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thecreaturecodex · 3 years

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Warduke

“Dungeon 105 Cover” by Wayne Reynolds, © Paizo Publishing

[I keep getting distracted by retro villains! I wasn’t born during the 80′s D&D boom, so I missed the action figures and the cartoon growing up. I did subscribe to Dungeon Magazine, though, and issue 105 wasn’t my first, but it might have been my second or third. It certainly made an impression on me. Warduke is the Boba Fett of D&D (quiet, cool helmet, more badass in later appearances than the original canon, first appeared as a toy). And so Warduke appeared twice in my various campaigns in high school and undergrad, once in a prehistoric game (as an ophidian), and once in the Age of Worms. Both left a high body count in their wake. The Age of Worms rendition even managed to kill the same character twice in one round.

This version of Warduke is based on the Dungeon Magazine 3.5 version, with a few major tweaks. The shift from 3.5 to Pathfinder was kind to fighters in general and shield bash builds in particular, and he takes advantage of many Pathfinder-exclusive feats. I dislike the idea that Warduke’s glowing eyes are fiendish grafts, so I dropped that (it’s all about that helmet). Speaking of the helmet, I did make it a unique item, but not an artifact as it was in the Dungeon version. Understandably, Warduke is something of a cypher personality-wise, but I figured I’d give him a little backstory. Feel free to ignore it. In addition to Boba Fett, my main inspirations here were Angel Eyes (the “bad” from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly) and the Dread Pirate Roberts.

And yes, I realize that my version of Warduke is stronger than my Venger, which may upset D&D cartoon purists. I like Warduke better.]

Warduke CR 18 NE Humanoid (human) This man’s face is concealed within a dark, bat-winged helmet, revealing only glowing eyes. He is powerfully muscled, revealing his physique under a set of mismatched armor and a fur belt. He carries a heavy sword in one hand, a round shield engraved with a horned, fanged skull in the other.

Warduke is the soldier’s bogeyman. He has fought a thousand wars, killed ten thousand men. He is a mercenary, bounty hunter and assassin par excellence, who slays lesser opponents with a blow and can challenge even the stoutest adventurers.This much is true, but claims that he has lived for centuries or is unkillable are greatly exaggerated, and there is as much myth as man about him. “Warduke” is a title, not a name. Anyone who wears the signature blue steel helm of Warduke, set with three gems and causing the wearer’s eyes to glow in a sinister fashion, can theoretically claim the title. It is even possible that multiple versions of this helm circulate, and there are multiple Wardukes simultaneously on different worlds.

The current Warduke is driven by selfishness and greed above all other goals. Warduke does have a claim to nobility—he was a minor lord who preferred to train in warfare than in statecraft, who was obsessed with the legend of Warduke upon learning that Warduke’s Helm was kept in his kingdom as a trophy. He stole the helm after murdering its keepers, and assumed the title of Warduke after forsaking his previous life. Those who knew of his former identity were slain to keep the secret. Warduke is a cynic and pragmatist, and he kills for the highest bidder. He calls his sword Nightwind.

Warduke favors attacking enemies while they are weak—after a long battle, when emerging from a dungeon, or while at camp. He has no sense of duty, honor or humanity. He is not so foolish as to believe he is capable of fighting all battles by himself, however, and may travel with other cutthroats to act as ranged or magical support. Warduke doesn’t have much loyalty for these associates; he knows he can always buy the services of others if he needs them. Likewise, he does not retain loyalty to a patron once his job is done—his next job may very well be to revenge his previous mission, or betray them if he has learned a valuable secret.

Warduke’s Helm (wondrous item) Price 57,390 gp; Aura moderate conjuration and transmutation; CL 11th Warduke’s Helm grants its wearer 60 foot darkvision, and makes their eyes glow bright red as a consequence. This grants the wearer a +5 competence bonus on Intimidate checks. Once per day as a full round action, the wearer of Warduke’s Helm can attune the helm to a location, as if casting the word of recall spell. From that point, the wearer of Warduke’s Helm can transport himself, allies and goods as per word of recall. Warduke’s Helm can only be attuned to one location at a time. The Helm is cursed—it does not function for any wielder of non-evil alignment

Construction Requirements Cost 28,695 gp; Craft Wondrous Item, darkvision, word of recall, creator must have 10 ranks in Intimidate

Warduke CR 18 XP 153,600 NE Medium humanoid (human) Human fighter 18 Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +4 Defense AC 36, touch 15, flat-footed 32 (+3 Dex, +12 armor, +6 shield, +2 natural, +2 deflection, +1 insight) hp 211 (18d10+108) Fort +21, Ref +13, Will +16; +5 vs. fear DR 3/- Defensive Abilities bravery +5, fortification (75%), freedom of movement Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee Nightwind +35/+30/+25/+20 (1d8+17 plus 1d6 fire/17-20), +4 bashing shield +37 (1d6+14) Ranged dagger +25 (1d4+13/19-20) Special Attacks weapon training (heavy blades 4, close 3, light blades 2, axes 1) Tactics During Combat If Warduke does not feel threatened by opponents, he begins a fight with Dazzling Display to demoralize foes and weaken their defense against him. If enemies are more prepared, he waits to intimidate instead with his Dreadful Carnage feat. Warduke prefers to close with enemies and stay close, using Shield Slam to isolate his prey and Step Up to remain in melee reach. He always uses Power Attack, unless he misses with three or more attacks per turn. Morale Warduke is not stupid, and retreats from a losing fight using his helm. Statistics Str 28, Dex 16, Con 22, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 13 Base Atk +18; CMB +28; CMD 45 (49 vs. disarm, sunder) Feats Combat Reflexes, Dazzling Display, Dreadful Carnage, Furious Focus, Improved Critical (longsword), Improved Initiative, Improved Shield Bash, Intimidating Prowess, Iron Will, Missile Shield, Power Attack, Shatter Defenses, Shield Focus, Shield Master, Shield Slam, Step Up, Stunning Assault, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (longsword), Weapon Specialization (longsword) Skills Acrobatics +13, Climb +19, Intimidate +30, Knowledge (local) +12, Ride +10, Survival +16, Swim +19 Gear belt of physical might +6 (Str, Con), headband of Wis +6, Warduke’s Helm (see above), Nightwind (+3 flaming human-bane longsword), +4 bashing light steel shield, +3 glamered adamantine full plate of moderate fortification, ring of freedom of movement, ring of protection +2, cloak of resistance +4, amulet of natural armor +2, boots of speed, gloves of dueling, dusty rose prism ioun stone, bag of holding type I, flying ointment (x2), silversheen (x3), dust of appearance, potion of cure serious wounds (x3), 4 daggers, 900 gp SQ armor training 4, exceptional resources, inherent bonuses Special Abilities Exceptional Resources (Ex) Warduke has ability scores built with 25 points of point buy, and has treasure equivalent to an 18th level player character. This increases Warduke’s CR by 1. Inherent Bonuses (Ex) Warduke has accepted wish spells as payment for his dark deeds, gaining a +2 inherent bonus to his Strength and Constitution scores.

#warduke #D&D #npc #pathfinder 1e #nostalgia

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eastofthemoon · 3 years

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A Paladin in the Fire Nation

Chapter 1

Rating: PG

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender/Avatar the Last Airbender

Summary: After the fight with Zarkon, Shiro accidentally gets tossed into another reality where humans have the ability to bend the elements. His best shot at returning home is with someone called the Avatar, while he waits he might as well take on the job of being the Firelord's bodyguard.

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Shiro groaned. Despite his body feeling sore, he forced himself to sit up as he held his head.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered.

Then he recalled. The fight with Zarkon. All of the paladins in Voltron.

And it suddenly dawned that he was not in the Black Lion. His eyes opened wide and panic struck when he saw his armour had been removed and he was in his black bodysuit.

His heart started to race.

Was I captured? No, no, not again!

Frantically, Shiro scrambled to his feet but his fear began to subside as he looked around. He was in a cell, but it was clear it wasn’t a Galra one.

In truth, it seemed like an old fashioned prison cell he had seen in museums on Earth. He frowned as he walked over to the bars and tapped one of them before he gripped it.

It looks like regular iron, Shiro thought.

If that was the case he could probably bend them easily with his cybernetic arm and escape, but it was probably better to wait until he knew exactly where he was.

Could the others be here too? Shiro thought. Did I end up on another planet?

“Hey, I hate to interrupt your deep thinking, but might be wise to look over here.”

Shiro jumped and looked to the right. He spotted a person that assumed to be his guard. The person seemed female, and although he didn’t recognize the red and black armour there was something else that stunned him.

He blinked as he pointed at her. “Are...are you human?”

The woman raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Yes, last time I checked.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Are there other humans here?”

At this the woman leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “No, the rest of the palace is operated by moose lions.”

Shiro sighed. “Are you serious or are you joking?”

The woman dropped her arms. “Um..clearly joking?” She stepped forward. “Did you honestly think I was serious?”

“I’ve seen weirder,” Shiro admitted, not that he knew what a moose lion was.

With that said, was it possible he ended up on a planet that also somehow had humans? It seemed unlikely, but a few years ago Shiro also would have said that of giant robot lions.

The woman looked ready to say something else when footsteps approached. The woman stood straight and saluted.

An older man appeared, wearing similar armor to the woman.

“At ease, Ling,” the man said with his hands tucked behind his back. “I merely came to see if the intruder has woke up”

“Yes, sir,” she replied and pointed, “and he has, Sir.”

The man turned and his eyes instantly narrowed upon seeing Shiro.

“I am Admiral Jee,” he stated firmly while keeping his arms behind his back. “Who are you?”[1]

Shiro straightened his own posture. “I’m Takashi Shirogane.”

“We found you unconscious in the royal gardens,” Jee said as Ling was as still as a statue. “Gave the servants quite a fright. Mind telling me what you were doing there?”

“It was just me?” Shiro asked.

“Yes,” Jee said as he stepped closer, “unless you are saying there were supposed to be others with you?”

“No,” Shiro replied quickly.

Last thing he needed was further suspicion, but that did answer one vital question. The other paladins weren’t here as well. He was likely alone.

The man didn’t look convinced, but stepped back.

“In any case I was instructed to bring you to the Firelord once you’ve awoken for questioning.” He sharply turned to Ling. “Go fetch the handcuffs and some robes for him.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ling said as she marched off.

They were left in silence, but thankfully it didn’t last long as Ling returned with the items. Jee took the robes and passed them through the bars.

“I don’t know what kind of clothing you were wearing under your armour but I imagine this grants you some more dignity,” Jee said.

“Um, thanks,” Shiro said as he took it.

The robes were a bit shabby and not exactly high class, but they were still better than his prison uniform the Galra used. He tossed the uniform over his current clothes as Jee unlocked the cell while Ling held out the handcuffs.

Shiro flinched at the sight of them but ignored the stirrings of memories as he let Ling put the cuffs on. Shiro pulled at them slightly and felt relaxed. The cuffs, like the bars, were made out of regular metal. It wouldn’t take Shiro much effort to break free if he had to.

Jee stared at Shiro with narrow eyes. “Don’t try anything funny.”

“Don’t plan to,” Shiro said honestly as Ling escorted him out of the cell. They walked in silence out of the dungeon and into the hallway.

Neither said a word as they three of them walked, but a few more humans who walked by cast Shiro with a curious glance.

Their clothing style was odd. It was both familiar and yet unfamiliar. It was like Shiro was seeing real life pages from his grandfather’s history book, and yet it didn’t quite feel like he was on Earth.

Shiro was forced to stop pondering as they approached a large pair of doors.

“Wait, here,” Jee instructed as he opened and shut it quickly behind him.

Ling kept a tight grip on Shiro until the doors opened again and Jee gestured for them to enter. Ling shoved Shiro forward, and he obeyed.

There were only four other people in the room. Two were guards stationed at the door, and two others were sitting at the far end of the room. One was an older man with a beard, nex to him was a younger man sitting in the centre.

His eyes were glaring at Shiro like a cat waiting to swipe back if need be. Shiro had to assume he was this Firelord. However what really caught Shiro’s attention was the large burn that took up half of his face.

He can’t be much older than Keith, Shiro thought grimly. What kind of accident burned him that badly?

Shiro didn’t have time to ponder as he was forced to halt and kneel on his knees.

“I am Firelord Zuko,” the young man spoke tensely. “Who are you?”

Shiro swallowed as he straightened his posture.

“My name is Takashi Shirogane.”

“We found unconscious inside the royal palace,” Firelord Zuko continued as he leaned forward. “Who sent you?”

“No one sent me,” Shiro replied.

“Then why did you come here?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Firelord Zuko raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t mean to?” He gave a huff. “You honestly expect to believe you got by my guards and just wandered into my palace by accident?!”

Shiro sweated. Yeah, he had to admit it did look bad.

“Tell me the truth,” the Firelord Lord demanded.

“I am telling the truth,” Shiro repeated.

“Do you think I'm foolish enough to fall for that?!” the Firelord cried looking ready to stand up.

“No I don’t,” Shiro replied.

“Then tell me why you are here!”

“I don’t know,” Shiro shot back, his words echoed in the room.

The Firelord’s eyes, but Shiro noted the older man looked at him with a tight frown.

Shiro took a deep breath to calm himself. “Listen, this is a misunderstanding.”

“Is it now?” Firelord Zuko asked.

“Yes,” Shiro said as he straightened his posture. “I’m not an enemy, I'm a Paladin of Voltron. I’m sorry for my intrusion, but it was an accident. I mean your people no harm.”

Firelord Zuk blinked and seemed surprised by the answer. “And what exactly is a paladin?”

Shiro frowned. “What?”

“And where is Voltron?” Zuko continued. “It does not sound like a Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom town.”

“It’s not a town,” Shiro began but then stopped himself. They had never heard of Voltron. Did that mean-

“Does the word ‘Galra’ mean anything to you?” Shiro quickly asked.

The Firelord’s eyes twitched. “You just said you were from Voltron? And now you’re saying you’re from ‘Galra’?! Which is it?”

Oh boy, Shiro thought. How do I explain this?

The older man sitting next to the Firelord cleared his throat. “Firelord Zuko, perhaps we should save this interrogation for later.”

The Firelord turned to the man and pointed to Shiro. “Why? We have him right here-”

“And you also have the meeting with the royal treasurer,” the man replied and pointed to Shiro. “You know how she does not like being late and I believe you will need more time to question Mister Shirogane.”

Firelord Zuko frowned and then sighed. “Very well,” he said and looked back at the guards. “Take him back to his cell for now.”

“Yes, my lord,” Jee said with a bow as Ling pulled Shiro up to his feet.

Shiro said nothing as he was escorted out of the room and stole one more glance at the Firelord.

Shiro didn’t know where he was, but he had a feeling it was going to be tricky to get back home.

1 Is this Lieutenant Jee from Zuko's crew during season 1? Yes. Do I think it would have been nice for his crew to reappear in the show at some point? Yes, I do. Did I decided to correct this by making him an Admiral and taking over Zhao's position. Yes, yes I did.

Notes: Normally I wait until I have the full story written, but I couldn't resist posting at least the beginning chapters I have. I can't promise a weekly schedule, but I will try to work and update it as much as I am able.A few notes. 1. This takes place right after season 2 of Voltron and partly during season 3, while on the Avatar side it takes place three years after season 3. 2. I am ignoring the Avatar comics simply because I really didn't care for how they turned out so don't expect any mention of them here. It's just based on the three seasons of the show. 3. Except for some background Sokka/Suki I'm not putting any ships in this. I got enough happening in this story, and I didn't want to be bog down by any romance. The canon ships just decided they were better off as friends for the time being.

#vld #atla #voltron #takashi shirogane #vld gen #zuko #my writing #a paladin in the fire nation

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the-mercurial-star-o-vesper · 3 years

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1, 2, 3, 4, and Jaaaam~!

As time of writing, I’ve faced off and beaten 1010 on Normal. Wooo~!

So, more 1010 stuffz!

Either through updates or I've merely been watching play throughs with turned down graphics; Having now played the section, the 1010 battle and cutscene sprites now have their eyes the proper matching color. However, at this point, I ain't gonna discount or discourage the "White Eyes Synch" HC.

Turns out, according to Kliff’s brief, Neon J had been a Captain of the Cruiser. Now I don’t know about the time frames of the Royal Malaysian Navy, but for US Navy, it takes a collective of 21-23 years (at an estimate) to get to rank of Captain [No idea if this means starting at the rank of Seaman Recruit or starting as an O1; either way this dude was a full eagle]. Means, Neon J was in the military for a loooong time.

So, when you destroy a member of 1010, they leave remains behind that can be transformed to face off against other members of 1010 or as something benefitial for the PCs. Fanfic Writers, do with this as you may.

So only White (Rin) and Red (Zimelu) have parry attacks. Meaning they're the guys our PCs are more likely to go after first (The designated Leader; and the persumed more combative or warlike 1010 member / Bad Boy).

Barraca Mansion also has those five colored portraits.

The section of Metro Division leading up to the Boss Fight is just covered in dance-dance games.

According to the NSR-Post, type 4 Battledroids are still in service, and do in fact have background memories to hold in combat. In a previous post, I've already speculated that 1010 may have Neon J's memories...

Consider what it took to actually get to the boss fight. That's not just one limo, that's an entire floating fuckin escort with god damn canons. And not all of them were cars, half of em were akin to the Battleship Limo. Basically, Neon J didn't just command one ship, he had an entire fuckin Fleet.

Part of Neon J’s voicelines do call 1010 “robots”.

I know the section was mean to play for laughs, as a break from the character driven plot, but really reeeeally look at this level: - When you defeat a body of 1010, you can transform the remains to go against the other members. - You are actively being photographed / recorded fighting and doing all this damage to 1010. - The fact that Neon J acknowledge Yinu and had an entire escort, means he already knew you were coming and was actively preparing to face you - Which is probably why he had his factory out. Let's face it, 1010 are Battledroids with weapons included, and most folks don't even come to their stomachs in height. Unless a fan is wearing full Halo MJOLNIR power armor and wielding a Fallout Fatman, you don't need to break out an entire robot factory if anything happens. Plus, shields. Neon J knew that BBJ were coming, and prepared accordingly, hell, 1010 was actively waiting on you (even though none of it was enough) - Consider everything. Neon J was a captain who faced what might've been some pretty historically bloody and brutal wars, and while he did break out weapons... ... None of these weapons do ANY personal or permanent harm to you / BBJ. Not even the sawblades or the missiles. ... Hell, consider the jump over. Nearly none of the other boss security levels have flash when you fall off edges, you just sorta pop back up, but 1010's? There's a red flash that pops up when you fall off, as if something was actively teleporting you back on to the car platforms. ... Think there might be a chance that, while Neon J knew you were arriving, he might have had more sympathies for BBJ than previously considered? ... Consider 1010. A Mohawk (Red) is, after all, a very Rock based Hairstyle. And Yellow? Its a pompadour, a "Rockabilly" hairstyle. How bout Blue's Lennon Specs (The Beatles were a Rock Band)... And the biggest boy bands of the 60s were Rock Band. ... Neon J goes over the top with his loyalties to NSR, like, uber over the top. And even the game acknowledges that he's paranoid. Its almost like he's playing a Role...

Time. According to descriptions found by playing Zuke, NSR (at least) takes place after the 90s. While for Neon J, he has fought since the 60s (68; It sounds like he might’ve just gotten out of basic training, the way he talks). This leaves a 30-40 year time frame to consider. Take into consideration, however, that this world has flying battleship cars, robots, a virtual idol that isn’t holographic glass, and folks have duper supernatural powers. This could be in the 2100s or more for all we know.

A Change of Pace, HEADCANON TIME!

White is the Default Droid. Not so much in 1010, but in battledroid standards. You program in what you want the bot to be or do after the fact, and the color will indicate such. All battledroids have combative abilities, but their out of combat jobs are: - Red - Maintenance. (Believe it or not, a saw is pretty useful on a ship) - Blue - Parade (?). I mean, batons? - Green - Grenadier is kinda hard to find outside of the niche combat, but consider Fallout GOAT. Probably does a lot of background jobs, like laundry. - Yellow - Missiles. Probably a Bridge stationed bot, and does a lot of calculations. Missiles are a calculated effort to aim and launch. They're not Grenades where you pull the pin, and hope that it only goes off at the designated 5 seconds (and not sooner). - White - Default, and as we've seen with Rin, probably the kind that commands or acts as VIs (Virtual Intelligence, basically a smart interface).

