#uninterrupted power source

[prostarchina]

Choosing the Right Uninterruptible Power Source for Your Home or Business

An Uninterruptible Power Source (UPS) is a vital tool for ensuring continuous power supply during outages, power surges, or fluctuations. Whether for your home electronics or business-critical systems, choosing the right UPS can protect your devices, prevent data loss, and minimize downtime. What Is an Uninterruptible Power Source (UPS)? A UPS is an electrical device that provides backup power…

[aeth-eris]

human design : energy types

the most fundamental aspect of human design is the classification into five energy types, each with a unique strategy and aura. these types help individuals understand how they best interact with others and the world.

★ manifestors: have an initiating energy and are here to make things happen. they have a closed and repelling aura, designed to create space for action and independence. their strategy is to inform before they act, which helps them avoid resistance from others.

aura type: closed and repelling purpose: create impact and initiate action manifestors have a powerful, dense aura that is closed off to others. unlike other auras, which are open and interactive, the manifestor aura is designed to push energy away. this repelling quality allows manifestors to carve their own path without interference, giving them the freedom and independence needed to initiate and act according to their own impulses. their aura creates space around them, keeping others at a distance unless they are invited in. this helps manifestors protect their autonomy and ensures that their initiating energy remains clear and uninterrupted. interaction with others: because their aura is closed, manifestors may feel misunderstood or alienated, as others can struggle to read their energy or know their intentions. this is why manifestors are encouraged to inform others of their actions before they take them. informing helps reduce resistance and eases the tension their aura can naturally create. when manifestors inform, they allow others to align with their energy, creating harmony and cooperation instead of conflict.

★ generators: the life force energy type, generators have a sustainable source of energy. their open and enveloping aura attracts the right opportunities and people. their strategy is to respond to life’s events rather than initiate, ensuring they use their energy correctly.

aura type: open and enveloping purpose: sustain and attract life force energy generators have an open, warm, and magnetic aura that draws life experiences, opportunities, and people to them. this enveloping quality allows them to respond to what life presents, aligning them with their purpose and giving them access to the energy needed for sustainable work and creativity. the generator aura is inherently attractive and responsive, making it easy for them to engage and connect with others. it’s like a magnet that pulls life’s opportunities into their field, allowing them to selectively respond to what feels right. interaction with others: due to their open and engaging aura, generators are naturally inclusive and easy to approach. people often feel comfortable and drawn to them, as their aura provides a sense of warmth and vitality. when generators follow their strategy of responding rather than initiating, they enter into a flow that allows their life force energy to build momentum, generating satisfaction and fulfillment. however, when they try to initiate without responding, their aura can become misaligned, leading to frustration—indicating that their energy is not being used correctly.

★ manifesting generators: a hybrid of manifestors and generators, they have the ability to initiate but must wait to respond first. they move quickly and efficiently, often multitasking. like generators, their strategy is to respond, but they also need to inform once they commit to action.

aura type: open and enveloping, with manifesting capabilities purpose: sustain energy, multitask, and quickly respond to life as a hybrid of the generator and manifestor, manifesting generators have an aura that is primarily open and enveloping like a generator’s but also carries a manifesting component. this dual nature allows them to attract opportunities and respond to life while also acting quickly and efficiently. their aura can shift gears rapidly, enabling them to move between tasks and activities seamlessly. manifesting generators are designed for speed and adaptability, and their aura reflects this by holding an energy that feels dynamic and multifaceted. interaction with others: manifesting generators, like generators, are approachable and engaging due to their open aura, making others feel included in their energy. however, their need for speed and multitasking can sometimes make others feel left behind if they don’t move as quickly. this is why manifesting generators benefit from their strategy of responding first and then informing—allowing others to keep up with their rapid pace. when they are aligned and using their energy properly, their aura is vibrant and inspiring. when misaligned, it can create a sense of frustration or impatience as they struggle with the pressure to move forward before the timing is right.

