff already there, Vision slowly descending, Iron Patriot flying in with someone in some gothic Hello Kitty getup, and finally the Spider-Child swings in.

"What do we do, Cap?" Sam asks.

"We fight," Steve says monotone. Clearly these guys don't want to fight their friends, but me? I've got no ties to the other team, I'm not gonna go easy on anyone.

We start walking towards them and Romanoff seems hesitant, "This is gonna end well," she says sarcastically before the other team starts towards us too.

We start to pick up the pace a bit and the other team mirrors, but the Spider-Kid isn't confident in himself, pointing out the obvious, "They're not stopping."

Stark lays it out to him simply, "Neither are we."

Everyone kind of pairs off, fighting a single person and I seem to be a bit out of place. Because of this I decide to team up with Scott, who's briefly fighting Black Widow... yeah, he'll need the help.

Scott is trying to dodge and throw punches and so while she's distracted I try to go for a kick to her side. She sees this and counters, grabbing my leg and throwing me sideways. I land on all fours and quickly scramble to my feet as Clint begins to fight Romanoff which is clearly a better match.

Not knowing where to go I choose to follow Cap and fight the Spiderling and I'm just in time to see Cap slice a web with his shield. The kid decides to throw in his 2 cents when Cap puts his shield back on his arm.

"That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all," he laments.

"Look, kid, there's a lot going on here that you don't understand," Cap tries to reason.

"What and she does?" he points to me.

"That's not the point, a pháiste," I roll my eyes, "Stark has you confused about the stakes here."

(Child)

"Mr. Stark said you'd say that," the kid reveals before shooting webbing at Steve's shield and leg, pulling him so that he falls, then showing at Steve's arms to pull him closer before kicking him in the face.

I run to the shield, picking it up as the Spider continues, "He also said to go for your legs."

Before I can hand the shield to Steve, the kid webs up his hands, pulling back and they both strain in the tug-of-war. Steve uses this to his advantage as he turns around and pulls him away. I hand Steve the shield and he hides behind it for a second as the boy tries to grab it again with his webs. Instead, I grab the webbing and pull him towards us and Steve hits him bang on the head with his shield. The kid scampers away, again trying to get the high ground as he gets on top of a boarding tunnel.

"Stark tell you anything else?" Steve teases.

"That you're wrong. You think you're right. That makes you dangerous," the teen shrugs before attaching a web to the top of the boarding tunnel and swings down, trying to web us up again. The Captain kicks him back into a pillar with a wheel under, part of the boarding tunnel, and the kid falls.

"Guess he has a point," Cap shrugs, throwing his shield at the pillar and it breaks, making the tunnel fall and nearly crush the kid before he catches it.

The kids struggles with the tunnel as Steve says, "You got heart, kid. Where you from?"

"Queens," is what the breathless teen gasps out.

Steve smirks at the kid, "Brooklyn," he shares before running off. I look at the struggling kid for a second, about to run off too before my morals get the better of me. Stupid morals.

I go to the edge of the tunnel and hold it up for the kid to get out, he look at me and the eyes of his mask widen a bit. I roll my eyes at him.

"Come on, I don't have all day," I sigh, and his hesitance disappears. He scrambles out and I drop the tunnel.

He gives me a quick once over before blurting, "Wow you're really strong."

"Yeah, guess I am."

"Why are you helping them?" he takes me by surprise.

"Why are you helping them?" I counter.

"I got an identity to keep secret. Besides, I needed an upgrade," he tells me, no hesitation.

I look at him for a second, "Family takes care of family."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"Means this isn't my fight, but I'm gonna fight it anyway," I then walk up to him, my face a foot away from his. "And I'm real helpful in this fight."

"Why's that?"

"I know your weakness."

"Oh yeah? And what is it?" he asks confidently, even though I can see through his tough guy façade.

"It's something your precious 'Mr. Stark' forgot," I say, batting my eyelashes, "You're a teenage boy, Spider-kid."

I lower my face mask and kiss the cheek of his mask. I smirk at him, walking away backwards, winking before turning around and sprinting towards the fight. I pull up my face mask over my nose and when I get to there I hide with Steve and Bucky.

"We gotta go, that guy's probably in Siberia by now," Bucky tells Steve, finally cluing me in on where our final destination is.

"We gotta draw out the flyers," Steve automatically takes charge, "I'll take Vision, you get to the jet."

"No," Sam protests, "you get to the jet!" he demands Steve, "Both of you! The rest of us aren't getting out of here."

"As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it," Clint agrees.

"This isn't the real fight, Steve," Sam continues.

Steve looks at me expectantly, but I shake my head, "Steve, this isn't the fight we have to win, only you do. We'll be fine."

"All right, Sam. What's the play?" he gives in to out pleas.

"We need a diversion. Something big," Sam says. So turns out we don't have a plan. We have a concept. Could be worse, I guess.

"I got something kinda big," Scott tells us, "But I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me."

Bucky looks at us in bafflement, "He's gonna tear himself in half?"

"You sure about this, Scott?" Steve ignores his friend.

"I do it all the time," Scott says, before immediately backpedaling, "I mean, once. In a lab. Then I passed out."

I'm really starting to doubt this plan but there's no time because I hear Scott chanting and then a loud grunting noise. When I look for the source I'm in shock.

"Holy shit!" I yell because Ant-Man just turned into Giant-Man.

Or as Iron Patriot says is, "Okay, tiny dude is big now. He's big now."

Everyone kinda slowly comes out of their hiding place to watch this craziness.

"Guess that's the signal," Steve says.

"Way to go Tic Tac!" Sam praises and Scott waves around War Machine as he attempts to distract the Team Iron.

"Give me back my Rhodey," Stark says sternly before Sam sends a flying kick his way and Scott throws Rhodes away without a second thought.

I run with Steve and Bucky, if only so that I can offer them a few seconds more of time in case someone chases them. While I'm running with them Scott breaks off the wing of a plane, throwing it at Stark.

"Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose? I'm open to suggestions," Stark quips, clearly on edge about Ant-man's ability to grow that big.

I look to Steve and Bucky before deciding that this was the moment I needed to give them cover, because what distraction isn't complete without another distraction to make sure it's completely working.

"Not exactly on your side Stark, but I'll volunteer as tribute," I snark, shifting to a wolf.

'Let me handle this one Lu. But any useful advice will be appreciated,' I think.

'You've got it, Boss,' Lu responds.

"Okay, uh, can someone handle the wolf girl? Vision? Underoos? Anyone?" Stark asks in desperation, hoping there was a free hand available to take me on.

T'Challa begins to make his way to Bucky when Scott stands in his way, "You wanna get to them? You gotta go through me," Scott says.

Scott then kicks and completely destroys the massive wooden crates that T'Challa was standing on. He falls to the ground and Scott begins to grab at him when he starts getting shot at by War Machine's blaster things, the Spider-boy swinging behind him attached with a web.

The spider hero snaps his webbing before latching another onto Scott, wrapping it around the giant's arm and kicking him in the face. I'm unsure of how to help so I become Scott's defense on the ground, anyone slips by him or attacks from below, I'll handle them.

Rhodes is hit and drops onto a piece of equipment, causing him to start shooting at Scott again. I take this as a chance to run towards him, tackling him away as Scott decides to crush the thing he was perched on.

Rhodes flies away and the spider thing just acts as a complete pest, climbing around Scott's helmet distracting him until Vision pushes into him, making Scott lean on the plane behind him for support. I shift back as he steadies himself and tries to snatch Vision when he just becomes intangible and floats through Scott.

"Something just flew in me!" Scott yells.

Vision uses his laser beam to make a support tower collapse, thus trying to seal the entrance to the hangar, but Wanda uses her powers to hold it up for as long as he can.

"You got this Wanda!" I encourage, but War Machine shoots a sonar beam towards her, making her overlook her powers and clutch her ears.

"You prick!" I yell at him, running to her aid, but she ushers me away, urging me to continue to fight.

I dash back to the fight where three flyers circle Scott.

"Hey, guys, you ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?" The Spider-Teen asks as he avoids Ant-Man's attempts to grab him.

"Jesus, Tony, how old is this guy?" Rhodes asks.

"I don't know I didn't carbon-date him," Stark admits, "He's on the young side."

Well if that isn't the understatement of the year.

I try to swipe at the arachnid superhero as he swings low, but he evades my claws.

"You know the part where they're on the snow planet," he means Hoth, "with the walking thingies?" he means the AT-ATs. What? I know my Star Wars. Shut up!

I catch his drift seconds too late as he's already tangled Scott's legs. Shit, I don't usually deal with this shit.

"Maybe the kid's onto something," Stark ponders.

"High now, Tony. Go high," Rhodes yells. They go through with the plan and all I can do is run back, I can't stop it from working but I can stop myself from getting crushed.

They're plan works but the Teenage Mutant Nerdy Spider gets whacked by Scott's hand which sends him flying. In another moment of moral transparency I rush to where he's falling and catch him.

Damn... guess he's falling for me already.

I run a little further away from the fight and lay him down as Scott transforms back into regular size man, asking if anyone has any orange slices. I look at the boy I saved, shaking my head before rushing aside a bit so that I can deal with the wave of pain I feel coming on.

Stark flies down to the spider, turning him before catching the hands the the boy tries to throw.

"Same side. Guess who. Hi. It's me," Stark snarks as the kid calms himself.

"Aw, hey man," the kid gasps. "That was scary. Yeah."

"You're done, all right?" Stark confirms, "You did a good job. Stay down."

"What? I'm good, I'm fine," the boy assures at the same time.

"Stay down," Stark repeats.

"No, it's good I gotta get him back," the teen complains.

"You're going home, or I'll call Aunt May!" Stark threatens, "You're done."

"Wait," the teen doesn't give up as the armored man flies away, "Mr. Stark, wait," he groans, trying to stand, "I'm not done. I'm not...," he stumbles, "Okay, I'm done. I'm done."

#peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x reader #peter parker #fianna macbhfloscaidh #the lone wolf #the lupine saga #nyx writes #jynx writes #pyre writes

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popwasabi · 4 years

Text

“The Matrix Reloaded” deserves a re-watch in 2020

Here’s a burning hot take for, y’all; “The Matrix Reloaded” is not bad actually!

In fact, it’s more than not bad, it’s actually pretty good and perhaps a bit misunderstood by the fans.

Now, I’m not here to tell you it’s the best Matrix film. That honor will remain always and forever with the first movie, as it remains not just one of the best action films of all-time but one of the best science fiction films ever, period. It’s a classic and simply one of my all-time favorite films.

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(Not to mention turned me into a Rage Against The Machine fan.)

But somehow, over the course of my lifetime, you know what movie I have watched exponentially more than “The Matrix?” The fucking “Matrix Reloaded!”

I used to think maybe it was an ironic infatuation. To a certain extent, I think it still is, as its overly indulgent action, bad lines at times, cringey new characters, and over the top moments can make it about as comical as many so bad it’s good movies. But growing up time can change perceptions, sometimes for the better, and can help you see things in new ways that you didn’t before and “The Matrix Reloaded,” especially this year, was one of them for me.

(My plans vs 2020)

I could defend the much controversial sequel by going in on its ambitious action film-making (the car chase is still my all-time favorite in any movie), pulse-pounding score, or its eye-popping cinematography that, honestly, holds up even to today’s standards but I think these are all things that even the film’s detractors generally agree on.

No, I’m going to defend this film by talking about its most controversial scene: The Architect room.

I can hear the groans already and I don’t blame you. I found this scene preposterous and mightily confusing when I first saw it.

“The One is actually a part of the Machines’ system?? WTF!?”

(I remember having a similar feeling after playing Mass Effect 3...)

To be fair, its set up is a bit muddled, given the clunky script and pacing issues of the movie but when you start thinking about the message more deeply, given current events, and its relation to the real world it hits about as hard and fits as neatly as the first film’s more positive message.

The first Matrix film has a pretty dark setup, obviously. Neo finds out that he’s a part of gigantic computer program meant to create the illusion of free will for humanity while they are quite literally eaten for power by the Machines like cattle. Of course, Neo discovers he’s more than just another human connected to The Matrix but a prophesized messiah who has the ability to combat the system beyond its considerable control. By the end of the film he fulfills his destiny by becoming The One and beginning a new revolution against the Machines that control the human race.

(And looking fucking cool and totally 90s while doing it!)

It’s a pretty positive and uplifting story when you really break it down. It shows the viewer the lengths at which power tries to maintain its control and the Machines are a worthy avatar for this metaphor, but it also shows that power can be fought against when someone begins to empower themselves. When Neo says he will “show you a world where anything is possible” at the end its an earned moment of catharsis for not just him but the audience as well. We begin to start to believe in hope and beating the system too.

“The Matrix Reloaded” however goes several steps further showing that power can maintain its control in far more nefarious ways. Throughout the film Neo is told about the illusion of control and choice by characters like The Oracle and the, admittedly cringey, Merovingian. It feels strange at first because Neo is supposedly someone who is above the system but you can tell there is sense of jadedness, with some optimism of course, when The Oracle explains his role in saving Zion, like someone who has seen someone try to do this before, and The Merovingian simply mocks him for being another in a long line of “predecessors” who is completely “out of control.”