1010 = Superhero fighting squad Oh please, a bunch of "young men" with color coded appearances and color coded weaponry, lead by a Captain with a Factory that actively replaces their bodies? And you're telling me they're ONLY a boy band? These dudes are fighting crimes like the god damn Power Rangers with all that equipment.

Neon J supported BBJ Consider all the above suggested. The Dude knew full feckin well that NSR wasn't the greatest of the great, and half the 1010 level proved that he was pretty much prepared for your arrival, and possible his own defeat. Let's face it, the dude was a Captain for a long damn time, and like commanded a small fleet in that time (not unlike the 1010 Level). You don't do stuff like that without some major strategy and awareness, ESPECIALLY, if you've survived entire wars and terrifying / inhuman conditions. Plus consider his over exaggerated speech. With all the evidence in mind, and all the visuals, the dude was definitely playing up his NSR schtick. There was nothing stopping him from just unleashing an entire army of invulnerable and shielded 1010 bots to root you out and stomp on you mercilessly. Believe me, this dude had the resources, the weapons, and the experience, to put out two brat indie bandmates.

He threw the fuckin fight.

... Though I'm pretty sure he didn't like the Breaking Yinu's Piano Part. At least for everyone else it was either a justified humiliation or just... unplugging stuff, not outright destroying priceless heirlooms. Notice how that's the only thing he mentions, and he's the only Megastar to take into account another Megastar (and that's excluding Tatiana).

1010 Memories The dance, the shared voice, the synchronization; oh yeah, 1010 probably had a share of Neon J's memories (though likely not all of them).

This goes hand in hand with the popular Fanon that 1010 were based on former Squadmates of Neon J's.

ITS CYAN Sorry, but we've seen the direct difference in Sayu's fight with the Glowsticks and we see Purl-Hew's bright cyan blue next to an actual neon Blue. Purl-Hew is Bright Cyan Blue, he's not Regular Blue. ... So you see, I like color theory and have a set and unbreakable idea of color patterns.

Rin's weapons I believe Rin's capabilities is Synchronization with his bandmates, and the capacity to use Shields. Remember that there is no Rin phase for the Factory, and the shields fall out of the fight immediately after Rin is perma-defeated. Plus, the quasi-Purple-Magenta color matches Rin's poster seen in both the fight and on Barraca Mansion.

#no straight roads #1010 (nsr)#neon j

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grumpyhedgehogs · 3 years

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something old, something new

Summary: Cody meets Luke. It stirs up mixed emotions. Cody also gets a mission; it's not any more straightforward. AO3. Part 4 of the “scraps” series. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5.

Warnings: Grief/mourning, anger, canonical character death.

Cody meets Obi-Wan’s last padawan on a rebel base after he’s just signed up for a covert mission onto the Death Star.

His limbs shake. His spine tingles; heat and chills flash alternately over his skin. Cody feels sick bubble up his throat but swallows it as best he can. His vision is blurry around the edges. He can’t quite believe what he’s agreed to. He’s been running from the Empire for months, picking off Imps at a distance for months, avoiding the void in space that is the Death Star for months. But the rebel commanders are right; Cody is the best person to go back in. He’s the best undercover operative they have on hand. He’s already familiar with trooper regs, and he’s used to filling out the armor. His face, while recognizable as Jango Fett’s copy, is not uncommon among Imps. Cody is the best choice. It still turns his stomach.

He wonders if this is how Obi-Wan felt before the Hardeen incident. General Windu had told Ponds offhandedly that Kenobi had asked to veto the mission but was overruled by the need to save Chancellor Palpatine, and Ponds had let Cody know too. Cody wishes they’d just let him die.

He’ll have to leave behind his armor. His own logo has spread, first to Rex's chest piece, then Ahsoka had carved it into her vambraces, then any clone the rebels rescued seem to have the lightsaber and 212th insignias overlapping on their armor somewhere. It makes it a little easier to strip off his own armor, knowing the symbol will still be upheld when Cody isn’t wearing it. It still feels like a betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” Cody whispers to any Jedi spirits who might still be listening. “I’m sorry. I keep failing you.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Cody doesn’t jump, but his hand is on his blaster when he turns. A man not much older than boyhood stands at the entrance to Cody’s bunk; it’s not odd to see strangers on the base, everyone moves in and out as needed, but most people don’t stop to chat. Especially not with Cody. He thinks they might not be used to seeing someone so old fighting with them.

“You ever knock?”

The kid’s face, round and tanned and youthful, falls a little. “There’s no door,” he mutters, petulant. Cody is reminded absurdly of General Skywalker at the beginning of the wars. He shakes it off.

“What’d you need?” He has to get to packing. Cody bends down and picks up the repurposed trooper armor he’d been given for the assignment. The stark, empty whiteness mocks him. He longs for his own armor; his own trooper stuff or his 212th outfit, it doesn’t matter. At least they’re his . This costume he must don belongs to a dead man.

“I just heard you talking and wanted to know if you needed to talk to someone.”

“You go looking for conversations with strangers often, kid?”

The kid shakes his head, blond hair flopping in his face as he does. There’s a strange, familiar little smile on his face as he says, “Sometimes I just get these feelings about things.”

The smile is what does it, it's so like Obi-Wan's. It hits Cody like a blaster bolt between the eyes. He wobbles on his feet and the kid takes a surprised step forward, ready to assist, but Cody holds up his hand and regains his balance. He still feels shaky, and he ends up lowering himself onto his bunk. It’s reminiscent of all those months ago when he made the decision to desert; reflexively, he reaches over and tugs the robe from where he’d folded it after removing it from his armor. Cody pulls it into his lap and tries not to look directly at the young man. “You--Kenobi saved you from the Death Star. You and the Alderaanian princess.”

“Wh--yes,” the kid says. “How did you know that?”

“I was there.”

Blue eyes dart to his discarded armor, to his weathered face, to the new stormtrooper armor he’ll have to wear. He can see the gears turning before the kid blurts out, “You deserted?”

That's one way to look at the chip deactivating. Cody nods. The blond grins widely. “That’s great! Gosh, I knew not all of the Empire could be evil.”

“Enough of it is.”

He seems to shrug this off as he steps further into the room. He sticks his hand out to Cody. “I’m glad to meet you. My name’s Luke Skywalker.”

It takes everything in Cody not to crush his hand in surprise. He lets go hastily. “Where’d you get a name like that?”

“Tatooine. I’m named after my father, but I never met him. If you--you knew Kenobi?” Cody nods, numb. “He was from Tatooine too. He trained me in the ways of the Jedi before we got to the Death Star.”

No he’s not , Cody wants to say. He’s from Coruscant. He’s Stewjoni but he doesn’t remember any of that place and he grew up in the Temple on Coruscant. His padawan was Anakin Skywalker. Who are you?

But it’s all clicking in his head the minute he thinks of these questions. Skywalker, the former slave. He used to avoid sand like the plague. He never talked about his home planet. Amidala had been pregnant. Obi-Wan disappeared, presumed dead by most of the Empire, for years.

What was the one place Skywalker would never return to on pain of death?

“Clever,” Cody mutters. He waves off Luke’s confused expression. Cody focuses, evaluating, and Luke shifts on his feet, ducks his head. He’s wearing the orange flight suit of the rebel pilots, but he’s too skinny and it’s baggy on him. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s going to follow in his father’s footsteps to the Dark side. “I knew Obi-Wan in the wars, before the Empire. He was my general and I was his commander.”

“Really? That's so wizard! Can you tell me more about him?” Luke asks eagerly. His intensity is a little overwhelming. Cody picks up the new armor and starts strapping it to his legs over his blacks. He can’t stand to put on the new chest piece before he has to.

“I’ve got a mission.” He cuts Luke off shortly. His head pounds, his heart pounds. Obi-Wan would say he’s being rude. He is being rude. “Sorry.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s okay.” Cody doesn’t look up. Luke sounds like the shinies used to, all nervous and fearful of rejection. The sound clamps tight around his lungs. “It’s just that he knew my father but he didn't talk a lot about him. I was hoping…”

Cody looks up then, and rage blazes through him. He remembers Vader’s saber slicing through someone beloved, he remembers the black cloud of misery and death sweeping away, he remembers those loathed hands curling around the hilt of a trusted weapon. He looks up and Cody is ready to scream, to fight, to sink his teeth in and hold on.

He meets guileless blue eyes and a slight, kind smile. It’s a smile he’s used to seeing on a dead face. Cody’s mouth shuts with a click.

(This child doesn’t know his father. This child barely knew Obi-Wan. Cody trusts Obi-Wan still, at least enough not to break this child’s trusting idealism. There’s a reason for everything Obi-Wan did.)

“I didn’t know Skywalker personally.” He mutters, looking away. When he catches Luke sagging out of the corner of his eye, guilt gnaws at Cody. He amends, “I only met him during missions. He was a good fighter. Obi-Wan cared a lot about him. They were--people called them The Team, they were so good together.”

“Wow,” Luke breathes. There’s a ruckus outside, a group of fellow pilots and soldiers rushing past, but he doesn’t waver from his study of Cody’s tight expression. “Thank you.”

“Obi-Wan raised you, then?” Any topic is better than Skywalker. He wishes Rex were here, but he and Ahsoka have to deal with some mess the rebels had made for them on the other side of the universe.

“Oh, no,” Luke laughs. He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck and Cody’s heart twists. “No, but he was around the whole time. I think maybe he was watching out for me, in memory of my father, you know.”

“Sounds like something Obi-Wan would do.”

A taller man in a vest swings into the open doorway and crosses his arms over his chest when he sees Luke. Squinting, Cody thinks maybe he remembers this man from the Death Star too. Small galaxy. “Luke. It’s time to go.”

“Sure thing, Han!” Luke waits until Han has left with a grumble before turning around and holding his hand out to Cody again. Cody rises and shakes it; his skin doesn’t burst into flames from touching a Skywalker a second time. “Thank you for your time. If you--if you ever want to talk some more about Obi-Wan…?”

“You know where to find me.” Cody offers and hopes the words don’t sound too wooden. Then, moving as if he is deep underwater, he pauses and turns back to his bunk. The edges of the robe are even more frayed now, and there's one corner with a hole in it. Cody begins to lift the scrap of cloth up, because he loves Obi-Wan, he does, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Obi-Wan would want a Skywalker taken care of. His whole being rejects the notion, grief and heartache and longing screaming at him to stop, yet Cody offers it anyway, words dry on his tongue. But Luke's eyes are wide, and he shakes his head mutely. Relief floods through him. When Cody drops the cloth back to the cot, Luke carries on like nothing has happened.

“You’re going undercover on the Death Star, right? That’s you?”

Cody nudges the new trooper bucket near his foot and grunts. “Scarif helped us get schematics of the place, but the command wants to make sure we’re not leaving anybody--or anything useful--behind. So they’re sending me in to make sure, minimize collateral damage.”

“That sounds like a dangerous job.”

“I’m used to it.”

Luke pauses for a long moment. He doesn’t look directly at Cody, his eyes far away. Suddenly the kid turns back, continence even brighter than it's been for the entire conversation. “Keep your own armor on,” he advises. Then, with a sly glace to the cloth bundle on Cody's cot, he adds, “And the poncho. I think it might help you soon. It certainly couldn't hurt, right?”

Cody nods, a little uncertain. Luke smiles again and wanders out. Pensive, Cody turns back to his bunk and spreads his fingers over the fabric of Obi-Wan’s robe, trails them over the insignia on his armor. “Another Skywalker, huh? You sure know how to pick ‘em, Obi-Wan.”

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vonaegiremblem · 4 years

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Ranking the top 5 feh dudes whose designs fuuuck

No. 5: LA Hector

Love Abounds Hector came at an important time. When he came out, Winter Tharja was fresh in everyone’s minds, and people were worried that feh would slowly devolve into a sweaty anime fan’s wet dream. It did, but LA Hector provided a glimmer of hope that Intsys could slowly snuff out. If I recall correctly, he was considered one of the first true male fanservice characters due to that little bit of chest showing in his art. A bit of a stretch sure, but he was someone the community could cling to. And it makes sense why: of the 90% of anime pretty boys in feh, this Hector fucks the most out of any of them. I mean, look at his smug face, his sweet cape, and the axe that he brought to an event about love. This axe, need I remind you, is the same axe that has cursed him to die on the battle field. Not to mention, we know he canonically fucks, since his daughter shows up in the same event.

The only part of him that doesn’t really fuck are his dumb frilly cuffs and poofy pants, but he owns them so hard that it rolls back around to fucking.

No. 4: Spring Bartre

Another man who canonically fucks, Spring Bartre immediately beats out Hector for not looking like an anime pretty boy. But that is not the only thing that this rabbit man has brought to the spring harvest table. He’s got even more chest showing compared to Hector and his sleeves are completely ripped, showing off his jacked arms. Now, we can draw two conclusions about how his sleeves ripped. He either tore them off to make room for his bulging muscles, which fucks, or he flexed so hard that they exploded off, which fucks even more. But perhaps what fucks most of all is that he wears this outfit to match and support his daughter.

He only loses points in the fact that his outfit is dumb, but not nearly as dumb as Hector’s, so it doesn’t wrap back around to fucking.

No. 3: Mustafa

Now we’re getting to the big boys. Mustafa is clothed about as much as Halloween Dorcas and has the muscles to match. Unlike Halloween Dorcas, this dude lacks a gentle demeanor. He WILL destroy everyone on the battlefield. And of course, how could I fail to mention his awesome skull shoulder spaulders (or whatever those are). This is the first dude who has no flaws in his design. He simply fucks.

Bonus points for the fact that he is the only male unit in feh who has nipples.

No. 2: Zephiel

Zephiel fucks so hard that he cannot be confined to the puny screen size of feh. This dude is an armor unit and you fucking know it. Look at his cape. Look at his purple armor. Look at his massive ass sword that reaches out of frame. Fun fact: this dude fucks so much that all of his character art is unique. It’s hard to really say all that much when his design just shows how much he fucks.

Sure, Zephiel wants to wipe out all of humanity, but he also fucks.

No. 1: Travant

Here he is. The guy that fucks the most in feh. Where do I even begin? The rad cape? His sick green hair? The dragon-rider cowboy boots? The fact that he rides a black dragon? HIS SWEET DRAGON SPAULDERS (OR WHATEVER THOSE ARE)? I don’t even know what a Thracia is, but I do know that this guy fucks.

Travant may have one of the most boring and disappointing base kit/stat spread combos in feh, but could you imagine what would happen if they gave him a good kit? Literally everyone would use him because he fuuucks so hard.

And that is the ranking of the top 5 dudes in feh whose designs fuck. You can disagree with me, but you’re wrong. Special thanks to @setethsbigbaratitties for helping me put together this list

#feh #fire emblem heroes #fe #fe hector #bartre #travant #fe mustafa #zephiel #there is only one character who can topple travant #and its moulder the boulder #honorable mentions go to hellbindi and duma #long post

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gerbiloftriumph · 4 years

Photo

The Size of Hope

(also on ao3)

Mordon isn’t certain what to make of the fairy tale king his goblin friends captured, and King Graham has no idea what to make of the huge and clumsy goblin who keeps running into his path. The two warily team up, but neither one belongs in the goblin kingdom, and some pain runs deeper than either expects.

(Gen canon-expansion fic putting scrapped fragments from the subtitle file back into the game. Full fic warnings: bruising, canon-typical violence, self-hatred, abuse, Goblins Do Not Make Good Friends)

~*~*~

5/5

(1: Seen)(2: Found)(3: Buried)(4: Lost)(5: Hands to Hold and Hope)

~*~*~

Much, much later:

Two old men stare blankly at each other. They stand in the tunnels beneath Daventry, in the old well where Graham’s journey to knighthood had begun; where his journey to kinghood had been completed; where Manny had hidden for years; where Mordon—Mordack, now—had grown out of his goblin armor. The waterfalls splash and echo oddly in the cold, empty caves. There used to be a dragon in here. Before Manny let it out to wreak havoc on the lands above. There used to be a lot in here. And now there’s just the king and the goblin and the memories.

“Look, before you do his test of strength or whatever,” Mordack says, looking down at his feet. “I need to know. Do you remember the goblin caves? When the villagers were taken? And we met? Did you…you really didn’t know? That I was…not a goblin?”

Graham blinks, startled. “Mordack, that was fifty years ago.”

“Yeah. I know.” As though he hasn’t thought about it every night since then. He tries to play it casual. “But. Did you know?”

A hesitation. Graham stares at the nearby waterfall, at the little cave with the stained alchemy tables and worn fragments of life. Then: “No. I didn’t know. Not at first. I suspected, I truly did, and for that I take the blame, but I had no proof. Not until it was too late. I wish….” He can’t seem to find the right words.

The two men look at each other across years, and it’s uneasy, this not knowing what might have happened if Mordack had become a Daventry citizen that night. If Manny (once considered Mordon’s favorite illustrator, a champion of stories) hadn’t stopped him from going to Graham’s castle after he’d calmed down. If he had grown up with Graham instead of Manny. If things had changed in just that one tiny moment.

The pause stretches on and on.

Mordack clears his throat. “You’d better go find that crystal. Follow the signs. Manny’s made it very clear.”

“Yes, he has.” Graham leaves slowly, quietly.

Mordack stands for a long time, waiting. And when Graham doesn’t return, not for minutes, not for hours, he sinks to his knees helplessly and stares into the water.

~*~*~

At the end of the story, all three men stand on the Floating Island. Around them, goblins crowd the audience stands, jeering and applauding and pushing each other and generally causing trouble. Graham and Manny (he prefers Manannan these days) are glaring daggers at each other. Or at least, Manannan is. Graham just looks…tired. He’s been playing all the games, performing as demanded, and drunk frankly silly amounts of wine in this final challenge. (So has Manannan, but Graham is showing his exhaustion more, doesn’t have magic to bolster him up like the wizard.) Somehow that hasn’t dulled the old king at the puzzles: he’s successfully avoided every dose of hypnotic powder hidden in some of the cups. (But so has Manannan.)

The New and Improved Duel of Wits is nearing its end. Mordack is off to one side, guarding the crystal Manannan is using as his power base, the crystal giving the wizard power and strength. Guarding it in case Graham tries something heroic and foolish.

Mordack knows what the final test is. Knows someone is going to die.

And he’s not sure who he wants it to be.

In truth, he knows he exchanged one set of chains for another when he teamed up with Manannan. Ordered to act against Daventry. To raise a kidnapped prince as a slave, to train a dragon to burn on command, to manipulate and twist an ice queen into a pawn—with nothing but abuse and threats as a reward. Cruelty and mockery. Never the soft words of a family, not from Manannan. Just bitter schemes in the night and anger in the morning. Hopeless and helpless.

But Graham hadn’t ever tried to reach out to him and rescue him, either. Not that Mordack had ever asked, ever indicated he was struggling.

And anyway, Mordack didn’t deserve rescuing. Not after what he had done to Graham in anger and hate. How he had tried so hard to rip the king’s happiness away, tried to make him feel that cold despair.

He touches the sharp slashes across his cheek. Four long and deep scars that Graham himself struck during one of Manannan’s schemes. The injury had been triggered in self-defense: Mordack would have killed Graham and his family if Graham hadn’t lashed out with magic in that one desperate, clawing moment. That strike across Mordack’s face had distracted him long enough to lose the fight. Had saved the royal family from a cruel fate, had protected the kingdom. But Mordack still wears the scars like a flag.

The pain of being slashed haunts his nightmares. The king, fending off a monster.

No more than Mordack deserves.

No monster deserves to be saved. The wolf, the fox, hated and hunted.

No, this is for the best. This is a fair contest. Whoever wins, wins, and that’ll be that.

And the last two cups are nasty. It’s a half and half chance. One will win, and one will be poisoned.

(I hope it’s Graham.)

One will die.

(I hope it’s Manannan.)

One will win the kingdom.

(I don’t know what I want.)