★ projectors: designed to guide others, projectors have a focused and absorbing aura that penetrates into other people's energy. they are here to manage and direct energy, not to work sustainably like generators. their strategy is to wait for the invitation, which aligns them with the right environments and people.

aura type: focused and absorbing purpose: guide and manage energy projectors have a focused and absorbing aura that penetrates deeply into the energy of others. this allows them to see into others and gain insights about how energy is being used. their aura is naturally designed to tune into and guide the energy of other types, particularly generators and manifesting generators. projectors do not have sustainable energy centers (such as the sacral center), so their aura draws in the energy of those around them, enabling them to guide and manage it effectively. interaction with others: due to their penetrating and focused aura, projectors have the ability to connect deeply and intimately with others, often leaving people feeling seen and understood. however, this deep aura can also be felt as invasive if it is not invited. this is why the strategy of waiting for the invitation is essential for projectors; it ensures that their insights are welcomed and that their aura is received positively. when they enter situations without an invitation, their aura can feel intense or overbearing, leading to bitterness if their guidance is rejected or ignored. when invited correctly, their aura aligns with its purpose, and they experience a sense of recognition and success.

★ reflectors: the rarest type, reflectors are designed to mirror and reflect the health of their environment. their sampling aura takes in and reflects the energy of the community around them. their strategy is to wait a lunar cycle (approximately 28 days) before making major decisions, giving them clarity through the various transits.

aura type: sampling and resistant purpose: reflect and mirror the environment reflectors have a unique aura that is sampling and highly sensitive, designed to take in and reflect the energies around them. their aura is open but not in the same way as a generator’s; instead of enveloping, it samples small bits of information and energy from various sources without taking in everything. this allows reflectors to remain somewhat detached, preventing them from becoming overly influenced by their environment. their aura acts as a mirror, reflecting the health and alignment of the community or environment they are in, making them natural barometers of collective well-being. interaction with others: due to their sampling aura, reflectors are highly sensitive to the people and environments they are in, and they can deeply understand and mirror what is happening around them. their strategy of waiting a lunar cycle helps them move through various energies and experiences, giving them clarity about what is consistent and true for them. when they are in the right environment, their aura reflects joy and clarity, bringing harmony to those around them. if they are in the wrong environment, their aura can mirror disappointment and disharmony, making it essential for them to choose their surroundings and communities carefully.

[saints-helen]

The apples were never purple

The events of dreamtale were Always meant to happen, no matter what, one twin was going to end up corrupted, and in This version of the multiverse, it was Always going to be nightmare.

Ever wonder why no one ever intervened? Why, despite being such a powerful source of- everything, despite being a beacon in the multiverse, no one ever entered in from outside? Error, for example, never noticed it? Ink?

The universe was locked from the inside out from the very beginning. No one gets in, no one gets out, that's what the code dictates.

Until "the event" happens, no one is allowed to interrupt, no one is allowed to intervene, and No One is allowed to change the script.

Reapertale, _____tale, dreamtale, why is no one going in? Why is no one going out? Why do, none of them, even Suspect the existence of other universes?

The more important a universe is to the multiverse, the tighter the lock around it is, why did none stumble upon ink?

This way, its events are transpired safely, events that Need to happen, things that Cannot to be allowed to happen, events that affect the Entire Multiverse and its balance, are safely carried through.

Why does reaper only reap in his universe?

Dreamtale stays locked, safe, hidden in some corner of the multiverse until it is safe to be let out. The code tucked neat and tidy where it sits, waiting to be followed, used, the goals laid within its conscious achieved.

It goes as follows:

Nim guards the tree.

Nim dies.

Nim makes the decision to make the twins.

The twins are born.

The village moves in.

The villagers make the active decision to hurt nightmare.

The parasite calls to him.

Nightmare listens.

The apples are never purple.

Nightmare corrupts.

Nim dies again.

Dream gets trapped in stone.

Nightmare leaves.

His apples are never purple.

And then, after the script has been followed and the scene ended, the theater is open to all who wish to visit.

.... Almost.

Error is not allowed in, as he poses a threat to what parts of the script have yet to be followed (Dream waking up from the stone)

And Ink is not allowed in, as he poses a threat to the script as a Whole.

Didn't you ever wonder why everything happened as it did? Why in every multiverse, only One twin gets corrupted? Why the world shifts its balance when need be, putting the responsibility of negative emotion on Dream when Nightmare dies, and the responsibility of positive emotion on Nightmare when Dream dies?

