“Prince Peter Kropotkin was one of the most lovable persons I have ever met. He was a typical revolutionist of the early Russian type, an aristocrat who threw himself into the movement for emancipation of the masses out of a passionate love for his fellow man, and a longing for justice. He stayed some time with us at Hull House, and we all came to love him, not only we who lived under the same roof but the crowds of Russian refugees who came to see him. No matter how down-and-out, how squalid even, a caller would be. Prince Kropotkin would give him a joyful welcome and kiss him on both cheeks. It was most unfortunate that his visit to us came just a short time before the assassination of McKinley. That event woke up the dormant terror of anarchists which always lay close under the surface of Chicago’s thinking and feeling, ever since the Haymarket riot. It was known that Czolgosz, the assassin, had been in Chicago at the time when both Emma Goldman and Kropotkin were there, and a rumor started that he had met them and the plot had been of their making - Czolgosz had been their tool. Then the story came to involve Hull House, which had been the scene of these secret, murderous meetings.” - Alice Hamilton, Exploring the Dangerous Trades (1943)
Civilization has fallen. Whether it’s a mystical ritual gone horribly wrong, an invasion of barbarians, or a worldwide nuclear TPK, the world is thrown into chaos. But, as Pete “Sneaky Bastard” Baelish once said, chaos is a ladder, not a spiral. Will your characters climb that ladder? One major consideration, though; how long ago was the Great Apocalyptic Event? This can affect what resources and enemies, if any, are present. Nuclear war leads to radiation zones that wear down over time. The same can be said of magical wards and manifest zones. Technology and/or magical artifacts might still be ready to be used (and the characters being young enough to know how they work). And most importantly, communities need time to regroup and rebuild. The eras listed below are left vague and general- they are mostly a form of “shorthand” for DMs to give their players an idea of what the game world is like.
Aftermath This era takes place on the ruins of society. The Event that destroyed civilization probably occurred within memory of most of the adult inhabitants of the world (assuming they’re human in aging). It could’ve been last month, it could have been twenty years ago- either way, society is destroyed. Buildings still stand, damaged but largely intact. Technological devices will be damaged but still functioning. Multi-charged and single use pre-Event magic items, such as scrolls and potions, will be available. Fuel, food, batteries, and ammunition will be available to those who are good at scavenging. As the scavengers pick the area clean, however, people eventually turn to raiding to get what they want. Lawful society is highly disorganized if set in the decentralized modern setting, but in the medieval setting, communities will be largely unaffected, instead becoming insular and looking to their own defenses. With the lack of an armed central authority, however, bandit gangs will become more common, and travel eventually grinds to a crawl due to the danger.
Generation Zero In this era, multiple decades to a century have passed since the Event. Only the oldest survivors remember what life was like before the collapse of the old kingdom, but most adults were born after the Event. Pre-Event items will be closely guarded and uncommon, and the people who can maintain and repair them are dying off. The ruins still stand, although they are more dangerous than ever due to erosion. Not that you’d want to go there anyway- it’s probably full of monsters and picked clean of useful stuff by now. Society has begun rebuilding in small, fortified or hidden settlements. Some come under control of brutal warlords, while others look to a town sheriff if they’re lucky. These settlements are always self-sufficient, but may trade with their neighbors depending on geography and the dangers of the roads. Scavenger bands are rare now; everyone on the road is most likely a bandit or a raider. These gangs prey upon the weak and hide from the strong. Only the heartiest souls wander the land, but their occupation is perilous as hell.
Dark Ages At least a century has past since the Event, and only the elders of the Elves remember the old kingdom. Everyone else remembers the old world only in the form of semi-mythical stories, handed down word-of-mouth from the previous generations. While the ruins of the ancients may still stand, and the most perilous of them will contain hidden treasures, what remains of the old kingdom’s magic and/or technology is incomprehensible to the current inhabitants of the world. It is possible that pre-Event relics remain, but the people who guard and maintain them have only a vague notion of how they work. Society has grown beyond simple survival. Trade goods are made. Records are kept, art is created, music is composed, and people develop new mystical traditions. Travel increases with trade, but the dangers of the previous era have not gone away. Warlords covet any settlement that prospers, and vast wildernesses remain. Given luck, skill, and time, these warlords can become the kings of the new kingdoms that are rising.
New World Many centuries, to perhaps a millennium or more, have passed since the Event. Only the immortal undead remember the old kingdom (assuming their brains are intact). Legends tell of civilization wrought low, but the details are sketchy and sometimes embellished. If anything remains and is still functional, no one knows properly how it works. Simple technology, or even the customs and rituals of the old kingdom, are mysteries to the current inhabitants of the world. The ruins of the ancients remain as worn-out monuments or buried memories, if they still stand at all. At this point, the old kingdom is merely a backdrop element that explains all the mysterious ruins in the countryside, and little else. Society has formed into what could be considered a new civilization, although it is likely primitive and more violent than it’s ancestor civilization. Vast regions remain unpopulated and lawless, but other areas have come under the control of small nation-states and independent city-states, usually ruled by warriors or priests of some stripe.