But then Neo finally does get to the Architect after being led there by The Key Maker and it’s here he learns his true nature; that he is the sixth in a long line of previous “Ones” in the Matrix and a part of The Machine’s control. He is less a prophet and more just another cog in the machine meant to lead humanity in one direction over and over again in order to create an illusion of free will for the resistance, the same way The Matrix does its human cattle.

Neo was a part of their plan and had been from the start.

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(In case y’all need a refresher...)

There were tons of fans, including myself at one point, who couldn’t square with this strange narrative turn. Like Morpheus at the end of the film, there was refusal to believe it. It seemingly rewrote how one could view the first film and Neo’s role in it.

It changed the way a lot of people could see the positivity of the first film and understandably that could, and did, make a lot of people upset. Neo wasn’t sent to save humanity; he was there to keep them in line. It was like saying “actually Emperor Palpatine always wanted Luke Skywalker to blow up the Death Star.”

(I mean he does say this a lot though...)

But “The Matrix” was always about the lengths at which power works to maintain its control over the masses and “Reloaded” asks how can a corrupt and evil system be a part of the solution? How can it be reformed?

It can’t.

Way back in 2008, I cast my first vote as an eligible American for Barack Obama for president. Like many millennials at the time I found his mantra of “hope and change” sincere and uplifting and I truly felt the country was going to take a turn for the better the night he was inaugurated. For a moment it really did feel like things would be different after eight years of Bush.

Fast forward to 2011 however, and things changed dramatically for myself when I found out about the drones.

I’m aware of the fact that in leadership positions hard choices are made but after spending the previous decade vociferously calling out the Bush Administration for what they did in the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars this was a truly rude awakening for me. Combine this with finding out about him continuing Bush era tax cuts, re-upping the Patriot Act, the mass deportations, the major corporate donors, his mishandling of Flint, and The Standing Rock Crisis it became clear Obama was just as much a part of the machine as Bush was.

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(Also, no matter how much you hate Trump, DO NOT participate in the the gas-lighting of this man’s record...)

Now, I can already hear the pitchforks picking up and I’m not here to tell you that the Obama presidency didn’t have its moments or that it was worse than what we have now BUT this does not excuse what would be considered awful behavior by liberals under any conservative president.

Each Democratic presidency or nomination I’ve seen in my lifetime, from Clinton to Obama, has always touted themselves as a chance to “fix America” and bring “hope and change” to a largely corrupt system. But neither of these presidencies really changed much of what the previous conservative administrations did, in fact in some ways they got worse. Minimum wage hasn’t risen in over a decade, we still have the world’s largest prison population by far, the wealth gap has only INCREASED regardless of who held the White House, and need I remind some of you Black Lives Matter started under the Obama administration.

At some point the problem goes beyond just conservative stonewalling and political impasse. You can’t blame everything on Mitch McConnell (though a lot of it can too, admittedly). The system is behaving exactly as its supposed to because corrupt people hold power.

(They’re not laughing with you, they are laughing AT you...)

The extremely cynical Biden-Harris ticket we got going right now is being pitched, more or less, the same way as a "fight to fix everything terrible” that Trump has done. Look, I’m not going to tell you Trump hasn’t been terrible because that should be obvious to EVERYONE at this point, but when you have Wall Street goons actively cheering the announcement of the Democratic party nomination, a DNC that is running more conservative speakers in its first day than Latinx across the entire event, you have to wonder to yourself if they are really “The One.”

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(A reminder that “Never Trump” Republicans are not your friends either...)

Again, I’m not saying things can’t be “better” right now under a Democratic White House or that some communities would benefit greatly from a change in leadership BUT the bar is FUCKING LOW and the truth of the matter is people WILL be hurt under the next administration regardless of who it is and framing it as “privileged” to think otherwise is actually quite privileged itself.

There are people who can’t wait for medicare for all. There are people who can’t wait for sentencing and prison reform. There are people who cannot survive another wave of US imperialism overseas.

We are being guided to the same predetermined destination that The Architect gives Neo and its what makes all this so aggravating for many.

“The Matrix Reloaded” shows Neo that he is simply another system of control for the afflicted masses but what makes the final moments of the film important is that he chooses to stop playing its game. When The Architect gives him the choice of the door that guarantees the “salvation” of the human race but in bonded servitude to the Machines and the door to make the supposed “selfish” decision to save Trinity from death but doom humanity to extinction, he does this fully expecting Neo to make the same choice every other One did before him did.

But Neo doesn’t, he goes through the door to save Trinity and for a chance to destroy the system in another way. Neo decides to break the cycle even if it might have catastrophic consequences. He challenges The Architect on whether he would be willing to allow Neo any chance at any other outcome and calls his bluff. It’s what makes him a hero and in a strange way gives “Reloaded” a positive ending as well.

(And again, just looking cool as hell while doing it.)

Now, with the way the next movie ends you could make the argument that the cycle continues and this theme gets contradicted but I would argue it’s a bit more ambiguous than that and with the fourth film supposedly on its way in the coming years there is a chance for a more conclusive and satisfying ending. This write-up is strictly arguing the message of the second film anyways.

What a viewer should get on further review of “The Matrix Reloaded” is that corrupt systems have more insidious ways of maintaining control than we may be able to accept. Wall Street goons wouldn’t allow a consistent formidable opposition party to run against them every year, it’s why they are deep in both red AND blue pockets. It’s why campaign financing is out of control. It’s why ultimately both wings of our government are pro-surveillance, pro-big money donors, pro-US exceptionalism/imperialism and the only real difference comes down to mostly minor minutia between the two to maintain their illusion of choice.

In the end to a certain extent, I still believe in the system, given that I donate money and support various leftist causes, progressive primary challenges, and reelections around the country in hopes they run a real left wing someday. However, each year, and frankly each month at the rate we’re going, I’ve grown more cynical about it. At best it is incremental change and at worst its ultimately empty power against the larger juggernaut of corrupt politics throughout our government.

(Me desperately trying to avoid the relentless bullshit of this year.)

“Reloaded” deposits that in order to break the cycle you have to make a choice not accounted for by the system. That in order to truly change anything, as silly and as obvious as it sounds, you have to do something different. Voting for people who better represent your beliefs much more fully and refusing to vote for ones who don’t is one way but as I stated in my “Black Sails” write-up the more active third option should never be off the table.

Changing the world shouldn’t come down to a false binary choice like the ones the Machines gave Neo at the end of “Reloaded.” And while, for the record, I’m not necessarily against people making the lesser of two evils choice again, people need to stop ignoring the ways in which corruption keeps its power and start having honest looks at those who call themselves “The One” who will make things right.

If this entire year hasn’t convinced you of that yet, I don’t know what will and the sooner we understand this the sooner we can start a real “revolution” in this country’s cynical politics.

Until then The Machines will continue to win...

*Me getting away from the liberal bullshit that will likely be tossed at me over this*

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grimmseye · 3 years

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A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Twelve

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual),

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Violence, The best kind of romantic relationships are when you fight big monsters together

— — —

Seeing this side of the world reminded Essek why they were envious of the Empire.

The Ashkeeper peaks, at their southernmost edge, were bright with life. Even in the nighttime, the lands buzzed with a steady drone of noise, small and mundane creatures that would bear them little harm so far from the wastes of Xhorhas.

They didn’t have these luxuries of rich growth and predators that thought you too big to be their next meal. The Dynasty’s lands were long blighted, and what stood today came from centuries of building from scrap.

Essek was not much of a patriot, but he still had some love for his home, and still wanted to see it flourish. Beholding the verdant jungles that spilled out far below, he could not tamp down the resentment for what they’d been denied.

One ear flicked back at the sound of approaching steps. Essek turned as Mollymauk caught up with him, his coat draped between his arms to carry several handfuls of small, round fruit. The smile on his face beamed joy and contentment as he shuffled up to Essek and held out his coat in offering. “Blueberry?”

“Another fruit named after its color,” Essek observed, but reached for a few.

“Make sure to take the firmer ones. A mushy berry will ruin your day,” Molly advised, and Essek rolled back a few that had been soft between his fingers.

They were little blooms of sweetness on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. Xhorhas struggled to maintain their farms, druids and bards and clerics filtering out to the fields to bless the lands and enrichen the soil. While it let them till the land, magic had a way of leeching the flavor from anything that grew there. It left much to be desired beyond the edible fungi that naturally grew in the wastes.

“Good?” Molly prompted, smiling. “Hey, hey, hand over your bag, will you? I can’t carry these forever.” He reached for Essek’s pack without waiting for real permission, tugging a small pocket open to start shoveling berries inside. “Just let me know when you want some more!”

When the berries were safely offloaded and the pocket closed, they fell into step back along the deer path they’d been following. An arc of one finger sent orbs of light bobbing through the air around him to illuminate their road once again.

They had only been traveling a few hours, his teleportation spell landing them further than he might have liked. Mollymauk took to the mountains with glee, his hooves allowing him to hop up steeper slopes with ease while Essek simply let graviturgy boost him up the hills. It made him feel warm to see Molly scamper up to the crest of another slope and then spin around, absolute delight on his face as he drank in the world below them.

“Mollymauk,” he called, and watched him twitch to attention. “More berries, please.”

“Get your ass up here first,” Molly shouted down. It was a blessing that he didn’t start his usual jeering.

Once Essek had joined him, Molly dutifully opened the pouch, delivering another handful of berries. Several steps down the path, he got a tug on his arm, and the tiefling’s mouth opened wide in expectation.

“You could have gotten your own,” Essek pointed out, but fed him a berry. Teeth closed around his pointer finger, scraping as Essek pulled away.

Molly waggled his eyebrows. Essek turned to walk away.

“Gods’ sake, Essek,” Molly groaned. He caught Essek around the shoulders to pull him down, lips meeting. The hand that didn’t cradle blueberries found Mollymauk’s arm instead, squeezing in expectation for the filthy sort of kisses Molly liked to spring on him these days. Instead he found himself smiling as Molly pressed one, two, three, small pecks to his lips, and then another to his nose, and again to his lips, this time to mumble, “You’re such a hardass.”

“You’ve done nothing to discourage me,” Essek pointed out, and Molly barked out a laugh.

It made travel impossibly slow, but Essek had never enjoyed himself more on this road. Earlier in his career, he had traveled with bands of Kryn soldiers, escorting him under the night, moving quick and quiet with the constant dread of being found out beyond their borders. As he developed his skills and reputation, he’d started coming alone, trusting his own resilience to make a quick escape if needed.

Neither had been enjoyable. Being alone had been an improvement, allowing him the peace to enjoy the change in scenery, but in recent months he’d recognized something that colored all memories of his past: a loneliness that ached to his core.

Now he had Mollymauk.

The Ashkeeper peaks were home to drakes. They weren’t true dragons, lacking their power and intelligence, but hunting one down would fetch a good price in any shaded market. Essek wasn’t here for poaching, though — all he needed were the shed scales that lined their nests.

They reached the peaks a few hours before dawn. The moons had slid out of view, leaving a bright field of stars overhead. He dismissed the lights around them, and they both took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the new darkness.

Mollymauk stuck close from that point forward. His visual range was significantly reduced compared to Essek’s, and he followed close behind. When Essek’s hands drifted to his component pouches, Molly’s swords hissed from their sheathes.

He had been to this drake’s lair a few dozen times already, and knew its patterns. A male, it always left the nest at night to hunt. It dwelled in a cave at the very peak of the Ashkeepers, where snow lined its crest well into summer.

Mollymauk’s steps were near-silent in the frost. Essek cast Message, whispering “Don’t stray from me,” before he set a hand on Molly’s shoulder and cast invisibility on them both.

His grip tightened as Mollymauk’s image slid away. He kept pace, Molly’s tail weighed against his side as the tiefling eased towards the mouth of the cavern. The temperature only dropped further as they passed under its roof. The inside of the cave nearly crystalline with ice. Even invisible, the fog of their path mingled with that which circulated inside.

Essek would give Mollymauk nudges to direct him through the tunnels, the two of them slipping around frozen bends, a veritable maze carved into the mountain. At its end was another cavern, this one with walls and burrows to form an uneven landscape. Essek knew that at the farthest point, the drake’s nest would be tucked away, filled with soft snow and plant matter and any shiny thing the creature could get off the ground.

A low, rumbling sound made both of them freeze. It rolled through the cavern, bouncing off the frozen walls. They held their breaths, counting the seconds of silence before it was chased by a hissing, sucking sound.

Snoring. That was the sound of snoring. The drake was still in its nest.

Molly’s hand replaced his tail, a weight at Essek’s side. He dragged it up, to his arm, his shoulder, skimming fingers along the length of his neck and over his jaw, until he’d found Essek’s ear and held it in place. Heat burned his cheeks as he leaned down and Molly pressed close.

The tiefling’s lips were practically on top of his ear as he whispered, “Still good to go?”

His hand dipped to cup Essek’s cheek, so Molly felt it when he nodded. There was a squeeze to his jaw, and a moment later, Molly slipped away.

The absence terrified him. Essek pulled a piece of iron from his pouch and clutched it in his hand. Even prepared, he was still too far away to cast. He watched Molly’s path through the mist, eyes fixated on every uneven swirl of fog until it grew too dense to parse.