Why dream's eyes and apples are golden and Nightmare's eyes are purple but apples black?

Dream's shirt is blue, that is alright, it is not the colour of his apples.

Nightmare's shirt is purple, that is alright, it is not the colour of his apples.

Why?

Why is it this way?

Why?

Dream's apples hold no hue, only colour.

Why did the parasite do what it did? Why to nightmare? Why not dream? Why now? Why does it take his name? His identity? Why does it pretend it's always been him? Has it no name of its own? Why? Why doesn't it?

Yet nightmare's apples hold Two hues, the colour black, iridescent purple and, iridescent Green.

How come nightmare has all that time to eat those apples uninterrupted? How? It makes no sense now does it? How something so easily stopped was allowed to happen?

It was always Meant to happen, it was always Meant to happen here, on this day, in this time, these events, in this order.

Nightmare eats the apple.

Nightmare corrupts.

Nim dies again.

Dream gets trapped in stone.

Nightmare leaves.

The scene ends.

Why?

Nightmare was always meant to die. His body was always meant to corrupt. Dream was always meant to be trapped in stone.

Why is his soul purple but his apples black? When dream's soul is golden and his apples gold?

Why is he bullied in every universe? Swapped fate? Dreamswap? Switched destinies? Nightswap? Reset dreamtale? Swapdream?

Why is dream always So beloved?

Why does only one of them get to make it out Alive?

Maybe this was always meant to happen.

Maybe this was Always meant to happen this way.

Why are the apples black? Why is a tiny bit, a small, easily missed hue in them purple?

Why has he been reduced to a hue in a sea of black, instead of a colour?

Why isn't he the apple?

Why is he the thing trapped inside it?

Maybe he was always meant to end this way.

Why is it that, when dream corrupts and becomes shattered, nightmare suddenly uncorrupts for no apparent reason?

Can the universe not hold both of them together? Can only one of them be corrupted at a time? Can only one of them be sane and whole and Living?

Why does nightmare's name stay the same, but dream's changes? Still nightmare, so why Shattered?

Is he a foreign entity? Can It not recognise him as he is now? Is he not supposed to be this way? Is dream supposed to stay dream and nightmare supposed to be nightmare? Did it rename him? Was he supposed to stay dream? Was nightmare supposed to stay nightmare?

Was he always supposed to be corrupted? What came first, the apple or the baby? The baby or his fate? Why were his apples always black? Has he been made to be corrupted? Has this always been his fate?

Has one, then, if they are born to die, ever have been alive at all?

Why is it that they are never allowed to be the same? Why are they opposites in every way? Why can only one of them Yearn and only one of them Hate?

Why can't it hold them both Together?

The balance interrupts, the script gets confused, this was never supposed to happen, dream shouldn't corrupt, he shouldn't have an apple to eat To corrupt.

Dream's skull shatters.

It goes through its code.

This isn't supposed to happen.

Only One twin should be corrupted.

The tentacles sprout from dream's back.

It goes again.

This isn't supposed to happen.

Only One twin should be sane.

His screaming turns to garbled laughter.

It goes again.

This isn't supposed to happen.

He is corrupted. He's not supposed to be. Nightmare is corrupted. He's Supposed to be. Why can't it reverse this? This apple isn't from here, the code is foreign, it doesn't know how to reverse this.

This is not good.

This is not good at all.

The script isn't being followed. It needs to be followed. Only One Twin Should Be Corrupted.

.. So then It looks to nightmare.

The multiverse, the beautiful multiverse, in all of its Sentient, Living glory, turns to look at nightmare, and rewrites the code to fix it.

He uncorrupts suddenly, with no explanation as to why, and shattered's bones break to shards and rearrange themselves inside his corruption.

It changes his name, as the "Dream" supposed to follow the script no longer exists, and in his place this foreign entity lays, it renames him "shattered" in its code, and they are no longer the same person.

Are they?

Nightmare gets an eye back, shattered loses his.

Nightmare's tendrils disappear, shattered gains his.

Nightmare Uncorrupts... And Shattered becomes corrupted.

And all balance, again, for that single, glorious moment,

Is restored.