This book is kickass. If you like sci-fi full of action plus interstellar intrigue and awesome female heroines, then go get Elizabeth Moon’s Vatta’s War series. The book above, Trading in Danger, is the first of the 5-book series. I pretty much spent the entire long weekend reading through this series and you know, it’s the best damn weekend I’ve had in a long while.
Inspired by a user under the name of FlamingFoxNinja, in regards to human actors and the what if scenario that they are the only ones capable of holding in emotions, faking certain things, and as we in the acting profession like to call it, “Bullshitting,” our way through things. I am a freelance professional voice actor, theater actor, and so on so forth. Hopefully I capture this right in my tired state.
Derrick had been on many a vessel with his traveling companion, Emma. The differences in humans was well cataloged throughout the galaxy, though it was rare to see a female towering over a male. Derrick didn’t mind as he was the voice between them both, considering Emma was quite the shy person despite her behemoth like size at 7 feet tall. This alien Merchant ship was their next vessel to board themselves upon, for their adventures took them farther towards the outer rim, aimed at Algolis V, a hub world for trade and entertainment though notoriously dangerous. “We are going to make such a profit! I tell you this my friend,” Derrick began, “I can just smell it, the credits rolling in will ensure we can make our way back to the Citadel as cultural heroes! Or at least very notable scoundrels.” The last part her mumbled, though his eyes flicked towards a crew member that reacted, thus causing Derrick to grin ever so slightly.
“Hm,” Emma shuffled in the lounge as they watched the non-human crew go about their business, uncomfortable and pulling her armor closer to her. Between the two of them, she was a beast covered head to toe in thick power armor, though her shyness was a quirk she could not be rid of. Derrick took a more modest and light attire with notably flashy colors on his garbs. The prime piece of his attire was a notable black eye-patch with gold inlays protecting his right eye, resting atop a vicious burn scar beneath it. “Me?”
“Well of course I need you here, my big bad bodyguard and old friend, you are the dashing good looks and muscle of our voyages!” He proclaimed loudly with pride, causing any prying eyes to look away at last.
“I don’t like violence,” she muttered through the helmet, the voice becoming partially distorted to sound more fiercer than it probably was.
“Ah but you LOOK like you do,” he whispered and then gestured to her armor, it was far from shiny, and she had always protected her reckless companion well over the profitable years. Despite his attitude, he had a number of connections she used regularly to handle her own personal manners. “That is the beauty of it, of what I learned as an actor,” he took a stand upon his chair, looking as prideful as a man of his 5′3 stature could look without coming off as comedic. “For where we as humans shine is many a specialization.” He leaned forward and grinned, “Mine in its entirety is my powers of hogwash and subterfuge. For even in the army during my time in raids all across the galaxy, battling pirates and bandits, I learned the art of silver tongues is something of masterpiece only we can create! With my skills we will go far in the galaxy!” Derrick was careful in using human slang for lying, seeing the crew around them appearing confused by his jargon caused him to chuckle softly.
“Excuse me, humans?” one of their alien crew members curiously questioned as he spotted them. “I was requested to bring you before the Captain of the ship, something regarding your,” the avian based sentient gazed down, ruffling some of the feathers on its neck, “Your papers? Specifically the documents you provided regarding your legal status to be here?”
‘Rules,’ Derrick thought to himself. “The Sarkian always love their rules,” he cleared his throat before opening his arms and smiling, forgetting at times it could still be considered a threat. “My fine feathered friend we would be more than happy to meet your Captain! A Sarkians’s hospitality is legendary among the inner rim, and I am sure we will be happy to make her friendship.” Emma shook her head and sighed, there he went again attempting to make friends in the worst of ways.
As they passed by a multitude of different species aboard the ship, it became obvious they caught more than a few stares. The rumors of humans being battle hungry Demons was well known, and their survival instincts were something respected and feared. Once they reached the bridge, Derrick adjusted his eye patch and straightened his clothes, “Look presentable, smile, er actually,” he looked up at Emma’s helmet and mask covering the entirety of her face, and she too looked down at him. Even without the mask it was obvious she had raised her brow in confusion. “Better just … Be yourself,” he stated nervously.
“Nervous?” She questioned. What could it be now? Of all things? He was usually good with hiding such things even from her.
“Always nervous before a good performance.” He could tell she was confused still. “I… May have fudged some of our papers so we could get on this ship. It was the fastest way to our destination.” Her heart practically plummeted. They were lying about being here? Oh this was going to be a disaster.
“You are an idiot,” she grumbled.
“I know, but hey … When in doubt, bullshit your way through.” He straightened himself up and smiled as the doors finally opened. “Greetings and most respectable salutations!” Derrick stated as they walked in. She was already stressing by his sheer stupidity. “We have heard that there was an issue with our papers? A clerical error I’m sure!” He stood proudly, absent of the nervousness that riddled him previously. Emma however was becoming upset and discomforted as so many eyes were on them.
“Human,” The Captain started. Her feathers were a brilliant fiery red and orange, with touches of green above the head. Her four eyes blinked together as she raised her three clawed hand in a sign of formal greeting. “You have some explaining to do. First, your names.”