Then his eyes were focused on the drake’s nest, which hovered at the very edge of his vision. He held his breath, blood pumping in his ears.

The edges of the nest were lined with glinting shapes — silver scales. It was the sudden loss of one’s light that alerted him to Molly’s position, watching as a shape lifted, and vanished. Then, seconds later, another. Then a third. All the while, the drake in the nest snored peacefully away.

One by one, Molly plucked the scales from the nest and tucked them safely away. Essek had almost let himself breathe again — and then a scraping sound came from above.

Essek froze. He prayed Molly had done the same, ears straining for the noise. It was the echo of scrabbling talons growing steadily louder, and closer. His eyes widened as he stared at the roof of the cavern, where one of those burrows tunneled up through the mountain to open air, where another silver snout was poking through.

The drake had apparently found itself a mate. Now the new one crawled onto the ceiling, something bloody clutched in its mouth. Its wings spread, bringing it gliding down to the cavern floor, Essek’s heart leaping in his chest as it landed on the edge of the nest. It was not, apparently, on top of Mollymauk, for the drake only siddled back onto the ice and began to scrape at it with its claws.

Mollymauk was invisible. He only needed to stay still and wait for the creature to settle down. Essek repeated this in his head as he watched the chunk of meat — a torn-off deer’s haunch, he was sure — get tucked down in the ice and then blasted with a stream of pure frost from the creature’s throat. It nudged the heap left over, muzzle coming away coated in snow, and for just an instant it looked like it was going to curl up peacefully in its next.

Then its nostrils flared. The pupils dilated, a snarl echoing through the cavern, this time the breath exhaled was more than just snow — it was a cone of jagged ice, to cut and freeze and kill. Essek felt the thread of his spell snap, Mollymauk flickering into view as a silhouette ducking away from the blizzard.

Essek’s feet hit the ground. He moved faster this way, darting forward across ragged ice. The other drake was waking now, as an arc of flaming orbs formed a halo above Essek’s head and then blared jets of fire into its mate.

Molly tried to retreat, scrabbling back. The awoken drake caught sight of him and then shrieked and lunged, the first snap of its jaws missing but talons catching his thigh. Molly snarled. His sword flashed down, Essek threw out a hand. The velocity of his swing doubled just before he struck, driving the blade deep into the meat of the creature’s back.

The second, the male drake, jumped from behind Mollymauk. Essek rushed forward, squeezing the chunk of iron tight enough that it cut into his palm and willing the beast to freeze in place. His magic curled around it for only a moment before it broke free of his grasp. It snapped at Mollymauk with a vengeance, clothes shredding around its teeth and jaws slicked with blood..

Molly couldn’t escape, barred in by two of the beasts. Essek snarled to himself, shifting to an angle where he could line up their thrashing bodies. “Mollymauk,” he called. The tiefling caught his gaze, saw the electricity as it pulled into Essek’s grip, and dove for the female’s tail.

He swung forward. The air pressure dropped, and dark purple lightning burst across the floor. It caught the female in the skull, its mate springing away with a hiss. Molly took the distraction, swinging viciously into the already bloodied drake as it staggered and wailed.

Essek hesitated for only a moment before getting even closer. He could get them out, he just needed to get to Mollymauk first.

And then the female turned, frost billowing between its teeth, and both of them were surrounded by pure cold. Essek shuddered, his legs giving way, knees hitting the ground. Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, blurring his vision, skin stinging where needles of ice pricked through his flash.

He panted, gulping in a breath before he pushed himself upright. Mollymauk was still on his feet, defending himself against both of the beasts with blood dripping down his chin.

One step forward. Fresh blood drooled from Molly’s eyes, but the tail still caught him in the legs, made him stagger.

Another step. Molly dug one sword into the ice, the other glowing with radiant light. He lunged, dragging a crimson line into metallic scales.

Another step. The drakes both snarled, jaws parting in near unison, two mouths full of ice to expel.

Essek’s hand clamped onto Mollymauk’s shoulder, and he pulled.

They landed outside the cave, several hundred feet down the mountain. The shift in pressure made his ears pop as they collapsed in the grass.

For a moment, they both just caught their breath, adrenaline making his hands shake and his head swim. He listened as Mollymauk regained his bearings, shoving himself onto his knees.

“Can we run one gods- damned errand,” Mollymauk snarled, wrestling Essek’s pack away, “without something getting its teeth into me.”

There was the clink of glass. Essek rolled over, pushing himself to sit up. Mollymauk had pulled out a pair of potions, and was holding both of them out to him.

Essek frowned. “You take one,” he said, lifting a single bottle from his grip. He braced himself and downed it, the grimace from its taste giving way to relief as warmth flushed over his skin again.

Molly shrugged, pinched his nose, and did the same. Essek had to chuckle as Molly gagged and dove for the blueberry pouch.

He watched as Molly crammed a handful past his lips, then threw himself onto the ground. The grunt and groan that followed suggested the potion hadn’t patched everything up just yet.

He chuckled, and then settled his chin in one hand, elbow propped on a knee. “That was unfortunate,” Essek sighed. “I’ll have to go back to making this trip in a group if there’s a pair of them, now.” He was glad they hadn’t actually managed to kill one. If the drakes abandoned that nest, he’d be out of good components. “At least information means the trip wasn’t an utter waste.”

Molly, mouth stained with blueberry juice, suddenly perked up. He gave a wet, food-muffled noise that made Essek grimace before digging into the pockets of his coat. When he pulled his hands free, it was with a bundle of silver scales each.

Essek’s face lit up. He took the scales, even those streaked with blueberry juice, to examine them for a moment and slip them into his component pouch. Excitement thrummed in his chest. That would restore an entire batch of potions and leave him some leftover material for experimentation — he could kiss Mollymauk for that.

He could. That was the truth. Essek peeked back at Molly, to find the tiefling sitting up again with a squinty-eyed grin.

It took a moment to steel his courage before he cupped Molly’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. The shock and then delight that shone in his eyes after had some odd pride flaring in Essek’s chest.

He’d almost grown comfortable with the arrangement. Mollymauk almost always initiated, pulling him down for kisses or burrowing into his space, clinging in bed when the night was cold. Sometimes he’d push Essek down in that bed and leave marks on his neck that the mantle would hide. Sometimes Essek came home carrying tension in every muscle and Molly would nudge him against the wall and sink to his knees, or lay out across the bed on his belly, tail curling, voice goading.

Turning the tables was fun. Seeing the warmth in Molly’s eyes made his heart do something strange but not quite unpleasant.

“Let’s get a little further out before resting,” Essek suggested, before pulling Molly another five hundred feet down the mountain.

He cast a spell, then, one that Molly had seemed delighted by when he first heard of it. Magnificent Mansion was a requirement for travel. The doorway shimmered into being, and the two of them vanished inside. There were a few plants Essek will need to gather under sunlight come morning, but for now, they could lay in a bed and rest.

And they did. They sank onto a mattress, injuries still too sore to do anything but curl around each other and bask in shared heat after being doused in the mountain’s chill. Meditation was easy to slip into, the deepening of Molly’s breaths becoming the metronome to carry him somewhere beyond conscious thought.

These were moments that made him feel like even in the worst of times, things could still be okay. The yawning pit of his future had given way to a flicker of light.

He was woken by the feeling of a spell shredding through the threads of his magic.

Essek’s heart skipped the moment before he was shunted into another space. He hit the ground in a heap, gasping in one breath before the air became flame.

A scream ripped from his throat. He thought for a moment it was echoing, until he realized Mollymauk was shrieking as well. In the span of seconds, every inch of his flesh was sent crawling with agony, blood pulsing heavy under his skin and leaving him stunned when the inferno fell away.

Arrows had embedded in his body almost without him noticing. He reached for his component pouch, grabbing hold of Mollymauk as they staggered upright. He’d burned too much magic to bring them home, but maybe he could put enough distance, could hide —

The spell crumbled to ash. Essek’s gaze focused on the caster, horror twisting in his gut. Mollymauk met his eyes, then shoved him, barking, “Just run!”

So he ran, dragging Mollymauk behind him. His hand lifted to try again, just one successful cast to save them.

A series of snaps pierced his ears before the bolts drove under his skin. He pitched forward, registering only pain the second before the world turned to black.

Elsewhere, it was raining.

They stood on a hillside, the clouds opened up to a frigid downpour. It wasn’t a storm, yet, but the force of the wind was a warning.

Two pairs of hands dug through slick mud, finding the earth below loose and pliant, the grave they had dug so long ago now revealing itself as empty.

#shadowmauk #mollymauk tealeaf #essek thelyss #mollymauk #essek #cr #cr fic #my writing #queue

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ar-aquxtic-hxrbingcr · 4 years

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Childe is a Patriot.

Yet, he holds no love for the Tsaritsa or the Fatui who blindly follow her every whim, in fear of what would happen to them should they turn away from her so called guidance, in his eyes they’re too blinded by the status quo, and the feelings of safety, normalcy-- sheep blind to the reality of their failing country.

No, he holds love for his country, for Snezhnaya.

He loves the land, the hard working people who slave away everyday just to make ends meet, so that they can live, their pleas to their benevolent leader for aid, being ignored, so many go into the Fatui to have a constant source of food, clothing. He remembers how hard it was to live on the streets, how the harsh unforgiving winters almost killed him. He had once held hope within their leader...their very own Archon would help improve his situation and the other street rats, the souls who were weary and broken...that help never came. He had seen the absolute worse of humanity, the Fatui abusing their authority. People dying of sickness, murder. How low people would go just to survive.

From a young age, he knew he wanted change. He wanted his beloved country to flourish, for the people to prosper, for them to be happy with their way of life. But how could he, a homeless visionless orphan--change anything? He had started small at first, using his skill of stealth he had learned over the years he had been on the streets, had stolen from the Fatui and eventually other rich Snezhnayans’ be it food or mora. Cutting through the night, silent as the falling snow. He quickly gained a reputation, and a title Робин Гуд or Robin Hood. He felt satisfied at the work he was doing, no matter how small it was; he felt as if he was making some sort of change.

He had used his innate charisma to sweet talk the guards and the Fatui skulking about his town, growing a form of a bond with them. Learning more than he was supposed too, he was just as charming as he was a listener. One learned many things when acting like a dumb homeless orphan after all. So for the next few years did his little outings become grander. His heart warming each and every time he saw their faces light up. He never needed their thanks, their smiles and glassy eyes full of unshed tears were enough.

This all changed the day he had received his vision, with the God’s eye within his hand he had a far grander plan to make change throughout his beloved nation. He would join the ranks of the common people’s enemy. Work his way to the very top, a Harbinger. What better way to change the country than from the inside? He was readily accepted into the Fatui, they were always recruiting after all!

Using the skill he had learned on the streets, and quickly rose his ways through the ranks, Alexei was nothing but efficient, talented. He was always an exceptional actor, twisting and molding into new façades to fit the rhetoric they so constantly preached. He never forgot himself though, no matter how hard they tried to wipe his very being away. He remembered where he came from, who he was, and why he was within their ranks. He would be the change they all needed...even if it meant becoming the villain in the people’s eyes.

Within a year of joining the Fatui did he finally meet the Tyrant Archon ruling over the land, he was nineteen, hailed as a prodigy by his superiors did the Tsaritsa take notice of him, keeping tabs on his progress and his loyalty. She had liked what she saw, and thus, she summoned him to her throne of ice. The Tsaritsa shot question after question at him, he answered them with practiced ease. He acted like the loyal drone he was supposed to be, yet, no matter how hard he tried, Alexei could not hide the hatred buried deep beneath hollowed blue eyes. She had taken note of this, normally he would have been killed on the spot. However, Alexei was a valuable asset she could not afford to lose him, he was the best of the best within their ranks. It would be a waste to get rid of such potential, it was ten she decided to make him the Eleventh and final Harbinger. Given the direct blessing had cemented his status, his name changed to the Alias Tartaglia or Childe.

He had completed his goal, yet, knew the Tsaritsa suspected him and would keep a close eye on him. So for the next few years he could do nothing to further his plans, eventually earing the hesitant trust of their leader. His shadows vanishing without a trace.

At twenty-two did he slowly begin to make his moves, silently. The contacts and sympathizers he had made when working his way through the ranks, took his silent queue and had begun their work of spreading the message to those who would follow. Six years had passed, his little resistance slowly, growing, one by one. He was weakening the Fatui’s hold on the land piece by piece, yet it was never lead back to him. The time was soon coming, and he could almost taste the tantalizing taste of victory on his tongue. Preparations still had to be made, the Tsaritsa was beginning to suspect something stirring beneath her iron reign.

She sends the Harbinger’s to track down the other Archon’s and take their Gnosis’s to proceed with her plans, and to squash any rebellions daring to question her rule. She sends Childe to Liyue, putting him in charge of the banks and had given him the task of locating the Geo Archon. Here he mucks up their finances giving exorbitant amounts of money to the Traveler and Zhongli, blaming it on the lower ranking Fatui, having them ruthlessly executed. Playing the part of a heartless Harbinger.

He has grand plans

And all he does is for the greater good of his beloved homeland and should he be seen as the villain? so be it, he will do what he must to save his country and to end their Archons frigid iron reign, no matter the cost.