They can’t puzzle their way out of this. The cups are identical in every detail—other than the crucial poison lurking in one of them. Graham has the first choice. Like he did when he was young. Two cups, and a kingdom between them. Literally. A magical rendition, as real as the real country, is displayed on the table, another silent witness to this story’s end. Mordack watches the old king make a choice, watches him drink. They wait a moment, but Graham starts to smile—it tasted clear and clean. Poisonless. He’s won. The audience cheers, not caring who wins but just pleased that the game has been good.

But of course Manannan won’t play fair. He picks up the poisoned cup, waves it at Graham almost playfully—but instead of drinking it and accepting his fate like he was meant to, he tips it over.

The poison gloops out of the cup. It will drip into that magical image of Daventry, curse deeper than any other curse could. The once cheerful and bright kingdom will turn to ashes and hatred. He’d rather destroy everything than let Graham win.

Mordack can tell what happens next is an impulse. Graham lunges across the table, knocks the cup back, and all the poison absorbs into his hands in a crackle of green light. He stares at his hands, at the flashing, curling scars twirling across his worn fingers before fading to look like old scars, white and raised against his skin.

He will die. Slowly, perhaps, but that’s that. He lost. He won, but he lost.

Manannan is taken aback, but he rallies. “Huh. Nice move. I’ll accept that,” he says, and then he raises his hand, “but let’s see if I can help speed up the effects.”

His fingers snap.

Graham shrieks, weakened by poison, by stress, by wine, by everything, and helpless to defend himself. Cruel magic takes hold.

The old king is the puppet Manannan always wanted, now. The strings might not be visible to the naked eye, but Mordack has been around enough of Manannan’s magic to imagine it. He can picture the sticky green strands wrapped around the king’s arms, legs, torso, neck, tighter than any goblin rope, impossible to break. Manannan laughs as he throws the king across the stage with just a flick of his wrist, smashing him against the ground, against the tables—wine cups roll, spilling their hypnotic contents across the grass and fizzling. Mordack is sure he can hear the king’s arm break as he hurtles helplessly against the ground again and again, the snap echoing in his ears.

Graham smiled at you.

No one had ever smiled at you before. Just bared teeth and growls and insults and usually a kick or several.

Graham might be unconscious—his head has lolled forward on his chest. No smiles now.

His body is slack. The one arm is definitely broken, awkward and loose looking. There might be more broken pieces. It’s hard to be sure. Manannan is holding him high in the air now, pausing, considering what he wants to do next.

Graham waved at you.

A gentle hand, raised to greet you, to acknowledge you.

But the arm’s broken now.

“You’ve already won!” Mordack cries. “There’s no need to torture him.”

Manannan ignores him, flinging the king high and yanking him down again.

Bully. Hurting someone who can’t fight back. Thumping again and again and again.

Selfless. Graham lunged across the table to catch the cup, to lose everything and save everything. He reached out and touched your bruised arm, the lightest of affirmations. Fingers that now drip with poison, with the curse, with death—but in the goblin caves they had been full of life. They still were full of life. They protected, those hands. They had saved Daventry at such a cost.

He insulted the stories. Mordack had spent his life since that moment with that book hating how he’d been given hope and hating how that hope had been ripped from him so quickly. Hating the king.

He made a mistake. That shouldn’t be the end.

You’re not a mistake, either.

“Leave him be. I won’t ask you again.” Mordack’s voice is deep in his throat, a goblin grumble, and it seems to echo around the platform.

“I always guessed you’d side with him,” Manannan says, grinning darkly in his moment of triumph. “It was only a matter of time. You’re a useless monster, with no loyalty. I guess it’s time I held your tongue, too.” One hand still holds the king, but the other hand reaches out and snaps.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Pain erupts through Mordack’s body, hot and cold and agonizing. Crackles and snaps along his muscles, freezing him in place, blinding him, and he can’t even cry out, can’t move, can’t breathe. He scrambles to focus, fighting against an invisible enemy that has him utterly pinned down from within his soul.

Monster. Just a monster. Pitiful and weak, never better than an unwanted, abandoned human shrouded in goblin armor.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!

Manannan is enjoying watching Mordack writhe and twist. The smile grows wider, more pleased than he’s been in years. A bleak smile, barred and fanged and deadly. Graham is limp in the magic’s grip, eyes closed—can’t tell if he’s breathing or not anymore.

Mordack can feel himself losing consciousness too. It hurts to breathe. If he could just close his eyes and sleep, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. He wouldn’t feel anymore. This betrayal from his master—his brother, the goblin who swapped places with him all those years ago—wouldn’t mean anything anymore.

No loyalty.

But the king…

Maybe there were different types of monsters. Maybe there were different loyalties. Different truths. Maybe he wanted to know. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find out.

Mordack yanks against the magic that wraps around his wrists, forces his way past the pain (it couldn’t hurt worse than it already is; what’s another searing agony compared to all the rest), raises his hand high above his head, curls it into a fist, and slams down against the crystal. It shatters, shards flying in all directions, sharp edges cutting his hands. The sound is almost pleasant, a ringing chime, like music. He can feel the magic rushing through him, streaming beyond his fingers and curling into the sky.

Instantly, Manannan’s hands drop, and Graham and Mordack collapse like puppets with cut strings, and Manannan reaches out to Mordack and the crystal, screaming, but it’s too late, much, much too late, and the loosed magic is overwhelming, and it turns on him and rips through him and he loses control, loses everything, and then…the wizard is simply gone, consumed by his own magic. Gone in a puff of smoke.

Mordack pushes himself to his knees. Feels sick. But his head is quickly clearing without the magic tearing against him. He can’t rest. Not yet.

He runs to the king. To Graham. He kneels, reaches out, freezes, recoils, hesitates, reaches again, gently touches. Graham moans, barely conscious, and Mordack pushes closer, pulls the king toward him, mindful of the broken arm, of the blossoming bruises, of the pain.

The world is still. He can’t hear anything. Can’t feel anything but the weight of the king in his arms.

Graham opens his eyes. They’re blurred, dizzy, hazy.

“King? Ohh, fairy tale king?” Mordack whispers, cradling him, feeling like a child again, lost and alone in the caves. “Graham?”

“Who…?” Graham’s voice is breathless, his eyes still unfocused.

“I am…Mordon.”

Graham blinks, considers, and then the focus comes back into his eyes. Recognition blazes across his face as he remembers, as he realizes, and he smiles. “Not Mordack?”

“No, not Mordack, not anymore. Come on, easy now,” Mordon says, draping Graham’s good arm over his shoulder, helping him stand. They stumble against each other, and Graham winces, but Mordon steadies them, and he turns toward Daventry castle. “I’ve got you. You’re with me. Let’s get you home.”

#/slaps roof of fic - this bad boy can fit so many parallels in it #King's Quest #King Graham #kings quest #mordack #fic'ing #ch5

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killthebxy · 5 years

Text

a heap of headcanons: the last hours before the Battle for Winterfell

inspired + complemented by @needlcd & @zcldrizes own posts

first of all, all of these come following my personal take on the events of s08, as i am show!canon divergent. this can be found: HERE.

Jon has had A LOT to do, ever since Tormund, Edd, and Beric arrived with the news. as Warden of the North, it falls on him to supervise the setting up of defenses. just as much, he’s been trying to learn as much as he can about the Unsullied and the Dothraki, as to understand how to better place them in the battlefield. he’s also been keeping close talks with Gendry and the other smiths, and helping with distributing dragonglass weapons to everyone himself, in between everything else already stated. for all this, he doesn’t have much free time up until after the strategy meeting we see in episode 2.

even though he concludes such meeting with “let’s get some rest”, he doesn’t follow his own advice really. he’s very antsy and understandably so, and cannot bring himself to stay still --- so he goes on a final round to make sure everything and everyone are as prepared as they can possibly be. this is when he goes to check in on Sansa and Bran, to also ensure they are well and to try and reassure them a bit --- again, as much as possible in the situation.

after this comes the scene we see in episode 2 between Jon, Sam, and Edd. they reminisce about their times at the Night’s Watch, particularly the night that Mance Rayder stormed the Wall --- note that @tymptir and i headcanon Grenn as very much alive and at Winterfell. Jeor Mormont and Mance himself (ft. @starfrckled) just as much, so Jon spends some time with all of them as well. he also finds Tormund (ft. @talltalkr) in between his moments with Brienne & co, and they talk of how they did not survive Hardhome to let the Night King come kill them in their own home now. particularly, while he says nothing about this, Jon prays to the old gods that Tormund will not be made to see/fight his daughters who have been turned into wights at Hardome.

next, comes the scene at the crypts with Dany. based on my divergent background and on my own plot with @zcldrizes, the source of tension between them at this point is the fact that Dany did not tell Jon that she burned the Tarlys for treason. now... Jon does understand this. he’s a commander himself, he’s executed men (and boys) for similar reasons. so what’s driving him off, at the moment, is 1) how conflicted he is, because he does not wish to hurt her but he also does not wish to hurt Sam, and 2) based on my plot with @tymptir, one day before, Sam revealed to Jon in these same crypts that his mother was Ashara Dayne (ft. also my plot with @ashccra). ever since, Jon has been struggling to come to peace with the fact that Ned never told him of it --- and here comes into play the heightened paranoia he was left with after the mutiny at Castle Black and his revival (if you’d like details on how this affects my portrayal of Jon, you’re welcome to read: this meta). Jon has ever felt the need to prove himself, as per his bastard-born nature and the internalization of this stigma (again, a meta: here), but after his own men betray him this grows A LOT worse --- as in, that was an absolute failure on my end and i deserved what happened. at this point, he’s questioning himself if maybe this is why his father never told him anything --- if Ned was ashamed to have him as a son, if Ned saw him under the same light Cat (for example) did and only tried to hide it out of kindness. then, suddenly... he gets told that Dany also hid such a huge fact from him, and this goes even further downhill. it is important to note: right now, after Sam’s revelation (+ the current very stressful circumstances + his own physical and mental exhaustion, as he’s been barely eating and sleeping during the past couple of days), Jon is NOT in his right mind. he’s exhausted, he’s paranoid, he’s dealing with HUGE guilt for being unable to guarantee his loved ones and his people will live to see another day. this is why he’s been avoiding Dany, and this why, even if they do talk right now at the crypts, he’s still very much distant --- it’s a self-defense coping mechanism. Artie and i, therefore, headcanon that, while they do not really fight, they are unable to properly discuss everything, either --- so they agree that they cannot afford to go into this battle whilst angry at each other, and they agree to take some time apart and to finish this talk later --- both of them fully aware that, likely, there won’t be a “later” for either or both of them.

after this, Jon heads for the godswood for a good while. he’s spoken to the statues of Ned and Robb already ( @kingwholost you can be sure there IS a statue of Robb), and now he goes to speak to the old gods. for the most part, though, he does not pray --- not yet. he simply seeks their calm and their peace and their wisdom, and sits under the heart tree honing Longclaw’s blade as Ned so often used to do with Ice, himself. and it does bring him a little bit of comfort.

finally, he heads back to his room and begins donning his Stark armor. and listen. idc what episode 3 will bring, JON -IS- WEARING ARMOR BECAUSE HE IS NOT STUPID. also the stewards @thedolorous & @satincrow are welcome to come help for a bit if they want. eventually, @needlcd comes to join him and he wouldn’t have it any other way --- he’s spending his potential last hours alive with his little sister, his heart, light of his eyes, the person he loves most in this world and quite more than his own life. he doesn’t need more than a look to see how distressed she is and, if nothing else, he’s happy that he can finally be here to keep her safe after all the horrors she’s had to face on her own. there isn’t much talking, as there is not need to be, and he simply lets her snuggle into him as much and for as long as she needs --- he lets her cry if she needs and makes no comment, simply running his fingers through her hair. Jon himself does not cry, not yet, because this moment is for her.

eventually... Arya falls asleep in his arms, Ghost by now also joined into the little cuddle pile, and Jon spends the last hours before the sound of the warhorns with himself. he’s exhausted, but he cannot sleep --- and he does not want to sleep, not when this may be his last chance to have his little sister safe in his arms. he thinks about everything and everyone, at this point. and this is when he prays: gods of my father, protect my people. protect Arya and let her live to see brighter days, she’s been through so much. protect Bran and Sansa. protect Dany and allow her to give justice to her child. protect my good and loyal friends who’ve followed me to the end of the world. i beg you, give me strength and skill to keep them all safe or at least alive. guide my steps and let me save them. and this is when he cries... or as close to crying as Jon Snow ever comes; a few silent, tiny tears rolling down his cheeks, and that he promptly wipes away with the back of his hand. it’s not his first time waiting for the enemy to come, though even wildling hosts pale in comparison to literal Death. at this point, Jon has a very cocky relationship with the possibility of his own dying --- because he has gone through it (twice, as i headcanon that he died in that frozen lake). not as in “i am so tough and death can’t kill me”, no, but in a completely detached sort of toxic mindset --- i have died and they brought me back because they still had a use for me (Melisandre told him this, through different words) --- if i die again and they still need me, they’ll bring me back yet again. but you, Lord Snow, you’ll be fighting their battles forever. he does not feel bitter about it anymore, for the simple reason he has repressed that experience to the point of being numb to it. therefore, right now, Jon is not afraid to die --- his only huge, overwhelming fear is that he will be unable to keep his loved ones alive/ unharmed, especially this skinny little girl currently sleeping in his arms. so, when the time comes, this is why he does not feel any of his fatigue anymore --- a sort of parallel with the wights; our enemy does not tire. Jon himself has become a wight animated by fire, rather than ice. and he will not tire --- not while he has his family and his home and his people to defend, or die in the attempt.

one final note: if there is one thing i do not tolerate in the show, it is the lack of consequences when it comes to Jon’s actions (frozen lake, cough, just to cite the more blatant case). i do NOT write Jon Snow as an overpowered superhero who can recklessly do whatever he wants and does not pay the price for it. i don’t know how the battle will unfold --- for example, if he will be wounded during it --- but i know that, should this be the case and the show does not acknowledge it, i will. in post-battle scenarios, despite what happens, he will suffer physical consequences for his actions --- and, if nothing else, he’s going to crash VERY HARD and go comatose for at least some 24h because his body will have reached the limit of exhaustion.

#GOT spoilers #long post #「ᵐᵉᵗᵃ ᵗᵃᵍ」ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷ ᶤˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵃᵛᵉᶰ'ˢ ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵘˢᶤᶰ #「ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰ」ᶰᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵏ; ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᶤᵉ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᵒᶰᵉ #the irony of my headcanon tag right now

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nozomijoestar · 5 years

Note

1-10 for an oc of yr choice (since i don't know any of yrs (yet))

meme here

I’ll use my FFXIV OCs bc I’m finicky abt sharing anything on my manuscript OCs in public

Vaste/U’ralhana Odh:

1. What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

Her name situation is a little messy but theres a reason behind each one both canon and non-canon! The game by default gives the WoL many titles across the game to reflect your progress to NPCs like eikon-slayer, Azure Dragoon, khagan etc. all tied to feats or positions earned in the MSQ.

For non canon titles and nicknames I’ve given her Desert Dragon due to her origin of birth from a desert tribe and their guardian animal being Drakes (as well as the fact that she’s a Dragoon and DRGs are traditionally a class associated heavy with dragons), Nine Lives because of the Echo preventing her from true death which also fits with her being a cat race etc. For more personal nicknames one of her younger brothers calls her Rala after her Sun Seeker name being U’ralhana Odh, dearest is also the most common pet name Yugiri has for her, aside from having the privilege of calling her only by her first name for her Sun Seeker side

Her formal naming convention gives her three viable names,

U’ralhana Odh - name the Sun Seekers gave her when she was born to them, the U designates tribe affiliation, followed by her given name, the surname is her father’s first name indicating he sired her (official FFXIV Sun Seeker naming convention) together the name means Ralhana of the Drakes, daughter of Odh

Osha Tayuun - this is the name her mother gave her before she left to rejoin the Moon Keepers in The Black Shroud, she never learned it was hers until the day they finally met well into her adulthood as the WoL, because Moon Keepers are matriarchal unlike Sun Seekers, the last name is also her mother’s while the given name is a normal girls name (i also made it start with O and try to sound similar to her mother’s first name, Oghii)

Vaste Valescoere - she gave herself this name after once being taught a few ancient Garlean (irl Classical Roman Latin) words by a traveling scholar from what little outside contact the tribe saw, once she made the decision to leave to be an adventurer forever she was banished for forsaking tradition, thus she felt she died and needed a new name - this was the first name i gave her because when i first started playing FFXIV i didnt know the races had naming conventions so i just wanted something that sounded like a fantasy name ( i literally just looked two words up in my latin-english dictionary fddjfd)

2. What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin?

Blue hair with natural black highlights, green eyes, light skin but not pale- all generally Moon Keeper traits but when i was starting out i knew none of that and did what i wanted, her bizarre appearance once i decided she was from the U tribe influenced her being half Sun Seeker and Moon Keeper

3. How tall is your OC?

5′2 but only because i thought the CC slider meant 5′6 (cuz it lists height in inches and i didnt bother to check ujhghugj shes sometimes embarrassed by her height especially standing next to much taller people, shes still taller than Yugiri though so she enjoys the slight height advantage

4. What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

Her hair, then her eyes

5. What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

She’s usually in her armor with her current spear glamoured to appear weaker than it actually is because the simple style reminds her of what she used as a teen before leaving home:

^^ necklace and earrings are different but the second necklace is more typical

im weak for the one arm/shoulder armored while the other isnt or not as much aesthetic

For more special/formal occasions w/o armor she likes wearing this:

6. What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?

Every time she shows up there’s something dramatic (but not always over the top) happening

7. Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?

She has the usual pinkish red stripes on her cheeks all Sun Seeker women are born with, in addition to a scar across her nose bridge she got during her huntress rite of passage when a sundrake struck her face (this rite is also how she got the black marks under her eyes afterwards, originally i just liked how they looked and made a backstory for them because the game lists them as tribal tattoos in CC)

The scar i gave her in CC as a ref to Guts from Berserk cuz his is similar (she obtained hers very young like he did as well):

8. How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

i chose the CC voice 2 option for female miqo’te (you can kinda hear what it sounds like here and here @2:10 since i cant find a video with just vc2 range) and im happy with it (to me it kinda sounds like Rie Tanaka? as far as i know the CC voice VAs have never been revealed so i cant say for certain, i know shes done voicing for FFXIV as Kan E Senna and Sadu and plays it as a huge fan tho) as far as how she talks all Miqo’te are said to have their own racial language unique to them that no other race can accurately pronounce or understand due to all the hissing, purring, and spitting of certain sounds (bc theyre cat ppl lol) so she’ll roll/purr her Rs, hiss her Hs etc.

On top of this system i imagine the U have their own dialect accent too which i hc sounds closer to Xhosa and Zulu mixed if a cat tried to speak it,so it gets complex! Her native accent however becomes slightly toned down the longer she spends away from the U as the WoL, but its still present and obvious enough

9. What does your OC’s bedroom look like? His/her living area?

the only description valid for this is an organized mess lmao

10. What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

anything small enough to fit given to her by people from her past or those she cares about that linger on her mind, shes somewhat sentimental sometimes

—-

Gan Arulaq

1. Lizard boi has no nicknames that stick outside of being called Bataar playfully by his parents esp his mother bc he liked playing pretend as a heroic figure when he was little (i was aware when i made him in CC that Xaela use Mongolian names and are based a lot on Mongol culture of the 14th century so he follows this convention)

His first name is Mongolian for Steel, his last name denotes his tribe following the game’s convention, simple

2. he is a tan/reddish brown color for skin with black hair and natural red highlights in a short swept back style (his eyes are also green bc i wanted to see what Vaste’s eye color would look like on a Xaela model, tdlr they glow!)