“Why, I am Nathaniel T. Laz’fre, and my companion here is Ulrich Von Xer. We are simple travelers heading towards Algolis V to entertain an extended visit to one of my cousins as she and her wife bear their first child. It is a most momentous occasion for human culture!” His movements and voice boomed with energy, enough to overwhelm and captivate any audience.
But the Captain seemed to be anything but entertained. “Allow me to clarify. Your REAL names.” she demanded with a stern glare.
“I do not follow?” Derrick continued to play the game before him, resolute and unflinching.
“Answer the question, or I will have you put in the brig, without hesitation.” The Captain hissed as she ruffled her feathers in a threatening manner.
Derrick finally broke character and took on a more serious face, an aura of cold surrounded him as his eyes suddenly changed to that of a thousand yard stare. The smile was like glass, and small, showing no teeth as he stared at the Captain. His gazed caused a shiver up her spine, “Ah, I see. Perhaps you were unaware then.” He put his hands behind his back, standing upright and walking along the consoles of the bridge. “We are on an important mission… A bounty if you would,” he sniffled and gazed at the Captain again, standing much closer than was usually allowed.
‘Liar,’ Emma thought as she saw him once again spin a tale of epic proportions, detailing how they had been sent out this far to catch a dangerous foe, responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands. He created a name, place, origins of attacks on human colonies they would not know of. It was a masterpiece that caused the Sarkians’s to believe him, or at least become worried enough about who they were dealing with on their ship. “As for our names, my real name is of no concern. To tell you would be a breach of security I, nor my companion, can accept.”
“I-” the Captain was taken aback by this knowledge, and believed it to some extent. She had heard the stories some humans were good liars, taking the truth and telling anything but it. However his demeanor plus his hulking companion caused her to fear for her crew. “Suppose you may stay… Having a human or two of such caliber as you both would surely be a boon of some kind. I do not wish to cause any sort of diplomatic incident, I am just a merchant after all.” She stated with a reserved posture.
“Thank you, my fine feathered friend,” Derrick smirked, his voice a low gruff growl as the words coldly dripped from his tongue like poison. “We will be no trouble… The Terran Republic thanks you for your assistance.”
With that they left to their newly assigned rooms. “By the Great Mother, what in all four hells are we transporting in those two?!” One of the navigators responding after finally breathing normally again.
“Humans are terrifying … Tens of thousands dead and they send just those two? They must be exceptionally ruthless.” Another rubbed her beak nervously.
“Well… Having them aboard could be safe for the crew.” The Captain tried to reason a positive into the mix, but failed to convince even herself.
Once they were in their shared room, Derrick sighed with relief and began to hyperventilate once he had laid down on one of the two beds, “Oh by the skin of my teeth,” he finally caught his breath. “I was certain they had us made… Good on you my friend, looking as imposing and intimidating as always. You are a natural!” He laughed as Emma sat down on her bed.
“You lie well.” She stated, finally removing her helmet as it was only them.
Derrick paused for a moment and smiled, though his eyes were somber. His companion had been with him for years, a decade maybe. Seeing her suffering first hand was still difficult to watch. Her face was burned horribly, eyes replaced by cybernetics from injuries long in the past, and beast claws had left a nasty scar across her face. Though her short raven black hair complemented her bronze skin well, it was clear such scars still made her uneasy when they were looked at. “I do my best,” he responded finally, though his tone was much like his eyes now.
“Do not stare,” she simply replied before laying down in her armor.
“Apologies,” he sighed before laying down as well. “We will make it there my friend… I know you wish to see your brother back on the Citadel.”
“Is it wise to speak the real truth here?” She inquired without turning too him. She merely stared at the ceiling above them, the titanium was a bland color, but these merchant ships of the Sarkians’s were never aesthetically pleasing at first.
“The walls have no ears this time… Trust me, I know,” he stated. Their true intentions. Her dearest friend, a brother by bond, was recently injured. Holovids were one thing, but being there when he woke up in the hospital was another.
“They say he will be receiving a new arm. He cannot afford it.”
“I heard,” Derrick sighed, “I heard… We will get to him, and help remove that obstacle of petty debt. I promise you, my friend.” He said the last word with a sincerity she knew could only be given once in a blue moon. “Now… Rest … It will be at least another 5 rotations before we arrive.” With that, Derrick flipped on his side and fell asleep.
Little did they know, on the horizon of their next jump lay a predator… The predator born not of hungry by survival but the hunger of greed. Three pirate frigates lay outside the next hyperspace exit lane, eagerly waiting for another trade ship to pounce upon. Their blackened ships and twisted designs meant for intimidation and boarding. It would be a terrible tragedy… Or would it?
To Be Continued Tomorrow because it’s late AND I’M TIRED AS FUCK.
So Anti is afraid of being abandoned, right? At least, that's what I picked up from the previous chapters of "Say Goodbye." I wonder how Mare could play around with that fear...