#〆 HEADCANONS 〆 #oofta that got loooong #long post #um imma build on this #but here is what I got for now

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tanstaaflaos · 4 years

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A rant from Trump supporters

The following is a cut and paste from someone I know on Facebook. In short, they don’t particularly like Trump but like liberals and progressive ideas even less. They justify their vote for Trump as giving a finger to liberals and the media, rather than supporting Trump. In short, a very selfish and short-sighted mentality that is unfortunately prevalent in today’s world. These folks will continue to vote against their own interests if it means they can “win” while sticking it to the liberals. Here’s the rant:

🛑 STOP! 🛑 EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS ⬇️ If you are a liberal who can’t stand Trump, and cannot possibly fathom why anyone would ever vote for him, let me fill you in. It’s not that we love Donald Trump so much. It’s that we can’t stand you. And we will do whatever it takes — even if that means electing a rude, obnoxious, unpredictable, narcissist (your words not ours) to the office of President of the United States — because the thing we find more dangerous to this nation than Donald Trump is YOU. How is that possible you might ask? Well, you have done everything in your power to destroy our country. From tearing down the police, to tearing down our history, to tearing down our borders. From systematically destroying our schools and brainwashing our kids into believing socialism is the answer to anything (despite being an unmitigated failure everywhere), while demonizing religion and faith, and glorifying abortion, violence, and thug culture. From calling us racists every time we expect everyone of any skin color to follow our laws equally, to telling us that our “tolerance” of lifestyles we don’t agree with isn’t nearly enough — no we must “celebrate” any lifestyle choice or gender option (forget science) you throw our direction or you think it’s fine to calls us homophobic or some other degrading slur you decide is okay to call us — ironically all while lecturing us on hate speech. While you gaslight us about 52 genders, polyamory, grown men in dresses sharing public locker rooms with little girls, and normalize the sexualization of young children, you simultaneously ridicule us for having the audacity to wish someone a “Merry Christmas” or hang a flag on the 4th of July, stand for the national anthem, or (horror of horrors) don a MAGA hat in public. So much for your “tolerance.” (See why we think you are just hypocrites??) We’re also not interested in the fact that you think you can unilaterally decide that 250 years of the right-to-bear-arms against a tyrannical or ineffective government should be abolished because you can’t get the violence in the cities you manage under control. That free-speech should be tossed out the window, and that those who disagree with your opinions are fair game for public harassment or doxing. That spoiled children with nose-rings and tats who still live off their parent’s dime should be allowed to destroy cities and peoples livelihoods without repercussions. That chaos, and lawlessness, and disrespect for authority should be the norm. This is your agenda. And you wonder why we find you more dangerous than Donald Trump? Your narrative is a constant drone of oppressor/oppressed race-baiting intended to divide the country in as many ways as you possibly can. You love to sell “victim-hood” to people of color every chance you get because it’s such an easy sell, compared to actually teaching people to stand on their own two feet and take personal responsibility for their own lives and their own communities and their own futures. But you won’t do that, you will never do that, because then you will lose control over people of color. They might actually start thinking for themselves, God forbid! This is why we will vote for Donald Trump. Not because he is the most charming character on the block. Not because he is the most polite politician to have ever graced the oval office. Not because he is the most palatable choice, or because we love his moral character or because the man never lies, but because we are sick to death of you and all of the destructive crap you are doing to this once beautiful and relatively safe country. Your ineffective and completely dysfunctional liberal “leadership”(?) has literally destroyed our most beautiful cities, our public education system, and done it’s damndest to rip faith out of people’s lives. However bad Donald Trump may be, and he is far from perfect, every day we look at you and feel that no matter what Donald Trump says or does there is no possible way he could be any worse for our country than you people are. We are sick to death of your stupid, destructive, ignorant, and intolerant behavior and beliefs — parading as “wokeness.” We are beyond sick of your hypocrisy and B.S. We are fed up with your disrespectful divisiveness and constant unrelenting harping and whining and complaining (while you live in the most privileged nation in the world), while making literally zero contributions of anything positive to our society. Your entire focus is on ripping things down, never ever building anything up. Think about that as there is something fundamentally very wrong in the psychology of people who choose destruction as their primary modus operandi. When Donald J Trump is reelected, don’t blame us, look in the mirror and blame yourselves. Because you are the ones that are responsible for the rise of Donald Trump. You are the ones who have created this "monster" that you so despise, by your very actions. By your refusal to respect your fellow Americans, and the things that are important to us. You have made fun of the “fly-over states,” the people who “cling to their guns and religion,” the middle class factory workers and coal miners and underprivileged rural populations that you dismissively call “yahoos” and “deplorables.” You have mocked our faith and our religion. You have mocked our values and our patriotism. You have trampled our flag and insulted our veterans and treated our first responders with contempt and hatred. You have made environmentalism your religion, while trashing every city you have taken responsibility for. You scream from the rooftops about “global warming” and a “green new deal” while allowing tens of thousands of homeless people to cover your streets in literal sh!t and garbage and needles and plastic waste without doing a single thing to help them or solve the environmental crisis your failed social policies are creating. But we’re supposed to put YOU in charge of the environment while gutting our entire economy to institute this plan when you can’t even clean up a single city?? You complain — endlessly — yet have failed to solve a single social problem anywhere. In fact, all you have done is create more of them. We’ve had enough. We are tired of quietly sitting by and being the “silent” majority. So don’t be surprised when the day comes when we finally respond. And trust me it’s coming, sooner than you might think. And also trust me when I say it won’t be pretty. Get ready. When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because you and your “comrades” have chosen to trash the police, harass law-abiding citizens, and go on rampages destroying public property that we have all paid for and you have zero respect for. When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because we are sick of your complete and utter nonsense and destruction. How does it feel to know that half of this country finds you FAR more despicable than Donald J. Trump, the man you consider to be the anti-Christ? Let that sink in. We consider you to be more despicable, more dangerous, more stupid, and more narcissistic than Donald Trump. Maybe allow yourself a few seconds of self-reflection to let that sink in. This election isn’t about Donald Trump vs. Joe Biden. This is about Donald Trump vs YOU. So if on the morning of November 4 (or more likely January 19, by the time the Supreme Court will weigh in on the mail-in ballot fiasco that we are headed towards), and Donald J. Trump is reelected? The only people you have to blame is the left-wing media drones and yourselves. You did this. Yep you. I copied and shared this and if you give a shit about your country then you should too.

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saturninefilms · 4 years

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I spent a couple weeks ensnared in a political process that I long ago abandoned having any hope for. My original intention after experiencing the shit storm of 2016 was to hibernate back to an original state of cynicism that I’d fostered as a young guy under George W. Bush. Back then, the lines in the sand seemed simple and they were drawn clearly. If you don’t recall it, I’ll recap the eight year experience I had a teenager in the most concise way I can:

We had an administration that was oil hungry and I watched them send several of my friends off to die to line their own pockets. We invaded countries under false pretenses, expanded governmental surveillance under a bullshit bill ironically called, “The Patriot Act”. Our leadership governed on fear and they were brazen in their openness about it, even going as far as to declare WMD’s in places that had none and expanding war efforts with no intention of ever paying for them. People took notice in a grand fashion upon countless blunders, a failing economy, and the death of small town America that existed and persisted under that administration. Eventually, come 2008, there was a blue wave of immense proportions and that ushered in the era of Barack Obama.

Many people were hopeful. Obama’s entire campaign rallied on that phrase, in fact, and he was elected as the truthful alternative to a war-mongering presidency plagued by idiocy and shortsightedness. Barack Obama was charming, intelligent, and it really did appear as though he was who he said he was.

And he did some wonderful things in his eight years as president. But he also played partisan and deepened my own personal sense of hopelessness in that time. He expanded The Patriot Act after he said he wouldn’t. He bowed down to his Republican counterparts and watered down his originally decent healthcare bill (ironically called Obamacare, though the finished bill more closely resembled Mitt Romney’s than his own). He would authorize deescalation in countless wars and then attack other middle-eastern countries with drones and bombs. He didn’t cut the military budget. He didn’t expand on our infrastructure in any meaningful way. It seemed that for every step forward we took, there were two in the other direction. It was maddening for me. Such a circus! I promised myself sometime in his second term that I was done with politics. If our leadership was going to fight for their own regardless of party affiliation, then it made more sense to me to bury my head in the sand and focus on things that I myself could personally improve. I had absolutely no faith in the political process.

And it came as no surprise to me that the new youth of America turned conservative with the same rabidness that my own liberal belief structure had some ten years prior. The only bullshit they were familiar with was that of the blue variety, the same way that mine was influenced by the red flavor. Both teams had the same coach, though, and I was confident that they would eventually realize the same thing. I didn’t hold it against them at all (in the same way that I hoped my conservative elders didn’t when I’d only had one side of the picture). Someday we’d have a conservative leader and though I sincerely doubted he’d be anywhere near as awful as George W., they’d see that both parties were full of empty promises and even emptier rhetoric.

Boy, was I wrong about not electing someone worse.

When I was working on Forgotten Iowa in 2015, I received an e-mail from VICE with a proposal: they wanted to do a piece on the Iowa Caucuses and wanted to know if I’d be interested in telling the story through the scope of my lens.

“Fuck yeah!” I thought. Free publicity is good publicity. I failed to tell them that I had zero interest in the political landscape of America and, instead, spent the following week trying to catch up as much as I could. That’s when I discovered Bernie Sanders, almost by accident, in a Des Moines register article that detailed his policy ideas and a long history of fighting for my kind of people. I believed him, I really did, but I also knew the system fairly well and thought the dude stood no chance of getting any kind of real shot at a presidential run.

When VICE left, one of the crew members had accidentally left his lanyard in my living room and I used it to scam myself into the press area of a Bernie Rally. Later, I would do the same thing to a Hillary speech and a few conservative rallies before I would eventually lose interest. It was during Bernie’s speech in that crowded room, though, while I found myself sandwiched between CNN and MSNBC cameramen, that I briefly had a reconsideration. Maybe my cynicism was unwarranted? Maybe politics had changed a little in the last few years?

“Fuck it,” I thought. “I’ll give this another go.” So I caucused for Bernie. I drove his sign into the dirt of my house and talked to people about his policies. When I met him in early 2017, I even explained to him how I’d scammed my way into the press area and that’s how I initially formed my support.

“I like your gumption, kid.” He told me. And then when I met him again a year later, he remembered our conversation and asked if I still had the lanyard. I, of course, didn’t, but it further solidified my support that he’d even remember the experience to begin with. I was optimistic. Bernie was the clear front-runner of the election and he was the candidate of the people. But then the DNC fucked him over. Media outlets put all their faith in Hillary Clinton. The system that I’d long ago decided was arbitrary, a dog and pony show, was proving itself to be exactly that yet again. All that effort was for nothing. The powers at bay decided who they wanted and the people that elected them ate that rottenness with zeal. Hillary Clinton would end up losing to an historically awful candidate with no political experience and that would eventually lead us to where we sit today.

And in some ways, life continues to mirror itself. A month or two ago, I was contacted by another film-crew, another group of people wanting to focus a documentary on the Iowa caucus process and hoping to achieve a little bit of their story through my own scope.

“Fuck yeah!” I thought. Free publicity is good publicity. I failed to tell them that I had zero interest in the political landscape of America and, again, spent the next several weeks familiarizing myself with the current political landscape of American politics.

I caucused for Bernie again. I drove those signs into my yard. Again. I talked to people and tried my best to shed that cynicism in one final hope that any of this actually made a single bit of difference. If they fucked this up, I said to myself, then shame on me. Fool me once, you know, but fool me like a dozen times? At some point, I had to concede that nobody would ever speak for me.

And that’s when the results of the Iowa caucus started to roll in. By that, of course, I mean that they didn’t roll in at all. The Iowa democratic party screamed of application crashes, caucus inconsistencies, and made a general mockery of the people and the state itself. I watched all of this unfold in a tiny bar while cameras were rolling. Something smelled absolutely awful about the whole thing. And then to learn that the same app to cause all these problems were financed by the same corporations that donated to the eventual winner of the caucus itself...well, the solidified it for me.

Nobody fucking speaks for me. And these rats will do anything they can to keep their party at a status quo. That’s one thing I’ll give to the Republican party (even though I find nearly every one of their positions to be intellectually bankrupt and hypocritical): their base wanted a shake-up and their leaders delivered one to them. The Democrats will never be able to say that. And that’s why they will likely lose again. And again. And again. And that’s why the country will continue to move right and the liberal-minded people of America will be steadily dragged with them. In any other country, Joe Biden would be a conservative. Not in America. Here, he still has a real shot of getting the nod. It’s ridiculous. They’re every bit as hypocritical as the people they say they oppose. They’re all bought and sold the exact same way.

“They call it the American dream because you have to be asleep to believe in it.”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and once again bury my damn head in the sand. I’m absolutely tired of our process. There’s no such thing as truth. It’s all deceit. And maybe I keep becoming cynical about it because I SHOULD be cynical.

If Bernie gets the nod, I will gladly eat crow. But he won’t. We’ll get another milquetoast candidate that the DNC approves of and the Democrats will lose again in 2020. And, for the most part, they will not lose a single bit of support come 2024, well beyond any hope of a Bernie presidency. They will lose and win at the same time.