[dead-dolphins]

Illicit Affairs: 1st Drabble

It’s been a long time coming, but here it is at last—the very first drabble of the cheating AU! Omg omg omg!!! XD Just a heads-up: I wrote this purely for fun, without a solid plot, just capturing the vibes of the AU. Don’t worry, there’s more to come! I hope to catch your attention and, well, enjoy! TW: Eren's fantasies and mentions of potential cheating.

Eren was always the first to arrive at the stables before dawn. As the morning light, indifferent to the season, began to spread over the meadows where the Jaeger and Arlert manors stood, his presence in that shared space came well before anyone else stirred.

It had been this way since he was a child, barely able to hold onto the saddle. He sought these quiet, uninterrupted moments to tend to his horse alone. The stable, the ride—they were his, his sanctuary, his refuge. In the early morning mist, he would steal away, feeling the power beneath him as his mount surged forward, the wind sharp against his face. And afterward, he’d return home, slipping into the warmth of a shower, letting the water wash away the grit and sweat before he made his way to the studio, where his hands sought a different kind of mastery—the mastery of art.

It wasn’t simply a matter of morning exercise—it was a ritual, a quiet preparation for the day ahead. In those moments, alone with his horse, he could feel the tension drain from him, a stillness settling in his bones before the storm of the day. Then the studio waited, with its demanding clients, always expecting more than he could give. And beyond that, the strained silence of home, where his wife’s rage simmered just beneath the surface, flaring up when the cold indifference could no longer be ignored—an indifference that perhaps, just perhaps had always been there. 

Thus, following his routine, Eren arose from the emptiness of his double bed, its crisp linens untouched by another’s warmth.  Dressed in his riding gear and holding his whip, he approached the stable, eager for the thrill of the ride with Pearl, his black shire mare of ten years. The anticipation of the open air, the thrill of the ride, coursed through him as he approached the stall, ready to embrace the untamed spirit of the wind.

However, on that morning, as ostentatious as it was, Eren realised he was not the only one in his sacred place.

Upon crossing the threshold, he noticed an open stall. Though this might have unsettled him, because these things like these never, ever happened in such a methodic place a distant hum drew his attention. It was a soft melody, in a vague, haunting tone, which made him walk toward the source of, as if it were casting a spell over him. Schubert, it was. 

“Hello?” he called out, but the only answer was silence. 

Undeterred, he walked through the stables until he reached the last stall. When he finally entered, he felt as though the gods had smiled upon him.

There, atop a red cashmere blanket spread across the hay bales, a vision of serene grace was curled up with her tiny little nose buried in a book. Oh, he knew her, of course he did. The spell had been cast upon him weeks ago at that opulent, decadent gathering, but now, with her so near and so vulnerably exposed, he was even more entranced. This was Mikasa, the daughter of his closest friend, an enchantress bound by ties of loyalty and propriety that made her sight all the more tormenting.

She seemed blissfully unaware of his presence, and seizing those fleeting moments, he allowed his gaze to linger upon her with a fervent intensity. Her midnight-black hair cascading like a veil, and her skin, pale and flawless, gleamed with an almost otherworldly purity. Eren’s eyes were ensnared by her, unable to avert their gaze.  She was exquisitely beautiful, a beauty that cut to the bone, and also… agonisingly forbidden. 

“Hey,” Eren rasped, his voice rough as he knocked the gate with his fist. He forced himself to keep his gaze from lingering too long on the way her white jeans clung to her curves, especially in her butt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mikasa replied, her voice breaking from its melodic flow as she looked up from the book she had been engrossed in. From his vantage point, Eren first noticed her lips—her  natural, rosy lips. “I didn’t realise someone had arrived.”

Eren let out a groan, blinking. He thought the noise he had made should have been sufficient to alert her. It felt almost as if she had purposefully overlooked him, drawing him closer with the pretence of ignorance. But it sounded quite stupid to think, wasn’t it? “I was just concerned about the open box,” he said.  “We usually don’t leave them open for safety reasons.”

“I see.” She closed the book and rose from her makeshift seat. For a fleeting moment, Eren feared he had angered her, a thought that unsettled him deeply. The only person he didn’t mind provoking was his wife, but the idea of doing the same to Mikasa was far less agreeable. It seemed she harboured no such desire to be antagonised, and that realisation troubled him.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he continued, trying to maintain his composure despite the turbulent feelings roiling within him. “It’s unusual to find the stables like this.”