(I love those moments where I’m reminded that you guys are just as evil to these characters as I am. With that said *rubs hands together evilly* let’s get down to business!)
Anti is in the dark. He’s not sure how he got here or even where here is, but he is sure that the tingle running up and down his spine means that he’s in trouble. He wanders around a bit, feeling with outstretched hands for any obstacles or walls, but he never finds any.
It’s as if he’s dropped out of reality into an endless void of darkness. Had he done anything to annoy Dark recently? No, not that he could recall… He should probably fix that as soon as he gets out of here. If he gets out of here.
He glitches around for a while, trying to find the boundaries, but he never reaches any. It’s then that he hears the voices. Sean’s first.
“You cause so much trouble.”
Then Signe’s. “We were better off without you.”
They trade places, overlap, intertwine. “You’re dangerous. You don’t belong with us. We’d rather you just leave.”
Anti tries to plug his ears, but it’s inside his head. Their voices together, shutting him out and making him feel worthless. “We’re done dealing with you, Anti. We just want it to stop.”
And then their voices fade, and Anti has never felt a void in his heart so gaping and jagged, needing to be filled desperately. “No, come back!” He should know that it’s not them. This is something messing with his mind, but… but right now he’s not trying to see sense. Anti just wants them to come back.
“They don’t want you, Anti. They’re done being nice and putting up with you.” This is a new voice, one that Anti doesn’t know, the voice of a young man. “They’re never coming back. They left you here. With me.”
Anti starts running, this way and that way, but he can’t find a wall. No walls, no doors, no lights, no way out. He trips over something then and falls to the floor. On his hands and knees he crawls over to it, a body. His hands explore carefully a t-shirt, jeans, messy hair, and a cap. Chase. But he’s cold.
Anti scuttles backwards and runs into another body. Soft, cotton scrubs and a mask over his mouth. Cold, only there’s something sticky and warm, and it’s all over Anti’s hands. It’s blood, and it’s in his mouth and nose and under his fingernails. He can’t get away from it.
He did this, didn’t he? Finally broke, finally killed them. And now, now he’s alone. Truly and irreversibly alone.
Anti ducks his head between his knees, hands and arms hiding himself even in the darkness. Suppressed, ignored, unpredictable. Unlovable.
Anti can’t breathe, can’t move. He’s so struck with remorse that even when the darkness dissipates, he does nothing. Natemare looms over him, tilts his head to the side, and raises both eyebrows. “Well, that was easy. You know, everyone says that you and Dark are so tough, so scary, but you’re just scared.” Mare shrugs and starts to walk away.
“Prince Peter Kropotkin was one of the most lovable persons I have ever met. He was a typical revolutionist of the early Russian type, an aristocrat who threw himself into the movement for emancipation of the masses out of a passionate love for his fellow man, and a longing for justice. He stayed some time with us at Hull House, and we all came to love him, not only we who lived under the same roof but the crowds of Russian refugees who came to see him. No matter how down-and-out, how squalid even, a caller would be, Prince Kropotkin would give him a joyful welcome and kiss him on both cheeks. It was most unfortunate that his visit to us came just a short time before the assassination of McKinley. That event woke up the dormant terror of anarchists which always lay close under the surface of Chicago’s thinking and feeling, ever since the Haymarket riot. It was known that Czolgosz, the assassin, had been in Chicago at the time when both Emma Goldman and Kropotkin were there, and a rumor started that he had met them and the plot had been of their making - Czolgosz had been their tool. Then the story came to involve Hull House, which had been the scene of these secret, murderous meetings.” - Alice Hamilton, Exploring the Dangerous Trades (1943)
Ad for Such Men are Dangerous (working title: The Mask of Love; Kenneth Hawks [despite the ad], 1930, Fox Film Corp.) in Exhibitors Herald World, 15 June 1929. The AFI Catalog entry for this film is nuts…
Belgian financier Ludwic Kranz (Warner Baxter), who believes that wealth can buy him anything, marries Elinor (Catherine Dale Owen), a beautiful young girl who is virtually forced into the marriage for financial reasons. She deserts him, repulsed by his disfigured face, and he sails for Germany, leaving the impression that he has committed suicide. There his face is transformed under the care of a plastic surgeon (I assume Dr. Erdmann, played by Bela Lugosi), and he returns to revenge himself on his wife; but when this woman who has despised him actually falls in love with him, he relents and is willing to forget the past.
The film was released in both sound (Movietone) and silent versions (not atypical for the early sound era).
FROM THE AFI CATALOG: On 2 January 1930, while filming a flying sequence for the picture, director Kenneth Hawks (1898 - 1930), assistant director Max Gold, cameramen George Eastman and Conrad Wells, assistant cameramen Otto Jordan and Ben Frankel, prop men Thomas Harris and Henry Johannes, and pilots Hallock Rouse and Ross Cooke were killed in a two-plane, mid-air collision off the coast of San Pedro in Southern California. According to Los Angeles Times news articles in early January 1930, Hawks’ brother, director Howard Hawks, had been at the airfield when the planes took off, but decided not to fly. Kenneth Hawks had been married to actress Mary Astor since 1928.