The rest of us will just lose.

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fantabulousfunnelweb · 5 years

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Massive Spider-Tober dump (Days 1-6)

200+ Words per Prompt

I’ll try & post these in compilation dumps like this unless you’d like otherwise!

Day 1: Villain

The rubble and ash infested air stole Funnels breath before the bony fingers of his combatant deprived him of it, finger and thumb squeezing down on the Spiders neck as their mask-covered eyes met.

“We never had to do any of this, you know that Kid?”

The freakish orange eyes of Kjells mask stared daggers through the whites of Kyle’s own, almost sensing the utter fear beneath them as nothing but strained gasps arose from the spider's throat.

“And now look, you & I have gone and ruined old Ozzy’s head office! For a hero, you certainly don’t know anything about damage control…”

Finding the strength in his oxygen-deprived muscles, Funnel-Web thrust his feet forward, latching his soles strongly onto the chest of his attacker. Utilizing his newfound foothold, the Spider sent a panicked fist careening into the side of the Goblinoids head. Kyles could feel the reinforced plasteel give way to Kjells exposed flesh, how the cartilage of his ear became crushed like putty under the sheer force. The sensation was enough to send a cringe up Funnels spine. Taken off-guard by the Spiders blow, the spindly Goblin stumbled, grip faltering and granting The Funnel-Web freedom from Kjells grasp. The urge to just lay there amongst the charred old office was tempting, but as oxygen returned to Funnel-Web once more, so did his will to continue.

Day 2: News

‘Terror rocked the New York high rises as powered terrorists Goblinoid and The Funnel-Web waged a reasonless war hundreds of feet above Upper Manhattan, finishing with the heartbreaking destruction of former OsCorp Headquarters upper floors.’

“Can you turn that crap off?” Flint grunted from his battered old chair, his request catching the attention of the nearby Phil, who quickly answered his prayers and changed the channel. “I mean it. The new’s been gone all crazy about Supers again, don’t those freaks ever settle down?” He raised a hand to scratch at their chin, already a victim to a 5’o-clock shadow, “Darcy, whadda you think?” His attention turning over to their partner in the kitchen, assisting Kyles in cleaning out the oven and promptly attempting to ignore the question, but it didn’t last long. “I thought you said ya’ stopped caring about those guys years ago?” She rang from their kneeling position on the floor, inciting her cleaning assistant to chip in a word too, “Clearly not if he's complaining.” reverberating from inside the oven as he thoroughly scrubbed the remains of an explosive 2-week old pasta bake from its walls, the torturous stench only relieved by the satisfaction of hearing a stifled laugh out of Darcy.

Day 3: Run

“HI THERE SORRY MISTER FLINT BUT WHADDID DARCY ASK FOR ME TO BUY AGAIN?”

“The hel-Kyles?! Uh, It was just some bread, Rye bread, and why are you shouting!?”

Kyles held his tongue as he went sailing through a rooftop pavilion, a grey bullet over the heads of bystanders under its shade. “NO REASON! THANKS MISTER FLINT I’LL BE SURE TO GET THE BREA-!”.

Kyles hated to make Mr Flint worry from the abrupt hang up, but the Funnel-Web had enough on his own plate as he scanned the city roads for the runaway carjackers. If he knew he was going to be stopping a car chase at 4’o’clock he would’ve bought Darcy that bread first instead of pushing it down his to-do-list, although he will admit he did go over-schedule in his attempts to convince Patriot to build skateboard wheels into his shield. With the constant buzz of police scanners in his ears, the ever analysing lenses of the Funnels mask honed in on the suspected route of the high-speed bandits. Brisk evening air rocketed past him as they plummeted, catching their speedy descent with a web that anchored itself firmly to a building on his left. Sailing clean over the dismayed intersection, the Spider continued his chase towards the speeding 4-Wheel, keeping thoughts of Rye Bread ingrained in his mind.

Day 4: Flying

It was oddly backwards of the web-slinging Spider to be afraid of flying, barely containing panicked yells as they were flung through the air upon the backside of a speeding drone. Blistering 90kph speeds causing the Funnel-Webs jacket to become air-pressed against his body, almost stifling his breath in the process. “I’m on a drone, what do I do now!?” failing completely to sound not-at-all scared for their life to his fellow heroes.

It seemed like an eternity before the strained voice of Dusk pierced the comm lines, rife with exhaustion and own problems to worry about, yet helping their ally regardless.

“Structural weakness around the external stabilizer, PUNCH IT!” her instruction cutting out with a guttural cry and leaving Funnel once more with his own stressed thoughts as company. “Dusk!?!” Sent into a panic by the sudden radio silence, the Spider found the strength to grasp the drone with an open palm, reeling in his elbow shakily before sending a strong hook into one of the machines weaker point. Kyle’s eyes watered as his fist met reinforced steel, the flash pain locking up his arm, but the damage was already done, and with the significant blow to external stabilizer of the hostile drone, all the contraption could muster was to sail of its course and into the embrace of a concrete wall, scorching the cement and leaving the hero to fall with a tumble. “Dusk” The pain of his arm didn’t matter as much as it did his ally, kicking off an unsteady heel and flinging themselves once more into the warehouse battleground, desperate for the safety of their friend.

Day 5: Iron

“I’m telling you, the Ironheart girls a real piece of work.”

“What else would you expect Ms. Marvel? Anything out of Stark International is a piece of work.”

The eyes beneath the Spiders mask rolled in frustration, his annoyed grumbling drowned out only from his high seat over his teammates. “Alright Patey, corporate bias aside, she didn’t do a half-bad job helping us out, none of us could’ve possibly gotten that bomb out of the city if she didn’t swoop in.”

“Yeeah, but she also threatened to arrest us once she came back.”

“So?! We got out of there before she could, didn’t we?”

Silence fell upon the trio, the only noises being the delicate scrapes as Patriot nicked squashed bullets from his vest & shield, and the resounding metal clinks of them falling to the floor. “Alright, I get what you’re both mad about, I get it too. But we need to learn to be thankful about this sort of stuff, if she wasn’t required by law to arrest us, she wouldn’t have attempted!” Kyles didn’t think they’d be defending anybody tonight, let alone Morgan Starks new armoured bodyguard. “The whole point of the Unregistered is that we’re people just like them, just not on a stupid corporate list.” The Funnel-Web merely let out a winded sigh in response, leaning their back against the lukewarm steel girder they called a seat, “I’m gonna stare at the ceiling for a while, just… get my attention when you think we’re safe to go.”

Day 6: Fire

The hiss of extinguishing fire was drowned out the noise of more turning alight, reaching around the far recesses of the motel room along shiny trails of alcohol that soaked into the carpet. Funnel-Web never had any quips on hand for flash-fires and put his mind to business saving what he could of the makeshift drug lab, which unfortunately included the ones inside it. “Back off y’fucking freak!” an infuriated, raspy voice crawling across the smoke infested air. A soul caught in the crossfire of the assault that happened moments earlier, “I-I really can’t do that sir!” shouting out through closed breath as the Spider dared not inhale whatever the smog contained, furiously scooping up the trapped individual and trudging his way out. “Stay right here!” setting down the man at his feet before diving back into the room, smoke billowing through off the motel balcony and into the air. With the ones running the entire lab having escaped, Funnel was left to pick at the burning rooms, snatching a half-melted laptop from a smouldering desk before the distant sirens rendered it high time to leave. Funnel knew this was the last time they ever worked around Dusk’s neighbourhood, all this seedy motel drug stuff wasn’t really their speed. Besides, you couldn’t find a single building above 4 stories for blocks, a horrible environment for a Spider.

#spidersona #spider sona #spideroc #marvelsona #spidertober #really didn't like day 6 all that much

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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The Rebel Queen (i)

Chapter One: Immolation

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 6k | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: We finally get to meet our new protagonists and have a little bit of Poe towards the end. I had a lot of issues with this first chapter. I wrote and rewrote it three times before scrapping it and starting again. I was also anxious no one would want to read something that’s 90% OC’s. If you want to read the original version lmk, I’ll add it as a deleted scene. Expanded lore linked below:

Epilogue | About Thesmora

"Always find the courage to stand, my child," a beautiful smile graced over Lenora's timeless features, her hand reaching down. "For as long as you believe you have the strength to keep going, then you will have the strength to keep going.“

Young Calista rubbed at her cheeks, wiping hot tears away as she dusted her trousers and accepted her mother's outstretched hand. The sounds of her brother’s laughter tickling at her ear.

“Remember Calista, just because you got knocked down, doesn’t mean you belong there.” Lenora helped her daughter to her feet, glancing over at the golden shores of the beach, a content look in her eyes.

Karas the Ancient City on Thesmora…

Ash rained down from the smoke-blackened sky, a shadow cast over the white and gold flag that stood crooked in the courtyard.

Dark purple flowers trampled by lifeless bodies, the polished silver and gold armour of the Royal Guard was covered in specks of uprooted soil and soot.

An explosion in the distance heaving sand and dirt and roots out from the ground.

Princess Calista Ordell stared at her mother's funeral pyre, the flames long since dead. The smoke dancing like a sickly phantasm weighed down by gravity, trapped by the heavy air filled by a melancholy that clung to everything. Today was meant to mark the first day in a hundred days of mourning, but instead it had turned into the first day in a long number of days to be plagued by violence and turmoil.

Calista was numb to the pain. Numb to the distant sounds of explosions and boots crushing over the ancient city’s stone steps. Thesmora had lost a queen and she had lost a mother and on the eve of Lenora’s burial, the planet had lost what little hope there was for peace. Then Duchess Maligma had made a rallying cry. Traitors became patriots, brother took up arms against brother and now Thesmora was under the iron fist rule of a power-hungry tyrant.

Martial law was declared, what was once a monarchy in transition for Calista’s rule, was now a military state ripped apart by infighting and bloodshed.

All it took was one day for the galaxy to change. One day for Calista's life to fall apart. When the First Order unleashed the might of its arsenal against the Alliance, no one had been prepared for the devastation that followed. Seven planets -spinning, revolving, evolving- there one moment and gone the next, billions of lives lost succeeded by a fallout of immeasurable proportions.

Fearing for her people, the Duchess had killed her own sister after she had refused to side with the order. And even though the resistance had destroyed Star-Killer base, they had been too late to stop the panic and fear from spreading across the galaxy.

"Princess," the faint sounds of a trusted voice forced its way into the crevices of Calista’s foggy mind, shaking her from her stupor. "Princess, it isn't safe. We must get you to safety!"

Calista looked up, dazed and confused, eyes red from the salt in her tears. Her protector and long-time friend, Koa Kiddé, grabbed onto her shoulder and shook her fiercely. The wind blew her long silken hair furiously, the sunburst orange ends flickering like an open flame around her face. A look of determination turning her beautiful features stone cold. Her honey-coloured eyes drawing narrower with every wasted second.

"Now, princess!" Koa yanked her to her up.

Calista looked down at her feet planted atop the flower bed and remembered a phrase her mother would always mutter in trying times, "Find the courage to stand."

Koa held out her hand, the other armed with a viro-blade, urging Calista to take it.

Hand in hand the girls ran out of the courtyard and away from the only home they knew. Soldier's clad in black armour filing into the once lush and colourful space, covering it like ants on an anthill. Calista’s crown sinking further into the dirt as synchronised marching lifted the weak soil off the ground.

To win this war they would have to lose this battle.

Calista’s feet began to blister, her breathing ragged and shallow.

"If we hurry we should be able to catch a shuttle heading to Yotai, from there it will be easy to find ourselves a pilot willing to smuggle us out of the Outer Rim," Koa strategized.

"We won't get far dressed like this," Calista pointed at her ceremonial robes and Koa's Royal Guard attire. "And we'll need credits."

Koa hummed in agreement.

"We have no choice," Calista sighed. "We head for the race tracks and speak with Banden Murray."

"I would rather die than watch you sully your reputation by getting into business with that thug," Koa spit in distaste.

Calista looked around the housing complexes in search of clothes or material left out to dry. She spotted a purple poncho with a hood and pulled it over her clothes, obstructing the royal seal embroidered onto her breastplate.

"That may very well come to pass sooner than you think," Calista warned. "Our allies are scarce, Mokk-Toh has vanished and there are whisper's that Maligma is in talks with the First Order. My options are limited. Murray is the only option."

Koa clicked her tongue in distaste, "the thought of being bantha fodder is more comforting, but you are right. Without resources, we'd be shooting in the dark."

"Then we're in agreement," Calista nodded before heading away from the transport station and towards the race tracks.

The Shallow Pits…

The sound of pod-racers whooshed past, dust picking up and filling the air with the scent of grease, smog and engine fuel. The harmonising soundwaves of pods whirring in stasis trembled out through the orange and red rock depressions. The stands which were always filled with up-roaring fans were all but deserted. Posters and flyers advertising for a big race blowing about like unattended children.

Calista kept her head low as she manoeuvred through the sparse crowd of derelicts, gamblers, mercenaries and smugglers that frequented the race tracks. A few strange faces would occasionally do a double-take once they noticed her fine shoes didn't match her worn poncho, luckily Koa's frightening glare and imposing demeanour would scare any potential whistleblowers away.