3. Gan is 7′1! the tallest of my characters period, he sees everything from up there and it creates some hilarious and awkward situations (poor guy and most doors, rip)

4. his eyes and his big curved horns

5. he loves wearing primarily clothes that expose a lot of his chest and skin in general because thats most natural to what he wore on the steppe valley back home (as well as being a little vain about his physical appearance and liking the feel of freedom in less clothes) however he can and will wear regular clothes, though in this case his fashion sense is terrible

6. when he appears you can associate him with change (succession is another word that comes to mind given his role to Vaste)

7. with the exception of minor scars from martial training and small accidents he’s the picture of normal for a Xaela

8. i actually cant remember what CC voice i gave him by number, but he does have a somewhat deep, rough voice fitting for a boisterous young man while also being capable of sentimentality and some wisdom, he has a handsome voice, he speaks bluntly but full of feeling and often truth

9. his room would be very organized and everything is neatly assigned to its place as well as being primarily spartan in layout/decoration, he’s used to practicality and function from his childhood on the steppe, lots of trinkets from nature, weapons and trophies of victory etc.

10. a ring given to him by his mother carved from sheep bone, it was her archery thumb ring

#Ria...your mind huhuhugu #final fantasy xiv: a realm reborn

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jorlith · 5 years

Text

I’ve made some updates to my fanmade Overwatch Hero.

Hero Number: ??

Hero Name: Phoenix

Hero Role: Damage

Hero Health: 250

Real Name: Kekoa Havika

Nationality: Hawaiian

Occupation: Scientist(Formerly), Researcher(Formerly), Vigilante

Gender: Male

Age: 36

Base: Kahoolawe, Hawaii (Formerly). Watchpoint: Gibraltar (Formerly).

Affiliation: Hawaiian Preservation Research Station (Formerly). Nature Restoration Program (Formerly). Overwatch (Formerly).

Relations: Unnamed Family (Deceased).

Weapon: Flamethrower, named Phoenix Breath, that has two special tanks on Phoenix’s back. Primary muzzle is held in right hand, top of tanks resembles canons. Two exhausts that are shaped like feathered wings stick out of the middle of the tanks. When used too much, overheats and needs to cool down before it can be used again. (The overheat and cooldown is the reload.)

Abilities:

Primary Fire:

Name: Phoenix Breath

Type: Beam, fires a beam of flames.

Damage: 40 damage per second. Enemies caught in it receive an additional burn damage of 50 over a period of five seconds. Burn damage does not stack, if an enemy exits and re-enters the beam they do not get “reburned” unless the burn effect already wore off.

Projectile Speed: 20 meters per second.

Max range: 10 Meters

Ammo: 150

Ammo usage: 15 rounds per second.

Reload Speed: 1.5 Seconds

Secondary Fire:

Name: Phoenix Breath

Type: Beam. Fires a focused beam of flames, hit scan is smaller and more focused. Phoenix’s movements are heavily slowed while using this attack.

Damage: Instantly deals 120 damage, as well as burning the enemy hit by it. Phoenix’s burn damage deals 50 damage over 5 seconds.

Projectile Speed: 60 meters per second.

Max range: 10 Meters

Rate of fire: 1 shot per 1 second.

Ammo: 150

Ammo usage: 150 per shot.

Reload time: 1.5 seconds.

Casting time: 0.5 seconds.

First Ability:

Name: Flare

Casting time: 2 seconds.

Damage: 30-60, deals burn damage of 50 damage over five seconds.

Area of Affect: 5 meter radius.

Duration: 5 Seconds.

Cooldown: 10 Seconds.

Details: Phoenix exclaims “Here, hold this” when using. Phoenix throws cone like object, that doesn’t activate until it lands on the ground or an object. Once activated, the cone launches two meters in the air and produces a cone of flames that covers a 5 meter radius. Enemies hit by it receive 30-60 damage depending on how long they remain in the flame. Enemies damaged by Flare receive an additional burn damage of 50 damage over 5 seconds.

Second Ability:

Name: Burst

Casting time: 2 Seconds.

Damage: Knockback.

Area of affect: 7 meter radius.

Max Range: 2 Meters Vertically.

Cooldown: 8 Seconds.

Details: Phoenix exclaims “Back off!” when using. Steam builds up within the large tanks on Phoenix’s back, releasing a burst of pressure from the exhausts. Enemies within a 7 meter radius of Phoenix are knocked back, and Phoenix is launched, at the most, 2 meters vertically into the air.

Passive Ability:

Name: Phoenix Wing

Details: By releasing small amounts of fire from the exhausts, Phoenix is able to maneuver in the air. While in the air, pressing jump will cause Phoenix to launch himself vertically, working as a second jump. The second jump does not reset until Phoenix has touched the ground again. Holding the jump button while airborne will cause Phoenix’s decent to be slowed, letting go of the jump button cancels this ability.

Ultimate Ability:

Name: Purge

Type: Linear, Area of Affect, Beam??

Damage: 300 damage per second, burn damage of 50 damage over 5 seconds.

Max Range: 15 Meters.

Area of effect: 7 meter radius.

Casting time: 1.5 Seconds

Duration: 3.5 Seconds

Charge Required: 1500

Details: Teammates hear Phoenix say “Rise from the ashes!” Enemies hear Phoenix say “Ka nalu o ke ahi!” Phoenix anchors his flamethrower, bracing him in place. The tanks on his back move over his shoulders, releasing a wave of fire straight in front of him. The fire travels up to 15 meters in the direction he is facing and covers a 7 meter radius. While using, Phoenix is immobilized, making him vulnerable against aerial attacks and attacks from behind. Useful for area control, or to protect your team if caught in a Zarya’s Graviton Surge. Phoenix’s Purge instantly cancels out, and is cancelled out, by Mei’s blizzard. The Ultimates will instantly end upon meeting, so if there is a second left in Mei’s blizzard and your Purge touches it, both Ultimates end, wasting yours and vice versa. Phoenix passively generates 1% Ult Charge every 3 seconds.

A character can get rid of burn by picking up a health pack, healing by support heroes does not remove the burn.

Skins:

Classic: Phoenix wears a gas mask over his nose and mouth, the mask is shaped like a beak. Wears armor over a long sleeved shirt, the armor to support the weight of his flamethrower, the sleeved shirt to protect him against heat. A large, armored glove is worn on his right hand, so he can hold his weapon when it overheats. Armored leggings and boots to also help him support the weight of his weapon. His armor and clothes are a faded red and orange, representing fire as well as a Phoenix.

Rare Skins:

Ash: Armor and clothes are white.

Smoke: Armor and clothes are a mixture of silvers and greys.

Smolder: Black with a red glow.

Sulfur: Different shades of blue.

Legendary Skins:

Cadet Havika: Phoenix is wearing a classic Overwatch uniform/armor, his face is fully visible.

Secret Agent: Recolor of Cadet Havika, with darker colors.

Epic Skins:

Phoenix: Phoenix is wearing a headdress that represents the mythological bird, his mouth and nosed are uncovered with this skin. Multiple feathers run down from the headdress, covering his body in feathers. Has gauntlets and armored boots that represent bird talons. Skin is colored mostly with reds and some oranges and yellows.

Sun God: Recolor of Phoenix skin that is colored with mostly yellow and has some oranges and reds. Orange suns are drawn on random locations of the armor.

Fire Dancer: Phoenix is wearing a grass skirt over a tunic, as well as grass like boots and bracelets. A bandanna that appears to be made of grass rests on his head, as well as a necklace of grass around his neck. Grass is dark green in color, tunic is gold. The exhausts on Phoenix Breath look like ceremonial fire dancing staffs instead of wings.

Uluao: Recolor of Fire dancer, grass is brownish is color, tunic is white with black spots.

Emotes:

Heroic: Phoenix pulls left arm toward his body, and raises up his flamethrower.

Exhausted: Phoenix lays down on his back, sprawling out.

Really?: Phoenix extends left hand forward, looks to his left, confused. Phoenix then looks forward again, extending his hand further. ‘

Research: Phoenix takes out notepad and begins writing in it, before putting it back.

Technique: Phoenix spins in a circle, making a circle of flames, he then jumps and spins in the air, making a vertical wheel of fire.

Unbelievable: Phoenix puts his right hand to his forehead and wraps his left arm around his chest. Phoenix then shakes his head and snickers.

Voice Lines:

Really?

Everything Burns

From the Ash (Mai ka lehu)

I will get it done.

It’s just research

Light it up!

Move (Ne’e)

Play with fire… you’ll get burned

Relax (Ho’omaha)

Sounds Good (Maika’i loa)

Victory Poses:

Heroic: Stands with his flamethrower ready.

Research: Sits crossed legged, reading over notes.

Purge: Stands with his flamethrower’s canons aimed forward, anchored in the ground.

Family: Standing to his side, holding a holo-photo of him, his parents and his brother.

Highlight Intros:

Heroic: Pulls left arm toward his body, raises his flamethrower up.

Reason: Looks at picture of family, before putting it away, pulling flamethrower to the ready.

Burn: Lands on ground from air, anchors into place and activates Purge.

Phoenix: Uses his exhaust wings to slowly fly toward the ground, aiming his flamethrower at the camera.

Sprays:

1. Pixel: Unlocked by earning the “Into the Frying Pan” Achievement/Trophy.

2. Cute: Unlocked by earning the “Warm Things Up” Achievement/Trophy.

3. Lei: Circle of flowers or an Hawaiian Lei.

4. Research: Single page of research notes.

5. Amazed: Young Kekoa, sitting in front of a television screen, wonder on his face.

6. Flame: A single flame.

7. Birds: A group of colorful birds.

8. Phoenix Breath: Spray is Phoenix’s weapon.

9. Intense: Focus of Phoenix’s head/torso, with him staring forward.

10. Hero: Outline spray of Phoenix is overwatch gear.

11. Family: Picture of Phoenix’s family.

12. Flare: Cartoonish drawing of Phoenix’s flare.

13. Exhaust: Phoenix’s “wings” releasing pressure.

14. Clearing: Detailed Spray of Phoenix spraying fire.

15. Phoenix: Bird made of flame.

16. Experimenting: Phoenix wearing goggles, using a blow torch.

17. Purge: Phoenix’s Phoenix Breath in its Purge state.

18. Volcano: A volcano with magma spilling out of it.

19. Ash: A pile of ash with a soft glow in the middle.

20. Really?: Phoenix with his hand extended, a confused expression on his face.

21. Not a Morning Person: Phoenix is laying in a bed, sprawled out and asleep.

22. Declaration: A Poster of Doomfist, that is half burnt, and still burning.

23. Inspiration: A signed picture of Mei, Mercy and Winston.

24. Reason: Three gravestones.

25. Fire Staff: A burning staff used by fire dancers

Character Interactions:

1. Mei: “I Heard about what Talon did, I’m sorry about what happened to your family.” Phoenix: “I heard about Antarctica, I’m sorry about what happened to yours.”

2. Mei: “Revenge won’t bring your family back.” Phoenix: “It’ll stop Doomfist from doing it to anyone else!”

3. Phoenix: “It is an honor to work beside someone I looked up to my whole life.” Mei: “You can honor me by ending this path of death and revenge, and return to Overwatch.”

4. Winston: “You used to be so happy and carefree, I can’t accept what you’ve become.” Phoenix: “I’ve become a martyr to my beliefs.”

5. Phoenix: “It may be too late for me, but you are not beyond redemption.” Hanzo: “You know nothing!”

6. Genji: “You should meet with my master, he helped me find peace.” Phoenix: “There is no peace, only fire.”

7. Reaper: “You do realize that I killed your family.” Phoenix: “Doomfist killed my family, you are nothing more than a puppet on strings.”

8. Doomfist: “We both believe in being reborn through destruction, we should be working together, not against each other.” Phoenix: “What I believe is natural, what you believe is evil.”

9. Phoenix: “You better watch your back!” Doomfist: “I accept the challenge.”

When Phoenix gets discorded he says: “Kuamuamu!”

When Zenyatta discords Phoenix he says: “You are consumed by your own fire.”

When resurrected by Mercy Phoenix says: “From the ash!”

When respawning Phoenix says: “Phoenix rebirth.”

When selected during a game or when some changes to Phoenix, he says: “Let’s burn them down!” or “Phoenix, flying in.”

When Phoenix eliminates Mei, he says: “It should’ve never come to this.”

When Mei eliminates Phoenix, she says: “Maybe you’ll be reborn happier.”

When Phoenix cancels a Blizzard with Purge he says: “Let’s heat things up!”

When Mei cancels a Purge with Blizzard she says: “You need to chill out!”

When Phoenix eliminates Doomfist he says: “That, was for my family.”

When Doomfist eliminates Phoenix he says: “You were never a real threat.”

When Reaper eliminates Phoenix he says: “Join your family.”

When Phoenix is Nano Boosted he exclaims: “I can feel the fire burn!”

When Phoenix gets hacked he says: “Don’t play with fire!”

When there’s a turret Phoenix will say: “An enemy turret blocks our progress.”

When Phoenix destroys a turret he’ll say: “The turret has burned to ash.”

When an enemy Mercy resurrects an enemy player Phoenix will say: “They’ve been reborn from their ashes.”

When on the Payload Phoenix says: “Payload, ready for transport.”

When capturing a point Phoenix says: “Heating up the point.”

When the payload is being contested Phoenix says: “We need to get that Payload moved!”

When enemies are capturing the point Phoenix exclaims: “They’re on our point, let’s burn them down!”

When time is running out on offense on an escort map Phoenix says: “Our time seems to be coming to a close, we must act now!”

When time is running out on defense Phoenix says: “This Victory will make excellent data.”

When time is running out of offense Phoenix says: “We’re not here to lose, move!”

When Phoenix gets burned by an enemy Phoenix or Ashe he says: “So that’s what that feels like.”

When Phoenix is getting damage boosted by Mercy he says: “Let’s get this fire started!”

Ways Phoenix says hello: either “aloha” or “hey there”

Ways Phoenix says Thank you: “Appreciated” or “Mahalo!”

Ways Phoenix says understood: either “I get you” or “Ua lohe wai ia’oe”

When on fire Phoenix says: “I’m on fire… well, they are!”

When asks for healing says: “Medic!” or “Some healing would be appreciated!”

Ultimate Status: When under 90% Phoenix says “My Ultimate is charging” or “Purge charging”. When at 90%-99% Phoenix says “My Ultimate is almost ready” or “Purge almost ready”. When fully charge Phoenix says “My Ultimate is ready” or “Ready to burn them all!”

When saying to group up Phoenix says: “Everyone gather here” or “We need to form together!”

Map Interactions:

Volskaya Industries: “Good thing I brought some heat.”

Eichenwalde: “This place is a great example of withstanding what should destroy you.”

Oasis: “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

Watchpoint Gibraltar: “I wonder if Overwatch would ever accept what I’ve become.”

Achievements/Trophies:

Into the Frying Pan: Use Burst to knock an enemy into your Flare.

Warm Things Up: Use Purge to cancel out two Blizzard’s in a single game.

Character Lore:

Kekoa Havika grew up in a family of researches, growing up he was fascinated by the way some natural disasters, like forest fires, created new life. Kekoa spent a good amount of time studying rebirth through destruction, but only believed it should be allowed if natural. Kekoa had a great mind, and was good with technology. He had an energetic and carefree personality and joined Overwatch when he was in his twenties. He trained underneath Lena and Genji, while he looked up to researches like Mei, Angela, Winston, Moira and others. Kekoa had a great admiration for Mei and the Ecopoint crew, hoping to one day do research at Ecopoint. When Overwatch was disbanded, Kekoa went back to live with his family. The government was having his family research something that could benefit the unity between the omnics and humans. Talon had managed to gain Kekoa’s home address, and sent their agent Reaper to kill the researchers and steal the research. Reaper had happily taken the job as Overwatch Hero code name Phoenix was on his personal hit list. Kekoa was away from his lab doing personal research when Reaper arrived. Kekoa returned home to find his parents and younger brother murdered, all their research either stolen or destroyed. Upon watching the security footage Kekoa learned who was responsible for the death of his family. Kekoa vowed to destroy Talon and stop anyone from doing what Talon had done.

Character Introduction:

Phoenix: “Crime has risen, which shouldn’t be a surprise, given what they did to Overwatch. They disbanded our family, and yet they wonder how organizations like Talon grew to be so powerful. Of course evil people will take advantage of a world that lost its heroes! Which leaves a question, the people in charge of the world, how many of them can truly be trusted? I will kill Doomfist myself, and go after anyone who wants to do wrong to the world. I will make sure that what happened to my family will never happen to anyone else ever again! Talon thought they snuffed the Havika flame, well, didn’t they know, a Phoenix rises from the ashes!

Animated Short/Introduction:

Name: Reason

The story opens on the streets of a city, there are few lights as night had fallen. A group of Talon agents where running in fear, panting loudly as the ran as fast as they could. As the Talon agents came around a corner they say a large burst of flames erupt from down the street, engulfing the street. One of the Talon agents skidded to a stop before turning around, running down an alley. The sound someone flying overhead could be heard. A small cone landed at the end of the alley, shooting upwards and creating a cone of flames. The Talon agent stops and starts to turn around, Phoenix lands behind him no.

Talon Agent: “No, please,” Phoenix walks up to the agents and hits him with his flamethrower, knocking the agent to the ground. Phoenix uses his foot to press the agent against the wall, aiming his flamethrower at the Talon agent. The Talon agents mask had fallen off, the fear on his face fully visibly. Phoenix hesitates as he sees the Talon agent and his mind wanders to the past.

“Kekoa!” A woman called, walking around a research station. It was a bright and sunny day, the sounds of the tropical island echoed in through the open windows. “Kekoa, wake up!”

“Good luck with that mom,” a younger man who looked to be in his mid-twenties said, “Kekoa was up all night reading the research papers of Mei-Ling Zhou, and watching videos about Overwatch.”

“Go wake your brother up,” an older man said, he was typing while looking over some research notes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phoenix’s brother sighed before he walked up some stares. Phoenix was younger and wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He was sprawled out in his bed, various research notes scatted on the desk beside his bed. Phoenix’s brother smiled as he jumped, slamming his elbow into Phoenix.

“Ow! What the?” Phoenix exclaimed as he shot up.

“Come on Kekoa, wake up,” Phoenix’s brother said as he started playfully pushing Phoenix.

“I am awake,” Phoenix laughed as he batted at his brother.

“I don’t believe you,” Phoenix’s brother laughed as he hit him again, “come on, mom’s been calling you.”

“All right, I’ll be down,” Phoenix yawned as he sat up.

“Don’t go back to sleep either,” Phoenix’s brother said as he left. Phoenix slowly got up and walked down to meet his family.

“Look who’s finally up,” Phoenix’s mom laughed, “good morning Kekoa.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kekoa yawned.

“You got some mail today,” Phoenix’s mom laughed, “from some place called Watchpoint: Gibraltar.”

“What!?” Phoenix exclaimed as he sprinted toward his mom, who was holding a letter. “From Overwatch?”

“Yep,” Phoenix’s mom smiled, Phoenix opened it and pulled out a letter. Phoenix looked over it as everyone watched him.

“I don’t believe it,” Phoenix said, disbelief on his face.

“Aw, what’s wrong Kekoa, they turn you down? They charging you for harassment?” Phoenix’s brother laughed.

“No,” Phoenix smiled as he pulled a round object from the envelope, “they accepted me. I’m going to be part of Overwatch!”

“Congrats!” Phoenix’s mom said as joy filled the faces of all of his family members. Phoenix’s brother walked up to him, and nudged him with his elbow.

“So you might finally meet that Mei scientist you got a crush on?” Phoenix’s brother teased.

“I do not,” Phoenix laughed, “but I am excited, to meet her, and Winston, and all the others. Plus this means big things for the Havika family research!”

“It sure does,” Phoenix’s dad said as he stood up, “you’ll always have your family to call back on.”

“Right,” Phoenix nodded. The world seemed to change as Tracer was walking Phoenix through a base. Phoenix was looking around, amazement on his face.

“No I’m only here for a little while,” a voice called from the back of the room, “yes, Genji has been making great progress. I’m happy to see it, how’s it been in Antarctica Mei?”

“Mei!” Phoenix exclaimed happily as he pushed away from Tracer and ran up to the computer, “it is, you’re Mei! I’ve read all of your research papers!”

“Uh, thank you, who are you?” Mei asked.

“I don’t know who this is either,” Mercy said toward Mei.

“Ohmygosh!” Phoenix gasped in one, quick breath, “you’re Dr. Ziegler!”

“Sorry luvs,” Tracer laughed as she joined them, “this is Overwatch’s newest recruit, Kekoa Havika. He’s huge into research.”