As noted in reviews, Such Men Are Dangerous was inspired by the life of internationally famous Belgian financier and aviator Alfred Lowenstein (1877 - 1928), who died under mysterious circumstances on 4 July 1928, when he fell from his private plane as it was crossing the English Channel. The highly publicized incident prompted various theories about Lowenstein’s disappearance, from suicide, murder, or, as dramatized in the film, an attempt to escape his old life and start over under a new identity.
Would being an Salesman be Stanley's dream job (equivalent to Ford studying the paranormal and weirdness) if Stan didn't become fixated on proving to Filbrick that he could make millions of dollars?
Sorry to take so long to get to this! It’s a really interesting question!
To be honest, though – I’m going to say, no, being a salesman isn’t truly Stanley’s dream job. Rather, I think it’s a job he’s actually very *good* at; but I don’t think it’s the job he finds the most fulfilling, or that he ultimately would have been happiest doing.
(Look up that comics story and insert here.)
The thing is, I think that Stanley is really a very good salesman. After all, even as a young man, he was good at *selling* his terrible products, like the Sham-Total, and the Rip-Off bandages. People *bought* them. The problem was that they were fraudulent products. That’s what sunk his business ventures, not his ability to sell.
(The outlier seems to have been the Stan-vac, which is implied to have failed because of the slogan. One wonders if that was one of Stan’s earlier ventures, and he learned better later? Or whether it was a fluke of another kind, because “It’s a total sham!” is no better a slogan for a product than “It sucks more than anything!”, but the Sham-Total did sell to a lot of people, while the vacuum cleaners didn’t.)
But I tend to think that his salesman abilities were really just an outgrowth of his overall talent for showmanship and performance. And that his being a salesman was a means to an end – he was trying to make a lot of money, quickly; and that goes back to Filbrick’s demands.
(As an aside, however… I do think that Stan wanted money *also* because… he wanted money. After all, prior to getting kicked out, his “dream-job” was to go *treasure-hunting* with his brother on the Stan o’ War. Stan *wanted* treasure, even before Filbrick demanded that he earn millions. There could be a lot of reasons for this. Stan also clearly wanted to sail away on the Stan o’ War in order to escape Glass Shard Beach. And it’s pretty clear that the Pines family lived in fairly poor circumstances. He might have fixated on money just because to him, it represented stability and freedom.)
I tend to think that Stanley’s dream-job would actually have been something that would combine things like his creativity, his talent for working with his hands, his talent for performance, and his love of adventure. And really, it’s just a shame that he was never encouraged in a direction that might have led him to consider jobs of that kind.
For example – and I think I’m really not the first person to suggest this – Stan would have done great in the special-effects industry in Hollywood, especially pre-CGI, when effects were practical. I’m going back here to the monster-movie posters he had on the wall as a kid, but can’t you imagine him loving making monster costumes or puppets or animatronics for movies? And having a great time traveling around to all kinds of places where movies were being filmed? Think of Stan being somebody like Adam Savage on Mythbusters…
(Oh. My God. *stares into the distance* GF Mythbusters AU with Stan and Ford….)
The truth is though, in a way, Stan *did* wind up in what I think would have been his “dream-job” – running the Mystery Shack. It’s a job that combined many of his talents, both as a performer (being Mr. Mystery), and as a creator (making all of the exhibits and coming up with stories to tell), and as a salesman (who kept the place in the public eye as a popular tourist attraction for 30 years).
On the one hand, you could say that the sort-of tragedy is that he didn’t fall into that line of work earlier, somehow. That he got kicked out, and then spent 10+ years struggling for survival, turning to bad ideas and having all kinds of bad experiences, before he finally got to do something that so suited his many talents – and that even then, he couldn’t fully “enjoy” running the Mystery Shack, because at the back of his mind was always the guilt of having lost Ford and the driving need to get his brother back somehow. (I also wonder to what extent his ability to purely enjoy running the Shack was dampened by his harsh experiences during his decade of homelessness and criminality and danger.)
On the other hand, he really *did* get to do something he enjoyed a lot, for most of his adult life. And it’s clear from some things we saw that despite the many pressures he felt, he really did enjoy running the Shack, and he enjoyed being good at it.
(Really, both Stan and Ford got to pursue their “dream jobs”. It’s just that for most of their lives, the trade-off was uncertainty and danger. But, Ford got to explore the multiverse, which you’ve got to admit has to have been what he dreamed of doing ever since being a little kid doodling sci-fi stuff in his notebook. And Stan got to perform and be creative and also make a lot of money, while additionally having the pleasure of feeling like he was putting one over on his customers. It’s just that their circumstances wouldn’t allow either of them to fully enjoy those things.)