"Hey, hey, hey, only Thessi with invitations are allowed beyond this point," a mercenary held up his hand, guarding the back entrance to the observation decks. He was an inch away from touching Calista's shoulder.

Koa unsheathed her sword with lightning quick reflexes, the heat from the plasma charge bathing the mercenary’s neck in a yellow glow, "Lay a hand on her and you lose it." Koa threatened.

"Stand down," Calista calmed her before looking up at the wide-eyed mercenary, sweat trailing down his neck -the viro-blade still painfully close to his artery. Koa's disciplined stance barely allowing for the long sword to sway.

Calista lifted the poncho to reveal the sigil, "I have a feeling your boss will make an exception about the invite rule."

The merc gulped and hit the wall panel with his elbow. The door opened with a hiss and a gust of air. "Go on ahead."

Koa sheathed her blade, yellow glow subsiding from the mercenary’s pale neck before following after Calista.

"A visitor to see you, boss," one of Murray's assistants introduced Calista. "And her bodyguard." Koa walked in right after.

Banden Murray was a tall, muscly man with thick hair the colour of tar. His skin paled in comparison to all his compatriots, making him stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town, but he didn't mind that. Murray was more outsider than native, but he had declared Thesmora his home after retiring from whatever occupation he had before.

He was widely respected by the public for being the head of the mining union with connections to various peoples of power. What few beyond the senate seat knew was that he was also an information broker with a vast network of spies who had dealings with both the Resistance and the First Order. Many believed he had amassed this network after the first rebellion ended, though none knew for sure which side he had been pledged to at the time, or if the story held any merit considering no one knew his age. If the lines on his face were any indication, he was probably past his prime years.

"Ah, I never thought I'd see the day when royalty would walk into my establishment of their own volition," Murray smirked as he leaned further into his chair, a multi-coloured poncho draped over his heavily tattooed arm. The only legible tattoo was of a name scribed over his chest: Ashani. "Please, sit."

Calista accepted his show of hospitality, Koa, however, made it a point to stand in defiance. Murray cocked his head at Koa before bringing his sights back on Calista.

"So, princess," sarcasm dripped from his tone. "How may I be of service?"

Koa's hand balled in a fist.

Calista brushed his brazen attitude aside, "I need a favour."

"Do go on," he encouraged with a wave of his hand.

"We have a contact waiting for us at Yotai who will get us out of the Outer Rim. All we need is safe transport off-world."

Murray chuckled under his breath, "Your contact wouldn't happen to be Senator Kiddé by any chance?"

Calista's eye's flickered to Koa's instinctively, her guardian, in turn, clenched her jaw with a bitter expression.

Murray had gotten his answer.

"I suspected as much," Murray snapped his fingers, ushering one of his drones with a heavily tattooed face to bring a box into the room. "He was taken captive by the Thessi Garrison a few days ago. We were able to… re-appropriate several of the personal belongings he had on him."

"Need anythin' else boss?" She asked, eyeing the two outsiders.

Banden shook his head, the rings on his fingers knocking against each other when he weaved them together, elbows propped up on the table. "I'm told he and several other outspoken supporters of yours are being transported to Illis –to the Cairn- on a shuttle tonight."

Koa's hands began to shake and Calista caught on cue, asking Murray the question that was undoubtedly plaguing her friend's mind, "Any news on his wife, the Baroness?"

"We've heard chatter underground that she fled to the safety of Naboo not too long ago," Banden replied.

Koa's shoulders relaxed slightly upon hearing the news.

"With the senator no longer at our disposal, we may have a harder time getting off-world," Calista said gravely.

Banden let out a low rumble, "Then I suppose its fate that you came to my door." He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, his tall frame leaning against the desk with folded arms. "I know a good pilot. Trustworthy. Man of his word. He can get you where you need to go, for a fee of course."

Calista sized him up, "I suppose you have conditions of your own for helping us?"

"I do indeed," Banden pulled out a lighter and burnt the ends of his pipe, filling the light deprived room with puffs of white smoke. "Wars are a tricky business. Lucrative, but tricky. I believe you'd be worth the gamble though. I can help you, be your eyes and ears on the ground. Pass information to and from. I could be your inside man, help topple this totalitarian regime your devious aunt has erected." A wicked leer pulled at his thin lips.

Calista's fingers began to drum against the chair's armrest, one of her nervous ticks.

"What's the trade?" Koa said bluntly, her voice sharp as glass.

Banden blinked as though he hadn't the slightest clue as to what she was inferring.

"Men like you, you covet one thing: power. How does helping us get you what you want?" Koa took a step forward, challenging as was her nature.

"It's simple. If you manage to overthrow this current uprising and restore balance, I want a seat on the senate… and the deeds to the prison," his steely blue eyes fell back onto the princess.

Calista's gaze snapped to his, their eyes clashing like mud and crystal. "That is no small ask."

"Neither is helping two wanted fugitives escape from the clutches of a power-mad warmonger," Banden's voice was no longer gentle, his lungs sucking in air through his lit pipe. The scent of burning sticking to everything.

"How do we know you aren't in Maligma's back pocket?" Koa asked through a narrow glance.

"I am," Banden admitted freely. "I'm in everyone’s back pockets. The resistance, the order, the cartels… everyone. I even did the odd job for the late queen now and again."

"Lies!" Koa barked, jaw muscles working hard.

"It makes sense," Calista said regrettably. "A man of your connections is an invaluable asset." She stood from the chair, determination pulling her brows together. "I cannot promise you the rights to the prison, Murray. Nor am I inclined to believe you won't just betray us once we get on a ship… but, I can assure you, that once I take my throne back, all of Thesmora will know of your role and perhaps that would be evidence enough for the senators to allow you to slink your way into a seat of power." Even though her words were low and controlled, it wasn't enough to fully flatter the mobster.

"If you succeed, we'll bring this discussion up again at your coronation." Banden held out his hand.

Calista knew she was making a deal with the devil, but she had few good choices left. She accepted Banden's hand tentatively, a new alliance forming under the roof of a desolate betting establishment.

"We'll be needing disguises," Calista informed him.

Banden whistled, ushering a skittish droid into the room. "Cory will handle any of your needs."

"And the pilot?" Calista asked.

Banden chuckled again, "He's down by the docking ramps off-loading cargo. I'll let him know you're on the way and I'll handle any remunerations he may require..." Calista motioned to leave when Banden informed her, "For now at least. There are no free favours in this world. I will come knocking if you live through this."

"You'll get what you're owed," Calista's voice was smeared with venom, no longer playing the composed little princess.

“Trust me, I know.” Banden returned to his seat, boots resting on his desk. “Oh and princess, if you run into Felix, tell him his loan is overdue.”

The mention of Felix’s name caused Calista’s breath to hitch, the first sign of her level of distress.

Calista changed into the bright orange mechanic overalls Cory had given her while Koa riffled through the crate with her father's belongings.

"You know," Calista pulled the cloth that separated them. "I think I'd make a good mechanic." Calista tried to smile in the hopes it would ease Koa from her worries.

Koa looked up at her, fishing out a small blaster rifle and holster and tossed it to her, "A gift from our gracious business partner.” She was dressed in tattered clothes. Tears and holes peppering the purple cloak that obscured her viro-blade's sheath behind her back. Black boots scarred by scuff marks.

Calista buckled the worn holster around her thigh and waist, "You don't approve."

It wasn't a question, Koa hadn't tried to hide her feelings about this plan from the start.

"That's why you're the diplomat and I'm the shield," Koa said flatly, her fingers running over the knot-work ridges of an eye-catching necklace.

"It's beautiful," Calista moved closer, tying up her long hair into a professional bun that hid her auburn tinted ends.

Koa held up the chain to the light, the octagonal metal charm scattering the beams of light into an artificial rainbow. "I've never seen it before. I don’t think it belonged to my father." Koa tossed it back into the crate, her hands gripping the edges until her knuckles turned pale.

"Hey," Calista placed her hand over Koa's, urging her to let go. "Maligma won't hurt him, he's too valuable as a prisoner. We'll save him. I promise."

Koa ground her teeth together, before lifting up the box to carry, "Let's focus on getting you somewhere safe."

Calista glanced at their distorted reflection on a polished surface. With their hair concealed and their normal clothes cast aside, they shared a remarkable resemblance. Inattentive eyes would easily mistake them for cousins, even perhaps sisters. Despite their similar bone structure and eye slant, Koa was the more beguiling of the two, with her enviable height and toned build.

Koa pulled an old cap off a hook and fixed it over Calista's head, the brim shielding her eyes from view, "Now you look like a crew member on a pirate ship."

The ship hanger housed three star-ships. One was an old Mon Calamari cruiser that looked to be a former warship, probably salvaged by Murray and his thieves after the war. The other was a beaten up rust bucket with only one working engine, parts pulled from it for salvage and left to gather on the floor like a machines graveyard. The final ship was also a relic of the past, but the colourful paint job slapped on made it look a little newer, a little shinier. Bold letters ran across its side spelling out the word Somnambulist.

As Calista and Koa got closer, they heard the odd ramblings of an unfamiliar dialect. A stout, burly man with an extended belly, greasy hair and an unkempt beard was shouting up at someone working a plasma torch. Calista guessed by the grease-stained medals pinned to the man's small jacket that he was most probably their pilot, Odhen Boro.

Murray told them Odhen used to be one of the best pilots on their side of the quadrant, a veteran in the Resistance too, but he had quit right around the time the First Order popped up.

"Don't give me excuses, one-eyed wonder, you said you'd have the tailpipe fixed hours ago!" Odhen shouted up at a small creature standing on a ladder that had been wheeled under an engine thruster, his miniature frame dressed in a brown get-up.

"Is that a Jawa?" Koa leaned close to ask.

Calista hummed in thought, "I've never seen one, but the fiery attitude and loud shouting would seem to back up that assumption."

The Jawa moved his arms frantically about, his voice small and high pitched. It would have been adorable if not for the flesh searing torch he wielded recklessly.

"Yeah, yeah, don't give me that crap. Just get the damn thing fixed," Odhen ran a hand through his beard, curly follicles falling away at the contact. He stared down at the shed hair strands and groaned in disgust. "Great… next thing I'll start going bald."

The Jawa shouted something else and this time Odhen's nostrils flared, "Yeah, well you aren’t getting’ any younger either, pip-squeak!"

"Odhen Boro I presume?" Calista startled the two hot-tempered males.

Odhen scratched at his beard as he tried to place the strange women standing before him. The Jawa sighed and threw a bolt at him, shouting again in quick, unintelligible words.

The pilot grumbled something under his breath before wiping the engine fluid from his fingers onto his less than white shirt, "My mechanic over here tells me you're our haul. The princess and her bodyguard, right?"

Koa kept her eyes fixed on the Jawa, the initial wonder from seeing a new species still working its way through her mind.

"That's Ton-Ton, my mechanic who's living up to his title less and less with more time wasted. His chatterin’ droid is around here somewhere -lookout for anything that rolls," Odhen's voice was nonchalant as he made his way to the entrance. "I'm guessing the princess has never seen a Jawa before?" he asked as he started lugging crates to and fro.

"Uhh," Calista glanced in Odhen's direction, realising he had mistaken Koa for her. "Actually, no. Koa has never seen a Jawa before. Neither have I. I didn't think they ventured out so far from their homeworld."

"Usually not," Odhen grunted as he lifted another crate. "Ton-Ton has a penchant for getting into trouble. You all set?"

Koa walked past them, setting the crate down in the cargo hold.

"I should think so," Calista told him.

"You hear that Ton-Ton?" Odhen shouted out into the hanger. "We're all waiting on you!"

The Jawa replied in his native tongue and Odhen tugged on his sleeveless jacket in frustration, "What do you mean I can't afford a real mechanic? You're supposed to be a real mechanic!"

"Is this thing safe to fly?" Koa asked, staring up at the ceiling and the leaking pipes.

"This beauty hasn't killed me yet," Odhen said passively.

Koa and Calista shared a troubled glance. Their looks were deterred by the rumbling of unfastened items placed recklessly about the cargo hold. For a moment, everyone stood still, watching, waiting. Then the walls of the ship began to shake and the Jawa cried out as the ladder started to roll, his plasma torch falling to the ground and igniting a tarp on fire.

"What was that?" Koa asked, hands held out to steady herself.

Calista kept looking around as the shaking intensified, "They feel like micro-quakes."

"Seismic charges!" Odhen's eyes grew wide as shouted after the Jawa, "Ton-Ton get your scrawny little ass in here, we're about to have some very angry guests!"

The Jawa scurried on stunted legs dragging a red trolley filled with tools along with him, the flaming tarp left to itself. Ton-Ton shouted after Odhen just as the hanger bay’s ceiling caved in and a troop of Elites rappelled down, firing off rounds from their hand cannons. Their black armour forming one uniform black line in the distance.

"Forget about it, as long as we can take off without blowing up, it's not important!" Odhen waved the Jawa into the ship as he pressed the button for the cargo bay doors to close. A plasma round scorching a heated circular hole into the wall next to the pilot. "Hurry up, spanner head!"

The Jawa waddled faster, managing to get on board at the last second, his red trolley banging against a set of crates.