“Mei, we need to exchange notes some time!” Phoenix exclaimed happily.

“Sure,” Mei smiled, “just ask Winston for my contact information, we can keep in touch.”

“Best day ever!” Phoenix exclaimed as Tracer pulled him away.

“Morrison just hasn’t been the same since Rialto,” Winston’s voice called from the room they were walking to.

“Well, can’t say I blame him,” McCree’s voice added. Tracer opened the door and she and Phoenix walked into the room.

“Aw, glad you made it, Jesse, this is our newest recruit, Kekoa Havika,” Winston said.

“Howdy,” McCree nodded.

“It’s Winston!” Phoenix exclaimed, stars in his eyes.

“Kekoa is a genius researcher, and he is quite talented with fire,” Winston said.

“That so?” McCree said as he walked past, “try not to burn the place down kid.” McCree said as he put a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. The world returned to Phoenix aiming his flamethrower at the Talon agent. Phoenix lowered his weapon and picked the Talon agent up by his collar.

Phoenix: “Tell Doomfist, that Phoenix is coming for him.”

Phoenix let the Talon agent go and he sprinted away from the area. Phoenix walked for a while, eventually reaching a graveyard.

Phoenix: “I got your message Winston, and I agree, some one needs to do something. I can’t come back to Overwatch, I can’t do things they way they do.”

Phoenix pulled his badge out and placed it on a grave, he then turned around and walked away.

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theprodigypenguin · 6 years

Text

Make Peace: Part 2/4

Ratings: violence, blood, angst, mention of death, fan headcanons, fluff

Pairings: James Griffin/Keith Kogane (slight sheith)

Notes: part 2, again a repost because I suck at using tumblr, enjoy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4(final)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He used to be small, really small. All the clothes he would wear hung on him, as if they weren't his, and his eyes always looked... faded, like a graying sunset that used to be purple. They were always lowered, he never looked anyone in the eye, and if he did, it was with a glare of distrust. James never really understood the kid, but back then he didn't really care. Keith was just that extra child in the background who never looked at the camera during class photos, he was the one who didn't exist until he accidentally walked past the wrong people; and James used to be one of those people.

There were times he'd overhear the teachers talking in hushed voices about Keith, but when he was younger none of what they talked about made any sense to him. He wasn't able to comprehend the looks of pity, the way one would set a hand on their chest and sigh in somewhat exaggerated sadness.

"Such a shame, such a good man."

"Just an idiot if you ask me."

"What a selfish, selfish man."

"He left such an unruly child behind, how are we supposed to deal with his attitude?"

"Maybe it's just a phase."

Even when his sister picked him up after school that one day, smiling when she spotted James but frowning when Keith left the school at a slower pace, "Oh, that's him," James remembered her muttering, hand near her lips, "What a cute kid, he... looks so sad."

James just pouted as he stared at her before smiling, "Only cuz he's got no friends!"

His sister hadn't looked very happy about that statement, hands planting on her hips as she looked down at him, "Well someone needs to change that. Everyone needs friends. Can't you imagine how lonely he is?"

James just looked over at where Keith sat on the bottom of the steps leading to the school, noting the way he scooted to the side as a group of kids rushed out of the doors.

"Hey, maybe I'm pushing you a bit," James looked back as his sister crouched, a brilliant smile on her lips as she reached out to tussle the cowlick at the front of his hair, "If you were lonely, wouldn't you want friends?"

"I have friends though."

She sighed, "I guess you're still too little to understand then. That's okay. Just one thing," she framed his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks, "You never know what someone is going through, so be kind. That boy," she looked over at Keith, so did James, "he's a kid and already understands suffering."

"Why...?"

"You'll figure it out one day," she stood up then, fixing the front of the uniform she wore, grinning down at him, "Let's go home."

Was this what she meant when she said Keith already understood suffering? It didn't really make sense. Even now. This guy... he was the best pilot in class, he excelled in everything, he even had the approval of Takashi Shirogane, maybe the greatest pilot of the century. James remembered his sister idolized him, and James ended up following in her footsteps. Meeting Shiro at school that day, showing up to test possibly Garrison recruits, all James could think of was that he could fly with his sister.

He was good on the simulator. Then Keith just had to take a seat and blow everyone away with no effort at all. It... wasn't fair. James managed to get a spot as a cadet, but he was still bitter about it. Stupidly bitter, he realized that now. He just wanted to make his sister proud, but this short ass mullet was getting in the way. She would rave about the cadets of course, including James, but he also tasted something bitter when she brought up Keith.

Keith was the only cadet in class that met the standards of a perfect pilot aside from James. Maybe it was more of a one sided rivalry. Back then Keith didn't seem to care about a damn thing. He yawned during lectures and slept through class, while still getting perfect scores, as if he taught himself through the night because he didn't like the teachers. There were only two classes he didn't sleep through and actually seemed to care about, both classes they shared as they were both classed as candidates for future fighter pilots.

The first class was directly based about the fighter class, taught by the best fighter pilot the Garrison had produced in years. The second, of course, had been a course taught by Shiro. Keith always paid attention in Shiro's class. He was on his way to becoming the next best pilot of the Garrison, the teachers all called him the best pilot of his generation, and it made James... so fucking mad, because he'd gotten this title without even trying.

Then the prick had to go and get himself expelled like an idiot, disappearing for seven years at least, and when he comes back? He's the leader of Voltron, pilots one of the most miraculous war ships James had ever come across, battle hardened and much more level headed than he used to be. Now this, throwing himself in front of James as a human shield during a mission that was supposed to last less than half the day.

Why? Was it some stupid Paladin quirk to sacrifice themselves for no reason?

James could hardly see the oddly skinned Galra standing across the street, holding what had to be some kind of hand canon that shot the same ion blasts as their cruisers. Just from feeling the force beating against the air around him, he knew the blue shield Keith held wasn't going to last, and when it shattered all James knew was that Keith was going to get hit and there was nothing he could do to help.

He grabbed the Paladin when he staggered back and started to fall, catching him around the shoulders before he could hit the ground and crouching down to get a better grip with his right arm as his left hand hovered. Keith seemed to lose consciousness instantaneously from the hit, the left side of the black shirt he wore beneath his red accented armor was torn, the edges charred, showing a deep gaping wound that poured blood. The gauntlet he'd been using on his left arm had been destroyed, the glove burned off and leaving bits melted to Keith's skin, the sleeve torn at his elbow.

"Oh man," James breathed out, head turning abruptly when he heard footsteps, gaping with teeth clenched as the Galra paced into the street.

"What's this, a Paladin of Voltron? Must be my lucky day," he lifted a hand, heavily bandaged, and it was the sight of those bandages that had James thinking the alien had been here since the last fight with Sendak.

He'd probably crashed here and had been stuck for the past few months.

"Who the hell are you?" James asked, reaching back for his gun and aiming it towards the Galra, "What do you want? Are you the one powering the robots?"

"With a limited power source, I'm afraid," the alien answered, "My fighter was damaged in the crash, and the range of my distress signal can only reach so far. I'm lucky, you humans haven't replaced those primitive satellites yet. Makes it easier to not get caught."

"That's why we can't contact the Garrison here," James murmured to himself, raising his voice to add, "Your signal interferes with our comms!"

"Took you a bit. I've been stuck here for months, trying to get a message to any cruiser close-by, but I don't have the power!" he held his hands up, grinning widely, yellow eyes glinting, "But if I could re-purpose the Altean tech in that Paladin's suit... not only could I return to the Fire of Purification, but I would be promoted the instant I drop his mangled body at Sendak's feet!"

"Sendak is dead!" James yelled, "You've been out of touch with the war for a while, because it's been over for months!"

The Galra's smile was gone now, replaced by a wild expression James couldn't really pick out through the pure yellow of his eyes.

"And one more newsflash, you're not getting close enough for the Altean tech," James added the final part on impulse, lifting his gun higher and shooting towards one of the buildings the Galra was standing beside.

It was already tilting on axis, with a single shot, it started to crumble, and the Galra turned sharply with a gasp. Thankfully distracted, James swung his gun onto his back where it hung by the strap across his chest, snatching both the broken gauntlet and Keith's helmet before dragging Keith to his feet. Still unconscious, the most James could do was drag him across the street as the hostile creature behind him screamed in frustration, doing his best to avoid the collapsing building.

James managed to drag Keith behind a building before it started to get difficult to simply drag him, and he stopped so he could swing the gun off his back, shuffling around and struggling until he'd dragged Keith onto his back instead, the Paladin's arms hanging limply over his shoulders and head cushioned against the back of his neck. It took a bit of maneuvering to get a hold of the busted Paladin armor as well as his gun, but when he had everything, and a good hold on Keith, James started to walk again.

"Can't contact anyone, can't get to the MFE's," James narrated to himself, eyes panning the area quickly for something, anything that could be useful to them, gasping a little in relief when he caught sight of a building in the distance.

It was tall, maybe the tallest in the town, and looked to be in good shape, amazingly. James started to walk faster, running as much as he could manage, which wasn't easy while giving someone a piggyback ride.

"Damn you weigh a ton," James panted, skirting around the perimeter of the building to search for a way inside, "Hang on a bit more, fat-ass, I'll check your wounds when we're somewhere more secure.

It took longer than James wanted to find a way inside, and he had to put Keith down in order to kick the door down, dragging the still unconscious pilot into the building before setting the door back up and shoving a table in front of it for some sort of extra security. He didn't stop or even start to calm down until he'd walked almost ten flights of stairs, his legs aching under the extra weight.

When he was certain they weren't being tracked or followed, he found the closest room and pushed it open with a foot, shuffling inside and looking around to make sure it was decent before stepping inside, closing the door with a click and immediately setting Keith onto his feet, turning to hold him around the shoulders so he wouldn't just fall on his face and dragging him towards the window before lying him down.

"Can't believe this," James leaned forward on his hands once he;d gotten Keith settled, taking a moment to catch his breath with closed eyes, "This was an utter failure of a mission. It was supposed to be easy, why'd I get stuck with this kind of bullshit end game?"

He leaned back and sat on his heels, head tilting so he could look down at Keith, then looked down to check his own clothes, cringing when he noticed the large stain of blood on the left side of his suit.

"Right," he breathed, unzipping the front of the jumpsuit and tying it around his waist to keep it from falling off, leaving him in just a white t-shirt and the bottom half of his MFE suit, then began searching his pockets for anything he could use to help stem Keith's heavy bleeding.

Not finding anything, he stood up, stepping over Keith and rummaging through the room for supplies. It must have been a business building of some sort, the most James was able to find were some old shirts and a janitors uniform, but there was nothing else in the room. Unfortunately, James didn't think it was a good idea to leave Keith lying there as he went exploring, so he settled for what little he'd found and hurried back over.

A dusty cushion from a broken armchair was the best James could do to pillow Keith's head, taking a confusing moment to pull off the confusing armor covering Keith's chest and shoulders and setting it aside before folding up the old uniform and pressing it down against the wound in his stomach.

"Okay, you've trained for situation's like this," James muttered to himself, pulling the cloth away for a moment to check the wound before tearing at the fabric around it to widen the gap and see the wound better, cringing, "Step one, regulate and stabilize condition of the wounded. Check over supplies, test communications, get my bearings. This is no big deal, not the first time I've been in a sticky situation."

He pressed the cloth back against the ugly wound, lips evening into a tight line when Keith flinched unconsciously with a broken whine, "Haven't been stuck with a moron before, but no big deal."

It took a while to clean the wound. They had limited supplies, very little water, only a few protein bars for food, and the shirts James had found weren't exactly the cleanest most sanitary bandages, but he made do as he carefully got a tiny corner of the cloth wet so he could clean the blood from around the wound, then pressed the folded shirt against Keith's side before tying it in place with a second shirt that he tore into strips.

Keith's arm wasn't as bad as his side was, maybe because he'd had the gauntlet protecting most of him, but there were deep splotches of third degree burns covering the back of his hand and arm, and they couldn't have felt pleasant. Cold water would probably feel fantastic on the burns, but they couldn't afford to lose that much, so James settled on simply wrapping Keith's arm with torn strips of old shirt.

James was rummaging in one of the pouches on his suit when Keith began to stir, cringing as his head lolled to the side, a confused mumble on his lips as his indigo eyes peeled open, the pupil incredibly small and almost cat-like. James almost freaked out, but they changed so quickly that he sat there for a moment wondering if he was going insane.

"You conscious?" James asked, watching the way Keith was staring blearily across the room at the wall, blinking at the sudden question and rolling his head to make it easier to stare up at James.

He looked sleepily confused, eyes wavering away from James' face so he could stare up at the ceiling. James could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to remember what happened, before his eyes snapped wider and he bolted upright with a gasp that caught on a painful choke, hand flexing and grabbing at his side as he curled forward in on himself.

"Hey, easy, lie back down," James grabbed his shoulders, pulling his lip between his teeth upon feeling the shudder of Keith's entire body beneath his fingers, "Okay, take it slow, lie back."

Keith didn't protest much as James pushed him back, eyes pinched closed and teeth grit as his head fell back a little, and James curled his hand to the back of his neck to keep it up as he eased Keith back down to lie against the cushion. Keith still trembled, and James took another look at the sloppy bandaging he'd done.

The shirt had been soaked through with blood already, and they didn't have much in the ways of bandages. There was really nothing else to be done, so James reached over to brush aside Keith's hand, using his own to put pressure against his side. Keith protested that with a grunt, jolting against the ground and clawing the back of James' hand weakly.

"I said take it easy already, you're still bleeding, I'm trying to help."

"What... happened?" Keith asked in a cracking voice, and James exhaled heavily through his nose.

"There was an actual Galra here, he was the one powering the sentries and drones," Keith closed his eyes, free hand running over his face with a curse on his lips, "I think he's using his broken fighter to power sentries as a safety firewall. We were so distracted by the bots we didn't notice-."

"I noticed," Keith croaked, "I should have realized sooner. Quiznak... I should have pulled us after the first wave, Shiro and I should have realized. Damn it, damn it."

"Calm down, there's no way we could have predicted this."

"Yes there is."

"Okay fine, well you were the one too one distracted tracing blast marks in the sides of buildings to pay attention then!" James snapped, and Keith stared blankly at the ceiling like he was trying to remember when that happened, "Look, I think that freak beat you up enough for the both of you, so quit whining and try to fix it."

Keith's brow furrowed and he moved to sit up, only for James to push him back, "Not now, you idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself?!"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Let me handle it while you rest," James ordered sharply as Keith settled back, looking frustrated, "I pulled us out of the street and into this abandoned building, so far they haven't been able to find us. It's been quiet."

"Helmet," Keith rolled his head one side, then the other, cringing as he reached out for his red helmet, "I... need to contact Shiro, tell him what happened."

"Couldn't you call your space war ship... thing?"

Keith dragged his helmet over with a grunt, "My head... I can't think clearly. If we're lucky it'll just show up, but I can't... concentrate. I need Shiro."

James sighed and picked up the helmet to bring it closer to Keith, who attempted to push himself up again, wincing as he propped himself against the wall, taking the armor and pulling it over his head before lifting his left arm, cringing at the bandages and using the gauntlet on his right arm instead.

Keith managed to activate the visor over his eyes, which automatically scanned the room, zeroing in on James who was kneeling close to his side. Stats popped up automatically and Keith looked over them on instinct. Bruised ribs, likely from being thrown into a newspaper stand, but other than that no notable injuries. Keith was silently grateful for that bit of luck and turned his attention to activating the comm line in his helmet.

"Contacting the Galaxy Garrison, or Atlas, this is the MFE Aries Alpha team calling in. The mission's taken a wrong turn and backup is requested along with an extraction," white noise answered Keith, and he grit his teeth together, "Shiro, are you there? Lance? Pidge? Guys?"

More white noise, and Keith tugged the helmet off, dropping it before lying back down, running both hands over his face and into the fringe of his hair, "Damn it..."

"The canon blast probably interfered with the tech in your suit," James guessed, picking the helmet up again, "Your left gauntlet is shattered too. It's still working it looks like, but there's just not enough range because of the interference from the Galra distress signal. Our comms, and his, are cancelling each other out."

"So what do we do, brainiac?" Keith asked, eyes shut, and James seemed to consider it before his shoulders sagged.

"... I don't know. I'm a fighter, not a nerd. Numbers aren't really my forte. Maybe I can think of something given enough time to actually consider all our options, but right now we're sitting ducks," he set the helmet down and turned to lean against the wall next to Keith, pulling his knees close and crossing his arms over them, staring at the blotches of blood staining his fingers from his attempt at helping the Black Paladin.

"Fine...," Keith said softly, seemingly losing energy, and James glanced down at him, fingers curling towards his palms, to see his eyes drooping, "If you can't think of anything to get us out... we still have to finish the mission."

"What, how do you plan on doing that?"

"I might be able to trigger something in my suit to set off the tech," Keith mumbled, and James knitted his brow.

"You're gonna blow yourself up?"

Keith just shut his eyes, "I don't have the energy to get myself to the MFE out of town."

"I'll carry you."

"Sure, for how long?" he sighed, head rolling away from James, "It's fine, not like I haven't been in this kind of position before."

"A position where the only option is to be a martyr?" James demanded, and Keith's eyes slid open.

"I've been in a lot of shitty situations... some of my training up there, taught me that sometimes... the good of the mission is a lot more important than my own well-being."

"Bullshit, who the fuck trained you?!"

Keith laughed at the question. He had no intention of answering of course. Till now he and the others had managed to keep Keith's heritage a secret from the rest of the Garrison, and the world. If they were to learn that he shared blood with the aliens that took so much, killed so many... he'd only just found common ground with Allura again. The idea of his own home world turning on him made him feel sick.

James settled back when it was clear the Paladin was done talking, lying his head back against the wall and staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wires sticking out from broken light fixtures that had long since stopped sparking.

"Be as rebellious as you want, that's not how I do my job," he decided, "I'm not leaving anyone behind, ever," Keith just chuckled at that, and James turned to glare down at him.

Keith looked horrible. His face was pale, pasty, almost tinted purple and yellow, and there were dark rings under his eyes, lips chapped. He was just... just lying there, his hand against the bandages on his side, his breath uneven and probably painful. James just watched him, tensing when his eyes snapped closed and he started to cough.

"Hold on a second," James turned onto his knees and picked the small canteen of water from where he'd set it, curling his other hand to the back of Keith's head to help prop him up as he bit the top off the bottle, "Easy, drink slowly."

Keith's eyes were mostly closed, and he turned his head a tiny bit as if he wanted to protest any of the water, though in the end he accepted it, one hand lifting up and fingers curling weakly around James' wrist, releasing him when he pulled the water away.

"Better?"

"... yea..."

"You should try and get some sleep," James said, lying Keith back down, "I'll keep thinking of ways to get out of this, and I mean ways we both get out of this. We can try to contact the Garrison again a little later."

"Right." Keith agreed softly, eyes closing, "Thank you."

James stayed in place for a moment, hovering over Keith, until his breathing had evened out a bit, which relaxed him enough to sit back against the wall in the same position as before, arms crossed over his lifted knees and eyes on the ceiling. He felt helpless, the blood on his hands was heavy, and even though Keith didn't exactly sleep long, or peacefully, it was agonizing to sit there in silence, unsure of what to do.

Keith slept for maybe an hour, his breathing even but ragged, until he started to flinch and groan, eyes snapping open and jolting up like he'd done before, eyes wild as the bayard formed into his hand, startling James into falling sideways as the Paladin swung the weapon.

"Whoa! Hey!" James hurried over to grab Keith by the wrist, holding his shoulder, "Calm down, you're okay!"

Keith blinked rapidly, lifting his other hand to rub his eyes before squinting at the area in front of him, bayard fading after a moment and sagging back so James had to wrap his arm around his shoulders.

"... sorry..."

"It's... fine," James said, though he wasn't really sure if it was fine at all, lying Keith back down, "How are you feeling?"

Keith seemed to consider the question, hand slipping over to feel the make-shift bandages wrapped around him, eyes narrowing a bit and lips evening into a tight line, "I'm fine," he lied, and it was so obviously a lie, but James just rolled his eyes and sat back against the wall.