He isn’t captain but has authority is second in line
Everyone respects him
He’s a badass
He is patient
Not so forgiving if someone crosses him
Maintains the crews order
Everyone is afraid of him
No one crosses out of line or you better pray
He will find you
Probably is one of the most feared pirates but once you get to know he he is the nicest one there lol
He can make like the best food out of shitty ingredients
The rest of the crew protect him because they want good food
If they get caught in the kitchen stealing a bite of food, he will throw the wooden spoon he has at their head
The captain asks a lot for advice because ksoo will tell the honest truth
Always makes sure the ship stays on its course and maps out places for trade and stuff
He is up 24/7
He sleeps at the wheel of the ship
If he asks the captain he will take detours to pretty islands
They’d stock up there but lay likes to chose the prettiest so he can see the beauty
A hidden softie on the ship
He is in charge of loading the canons
He likes to stay up at night and clean and polish his guns
If another ship tried to hijack it doesn’t go well for them
He will sink them then come out of the cabin and wave at them as their sinking
Their faces will change to horrified because sehun is probably one of the most feared pirate gunners because he is so trigger happy
Probably a really good swordsman too
They need someone to fix the ship after a bad fight so they quickly sail to the mainland and kidnap a well known carpenter
Chanyeol fixes the ship in exchange for his life but ends up staying with the crew after he comes back to the mainland and people see him on a pirate ship and think he is now a pirate and that makes him an outlaw
So he became a part of the crew
Always working on something
His motto is “something always needs fixing that’s why I’m here”
Chen is a surgeon
Most pirates surgeons were chosen not because their medical knowledge but because they liked sharp things
So Chen was found in a shady bar in a dangerous trading post playing with knives and they chose him as their surgeon
Turns out Chen was already an outlaw because he killed the kings son because the kings son likes to hurt women and doesn’t realize what consent is
Hangs out in the kitchen with ksoo a lot talking about their separate experiences at pirate life
He always makes the trade deals
He makes sure that they work in their favor
If a deal goes bad let’s just say kai will get a deal no matter what he does
If it involves him torturing someone, he will still get a good deal
He does what it takes and never lets the rest of the crew down
Sort of a jack of all trades too
Since nogociating is only on a mainland or island or port, he helps the rest of the crew
Storage master and thief
If anyone from the crew needed anything, baekhyun would be the one to steal it.
He picks the locks to anything to get into a place
He is also in charge of the storage on the ship
Who takes things and who has things
If he sees they need more apples for ksoo or nails for chanyeol he will tell lay to stop at a port and he will steal some
The girl nods jerkily, scrambling to find cover. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Plagg hisses in his mind, but Chat Noir doesn’t care. It has been two and a half weeks, and every night Chat fruitlessly chases any trail that might lead him to Hawk Moth. Before, he and Ladybug had simply reacted; now, Adrien hunts.
I didn’t know how it would turn out but I hope you guys’ll enjoy it! If it’s good, I might write more, but we’ll have to see!
It was during one of the more stressing moves that he felt it happen. He jumped, calculated wrong and the next thing he knew, he was falling off balance as soon as his foot hit the ground. The reaction was immediate, feeling something in his ankle snap before he felt the pain. A cry threatened to escape his lips but he managed to shove it down, clenching his jaws tightly with a hiss. He stumbled dangerously, trading an apology with Hoseok when he ran into the other, though the run in had kept him from falling on stage. He forced himself to keep dancing, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He wanted to keep pleasing for the fans but he knew that he’d already been called out, hearing a few fans scream out his name when the incident had occurred.
He kept his focus on the dance, even when during one of the more calm breaks in the dance Taehyung glanced over at him in concern, having seen what happened as well as the pained look Jungkook could finally adorn with his face hidden from the crowd. There was a stumble here and there, a stutter in his movements or an almost fall forward when there was too much momentum in a move for his ankle to handle. He was relieved when the performance was over, everyone making it to the front of the stage to yell their love to the fans before making their way off stage.
Jungkook tried to keep his limp to a minimum, biting his lip with his face contorted in a grimace when he had to place the normal amount of weight on his hurt ankle. He was at the back of the group, and even though he wasn’t around the fans anymore, there were cameras catching them as they walked back to their backroom for a Bangtan Bomb, so he had to keep up the facade until he was inside, having to add a smile to the mix.
Inside the backroom, he was finally allowed to drop his facade, leaning against the wall as soon as he could. With his arms folded, he leant his head against them, grimacing and hissing when he finally took the weight off of his foot, feeling pain lacing up the limb. Of course he had to go and get an injury. Why couldn’t he have just sprained his wrist or something? Why his ankle? At least with a sprained wrist he could still walk and dance.
So caught in his self damnation, he didn’t notice one of his hyungs approaching him with a camera in hand, probably shooting another Bangtan. “Our little maknae, Jungkookie-” Jungkook’s head shot up when he heard Jimin, immediately settling his foot on the ground and wiping away the painful look on his face, settling with a surprised one. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Jimin held a concerned look on his face, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes trailed down Jungkook’s body till they settled on the area that the younger had been supporting. Jungkook just smiled, shaking his head as he walked closer to Jimin, trying to keep as little limp in his step as he could. “Jungkook, what happened?” He questioned again, his tone worried but Jungkook just lifted the camera lense that had fallen back up to his face, shifting so Jimin couldn’t focus on his leg for long. He tried to distract the older with questions. Though, no matter what he said, Jimin kept trying to see what was wrong with his ankle. It got to the point where Jungkook stood with his injured foot behind his other.