"Can one of you fly?" Odhen asked.

"I trained for three years but only with smaller fighters," Calista said.

"That don' matter, a seat is a seat," Odhen jogged heavily to the cockpit. "Come on."

Just as Calista made her way to follow, she noticed the Jawa pulling Koa below deck. A sign pointing down to the gun turrets was placed right above the maintenance hatch that Ton-Ton pried open with a wrench.

Odhen didn't bother strapping himself in as he flipped switches and spun the Somnambulist to the side so the turrets would face the advancing militia.

"Sit down, strap in and do as I tell you, kid."

Calista slid into the seat, buckling the seat belt. The ship groaned and shook as several blasts bombarded the outside walls.

"Easy there girl," Odhen smoothed the flat surface of the dashboard with his free hand while the other pushed the navigation stick to the side. He snapped on his headgear and tuned the station until the static turned into rapid-fired words coming out in Jawaese. "Stop clogging up the channels, Ton-Ton! I hear ya! It's not like I'm trying to get shot at on purpose!"

Odhen pressed the ignition button and the whole ship thrummed with new life. A spray of blaster fire hit at the windshield, "Hey shorty, try shootin' at somethin' will ya? I can't be the only one doin' the heavy liftin'." He barked into his headset, snapping his fingers at Calista. "Hey kid, turn us starboard to 45 degrees and then push down that switch so our flaps descend."

Calista followed his instructions, breathing deeply through her nostrils so she wouldn't lose her composure. The sound of the ships cannon's firing off was loud enough to send trembles through to her spine. She felt like she was inside the belly of a giant turbine.

Even though the advancing soldiers were out of view, the sound of explosions signalled that several of the Elite's forces had just been taken off the board. Calista squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, refusing to allow herself to feel any pity or remorse.

"Nice going buddy," Odhen cheered in the headset through shaky laughs. He tried the button for the hanger bay doors but it was unresponsive. Swearing under his breath, Odhen chimed into his headset. "Ton-Ton, I need you to blow up the hanger doors. The receiver isn't transmittin’."

More Jawaese filled the radio and Odhen simply pulled his headset over his ear. Noticing Calista's hand was shaking over the nav-stick he tapped her arm with two fingers. "Hey, kid," he snapped his fingers at her and she pried her eyes open. "I need you to stay focused. You're my co-pilot now. Can you handle that?"

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Calista nodded tightly, screwing her lips into a stern straight line, eyes focused on getting them out of the hanger and towards the horizon peaking over the blown open doors.

The Somnambulist took a hell of a beating as its parking legs folded into the base of the ship, its weight no longer grounded. The force of the attacking Elite's made the ship shake, the old bolts and screws groaning out.

Odhen punched the nav-stick as far down as it would go and the ship burst from the hanger at impressive speeds.

"I need you to keep a steady grip otherwise the torque will pull us into a tail-end spin," he informed Calista.

The ship tilted to the side, threatening to spin out just as he had warned, causing an animatronic scream to burst through the ship. The sound of tires rolling uncontrollably prompted Calista to peek at what was going on.

In the back, a legless droid seated atop another red trolley, rolled from an open compartment and into the stacks of boxes in the cargo hold.

"Woah!" The droid shouted as a crashing noise erupted.

Odhen clicked his tongue, "Damn droid..." He pulled his headset back over his ear. "Hey shorty, you forgot to secure your damn droid!"

In frustration, Calista peeled her headset off, trying to remain concentrated with flying instead.

Odhen raised a brow her way and she simply shrugged.

"He talks a lot."

"I hadn't noticed." Odhen laughed. "Alright kid, I'll take over from here. Hold on, I'm punching us into hyperdrive. Got any requests?"

"Anywhere as long as it's not here," she offered, palms running across her face as she let out a huff.

The stars raced across the screen like a thousand shooting stars raining around the ship. The Somnambulist had stopped groaning from all the offensive fire and was now groaning from the intense speeds it was flying at. The sounds were similar but also different, less nerve-wracking.

Calista sighed as she stood from the co-pilot seat, staring longingly at the dashboard. There had been a time when the prospect of flying a ship as large as this one would have brought her joy, but right now her heart was too heavy to allow anything other than despair in.

"You aren't such a bad shot," Koa's voice praised out to the waddling Jawa. Ton-Ton said something in his native tongue in response. Koa hummed flatly before answering: "I'll pretend I understood what you said."

"He said he thought you weren't so bad yourself," the animatronic voice spoke out. "I hope I'm not being too imposing but… would one of you help me up? I'd do it myself but I have no legs."

Koa looked to the droid in the cargo hold and walked towards him, disappearing from Calista's view. Following suit, Ton-Ton hobbled over, his arms waving about.

Odhen sighed before pulling off the headset and standing from the seat with much effort, his belly brushing against the dashboard.

"Let's go see what that’s about."

"I am immensely grateful... Miss?" The droid asked Koa as she pulled him into his trolley. The Jawa pulled out some tape from his long cloak and tried to affix the droids severed torso onto the trolley more securely.

"Knight-Captain Koa'lianu Kiddé." she greeted overly formally. “Koa for short.”

“Knight-Captain?” Odhen mouthed to himself.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Protocol Droid M8-T7 but my master calls me Watts and so does the Captain," Watts saluted at Odhen. "I must extend my deepest apologies to you both," Watts continued.

Koa squinted her eyes in confusion, "Why?"

"When my mobility device rolled away, I accidentally crashed into your box of personal belongings. I landed on this data chip storage device and crushed its outer casing," Watts held out the necklace from before. "I hope the casing wasn't sentimental to you."

"Data chip?" Koa asked, glancing at Calista with a bemused appearance.

Ton-Ton snatched the necklace from his droids hands before Calista had the chance. His small hands bringing the shiny metal object up to his singular eye, his voice muttering something in thought as he snapped the rest of the casing off.

"Hey, hey," Odhen pointed disapprovingly. “We talked about this. Don't go stealin' shiny things. That's the reason you ended up on my ship remember? Give it back to the princess…“ Odhen pointed at Koa who in turn looked at him with a furrowed brow, “So you can get to work on the lower hull, we may have a leak to fix remember?"

"A leak?" Calista asked frantically.

"Don't worry, the most damage it could do is--" Odhen was halted from his speech when the ship suddenly fell out of hyperdrive, the momentum of the sudden stop forcing everyone to jolt forward and brace onto something for support. "Drop us out of hyperspace. Damn." He finished with a glum expression and a snap of his fingers.

Ton-Ton rambled something, his tone indicating he wasn't about to do as Odhen asked.

Watts, seeing that Koa and Calista were unfamiliar with the ships dynamic, started translating, "Ah, it seems Master Ton-Ton believes I may have damaged the data chip, but he thinks he may be able to salvage whatever was on it if you give him permission."

"Well, Princess?" Koa cocked her head to the side, staring at the hyper-active Jawa. "The choice is yours."

"Princess?" Odhen sounded shocked. "Did you know she wasn’t the princess this whole time?" He asked Ton-Ton pointing at Koa again.

Ton-Ton replied with a dismissive wave as he started tinkering with the data chip.

Odhen gaped at his small friend, "And you didn't say anything?"

Calista knelt next to the Jawa, looking him in his one good eye and nodding hesitantly, "If this data chip was with your father, stands to reason there's something important on it. Play the message."

Ton-Ton pried a panel on the back of Watts's head, moving some wiring around before slotting the data chip into the droid's head.

A hologram of a miniaturised dancing Twi’lek appeared a few feet away, her body translucent and blue. The Jawa knocked Watts on the head with a spanner before shouting at him disapprovingly.

"Oops, terribly sorry, wrong recording," the droid apologised.

This time a new hologram filled the room. It was life-sized, blue and equally translucent yet somehow more alive than the one before.

Calista let out a chocked gasp as her eyes fell on the recorded version of her mother. She was just as beautiful as she remembered and even more regal in her favourite blue gown. Her long hair falling to her elbows, a blue pin the shape of a bird clipping two braids together.

Odhen whistled in the air, his eyes widening as he shifted to get a better look at her face. Koa walked over to place an encouraging hand on Calista’s shoulder.

"My daughter," the hologram began. "If you are watching this, then it is too late for me. I failed to see my plans come to fruition. Thesmora has always been peaceful, even during times of war and we have taken pride in that. But, I fear we may no longer be allowed to remain a neutral planet in this ever growing conflict. In truth, I do not believe we should.

I watched, helplessly, during the first war that ravaged his galaxy. I had the power to shift the balance and I chose not to do so. Yes, I had a responsibility to my people to keep them safe from the ravages of war, and I did that, but as a result, an entire planet was destroyed and we allowed a force of evil to continue its reign of terror on others.

Now that evil has returned, different and yet the same. My spies tell me the First Order is building a weapon of mass destruction, much like the one the Empire used to destroy Alderaan. I cannot in good conscience allow this evil to grow, I cannot stand back and use the safety of my people as an excuse again. We must declare allegiance. Maligma disagrees, I've never seen her so frightened before. I fear she may do something rash in her blind ambition to keep Thesmora out of this war."

Lenora's chin touched her collarbone as she took a strong and purposeful breath before looking up with steeled conviction and continuing on: "I have entrusted this data chip to Senator Kiddé, he is one of the few I trust unequivocally. The other is with Mokk-Toh. I sent him in my stead to be my voice and negotiate our terms with the Resistance. There is no one else I would trust to carry my words more."

A smile appeared on Lenora's face, "The data chips work as a set. Put them together and they reveal the location of several bomber star-ships intended for General Leia, as a show of good faith. Get this data chip to Mokk-Toh, the two act as beacons once separated. Follow the signal to his location… In case I'm not around to tell you this, know that I love you, always."

The hologram stopped and Calista stared into her mother’s face for what felt like an eternity, the silence disturbed by Odhen's dry coughing. Koa side-eyed him as he beat his chest, trying to clear his airways.

"Stop the recording," Calista's voice was feather-light.

Watts's mechanical eye stopped projecting the recording. The blue glow dissipating from the walls of the ship.

"Can you trace the location of the other beacon?" Calista asked the Jawa.

Ton-Ton nodded before going to work behind Watts. A spark and fizzle popping out before a new projection painted the room blue again.

Koa walked closer to the map to get a better look at the location of the beacon. Her finger hooked in a circle around her chin as she examined the map further. "I'm not familiar with these co-ordinates but this section of the map looks familiar."

Odhen grumbled when he looked at the map, "I don't know why it would. That's Takodana, a pirate haven. One of the few places free from the Resistance and First Order's squabblin'. It's not governed by the Cartels neither."

"Set a course, Captain," Calista said confidently, no longer kneeling on one knee.

"It'll take us some time since we can't initiate the hyperdrive without blowin’ ourselves up," Odhen rubbed the skin on his neck. "You may want to grab some shut-eye on the way, I'll go make sure we don't fly into any debris. Space is littered with broken chunks since they fired that Star-Killer... Ton-Ton come on. I don't pay you second mate rates for nothin'."

Ton-Ton spoke in his usual hurried tones.

"What do you mean I don't pay you?" Odhen banged on the roof of the cargo hold with a closed fist. "You got shelter over your head don't ya?" Odhen rolled his eyes and headed off. "Pssh, I don't pay you. Maybe I would if you didn't have a stomach the size of a bantha, ever think of that?" He grumbled to himself.

Ton-Ton fixed up Watts' exposed control panel, handed the necklace back to Calista and placed a long piece of piping in the droid's hands before going off to join Odhen in the cockpit.

"Master Ton-Ton says I am to show you two to the crew’s quarters," Watts pushed his trolled using the pipe as a rowing stick. "This way, follow me please."

The Resistance Base on D'Qar...

Poe was on the ground, his back pressed to a maintenance trolley, a torch held between his teeth as he worked on the modifications for Black One.

BB-8 beeped and chimed in happy tones as he rolled about next to the X-Wing.

Poe pulled the torch from his mouth when he said, "Hey BB-8 can you pass me the '44?"

BB-8 rolled over to the toolbox, clamping arm reaching out from its hidden compartment to grab the spanner but failing to get a grip. The droid beeped worriedly before a set of boots walked up to the toolbox and picked up the spanner instead.

"Here you go, Black Leader," Paige Tico's distinctive vibrato filled the empty hangar bay.

"Thanks," Poe smiled under the X-Wing, his hand reaching out to grab it. "When did you get back?"

Paige tapped her boots on the floor, "A while, I've been spending time with Rose. She worries."

Poe fixed the nut tighter and then dropped the spanner next to the toolbox, "Gimmie a hand?"

Paige wheeled the trolley out from under the jet, tossing him the rag that was on the stool.

"Thanks," Poe nodded, whipping the grease from his hands and under his fingernails.

"Missed a spot," Paige wiggled her eyebrows at the oil stain on his overalls.

Poe dabbed at the dark stains and sighed when he realised they were already dry, "Perfect." He drolled sarcastically.

Paige laughed.

"Don't laugh," despite his serious tone, a smile of its own was spreading across the Commander's face. "This is my second pair this month. The Resistance doesn't have the budget for it." He joked.

Paige rolled her eyes, "Sure, they can afford fancy X-Wing's but not a washing machine."