"Sure you are," he huffed, arms folded as he stared up through the window beside them, at the graying sky and silver lined clouds, "It'll be night soon, go back to sleep."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Bad dreams."

James blinked and tore his gaze away from the sky to gape down at Keith, who looked even worse off than he had an hour ago. Even the tone of his voice sounded strange, and James reached out to feel his forehead, cringing as Keith rolled his eyes closed.

"You're burning up..."

"Sorry."

"What- don't apologize," James snapped, pulling his hand away, "Damn it all. We can't stay here much longer, not with you like this," he looked out the window, "Maybe we can make a run for it, I'll carry you back to the MFE-."

"No good," Keith breathed, "Too far away, there are still sentries, I can't help in a fight. We'll never make it."

"So you want to just lie here and die then?" Keith was silent as if he was actually considering the benefits of dying there, and James turned fully to glare at him, "For the last fucking time, I do not leave people behind. I don't care what it is you Paladin's do when one of you us hurt, I will never leave someone from my team behind."

"Course we help," Keith mumbled, eyes glassy, "Don't be stupid."

"You're the one who wants to die here! Who's stupid now?!"

"Loud."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" James touched Keith's burning temple again, "Christ. At least you aren't being a total prick right now. Though I think I prefer that."

He reached for the water canteen, pulling the top off and setting it aside before propping Keith's head up so he could pour the water into his mouth, "Drink."

Keith reached a hand up to block the canteen, "How much water do we have? What supplies do we have?"

"Don't worry about that and drink."

"What about you?"

"I have some for myself," James lied, but Keith bought it, lowering his hand and staring blankly across the darkening room as he drank.

James didn't need water. He had food, that was enough, Keith was the one who needed the extra attention. At this point he was worried about letting Keith so much as sleep, worried that he might not wake up, so even if he wanted the idiot to rest, he'd have to try and keep him conscious, for a bit at least.

What was there to talk about though? James and Keith had never been friends, he was pretty sure they didn't even have much in common. What right did he have anyway? He blew Keith off just that morning when he was trying to start a conversation, and now he was the one wanting to talk? What a hypocrite.

"What's it like up there?" James asked, still kneeling, holding the canteen, one hand lingering against Keith's forehead, "In space I mean."

Keith opened his eyes, almost impossible to see through the dimming light, but James didn't want to risk trying to light the room in case that Galra was searching for them. The accents of Keith's armor glowed a dim blue, which gave light enough to still see his face, so that was good enough.

"It's... not like I expected it to be," Keith answered, "Lonely... big... but really... beautiful."

"Lonely, but weren't you with the other cadets, and those aliens?"

"For a bit," Keith sighed, "There were... complications. I wasn't always the Black Paladin."

"... explain."

"In the beginning, when we first came across the Blue Lion and found Allura and Coran, I was chosen to be the Red Paladin and fly the Red Lion. That's... the one Lance has now."

"I know what colors are, Keith. Why'd you change lions?"

Keith winced at the question, swallowing, "We lost Shiro."

"... what?"

"He... chose me to lead if anything were to happen to him. He disappeared, after a bad fight. We found him again, but by then I had already taken over for him as the Black Paladin. Allura was the Blue Paladin, Lance red... but... I wasn't ready to be a leader. I almost killed everyone because of how reckless I was. So I... left. I forced Shiro to rekindle his bond with the Black Lion, and when he'd taken his place again, I left to... train with some of our allies," James was stunned to say the least, even more surprised when Keith lifted a hand to cover his eyes, lips twisted up, "I didn't want to leave. I was lonely, but I didn't want anyone... to leave because of me. I didn't want to hurt anyone. It was better that way. I wasn't a leader, I wasn't what Shiro wanted, so I left."

"Keith..."

"After... I came back, and... I took over again, because this time I was ready... Shiro... stuff happened... almost lost him again. I'd rather die... and I was prepared to die, with him, but my bond with the Black Lion saved us. Somehow we managed to help Shiro, but he didn't even make a move to take over again. He seemed happy to just sit back, and I didn't want him pushing himself anymore as it was, so... I became the Paladin I am now, so he wouldn't have to push himself and hurt more."

"Keith... what happened up there?"

Keith was silent before pulling his hand down, revealing wet cheeks and un-shed tears rimming tired eyes, "Chaos. I'm not who I used to be."

"No, but... I mean, the new you doesn't suck as much as the old you. Old Keith would recklessly fuck around and get in trouble, cause problems for shits and giggles. New Keith, Black Paladin Keith, seems a lot more level headed."

Keith frowned at that, "Thanks."

James sighed, "Look, this situation sucks, but it's an excuse to... apologize to you, before I forget," Keith rolled his head to look at James, who sat back against the wall again, arms crossed over his knees, "Back then, I was kind of a mess, when we were kids I mean. There was a lot going on in my life that affected how I acted towards other people, and since I was just a dumb kid I couldn't even begin to comprehend the damage my words could have, or the consequences of how I acted, especially towards you. My older sister tried to get the message across to me more times than I can count, that I was acting like a prick, but I really didn't get it. I was a complete moron back then.

"It's just... lashing out seemed so normalized to me. My parents, they weren't exactly doting. Most of my life my sister was the one who raised me. My parents argued when they weren't ignoring each other, a few times my mom would lash out at my dad, my dad just completely neglected me... all I had was my sister. I figure since I grew up in that kind of environment, things like arguing and targeting people had become daily occurrences to me, necessary actions, which is even worse. Plus, I'll admit, I was threatened by you. That probably seems stupid, but...

"My sister, she was part of the Garrison. She was a fighter pilot, recruited straight from school like you and I were. It was her only chance to get away from our parents, and when she realized I might be able to get away and join her, she encouraged me to take the opportunity. I was just a kid so I didn't realize why she wanted me in the Garrison so badly, I just wanted to make her proud, but when you came along with this innate talent for flight, I panicked. I thought I'd never have a chance because of you, I'd never see my sister again, and when I was accepted into the Garrison I was honestly stunned.

"I was in, but I still lashed out at you, I said hurtful things, started fights with you, and it took me years to really comprehend the negativity of what I was doing. I realized how damaging my parents were as I got older, realized how my sister was trying to protect me from them, realized just how much of a monster I'd been towards you, and I regretted it. I've regretted it for a while, but you just had to get yourself kicked out of the Garrison before disappearing for four fucking years, so I lost the will to apologize at all."

James paused in his story, turning his hands up and rubbing a thumb over his right palm, "My sister... she was one of the best fighter pilots at the Garrison. When the Galra cruisers first showed up, Admiral Sanda sent out the fighters, including my sister... none of them made it back," Keith's eyes widened and James folded his arms across his knees, leaning forward, "I'm pretty sure my parents died sometime during the invasion, but I don't know, and frankly I don't care. I know... none of this excuses my actions, especially... what I said to you regarding your parents, but-."

"It's okay," Keith interrupted, and James glanced down to see he was staring at the ceiling, "My dad... he was, um... he was a fireman," the MFE pilot sat straighter, somewhat surprised, "He died in a fire, the roof collapsed on him... I had nowhere else to go so I ended up in a home, um... but it's really okay. I mean... before the Garrison, I didn't really think I was good at anything. My dad, he would always tell me I was special, that I was meant for great things, but when he died I stopped believing that. I thought I'd end up going down a road that would make him sad, that would disappoint him, but then Shiro came around, he... believed in me, gave me a second chance, and it's because of him that I'm the Black Paladin, that I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere. The Garrison... wasn't as much an escape for me as it was a haven. I wasn't running from something or hiding, I was searching... chasing something... chasing Shiro.

"I gave up... when he disappeared during the Kerberos mission. I fell back to how I used to be, acted out even more and got myself booted from the program. Shiro... when he came back and we reunited, he never asked about it, and he hasn't confronted me about getting expelled the way I had, but... I'm sure a part of him is disappointed in me. He stuck his neck out to get me a place in the Garrison after all, risked his own career to give me a chance at a future, and I just had to fuck it up."

"Man, you didn't fuck anything up," James argued, "So you weren't cut out for the Garrison's way of life and training, so what? Even without graduating, without full course training, despite getting expelled, look where you ended up."

Keith lifted his left hand to look at the thick blood staining his fingers, "Bleeding to death on the tenth floor of an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere with only my childhood bully for comfort?"

"No, punk ass, don't make me hit you. I meant in general. You're a good pilot, Keith, you're the best of our generation, you were always the best in our classes, you're a hundred times more skilled than I'll ever be... your dad was right. You were born for amazing things, and you're fulfilling a destiny beyond any normal human comprehension by piloting the Black Lion and leading Voltron. You're not just the savior of Earth, you're the defender of the universe, of all universes. You saved so many lives, you continue to save lives every day, and you call that a fuck up?!" Keith continued to stare blankly at the ceiling, though the tears that had been rimming his eyes had begun to flow over.

Making him cry was the last thing James wanted to do, frankly it was the last thing he ever expected to accomplish, and it certainly didn't feel like much of an accomplishment. Keith was probably feeling sensitive enough because of his injuries, his blood loss and especially his fever, it's likely whatever James said now would just make him cry more, but he had more to say, he couldn't just let it go unspoken. This, especially.

"Your father would be proud of you," James said, "and Shiro... he's definitely proud of you. All those years ago, he brought some rebellious kid into the Garrison out of pure assumption that it would work out, and you turned out to be a hero he probably could only dream about. You've got to be a million times what he ever guessed you could be. You met his expectations and more, Keith. That's not a fuck up."

Keith shut his eyes, "Why are you even talking like that?"

"I'm a leader," James answered, "It's my job to reassure the people on my team. You're a leader too, remember, shouldn't you already know that?"

That brought a short, painful laugh from Keith, which ended in a dry cough that had him cringing, "I'm still getting used to the whole... leadership concept."

James reached over without looking, setting a hand against Keith's forehead, thumb caressing across his temple, "You'll have plenty of time to really get used to it as soon as we get back to the Garrison. Till then, close your eyes again, rest. You'll need your strength. I'll keep thinking of how to contact the Garrison, but if I can't come up with anything by tomorrow, we're making a break for the MFE, and no, leaving you behind to go suicidal on the world is not an option."

Keith exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes as he seemed to relax even more into the cushion beneath his head, "I'll take your word for it. I've been through worse than this, so I guess it would be pretty embarrassing to just die here."

"Worse than this," James sighed, "You'll have to tell me a story or two when we get home."

"Depends on how long I'm going to be stuck in the infirmary ward at the Garrison. You might find it weird coming to visit me, considering our passionate rivalry against each other. People might think you're trying to kill you, and just a warning, my team can be protective," he chuckled gently, speaking next in a slow whisper, "Wait till you meet my mom."

James lifted his head and glanced down at Keith, who'd fallen asleep almost instantly, and just... stared at him. As far as he'd always understood, Keith was an orphan through and through. To even mention his mom, especially after describing his father's death? It... made James a bit suspicious, but at the same time he felt some kind of... electricity in his chest. Like pride.

He turned his head away, choosing to let the topic slide for now and simply let Keith rest, for as long as he could. Later, when he was on the road to recovery, back at the Garrison, then James could bring that whole "mom" thing up again, because he'd be lying if he said he wasn't ridiculously curious. Even if Keith had only brought it up because of pained delusion from his fever, James wasn't going to let it slide. Especially since it brought such a soft smile to the loners face.

"Rest. Try not to have nightmares. We'll be home soon, you have my word."

#jeith #jaith #james griffin #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #sheith #james/keith #shiro/keith #voltron legendary defender #fanfiction #i dont know why the keep reading option isnt showing up im mad #is it because its too long cuz im still mad

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illumynare · 6 years

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Red vs Blue Fic: First Name Agent, Last Name Washington

Summary: Five times Caboose called Wash “Church,” and one time he didn’t.

Parings: None.

Warnings: Canon-typical language.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

@redvsbluesecretsanta fic for @all-my-fandoms-are-killing-me, who requested Caboose + Wash. Huge, HUGE thanks to her for being so patient as I flailed my way through finishing this story. <3

The first time that Caboose calls him “Church,” Wash just says, “Yeah?”

It’s 18 hours after Sidewinder. They’ve found an abandoned Sim Trooper base to hide at, and Wash is—

He’s tired, with a paralyzing weariness that he’s never felt before. The “looks like you aren’t going to prison” adrenaline has all worn off. Even with the healing unit running at full power, he still hurts almost everywhere from fighting the Meta.

(Meta. Maine. He can think the name, now that he’s dead—now that Wash doesn’t need to use him. Now that the Meta is not another obstacle between Wash and freedom, he can let himself wonder if his old friend was really all gone, or—)

He’s tired, but he can’t rest. The Reds and Blues gave him a suit of armor and helped him dodge the UNSC, they promised him a place on Blue Team, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to stab him in the back.

So he’s sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands, trying not to sleep and trying not to panic and trying to understand what’s happened.

You helped us, Wash—sure, but he’d helped South. He’d given the Project his entire fucking life. He’d given Epsilon—

“Hey, Church!”

“Yeah?” says Wash, turning around, only a little twitchy, because he knows that voice. It’s Caboose—out of his armor for the first time that Wash has ever seen, dark curls damp from the shower.

Then his mind stutters, freezes. Rewinds.

Hey, Church.

That wasn’t his name.

It wasn’t his name, but he said yeah because he forgot. He forgot and answered to the wrong name and fuck fuck fuck they know they finally know—

He realizes that he’s on his feet, gun drawn.

“Oh!” says Caboose. “I did not know we were playing hide and seek.”

“What?” Wash demands, his voice cracking. “What the hell—what are you—”

“DROP IT, MOTHERFUCKER,” Tucker yells, charging in through the doorway with his sword drawn.

He’s not trained like a Freelancer. It should be laughably easy for Wash to drop him, despite the glowing energy sword, and without even firing a bullet from his gun. Wash aims a kick at Tucker’s leg, meaning to send him sprawling—

But the exhaustion and the injuries are too much. Wash’s own leg gives out, and he tumbles to the ground. His gun skids across the floor.

Tucker grabs it, shutting off his sword. “What the fuck were you doing?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

“Church and I were playing a game,” says Caboose, as cheerful as ever. “I won.”

“I’m not—” Wash starts, but then his mind roars with static and he can’t go on.

Not Church, not Epsilon, he’s not he’s not, but the name Wash feels heavy and foreign, and he is—he is—

He’s finished. That’s all he is, right now, same as on Sidewinder. Tired and finished, without the strength left to even pretend he knows his name.

“You tried to kill Caboose,” says Tucker.

“Yeah, uhhh, that is part of playing hide and seek,” Caboose says. “I find Church and then he tries to shoot me.”

Tucker glares at Caboose. “That isn’t Church, you idiot.”

Wash manages to find his voice and say, “He called me ‘Church.’”

In an instant, Tucker’s glare is turned on Wash. “So you decided to fucking shoot him?”

“I—”

Wash doesn’t know what he can say: there aren’t words for what it was like, waking up with two selves in his head, feeling that other self die, and then living with the memories. Knowing every moment of every day that if he ever let them know he remembered being Church/Alpha/Leonard/Epsilon, he would be killed.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t call the UNSC and put your ass in jail,” says Tucker.

“Uhhh, because he is Church?” Caboose offers.

“I wasn’t asking you!”

“. . . I’m sorry,” Wash says helplessly. “I thought— Back in Freelancer, if I’d answered to that name, they would have killed me.”

Tucker snorts. “Yeah, right.” The he does a double-take, looking at Wash’s face. “Wait. Seriously?”

Wash’s nerves are buzzing with fear. It can’t be this easy—nobody ever believes anyone, not if they’re teammates, not if they’re friends—

“Yeah,” he says.

“Ugh,” says Tucker, and he relaxes, all the anger draining out of him. “You Freelancers are really fucked-up, you know that?”

“Yeah,” says Wash.

The thing is, Wash’s job on Blue Team is just “pretend to be the Alpha AI,” and that’s . . . horrifyingly traumatic in a number of ways, but it’s also boring.

He already looked a member of the UNSC in the eye and answered to the name “Leonard Church.” He got away with it. Here at Blue Base? There’s nothing for him to do.

Wash can’t remember a single time in his life when he didn’t have a mission, a goal: get off that dirtball. Survive the war. Make it onto the Leaderboard. Burn down Freelancer.

Now? He’s lost.

So he’s pried open the microwave and he’s trying to fix it, because the only other possible project is teaching Lavernius Tucker to act like a soldier, and fuck if he’s going to waste his time on that kind of hopeless cause.

“Church,” Caboose says from behind him.

i am epsilonepsilonEPSILON i was leonard church we are BROKEN don’t say goodbye i hate goodbyes

Wash curls his fingers into fists, wait for the memory to pass. For his thoughts to sound like his own again.

“Don’t call me that,” he grits out, turning to face Caboose, who is in full armor this time.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you noticed, but you are wearing Church’s armor and replacing him on Blue Team, so that kind of makes you Church.”

“But I’m not—” Wash realizes his voice is rising and he chokes off the words. Tucker has the uncanny ability to appear any time he raises his voice to Caboose, and Wash is really not in the mood to be reminded again that if he screws up too much, they’ll throw him to the UNSC.

“Church went into the memory unit,” he says wearily. “Remember?”

Caboose nods. “Yeah, and you replaced him. It is not that complicated.”

Sometimes Caboose is clearly just babbling—How sad would it be to not have a brother and to lose a brother all in the same day?—but sometimes he talks slower, seems more aware of the world outside of his brain. This is one of those times.

“Have there been other Churches?” Wash asks.

“Yeah,” says Caboose. “There was Church, who was my best friend ever, but his body fell out of the jeep and I lost him. And then there was Church, who lived inside the memory unit and listened to my stories, and then he was a robot, and then he went back into the memory unit. And then there was you.”

I’m not Church, Wash wants to howl, but Caboose is staring at him like—like—

Like he has a place on Blue Team. One that means something.

“And now my helmet is stuck and it is your job to get it off,” Caboose goes on. “Because you are Church.”

“Wait,” says Wash. “Seriously?”

But as he wrestles Caboose’s helmet from off his armor, and deals with the chewing gum smeared inside the locking mechanism, he’s . . . grateful.

Pretending to be Leonard Church—Alpha or Epsilon—makes Wash’s skin crawl. Cleaning up after Caboose isn’t exactly fun. But it’s something. It’s a reason for them to keep him on Blue Team and out of prison, and Wash isn’t a bit less desperate than he was when he teamed up with his friend’s walking corpse and shot Donut.

He can stand being Church.

He will be Church.

After Wash leads Blue Team to victory a three times in a row, he starts to relax. He knows, and he knows they all know, that the war games are pointless. But Sarge is just as dedicated to the complete and utter destruction of Blue Team as before, and Tucker enjoys making the Reds sing embarrassing songs to get their flag back, and Caboose is just happy to be on a mission with “Church.”

So it works for them.

Wash avoids thinking about how it can’t last, just like he avoids thinking about how he got here and why Simmons won’t talk to him. For once in his life, he’s not brooding about the past, and he’s not desperately crawling towards the future. He’s just—

Making coffee in the mornings. Watching Caboose tinker with the jeep. Putting out the fires Caboose starts in the kitchen and then feeding everyone MREs. Saying, “Yeah, buddy,” even when he doesn’t fully understand what Caboose is saying.

It’s . . . not exactly good.

But it’s the longest, most peaceful stretch of not bad that he can remember having in a very long time.

There’s only one thing wrong, really, and it’s Tucker. Not at first, when he just avoids Wash. But as time goes on—Tucker hangs around them a little more, but he’s always giving Wash these weird, resentful looks that send little sparks of adrenaline down Wash’s spine, because he could call the UNSC.

Wash tries. He leads them on another raid and they win, again. He cleans the base. He banishes Caboose from the kitchen and manages to cook their meager supplies into an actual dinner, complete with mashed potatoes.

But something’s still wrong, and it’s more than just Tucker’s initial wariness, his protectiveness for Caboose. Wash can see it getting worse as they eat dinner together, the way Tucker’s mouth slants down and his shoulders tense and he’s hardly even eating.

It’s getting worse, but Wash has no idea what to do.

“Well,” Caboose says cheerfully, “I think that maybe tomorrow, me and Church—”

“He’s WASH, you moron,” Tucker snaps suddenly, slamming his fork down on the table. “Get that fucking straight.”