“I love you, ARMY. Fighting!” He said, before Jimin turned the camera around to film his own face, running a hand through his hair in that habit that he has before saying a goodbye sweetly.
“Bye~” He said, smiling and waving before he turned the camera off. The smile was gone from his face as soon as the camera was lowered, firm eyes landing on Jungkook. “Jungkook.” His voice was even stern, and Jungkook found himself making his way over to a chair, knowing that he was going to get a lecture from the older. “Why are you limping? Are you hurt?” Jungkook shook his head.
“No, I just strained myself, that’s all.” He said, sending him a smile. “I just need to rest.” Jimin didn’t look impressed and if Jimin didn’t believe him now, then there was no way the older would believe him once Hoseok and Taehyung came over.
“Jungkook-ah, are you alright?” Taehyung asked, coming to stand next to the maknae while Hoseok appeared at his other side. “You were having a lot of trouble on stage.”
“Especially after you fell into me.” Hoseok stated, and from the corner of his eye, Jungkook could see Jimin putting all the pieces together, the older’s arms crossed across his chest and his face set in that way that gave away that he wasn’t happy. You could tell from the taut line of his lips and the clench in his jaw.
“I’m alright, hyungs. I just had a little stumble.” Jungkook said, waving them off and they lingered for a moment, looking like they wanted to say something else before they caught the look Jimin was sending them, one that said “I can handle this”, before they wandered off. Jimin took a deep breath, harshly letting it out through his nose as his eyes flickered back over to Jungkook.
“Just strained yourself is all, is it?” Jimin confronted, his words biting and Jungkook found himself frowning. He couldn’t find it in himself to look up at Jimin, knowing the other was probably chastising him. Another sigh, though this was softer, came from the older before he heard shifting and he found himself staring at Jimin’s hands and knees instead of the floor when the older came to crouch down in front of him. “Jungkook…”
“I didn’t want to say anything.” Jungkook finally said, giving into Jimin’s disapproving stare.
“Aish, you’re such a stubborn kid.” Jimin chided before he felt a hand under his chin and his head was being lifted to meet Jimin’s eyes. “You have to tell us when something’s wrong, alright? Don’t hide it from us. We’re your hyungs, we’re suppose to worry over you.”
“Exactly!” Jungkook exclaimed. “You guys have to look after me because I’m younger.”
“We don’t have to.” Jimin stated, his voice sharp, sharper than he’d meant and he winced slightly at the tone, watching as Jungkook flinched a little, before he took a breath. “We choose to, Jungkook. Cause we care.” It silent between them for a few moments, Jimin staring at Jungkook while the younger kept his eyes averted. “Besides,” Jimin started, tapping the younger’s nose with an affectionate finger, smiling fondly when Jungkook’s nose scrunched up and he finally looked up again, “who would look after you then?”
Jungkook grumbled and Jimin just rolled his eyes, ruffling the younger’s hair with a exasperated sigh. “Omo, here, give me your foot.” He was moving before Jungkook could stop him, the younger’s cry of “wait!” falling on deaf ears as he gripped the injured leg, hearing the younger cry out in pain. Jimin’s eyes shot up to look a the other, seeing the clear pain on Jungkook’s face and he was more gentler, carefuller when he proceeded to roll up Jungkook’s pant leg and slipped his shoe off. The swelling was clear even before he managed to expose the ankle. The skin was angry and red, bloating at the source of injury.
“Aish, it doesn’t look good, but I don’t think it’s too bad.” Jimin explained, testing it out a little by tilting the foot here and there, flinching each time Jungkook let out a noise. “Stay here, and don’t. Move.” Jimin ordered before he went off in search of a first aid kit. While he was at it, he made sure to tell manager what had happened before going back to the maknae. Just as Jimin ordered, Jungkook was still sat where he was left, a small pout on his lips as he kicked his leg.
“Oi, don’t look so unhappy.” Jimin chidded, kneeling back down with the kit and pulling out the roll of bandage. “It’s not like I’m torturing you or anything.” He proceeded to wrap Jungkook’s ankle, being careful to not jostle it too much as he did.
“I know. I just don’t like bothering you guys with these silly issues.” Jungkook explained and Jimin looked up again with a frown, eyes narrowed.
“They aren’t silly.” Jimin stated. “Jungkook, you could’ve seriously hurt yourself.” Jimin’s voice was softer this time. Jungkook met his eyes, seeing the sincerity in the older’s. He didn’t know how long they’d been staring into each others eyes, but Jimin was the one to pull away. “Now,” He started, getting to his feet, “get on my back.”
Jungkook was left staring up at him, blinking widely with his doe eyes. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’? You’re not gonna be able to walk on that until you see the doctor, which’ll happen tomorrow.” Jimin informed and Jungkook made to protest again.