Poe huffed, dropping the rag in his toolbox, "You here for a reason Tico or just to eye my baby?" Poe patted his jet affectionately making BB-8 chirp and beep, "Don't worry buddy, I can have two favourites."

"Ah, the delusions of men," Paige hummed with a smug look on her face. "And no, you caught me on one of the rare occasions that I'm not trying to pester you into letting me take Black-One for a test run." Paige pointed her thumb in the direction of the exit. "The General sent me, she wants to see you in the CC."

Poe frowned, "You couldn't have gotten to that tidbit a little faster?"

Paige shrugged as she watched him and BB-8 race down the hanger, "Eh, it's more fun watching you sweat for it!" She shouted after them.

When she was alone, Paige allowed her eyes to look over the black X-Wing with a hungry expression. A whistle of appreciation leaving her cheeks as her hands glided over the cold metal. She whispered hopefully, stars in her eyes, "One of these days, baby."

Poe slowed his pace to a slow jog when he neared the command centre. An overlapping noise of voices and machinery and buttons being pressed bombarded his ears. It was starkly different from the isolation of the hangar bay. Poe was beginning to miss his time working on his star-fighter already. He was also a little disappointed he hadn't had the time to get cleaned up before seeing Leia.

"You wanted to see me, General?" Poe announced himself into the room.

Leia turned and smiled at him, her fingers beckoning him closer, "About time Commander."

The hologram of Maz Kanada died out just as he stepped into the room.

"An old friend tells me that some new allies may require our assistance," Leia informed him. "I need you to gather a handful of your best men and head for Takodana." Leia's brow crinkled as though she had forgotten something important. "Oh, and take one of the ships we salvaged after the incident with Hosnian Prime. Don't want to arouse any unwanted suspicion."

Poe pressed his palms to the table, leaning in closer, "Mind if I ask who exactly these new allies are?"

"Maz didn't say, but something tells me they'll be revealed to you when the time is right."

"Do they know we're coming?"

"That is also yet to be determined."

Poe had to restrain himself from sighing, his head drooping down as he tried to keep his wits about him, dark curls cascading around his face and skirting across the sensitive skin right above his brow.

Lieutenant Connix walked in with a data-pad in hand, "Mission reports, General."

"Have faith, Poe. Things unravel the way they're meant to." Leia glanced over her data-pad, streams of information scrolling past her eyes as she brought her knuckles to bear the weight of her chin while she assimilated the new information.

Poe nodded, lifting his weight off the table as he made for the door.

Leia's eye twitched when she read a section of the report.

"Commander," she called after him.

Poe swivelled in a fluid motion, eyes wide in question.

"Take Ensign Tico with you. Something tells me she could use a change of scenery." Leia smiled again, "And don't dally."

"By your orders General," Poe excused himself from the room and headed for the living quarters to fetch his men and clean the grease off his fingernails.

To be continued…

Taglist is open, just ask.

Permanent Tag List: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

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a-tragedy-told-in-metals · 4 years

Text

A Tragedy Told In Metals: Copper & Arsenic

Chapter: 2 link AO3

Playlist (Youtube) Playlist (Spotify)

Songs 4-8 apply to this chapter

CW: past child sexual abuse, past child abuse, vomiting, panic attacks

Toni jumped awake, her heart beating in her chest a million miles an hour. She glanced around to find what was attacking her, but she wasn't even sure what to look for. The racing calmed down as her eyes and mind adjusted to being awake, and she saw Rhodey standing in her room.

“Rhodey bear!” Toni pushed herself up “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Not kill you, just wake you up,” Rhodey said, sitting next to her on the bed

“You weren’t supposed to be coming today. Right?”

“No, but I was sent to give you this.”

Toni took a manila envelope from Rhodey and squinted at the writing in the dim light of her bedroom. Toi’s mouth ran dry at the words.

“They want my armour this bad,” Toni muttered.

“Well, yeah.”

“They can’t have it. I told them that months ago.”

“The US military is not big on the word ‘no’”

“I’m aware. “ Toni said through gritted teeth

“Look, I tried to tell them off, but I’m not exactly in a position to be telling the top brass what to do. Not to mention I’m known as a biased party.”

“I really don’t want to go in front of Congress.”

“They can subpoena people.”

“I know. But I’m just mad they think they have a right to my things. They are my things, what the fuck do they think they’re gonna do with it? They can’t even get their drones to shoot straight, they think they can understand the Iron Queen?”

“ I’m pretty sure they want to blow stuff up, they don’t care about understanding the tech. Not to mention this would bring Stark Industries back under the thumb of the military.

“Iron Queen has JARVIS built into it, no one knows about him.”

“Look I’m not saying give ‘em the full suit. But you do have to come to the meeting. For me?”

“Fine, whatever,” Toni grumbled.

“Thanks, baby girl.” Rhodey kissed the top of her head.

~~~~~

Toni was in her most official looking clothes, sitting on the stupid bench and being followed by both celebrity paparazzi and political news junkies. This is what always happens, everyone has to have an opinion. Having Happy and Rhodey backing her was nice; they made sure no creeps were right behind her. Rhodey gave her a reassuring smile from across the aisle. Toni just rolled her eyes back.

The Senators filed in, and Toni's stomach flopped when she spotted Stern amongst the assembled blowhards. The irritation she’d been carrying turned into thick repulsion.

The stupid hearing was called to start and Toni squeezed the edge of the seat hard to keep herself in the moment.

“Ms. Stark, we have called this hearing to discuss the matter of the weapon you call the Iron Queen armour. Do you understand?” Senator Williams, the head of the committee.

A spike of annoyance cut through the inky depths of shame and fear at his condescending tone “It’s not a weapon.”

“Then what is it, exactly?

“As you said, it’s armour. Not just some bomb or gun.”

A new Senator spoke, “We recognize it’s a complex weapon. Which is why we need it, this kind of tech could be so effective in the hands of people who have the ability to regulate it.”

“You don’t know how to regulate it-- also, since I’m the only one with it, isn't it already regulated?”

“Right now you’re the only one, but other people are already trying to replicate your weapon.”

A video of poor copies of her tech played over. The Senators listed the countries imitating her. None of them even had the repulsor tech to get the suits into flight. Not to mention none of them had a proper reactor; their poor copies of her arc reactor were dying before they could even get the first shot off.

“None of those people are even close to what I’ve made. Those aren’t a threat to anyone.”

“Right now none of them are. But you owe it to your country to allow us to have the tech to protect people. It’s what SI has been known to do, both Obadiah Stane and your father understood that. Your company has a history of patriotism, it would be a shame to let them down. ”

Toni glared at them. She stole a glance of Rhodey who had an expression that read “Oh fuck” and Toni took a deep breath.

“No, you see, I don't owe you anything. I said no more weapons sales and I meant it, and Iron Queen isn’t even Stark Industries property. I’ve been spending the last months giving back by protecting people and cleaning up the messes that Stark Industries has created, thanks to me and those men that you hold in such high esteem. By not giving it to you or anyone else, I'm already protecting people,” Toni said, her tone as measured as possible.

“But you have no right to monopolize this tech. A civilian shouldn’t have this power, especially not someone with your record of irresponsibility. Those suits are dangerous and rightfully belong to the government so you don’t cause any more mayhem. You will be compensated.” Senator Stern growled.

To her genuine surprise, her fear completely left her, rage burning through her veins instead as she stared down the man who had tried to rape her. She wanted more than anything to just punch him in his dumb, possessive mouth so he would never talk down to her again.

“Oh, but you see the armour and I are one and the same. I can’t give you just the suit. Buying the suit would be like buying me, a person. That sounds like prostitution which I’m sure the Senate doesn’t want to be a party too. Though now that I’m thinking about it, you have some experience in the area of buying women’s...no, girls’ bodies, don’t you Senator Stern?” Toni said, her voice sickly sweet and laced with venom.

Stern turned bright red and shouted “How dare you! You are accusing a United States Senator of such a thing?”

“Can we all calm down?” Senator Wiliams shouted

Toni leaned back in her chair and smiled. All the pompous dicks had their feathers all ruffled, it was kind of fun to cause such a fuss.

“Back to the topic at hand,” The now annoyed Senator Williams said, “I understand you have... reservations about sharing your work with us, but be advised we will continue to try and re-create your technology. Having your guidance would make the process run smoother.”

“Who are you having build it right now?” Toni asked, confused.

“Hammer tech.”

Toni snorted, they were so low on her radar. “Why even bother? They couldn’t make a Model One Stark phone without screwing it up.”

“Well, we don’t have many options considering you won’t work with us.”

“Then just stop trying to mess with things you don’t understand.” Toni shot back.

“Do you even understand what you are messing with, Ms. Stark? It’s dangerous to fly around in a weapon. People trained for combat should do it, don’t you think? You’re just not the right kind of person to operate this. Let people who understand national security and fighting wars handle this. You can handle the mechanics, that’s what you're good at. But you just don’t have the right temperament or skill set to do this.” Some really old man Toni had never seen before said fixing her with a faux kind look.

Yeah, no, he did not get to talk to her like that. Toni fixed the man with her best stare. “You never questioned if I knew what I was messing with when you got the stuff I built. You’re only butting in now because you don’t get to own it. You want to control it and use it in your wars, but for the thousandth time, Iron Queen is not a weapon to use in anybody's war. It's more than that. I built it to help people and to avoid collateral damage, not cause it. You don’t own me, or The Iron Queen armour. And you never fucking will!”

Toni stood up and turned to leave. Happy thankfully jumped in front of her to part the sea of bodies. The flashing lights threatened to blind her, but she fumbled forward. Getting in her car, she sat down and closed her eyes. Toni flinched slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s me, Toni,” Pepper said softly.

“Sorry for all that,” Toni said with a half laugh.

“Yeah, that’s gonna take some clean up. I think Rhodey is the one who’s gonna need an apology, though. He works with those men. Also, our PR department. They have to field the calls.”

Toni just grunted. Half way home they had to pull over for Toni to throw up her coffee. It was still humiliating to puke in front of Pepper, even if she had seen Toni wigged out and naked once.

~~~~~

Toni, Happy and Pepper were eating. The flight home from DC sucked. Toni had thrown up and then fallen asleep. But now the headache had faded enough for her to no longer feel like her head was spinning.

“You wanna let us know what all of that was?” Happy said gruffly.

“What do you mean? I just hate assholes like that.” Toni shrugged.

“Toni you were like the walking dead on the way home and threw up. That’s not just pissed off behaviour.”

“It’s just complicated and stupid.”

“Just tell us. If we couldn’t handle complicated then we wouldn’t be your friends.” Pepper replied

Toni looked up. The real reason she had lost control was because facing man who tried to rape he head on was not fun. Add on to that, the last man had sounded too much, too much like Obie. It hadn’t registered right away but now it was clear. And of course, she really hated people wanting to use her, it felt shitty.

“Yeah, it wasn’t.”

“What was it?” Pepper said.

“Stern, he’s the man who... who drugged me that time Fury got me out. I wasn’t just being an ass, he really tried to buy me off to fuck him with drugs.”

“Bastard.” Happy muttered under his breath.

Toni half smiled at that. She met Pepper’s sympathetic expression and Happy mad on her behalf. She could tell them now. It was an opening, as organic a time as there ever would be. It wasn’t something they had to know, but they were her family. Toni wanted them to know, really.

“That’s not all though. It’s them wanting to use me, I’m tired of people always just wanting to control me.”

“I understand...” Pepper started.

“No, you don’t. Obi...Stane, you know he tried to kill me and stuff, but that’s not really the worst part. Starting when I was ten he...” Toni shuddered tears starting to flow from her eyes she looked away from both of them, “He sexually abused me till I was twenty. Do you remember when I thought I was pregnant Pep? He would have been the father.”

Pepper gasped bringing her hands to her mouth. Happy’s hand hit the counter with a grunt.

Staring at them, looking like they were in so much pain, Toni faltered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I'm sorry,” was all she could think to say.

“God Toni, why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Pepper said.

To Tony's surprise, Happy brought her into a bone crushing hug, eliciting a small squeak from her.

“Sorry.” Happy said releasing her.

“It’s fine, you just caught me off guard,” Toni said giving him a smile.

“Why didn’t...why didn’t you tell us before?” Pepper asked.

Toni blew a harsh breath from her mouth, “I didn’t know it was wrong for a long time. I mean, I loved him, and I was ten, so I just assumed it had to be okay. It’s what am I good at anyway, ya know? So even when I realised it was kinda hinky for a grown man to have sex with an eleven-year-old I figured I’m a slut anyway, so how could it matter? I also assumed no one cared, or that you’d be mad at me, and if someone did do something I had no idea what I would do if someone took him away. It felt like it was my fault, still does a lot. I had to have done something wrong.. And I promised to never tell, so I didn't ever tell. I literally never told anybody until he died, I just let him do it.”

“Toni, it’s not your fault okay? And you’re not a slut. No one has the right to make someone else have sex with them,” Pepper said.

“And the only people who do that to kids are scum.” Happy said with a nod and an air of finality.

“Thanks,” Toni said.

It was nice to have people listen to her. She felt a tug in her chest, but it wasn’t sentimentality or rage. It was the burn of corroding skin.

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