Fuck, Wash thinks, hardly daring to breathe. This is it.

“Uh,” says Caboose, “I think you mean Church.”

“No, I mean Agent fucking Washington, the asshole who shoots people for no reason.”

There’s a buzzing in Wash’s ears. He can hear the memory of Simmons screeching, the sound of Donut’s body hitting the ground.

I had to, Wash thinks dizzily, I had to, he was in my way, I couldn’t go back to prison.

But—

He’d ended up headed for prison anyway, and it was only Caboose’s begging that saved him, and now he can’t miss the way Simmons is still scared around him, the way Grif always positions himself between them.

He can’t miss, either, the gaping hole on Blue Team where Alpha and then Epsilon used to be.

In that instant, Wash desperately wishes that he really was Church. That he wasn’t the kind of person who did those things.

“No, he is Church,” Caboose explains patiently, “because Church is Blue Team captain.”

Tucker starts to rise from his seat. “Call him that ONE MORE TIME—”

Wash starts to rise too, raising his hands placatingly, because he can’t let this turn into a fight. Not with Caboose in the middle. “Look, Tucker, I know it’s weird, but if it’s easier for Caboose—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Tucker snaps. “Church was my best friend.”

“He left,” says Caboose, his voice soft and final.

There’s a moment of shocked, frigid silence. Tucker’s mouth is open, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Church is the one who stays and takes care of us,” Caboose goes on. “Epsilon left because he liked the mean lady better. It’s not us, it’s him. I realize this is hard for you to understand, Tucker, because you are kind of dumb. But it is time for us to move on.”

Wash looks at Tucker and—shit, are those tears in his eyes?

“Fuck you,” Tucker chokes out, and bolts.

With a sigh, Wash sinks back into his chair, and puts his head in his hands.

“I’m never making dinner again,” he mumbles.

“Well, I thought your mashed potatoes were delicious,” says Caboose, patting him on the shoulder.

His fever has broken.

Wash knows this, because the floor isn’t rocking underneath him, and when he looks up, the ceiling doesn’t look like it’s bubbling and seething.

Yay.

He still feels awful: aching all over and exhausted in a way he hasn’t been since he was in the hospital recovering from South’s bullets. When the gunk in his lungs makes him convulse with coughing, he wishes bitterly that the healing unit could help with a virus.

But no. He’ll just have to lie in this bed and suffer for a few more days. Hopefully Caboose won’t burn down the base in the meantime.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHURCH!”

Wash sits bolt upright in bed, scrabbling for the pistol he usually keeps under his pillow—it’s not there—before he realizes that he isn’t being attacked. It’s just Caboose and Tucker, carrying a cake.

A birthday cake, with candles burning. Wash wonders if he’s still hallucinating.

“See, Tucker?” says Caboose. “I told you he was well enough.”

“Do you mean too sick to run away?” Tucker asks. He puts his hand on Wash’s forehead. “Yeah, okay, I guess you won’t die.”

“What . . . is this?” Wash asks fuzzily.

“Look, I know,” says Tucker, and puts a cup of orange juice in his hands. Wash wraps his fingers around the cool glass. “But Caboose really wanted to do this on your actual birthday, so . . . just have a bite of cake and I’ll get you some chicken soup. I make the best chicken soup.”

“Um,” says Wash. The last thing he remembers Tucker saying him—before he got sick—was Fuck off, Washington.

“It’s not my birthday,” he says finally, because—because he’s Church now, and he knows (remembers) that Leonard Church was born on September 21st.

(Welcome to the world, Epsilon. Today is your birthday, and that was timestamp 3/12/2559 17:51:33 UTC.)

“Umm, I think you lost track of time while you were sick, Church,” says Caboose. “It is May 1st, and that is your birthday.”

“Yeah, Simmons hacked the Freelancer records,” says Tucker. “That’s how we know your birthday and that you used to—”

“OKAY TIME TO SING NOW,” Caboose interrupts.

They sing. They’re completely off-tune. They sing, Happy birthday to Church, but it’s on Wash’s real birthday, David’s real birthday, and he—

He doesn’t know what to think about that.

After they finish singing, Tucker cuts the cake, and hands Wash a slice. Wash stares at it, remembering the time that Caboose tried to use powdered sugar instead of flour.

“C’mon, man,” says Tucker, “it’s safe. I cooked it.”

So Wash takes a bite. It’s a chocolate cake, fluffy and rich and absolutely delicious, and he can hardly taste it because his brain keeps repeating Tucker’s words: It’s safe. I cooked it.

He’s pretty sure that a week ago, Tucker wouldn’t have so much as opened a package of crackers for him, and he certainly wouldn’t have tried to soothe Wash’s fears about Caboose’s cooking.

He slants a quizzical look up at Tucker.

And Tucker sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, so . . . you’re really pathetic when you’re sick, and I guess I felt sorry for you? Also, uh. You kinda talked a lot when you were delirious. And, uh . . .”

“He means that he realized you were Church,” says Caboose. “Took him long enough. Stupid Tucker.”

Carolina’s alive.

Carolina is alive.

One part of Wash’s brain is still stuck on that fact, still gibbering over and over that she was dead she was dead I was the last—

—and one part of him is snarling why the FUCK didn’t she come back for me?—

—but he’s got that mostly locked away now, in the back part of his mind where he keeps the broken, jagged memories that aren’t his.

He knows how to put his insanity aside and deal with a crisis, and right now, Carolina is the crisis. Carolina, and what she’s asked of him. (What he’s not sure he could refuse even if he wanted to.)

“She wants to find the Director,” Wash says to Church and Tucker.

“The what now?” asks Caboose.

“The Director of Project Freelancer,” Tucker says, and Wash can’t read the look that he slants up. “Right?”

“Right,” said Wash. “The one who created the AIs and the Meta and the—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tucker waves a hand. “We got the whole ‘killed my friends, prepare to die’ speech like five times already.”

I killed your friends, Wash thinks, and this time what he feels isn’t guilt but a sort of startled wonder, that they’ve put that aside as he never could.

“I owe Carolina,” he says. “She was my squad leader, and—”

—six years old, sitting on the lawn with daisies in her hair—

“She was a friend,” he says firmly, pushing the memories away. “I’m not asking you to help us. It’s not your problem. But she says that she knows where Epsilon is, and she can get him out of the memory unit. That’s how she’s planning to find the Director. If you want to come with us, you’d be, uh—”

He can’t quite bring himself to say, useful in a fight, because he’s seen how they fight. Last time Red Team attacked, Tucker tried to hold them off with his sick dance moves.

Then again, they brought down the Meta.

“You’d be welcome,” he finishes awkwardly. “Or if you don’t want to . . . I’ll come back. With Epsilon. I promise.”

He stops, and waits for Caboose’s disappointment, Tucker’s anger. Because he knows his promise isn’t enough, he’s going to lose the only place he can still belong—but he can’t refuse Carolina, he can’t—

“Okay,” says Tucker. “Let’s go.” He grins at Wash. “Like I’m gonna let you be the one who has frenzied pre-battle sex with Carolina.”

“What?” Wash’s voice cracks. He can feel his brain physically trying to eject the memory of Tucker’s words.

“Plus, the last time you went on a road trip with a Freelancer buddy, you ended up nearly dead,” says Tucker.

“Yeah,” says Caboose. “And we already agreed you could skip dying, even though it’s part of the job. So we are coming with you, Church.”

Wash stares at them, and he can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe it’s so easy, nobody ever chooses him—

“Thanks, guys,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

Everything’s so fucked-up.

Wash stands watch, staring into the sunset. He’s pretty sure the Reds and Blues won’t put up with Carolina for much longer—and they shouldn’t, it’s not like they owe her anything—

But Wash owes her so very much, and he doesn’t know how he can turn on her.

Even though he also owes the Reds and Blues everything.

“Sneaking . . . sneaking . . . sneaking . . .”

Wash sighs, and looks over his shoulder. “Hello, Caboose.”

“Hello, Agent Washington,” Caboose stage-whispers, and the name sends a pang through him. Because he’s not Church anymore. They have a Church, their Church, one who never shot or kidnapped any of them.

One who deserves to be with them.

“Caboose, you know you’re supposed to be in the temple with the rest of your squad,” Wash says.

Not his squad. Not anymore.

“Um, yes—well, um—but you see, um,” Caboose’s voice drops lower, “I am spying on you.”

Wash sighs again. It hurts, to be reminded that they don’t trust him anymore, that he’s not one of them anymore, that he was never one of them. But he chose this.

“Why are you spying on me, Caboose?” he asks wearily, turning to face Caboose.

“Well, yes, um, since everyone is kind of scared of you and Carolina, we figured we should try and get as much information on you guys as possible, so um . . . where do you guys see yourselves in the next five to ten years?”

You and Carolina.

Everyone is scared.

He’s lost it, all the fragile trust he built with the Reds and Blues when they were hiding together and they had no future. Wash knows that, and the knowledge is tearing him apart—but he also feels a tremendous rush of affection, because—well, Caboose.

“Caboose,” he says kindly, “you realize that when you spy on someone, no one's actually supposed to know that you're spying on them, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” says Caboose. “I just figured you wouldn't tell anyone.”

“Wait,” says Wash. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh come on, Agent Washington—I mean I—you know, I'm pretty sure that we can trust you?” says Caboose. “I mean we are friends.”

He turns and ambles off as Wash stares at him in stunned amazement.

Wash hasn’t been “Church” since they pulled Epsilon out of the memory unit. He assumed that meant he was downgraded to being just another Freelancer, one of the interlopers that the Reds and Blues had to defend themselves against. But—

“Friends,” Wash mutters, and feels the center of his world start to shift.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb fic #agent washington #michael j caboose #lavernius tucker #my fic

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lothrilzul · 6 years

Text

Things about my Dovahkiins

A recent convo with @mrninjapineapple reminded me of this unfinished thing.

I started this questionnaire around March 28th, 2015 and it’s been sitting in my sta.sh unfinished for so long that I forgot who tagged me to do this.

Looking back, it’s quite a silly list of questions, and I originally wanted to scrap the whole thing, but I liked some of my answers, so here it is. You can compare the personalities of my different Dragonborns by their answers.

[I’m planning to make a more serious questionnaire for the characters involved in our collection of stories (The Age of Restoration). I’ll also plan to post some screenshots of them in a later post.]

Onto the questionnaire with 40 silly questions!

1. What is your name? Z: Zinnia(h Fire-Hearth) Y: Yrgrod Ragvirsson C: Casts-First-Asks-Second N: Nicholaus (the Goldsmith) S: Shurag gra-Burz

2. Do you know why you were named that? Z: No. [After a horse called Cinnia, because I thought it sounded unique.] Y: I was named after an old hero and I inherited my fathers family name too. [It was formed from parts of my name, "rág" & "Vir"] C: Yes, I named myself. [And it sounded cool!] N: No, I was too little to ask it by the time and later I was already used to it. [Because he was created on 6th of December, the day of Saint Nicholas (Mikulás in our country)] S: I don't really care about it, it's just a name... [it was formed from a part of my name, "s Virág" sounding "shwirag", with different spelling] 3. Are you single or taken? Z: Taken. Y: Taken. C: Single? I'm unique! N: Was taken. S: Single. 4. Have any abilities or powers? Z: I'm the Dragonborn and a werewolf and I have an ability called Ancestor's wrath Y: I'm the Dragonborn and a werewolf. C: I'm a Volkihar vampire N: Not that I know of, other than still being alive. S: I can go berserk answering such questions. 5. Stop being a Mary-Sue! Z: I do have a bunch of titles, but this one, I never heard of... Y: Isn't that a female name? C: Why should I? N: Silly... S: You mean Shu, right? 6. What's your eye color? Z: Pitch black. Y: Somewhere between blue and green. C: White with a red pupil. Originally my pupil was light blue. N: Green as an emerald. S: It's red. The other one's blind. 7. How about hair color? Z: It's almost black. Y: Some kind of blonde. C: Hair? Phew, filthy thing! I have beautiful horns! N: It was brownish, now it's grey. S: Brown. 8. Have you any family members? Z: A husband and adopted daughters. My parents are dead. Y: I have a wife and adopted kids. My sister and her son died during his birth. C: No, and I'm happy about it. N: I had. S: I adopted a daughter, but I haven't found true love yet. 9. Oh? How about pets? Z: I love horses and I have four: Arvak, Blaze, Frost and Shadowmere. My daughter's pet fox, Vix sometimes lets me cuddle her. Y: I'm a dog man. C: I don't know the Dead Thrall perk yet. Pity. N: I like animals, but I don't want to attach anyone again. S: I have a good horse. I don't need useless critters around me. 10. That's cool, I guess. Now tell me about something you don't like. Z: The Blades. Y: Unnecessary friction. C: Werewolves, Vigilants of Stendarr and the Silver Hand. N: Boots. S: Dragons. 11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do? Z: Reading. I have a library of around three hundred books. Y: I like to sing (though some say that I shouldn't) and listen to the bards. C: I tend to drink guard's blood in Riften. Broad daylight. N: I like to craft jewellery. S: Exploring the vast wilderness of Skyrim. 12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before? Z: Pretty much. Bandits, creatures, some people. But I only regret some of them. Y: Yes, and he deserved it. He was the reason why my sister died. C: Most possible ways, yes. N: I did, but I wish I shouldn't have. I'm not afraid to protect myself, though. S: I gladly smash in anyone's faces, who deserves it. 13. Ever... killed anyone before? Z: I did. Most time I followed orders, but sometimes for my own good. Y: To name the most important: the usurper Ulfric Stormcloak. C: With pleasure. Also, I need hearts and flesh for crafting. N: Same as Q12. S: It was me or them. No question. 14. What kind of animal are you? Z: I'm a werewolf. And the Dragonborn. Y: I'm a werewolf. C: I'm beastfolk, not animal. I should shed your blood for this question. N: I always considered myself a small and peaceful creature, therefore a squirrel, I guess? S: Orcs are no animals. Oh, you mean metaphorically? I'm a sabrecat. 15. Name your worst habits? Z: Hoarding stuff. Especially ingredients and books. Y: I tend to be hot headed and sometimes I regret things. C: In others eyes, killing for my own amusement is one. N: I tend to be melancholic. S: Smashing in faces. 16. Do you look up to anyone at all? Z: Talos. Y: Sometimes, but they mostly prove they were unworthy to it. Sad. C: No. N: Quite a number of people, yes. S: My mother, Shuzhra was the greatest personality ever. I miss her. 17. Are you gay, straight, or bisexual? Z: Straight. Y: Straight. C: I'm not picky. N: I always thought I was straight, but now I'm not that sure... S: Straight-in-your-face, what kind of unashamed question is this? 18. Do you go to school? Z: No, but I learn new tricks on a weekly basis! Y: No, I'm old enough. C: I never needed school to achieve my goals... N: No, but you are never too old to learn! S: I don't need that, unless it's about potions or fighting! 19. Ever wanna marry and have kids one day? Z: Already married, first child is on his way! Y: I already am, and that second... would be good. C: I don't think so. No kids. Never. N: I had a beautiful wife and daughter, but they both died long ago. Now I'm searching for my grandson! S: Maybe... maybe not. 20. Do you have fangirls/fanboys? Z: I don't know. Maybe. [She’s just modest, she has some.] Y: I... have? C: Of course. N: If I have, that's cool. S: I don't need such admiration. 21. What are you most afraid of? Z: That something happens with my family or with those who I care about. Y: Having to fight those who I called my friends once. C: The Sun. Hiss. N: Bonding. S: That I hurt someone who’s not deserving. 22. What do you usually wear? Z: Light armor crafted by myself and a hood. Y: Heavy armor without helmet, or a helmet which doesn't cover my face. I need my foes to know who bested them. C: Light armor with dark tones, hood, sabatoons, veil or scarf and a mask to hide my teeth. N: Plain clothing. I was dressed in burlap clothing with bare feet before the Sparrows made it cool. No, I'm not a religious fanatic. Does it mean I'm a hipster? S: Blades armor with a Greybeard cloak, to shorten the cooldown of my Shouts when I kill dragons. 23. What's one food that tempts you? Z: Most kind of sweets. Y: Milk. C: Hehe. Blood, my dear. N: Elves ear. My favourite spice. S: Dried venison. 24. Am I annoying you? Z: No, these questions are interesting. I love to explore myself by thinking about stuff I usually don't. Y: Not really. C: I don't know yet. N: No. S: A bit. But I manage it. 25. Well, it's still not over! Z: Good! Y: Alright. C: Go on! N: Alright. S: Oh. 26. What class are you? Low class, middle class, high class. Z: Started as middle class, now high class. Y: High class from born. C: Low class to high class in two years. N: Middle class. S: Orcs are orcs, not classy people. 27. How many friends do you have? Z: I don’t like to count, but many. Some are close, the most not much. Kharjo, J’zargo, Brelyna, Aela, Farkas, Lucan, Belethor, Urag, Lydia, Sasha (mod) and my Housecarls. Oh and Paarthurnax. [Non canonically she likes Aronansa and Jenna Sajpa] Y: Who can be sure about that anymore? The Companions, especially after purging our beast blood together. C: Anum-La, The Swamp Knight [from the interesting NPC mod] N: Some people here or there, but I don’t make want to make new friends, I’m too old. S: A few. Why? 28. What are your thoughts on pie? Z: Delicious! Y: I hope it’s a meat pie. C: Bleh. N: I don’t mind one coming my way sometimes. S: Uh, they’re food? 29. If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? Z: Talos! Or my father. Y: My beautiful sister Hroda. C: My enemies, so I can flay them! N: My grandson, Mercer. You heard about him? S: Right now? 30. Favourite drink? Z: Red wine and clean water. Y: Milk! C: Fresh blood. N: Mead. S: Magicka potions. They are good for thirst. 31. What's your favourite place? Z: Hm. Skyrim, as a whole, but I like Heljarchen because that where we live now. Y: Dragonsreach is nice. C: Lakeview, my place. N: Solstheim volcanic side. S: The Reach. 32. Are you interested in anyone? Z: My husband, Balimund! Y: My wife, Zinnia [copy of Zinnia as a mod] C: Not now. N: Don’t tell him but I fancy Tolfdir. S: Not right now. 33. How tall are you?

The game gives the height of the character compared to the average. Different races and sexes have different base values. (e.g. Nord males are 1,03, while Khajiit women are 0,95) I headcanonned the average to be 175 cm (5’74). If you think the average Skyrim player character has a different height value, it modifies my calculation (also, sorry, my brain works in centimeters ))

Z: 175 cm (1) Y: 187 cm (1,071=1,04*1,03) C: 175 cm (1) N: 175 cm (1) S: I'm tall enough, thanks! [It’s a bit sensitive topic for her. She’s 164 cm (0,94=0,9x1,045)] 34. Would you rather swim in a lake or in an ocean? Z: A lake. Salty water is not my type. Y: Both are fine. C: I’d rather not, but if I need; the Ocean. N: How about neither? S: Swimming in heavy armor is not good idea. A brook, maybe? 35. What's your type? Z: Bulky nords with beard! Y: My wife. C: Zero negative, but I can eat any blood type. N: Um, people like Tolfdir? S: Someone who’s brave! 36. Any fetishes? Z: Why would I tell you? Y: No. C: I might have some but it’s none of your business. N: None. S: No.

37. Seme or uke?

[I googled what these mean and not going to answer, because my dragonborns don’t know about such things.] 38. Camping or indoors? Z: Indoors. Y: Both. C: Outside. Hunting. N: Indoors. S: Camping? Adventuring! 39. Are you still wanting this quiz to end? Z: I could do other things, yes. Y: It’s indifferent to me. C: Yes. N: If there’s more question, ask. S: Kind of. 40. Well, it's over! Now tag five people to do this.

*Inaudible mumbling, noises of chairs scratching the floor, bootsteps as they leave to their realities.*

[I’m not tagging, I was tagged more two years ago!]