“Just listen to me once, Jungkook.” Jimin sighed, looking over his shoulder. “Will you let me just do this?” With his lips pursed, Jungkook gave in with a nod, carefully bringing himself to balance on his one leg before he managed a hop over to Jimin. Settling his hands on the older’s shoulders, he jumped up, and in one fluid motion, wrapped his legs around Jimin’s waist. Jimin grabbed onto Jungkook’s thighs as soon as he was up, jumping a little to hoist the boy up higher before he wandered over to grab what little possessions Jungkook had brought along.
“You alright?” He asked, feeling the younger let his head fall against his shoulder before giving a nod. He couldn’t keep the smile that slipped across his face as he walked to catch up with the other members, seeing them already getting into the van.
“Aish, where were you guys?” Seokjin questioned, peeking his head out when he saw them approaching, before his eyes flew down to Jungkook’s wrapped foot. “Aigoo, what happened?”
“Jungkook just had a little accident on stage. It’s nothing to worry about.” Jimin said, clearly being fully capable of caring for the other. Seokjin never stopped looking worried, though he was more relaxed with Jimin on top of the situation. Once in the van, Jungkook let out a sigh, leaning his head against Jimin’s shoulder.
“Are you tired?” Jimin asked and Jungkook nodded, hiding a yawn into his arm that had Jimin chuckling as he stared down at the younger. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when you get to the dorm.”
“Alright…” Jungkook murmured before he looked up at Jimin, not even phased by how close their faces were. Jungkook could practically see the shades of brown in Jimin’s eyes. “Thank you, Jiminie-hyung…”
“Anything for you, Kookie~” He responded, pressing a kiss against the top of his head when Jungkook looked back down, shifting a little to get better situated into a comfortable position. When he did, Jimin wrapped an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close while he watched as Jungkook’s eyes slid shut.
WHICH JAI/CHARACTER: Eric Coulter & OFC (Aeryn Johnson)
FIC SUMMARY: Emma Johnson knew in order to survive her father she had to leave her faction. But when she enters Dauntless she quickly gains the attention of a certain leader…Eric. Did she trade one danger for another? Will she be broken?
RATING: MA (Thematic material and mentions of past abuse)
NOTES/WARNINGS: I love the feedback this series is receiving, I love any and all feedback I receive. This chapter is full of little nuggets of goodness. Enjoy!!
If you are not and would like to be tagged in this or any of my future stories then let me know and I’ll add you to the tag list.
I hit my pillow in frustration, I laid on my back trying to steady my breathing and I felt myself relax and sleep coming to claim me, when my mouth was covered by a hand, my eyes shot open, I opened my mouth to scream, as soon as I open my mouth Eric crashed his down on mine, my fingers fisted in his shirt, my brain told me to push him away but my hand didn’t obey and pulled him closer, his hot tongue snaked inside my mouth, I moaned and ran my tongue along his then it was his turn to moan. He was hard as a rock and thrusting against me, he threw the covers back and started kissing down my body, he ripped my panties off, and dove between my legs like a desperate man, kissing, sucking and licking.
Character(s): Negan and Luna Grey (fictional). Summary: Luna finally makes it back to The Sanctuary where she decides what she will be doing to earn her keep. Negan proposes three options for her to choose from while she begins to realize why Negan reminds her so much of her old life… Word Count: 3,614 Warning: Just a bit of the usual cursing that is Negan. I also included a bit of Simon in here! Enjoy everyone! :)
“So, what do you think, doll? Pretty cool, ain’t it?” Negan leaned closer to her, smirking. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the people still remained on their knees. He couldn’t believe what fear could do to people.
Luna nodded, biting her lower lip. What was she supposed to say? It was obvious that Negan was a force to be reckoned with and if anyone were to even try, they would definitely regret it. Though, it was obvious that these people looked at Negan as if he was some sort of God and in some way, she could understand it. Negan gave them shelter, food, clothes; it was something that had been long forgotten in this world.
“As you were!” Negan yelled over his shoulder, not bothering the people another glance. Luna watched them stand to their feet, going about their business as if nothing happened. When she looked over at Negan, she noticed that he had already begun walking with his bat propped up on his shoulder. He was whistling and Luna quickly caught up to him, clearing her throat.
She didn’t know what to think of this place. Yes, it had walls. Yes, it had security. But at what cost? Luna would never voice her opinion, though. She was just grateful to be able to sleep without worrying about the undead or a potential threat.
whatever tech it is that lets overwatch cars float, some clever clogs in junkertown wired it to work with solar. Little nippy hoverbikes (roadhog just likes the retro aesthetic) and big floating mechs. Little tablets that might not be hooked up to the internet but can store info on trading routes and potential dangers. A new renaissance for radio and the written word. Pony express for written mail on aforementioned hoverbikes. Why dont more people have FUN with junkertown HCs?
oh my god junkertown hoverbike pony express is god tier
i think junkertown would have it’s own network, some nodes connect to satellite global internet maybe. but it’s slow, and the bandwidth is much more useful for trading with outside caravans off the grid, or looking up outside information.
the average user has a small net of junkertown sites and connections, or uses it to communicate across town. like old lab or uni networks
…that means. there is. probably a junkertown grindr. max