#skyrim #skyrim is life #skyrim headcanons #headcanons #elder scrolls OC #zinnia fire-hearth #yrgrod ragvirsson #shurag gra-burz #nicholaus the goldsmith #qp #silly questions #questionnaire #casts-first-asks-second #my dragonborns #dragonborn #dovahkiin

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frasier-crane-style · 7 years

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So Spider-Man: Homecoming strikes me as largely a... ummmm... unholy aberration? In that it’s a comic book adaptation that largely isn’t based on the comic book, it’s based on John Hughes movies from the eighties. And then at the same time, it’s modernized and updated and diversified because it can’t be old and outdated like the Dikto comics (although Ultimate Spider-Man was largely the same), but then all that modernization and updating is based on... the eighties.

1. Diversity

I suppose we might as well start with the elephant in the room. In the lead-up to Homecoming being released, there were a ton of articles backpatting Marvel (or backpatting themselves, rather) over how much of the cast was non-white. Not that you’d know it from looking at the poster, of course.

I just have problems. One, the diversity itself. I see it as mainly Marvel trying to placate the fans who wanted Miles Morales, a little like a dad who forgot his kid’s birthday so at the gas station he got a Sandlot DVD or whatever. “No, you’re not Spider-Man, but you CAN be... Ned Leeds! Don’t ya wanna be Ned Leeds, negroes?” Like, does that really matter that much? Are there black people dancing in the streets because Liz Allan is biracial? Is it really that big a deal that Spider-Man’s sidekicks and/or love interests are minorities, when that was also the case in Captain America, Iron Man, Guardians of the Galaxy, Ant-Man, etc. And all of them did it without this racebending that was apparently so necessary.

It also bugs me that Marvel justifies it by going “well, we’re just reflecting the real world diversity in New York! hashtag stay woke!” Yeah, they’re just reflecting the real world. Like in Captain America, when they reflected the reality of the segregated army of the 1940s.

Or how they reflected that all of the Norse gods were, y’know, kinda Norse.

It’s not that it’s such a bad argument, it’s just that I see it argued in bad faith a lot. When it suits their needs, people on the Left argue “hey, it’s realistic, you have to do X!” (see the Dunkirk “controversy”) Then when it doesn’t suit their needs, they argue “hey, there are dragons or aliens or whatever, it doesn’t need to be realistic! We can say that in 1966, the US army was all lesbian schoolgirls! Who cares?”

Just pick a position and stick to it. Also, maybe that diversity should carry over to the bad guys as well. Remember the head of a Middle Eastern terrorist organization, according to Marvel?

Or the head of a Far East cult?

Anyway, all this limp-wristed apologizing for Peter Parker being Spider-Man instead of Miles Morales comes off as especially galling when he’s getting his own movie. No other legacy character is getting that good a deal. There aren’t two Batman movies coming out, one with Dick Grayson and one with Bruce Wayne. And yet, Peter Parker’s movie still has to suffer and even incorporate a bunch of Miles Morales’s canon for no real reason. If you’re going to make a Peter Parker movie, make a Peter Parker movie, not this half-assed “oh, it’s Peter, but don’t worry, Miles is on his way, sorry, sorry, sorry!”

2. Flash

I don’t buy the Flash Thompson update at all. Like, is that really how bullying works now? The popular, cool nerd picking on the unpopular, lame nerd? It’s like, they’re both on the academic decathlon team. Flash is picking on Peter because he’s a better mathlete than him. Imagine Flash Thompson as a football player, and Peter is another football player who’s better at it than him, and somehow Flash is at the top of the social hierarchy and Peter’s at the bottom. Does that make any sense?

Of course, if they were really going to update Peter’s bullying, it would seem like they would at least mention cyberbullying, instead of just making Peter’s ‘tormentor’ a guy who makes passive-aggressive comments that Peter doesn’t even seem to notice. I feel like the irony of Peter being far stronger than Flash, but obviously unable to haul off and sock him one, plus the irony of Flash being a fan of Spider-Man but disliking Peter, is way stronger than whatever they’re trying to accomplish by giving him an ‘intellectual rival.’

Also, is making Peter’s nemesis a rich prick really that much more original than his nemesis being a jerk jock? REALLY?

3. MJ

I would argue their rendition of ‘MJ’ is way less faithful than the outright loathed Deadpool in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Wolverine, you get at least a couple of scenes where Ryan Reynolds is playing Wade Wilson, he’s making jokes, he has two katanas... he turns into an abomination, but he spends several scenes not as an abomination.

Michelle... they adapted a famously dancing party girl and all they had her talk about was how she hates parties. She’s literally the exact opposite of Mary Jane. Even the watered down MJs in the Raimi movies, Ultimate comics, and SMLMJ were still popular, positive characters.

Michelle, again, exact opposite. I have no idea why people are cool with this except that either they’re fetishizing, like, any black people at all--Chris Tucker could come in and scream “HELP ME, SPIDER-MAN, I GOT THESE CRIMINALS ALL OVER ME!” and they’d go yay, representation matters--or they hate Mary Jane in the first place and wouldn’t care if Marvel turned her into Norman Osborn’s chief assassin and baby-killer.

In which case, it seems you should complain a little just on principle. Isn’t any character entitled to a little better treatment than this? Especially a famous female character that has a lot of fans who she means something to? If you’re going to make this character a socially awkward nerd, why not at least name her after Gwen Stacy or Debra Whitman, who are at least something like that in canon? Even if you’re just a Gwen Stacy fan, do you want the waters muddied so that now a (nominally) completely different character has traits adopted from your fave? Do you like it when female characters are treated as completely interchangeable?

4. Ned

The last of the new kids/updates/whatever the fuck is Ned, and fuck him. Fuck him in his stupid Ganke face yes I said it. I guess we’re going to ignore the hypocrisy of Ganke being the most faithfully adapted character in a Spider-Man movie, but Marvel casting an actor of a different ethnicity, so they give the character the name of another character of yet another ethnicity to cover, because everything is stupid and sucks all the time now.

BUT ANYWAY, all this just so Peter can have “a guy on a computer”? He already has Karen, which is enough of a fucking departure already, and the movie even points out how cliched a guy on a computer is! Smallville did it, Birds of Prey did it, Arrow does it, The Flash does it, Supergirl does it--does Spider-Man really have to crib notes from those fucking pikers?

The bigger problem, though, is this.

5. Secret identity

I understand Marvel deciding Peter can’t just have an internal monologue, they need to give him a character to talk to so the audience can know how he’s feeling. The Amazing Spider-Mans did that with Gwen and, at least theoretically, I’m fine with that.

My issue is that Marvel took Peter, one of their most introverted and neurotic characters, and let his entire supporting cast know he’s Spider-Man!

Seriously. Let’s check who in the cast knows he’s Spider-Man by the end of the movie.

1. Ganke/Ned

2. Tony Stark

3. Happy Hogan

4. (presumably) Pepper Potts

5. Michelle suspects/could know (so should that be half?)

5.5. Aunt May

6. The Vulture

7. Karen

So... essentially everyone but fucking Flash. One or two of these would be fine, but he can fucking take everyone who knows out to a buffet and have a roundtable discussion on what to do about the Scorpion. What about him being a loner? What’s the point of a secret identity if everyone who matters knows? What about him having to figure stuff out on his own?

6. Rich uncle

So let me ask you something. Aunt May gets really sick--in fact, her being chronically ill would be a good way to replicate the comics’ elderly May instead of May being the bread-winner in a family that seems comfortably middle class, cough cough--what does Peter do? Does he go to the Daily Bugle and beg Jameson for an assignment? Is he tempted to rob a bank or just take some money from a crook he’s busted? How does he pay for this?

Well, in this canon, obviously he just asks Tony to write him a check.

It’s so odd, because you’d think the idea of Peter Parker as being financially unstable and constantly struggling with money troubles would be more relevant than ever these days. Yet, by making him Tony’s fucking surrogate motherfucking son, that aspect is totally neutered. Why does this Peter need to work at the Bugle at all? Why should he do anything except ask Stark--the guy who buys masterpieces he’s never even heard of on a lark--for money and then goof off?

In the comics, at least initially, Peter is constantly being Spider-Man not only to fight injustice, but also because the photographs he takes of himself fighting supervillains is the only way he has to make a living and support his aunt. Homecoming, May can support herself, he has Tony as the world’s biggest safety net, so the Spider-Man thing seems less a responsibility and more like a fun hobby he does for shits and giggles.

I’m not saying Spider-Man should be Batman, angsting and brooding over being a superhero, but shouldn’t there be some mixed feelings and conflict over it?

And, for a character who iconically has to repair his own costume with a sewing kit, does it not seem really inappropriate for him to now be wearing a Harrier jet? They try to adapt the part in Civil War where he rejects the Iron Spider suit, but since the Iron Spider suit is here the classic costume we all want to see him in, now he rejects an even more advanced powered armor suit, while keeping the still very advanced powered armor suit that is somehow supposed to be down-home and authentic.

(I guess no one pointed out that the entire Tony-Peter relationship throughout Civil War ended with Peter realizing what an anus Tony was and rejecting him.)

6a. Rich spotlight-stealing uncle

By the way, this totally takes the emphasis off Peter as a genius in his own right (which is, remember, the reason he’s supposed to have this deep bond with Tony in the first place). Who cares if Peter invented webbing and webshooters if that’s only 1% of what his suit can do and everything else is this stupendous stuff Tony Stark came up with? You might as well go whole-hog and say that Peter was just doing parkour before and Tony invented everything. Peter isn’t even the one to hack into his own suit, he needs Gankned for that.

7. Rich SUPERHERO uncle

Also, we’ve established that this Spider-Man isn’t qualified to fight supervillains and is expected to call for back-up whenever he runs into one, unless he’s just stupidly prideful (which is, y’know, irresponsible--not very Spidery). For the plot to work, thus we get this dumb conflict where Tony and Hogan apparently ignore Peter’s ass, only for them to ‘heartwarmingly’ reveal that they really have listened and paid attention to his missives. They just, you know, never actually tell him that or really anything (doesn’t Tony seem like the kind of guy who would at least text Peter? Probably a lot? He seems to love hanging out with the Avengers and chatting about superhero stuff otherwise...)

I know Tony is supposed to be that stupid, even after ten movies where the theme is “Tony learns not to be that stupid,” but does that really sound like something Hogan and especially Pepper would go along with?

It’s contrived enough in the first place that we’d end up in a situation where Peter is trying to call Iron Man in on this supervillain hoedown going on right now, but they won’t take his calls, so what happens in the sequel? Peter runs into the Lizard, he calls the Avengers, they say “sorry, kid--we’re all busy”? I’m not ungenerous, I’ll accept that in most solo movies, Thor or Captain America won’t call in the cavalry, but with Spider-Man, isn’t it just child endangerment to say “yeah, we know we’re supposed to help you, but it’s your solo movie, we’re not springing for ScarJo and Hulk’s FX team, we’re already giving Sony fifty percent”?

Maybe when they were ripping off Supergirl’s ‘guy at the computer,’ they should’ve realized how bad it looks when Superman is out there somewhere protecting the world, but won’t help out Supergirl no matter how bad it gets, because either she or he is an idiot.

8. The Vulture

I guess everyone likes the idea of a sympathetic, Walter White Marvel supervillain they didn’t notice the movie doesn’t actually do that? In the very first scene (before the studio logos, even!), he seems like a decent enough guy, but one time-skip later and he’s the Vulture, without seeming the least bit conflicted or remorseful about his actions. (We also immediately see him in costume, and it seems like they should’ve saved that until his first attack on Spider-Man.)

He talks a good game about how oppressed he is, but really, he seems to just do typical supervillain shit like killing his underlings for failing him, only then he literally says “whoops, I meant to use the NOT killing him raygun!” Ambiguity! Who gives a shit?

I, too, like the idea of a supervillain who starts off maybe not that bad and then becomes more desperate and dangerous as Spidey closes in on him, but really, Vulture is just another supervillain with a doomsday plan, only it takes him until the end for him to finally say “yeah, let’s go ahead with the doomsday plan!”

9. There is going to be Iron Man in your Iron Man/Spider-Man team-up movie, right?

I know a lot of people were worried about Iron Man dominating what is, after all, a Spider-Man movie, but I feel somewhat the opposite. If you’re going to have trailers ending in big money shots of Spider-Man and Iron Man running around side by side (shots that weren’t ever in the movie but were filmed just for the trailer) and posters with giant Iron Man front and center.

(This is actually three posters joined together and it’s depicting a scene that doesn’t even happen a little!)

It kinda seems like Iron Man should be important to the plot. Like Black Widow in Winter Soldier. That was a Captain America movie, clearly, but Widow had a big part to play. Homecoming, it seems more like Tony Stark cameos, only that makes it into all the trailers and posters. Why is there not a scene of Spider-Man and Iron Man fighting together? Or even of the Vulture hacking Iron Man and forcing him to fight Spider-Man? Or some development of this Vulture/Iron Man feud that’s alluded to, but then pretty much has nothing to do with anything (tell me, how would the movie be different if, say, Danny Rand had founded Damage Control instead of Stark?).

I’m just saying, if we’re going to have this character in the movie at all, why not use him to the fullest, or somewhere near the fullest? Kinda seems like the most important thing Tony does in this is get back together with Pepper so we can tie up that dangling plot thread from Civil War.

10. The Shocker

Okay, I know this is pedantic, but it bugs me. So they have the Shocker in this as Vulture’s henchman. That’s fine--Shocker was never going to be anything other than the Scarecrow to other people’s Ra’s al Ghul. But why did they have to handle him in such an awkward way?

First, what happened to his costume? I remember there were behind-the-scenes pictures of it that looked perfectly serviceable.

Even the old video games did a ‘grounded, realistic’ take that looked halfway decent.

The toy looked fine too.

Then in the actual movie...

Oh... he’s that guy with the yellow sleeves holding a laser gun. Wait, two guys. Great.

Fucking Whiplash is dressed to the nines in comparison. What happened?

Then there’s this sequence of events. So in the movie, the OG Shocker is Montana Bryce, played by Logan Marshall-Green. (He really has nothing to do with the Shocker except in Spectacular Spider-Man, where it made sense because the Enforcers were already established characters, so they basically handed the character the tech and said presto, the Shocker.)

(Hence my theory that they’re not so much are adapting the comics than they are the comics’ Wikipedia pages. Well, that and fucking John Hughes movies, because instead of the covers or iconic panels, that’s what they pay homage to.)

Anyway, he fails Vulture, Vulture says “you��ve failed me for the last time” and kills him, then says that Herman Schultz (Shocker I in the comics) is now the Shocker. Herman Schultz--which sounds like something a black teenager would get on his fake ID in a Wayans Bros movie--is played by Bokeem Woodbine, who also seems way too intimidating and competent for the character.

But I guess he’s the official Shocker now and the whole Montana thing was just to show how ruthless the Vulture, except that they walked it back because he’s really sympathetic and honorable, except, except...

I can understand wanting a black supervillain for their Sinister Six movie and it would actually be fitting to the canonical, hard-luck Herman Schultz to end up being killed off and replaced by a more capable character. Y’know, unlike the time von Strucker got defeated in the opening scene then killed off-screen.

The point is, if they’d just switched it so that Logan Marshall-Green (or a more comedic actor) was playing Herman Schultz and Bokeem Woodbine was playing, I don’t know, John Cena/Shocker II, it would fit a hundred times better. But they just didn’t care.

11. “My friends call me MJ” is stupid and I hate it and I hate you

I shouldn’t have to explain that making a character the exact opposite of any shred of prior characterization she’s had, then ‘revealing’ she really is the character she’s purposely been given no resemblance to is stupid Mystery Box bullshit. It’s like if the next Star Trek movie had a character named “the Sarge” with round ears who constantly guzzled beer and got emotional and said that logic sucked, then at the end, he said “well, my real name is Spock” and then the producer had to go online to say that he’s not the Spock but he is a Spock and him having pointed ears is something only racists care about and anyway he’s a new take on the character, get off our backs!

It’s not even a twist! It’s just giving the audience incorrect information, then declaring that incorrect information is suddenly correct.

But okay! I guess nothing means anything anymore and life is pointless. So let’s say that you have an audience who has never read a Spider-Man comic in their lives. (We’ll call them the target audience.) In fact, they’ve never even heard of Spider-Man. Not Green Goblin, not Doctor Octopus. They didn’t see the Sam Raimi movies or the Marc Webb movies or any of the cartoons. As far as they’re concerned, Spider-Man didn’t exist before he showed up in Civil War (which was very confusing for them, because they didn’t explain his powers or his origin or why he was living with his hot aunt instead of his parents or anything at all).

But this audience watches the movie Spider-Man: Homecoming and takes this character Michelle at face value. At the end, she says “My friends call me MJ.”

Well... so what? That doesn’t change anything for the audience. It doesn’t affect the plot. It’s the equivalent of having Verbal Kint, at the end of The Usual Suspects, reveal that he has a limp and a canker sore.

Of course we, the prospective audience, do know that Michelle is Peter’s love interest, because she was the top-billed female lead and did all the press with Tom Holland and is the only woman who’s not a Parker family member on the poster. Oh, and because MJ is historically a big Peter Parker love interest. Except we literally don’t know or care anything about her personality or appearance or backstory or relationships with different characters other than that. But for the audience member who knows nothing else about MJ except that she fucks Peter Parker, this is a big deal. Unless in the sequel, they decide not to have her as the love interest after all.

Are you getting my point here? It’s not even a good twist. A good twist would be if the Liz Allan character were referred to as MJ, then at the end it was revealed that it stood for Marion Juliet or whatever, and that she had never been Mary Jane. Or if Zendeya (why doesn’t she have a fucking last name? You’re 20, no 20-year-old has ever been iconic, get over yourself, you’re not goddamn Cher) had said “my friends call me Harriet Osborn,” that at least would’ve been something definitive, because we would’ve known Norman is coming and he’s related to this girl.

But just... this bitch may or may not be their take on Mary Jane and she may or may not get with Peter and that may or may not come to anything... who the hell cares? It’s like a negative twist. Everyone saw it coming and it makes the story less interesting now that it’s been revealed. It’s like if the first episode of How I Met Your Mother ended with Saget saying “oh, I end up with Robin, spoiler alert.” Okay, why are we watching the fucking show now? Either you lied and that information is even more pointless than it already is or you’re going to fuck Cobie Smolders and the whole thing is a foregone conclusion.

12. Lights! Camera! Action?

The action scenes are all short and unsatisfying, especially given that they’re using the Vulture, yet their prequeletic decision not to let Spider-Man actually web-swing (because he hasn’t earned it yet, dontchaknow) means that they don’t let them have any real memorable aerial duels. I guess so much for the entire reason to use that character.

They have all the ingredients for it to work--numerous henchmen armed with high-tech weaponry, an inexperienced (and borderline incompetent) Spider-Man, yet he pretty much just steam-rolls through everyone by virtue of his Amazing Technicolor Spidey-Suit. It makes you think that’s all that’s keeping him from being completely invulnerable is his own ineptitude and failure to properly utilize his suit.

It’s like they knew they couldn’t pull off a better action scene than the train sequence in Spider-Man 2, so instead of at least trying to do so--like taking advantage of modern technology to give us a big Vulture fight among the skyscrapers, or giving us the Iron Man/Spider-Man team-up that was the whole point of this movie--they just turned the action scenes into open mic night. Oh, look, Spider-Man’s getting hit with golf balls! And he’s recreating Ferris Bueller jumping on a trampoline from 31-year-old movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, all very relevant and modern and updated and today’s youth! Hey, audience, we’re not taking this seriously, so why should you? Just give it a soft pass, c’mon, dontcha like Spider-Man?

I just think that, when you have this smug “we’re going to do it RIGHT” attitude of naming your movie ‘Homecoming’ and (deservedly) throwing the ASM movies under the bus, aren’t you obliged to actually follow through and do Spider-Man right instead of this bastardized hybrid of John Hughes, white Miles Morales, teen movie cliches, political correctness, Tony Stark branding, and all this other crap that has jack all to do with Peter Parker? Because they had the perfect opportunity, with the decoy Liz Allan love interest and setting multiple movies in high school, to actually do a very faithful adaptation of the comics, of Spider-Man’s supporting cast... even just having Mary Jane cameo in a few scenes, being this quipping fun-lover but not yet a love interest, would’ve done so much to make this feel like Spider-Man instead of an Iron Man spin-off. Which is what it is.

#spider-man

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