She shook her head slightly, her dark hair falling around her shoulders like a silken curtain. “It’s no trouble. I came here to find a quiet place to read. I didn’t realise I was encroaching on someone’s routine.” She smiled, as if trying to ease him somehow. “It won’t happen again, Mr. Jaeger.”

The formal address sent a shiver through him. Her tone, innocently sensual, seemed to blur the line between reality and fantasy, leaving him momentarily uncertain if his senses had deceived him. But the small, wicked smile curling at her lips soon dispelled any doubt. It was clear now—she had spoken with intent, deliberately weaving her words to provoke.

Eren swallowed hard, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the effect of her presence. “I appreciate your understanding,” he said, though the words felt hollow against the backdrop of his confusion.

Mikasa nodded, a glint of amusement dancing in her face. “Of course. I’ll be sure to choose a more appropriate place next time.”

As the girl moved to gather her things, Eren’s gaze, despite his efforts to maintain propriety, inevitably fell on the fabric of her jeans, stretching against her round butt. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought crossed his mind—an unsettling curiosity about whether her ass cheeks would be as pale as her face skin, and whether it would redden easily if… if spanked them with his hand. The thought was both inappropriate and unwelcome, stirring a flush of guilt and shame within him.

He forced himself to look away, shaking his head as if to clear his mind of the unwelcome intrusion.  But he could not rid himself of the thought. It was as if it embedded itself into his consciousness with an unshakeable persistence. 

He had always harboured thoughts of restraint and discipline, of the primal urge to dominate. And something in her was calling to let those fantasies fulfil. Yet… she was still forbidden. She was his best friend’s adopted daughter, ten years younger and entirely beyond his reach. The boundary was clear, unbreakable, or so it should have been. He couldn’t betray Armin like that, nor could he do it to her, innocent as she was. Yet, the more he tried to suppress the thought, the more the desire took root.

When Mikasa finally rose, her book tumbled from her grasp, and he seized the chance to divert his gaze. As he picked it up, a surge of surprise swept over him. The so-called “innocent girl” was engrossed in something far from innocent. 

“Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” he read. “An interesting choice of book.”

Instead of reaching for the book as he had anticipated, she merely laughed. “Don’t tell anyone;  I borrowed it from the trunk of forbidden books.”

Eren looked at her once more, and it was then that he reconfirmed what his instincts had whispered all along. She was, in some way, playing a game to allure him, and if this was her strategy, then he was more than willing to engage.

“So,” he began. “The trunk of forbidden books, you say? I never imagined you to be one for such… provocative literature.”

Mikasa tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “One must explore the forbidden to understand the world fully. Don’t you agree, Mr. Jaeger?”

The question hung in the air. Eren felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, both from her insinuation and the brazen challenge in her tone. He forced a casual smile, attempting to mask the growing tension. “Indeed,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I think we’re both aware of the boundaries that come with such… explorations.”

Her gaze softened, but the mischief remained. “Boundaries are meant to be tested, aren’t they?.”

“Have you ever explored your boundaries, Mikasa?” he asked, his voice taking on a rough, husky edge as he spoke her name.

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by boundaries. There are many kinds—emotional, physical, societal.” She brushed past him, and stopped just beyond his reach.  “And sexual.”

Her voice, low and sultry, made the word hang heavy in the air between them. Eren could feel the tension crackling, a charged silence punctuated only by the soft rustling of hay and the distant sound of a horse’s whinny.

“And which boundaries are you most interested in exploring, Mikasa?” he asked, his voice rough.

Mikasa turned slightly, her profile illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the stable’s open door. “At my age, I want to explore everything—absolutely everything. There’s still so much to learn, but…” She lowered her voice, ensuring only he could hear. “Lately, the idea of discovering my sexual boundaries has been calling to me, Mr. Jaeger. Quite strongly, I might say.”

Eren’s breath caught in his throat. Her bold response shattered any remnants of propriety he had clung to. 

“That’s why I’ve been pilfering these books,” Mikasa continued, her voice a blend of candour and intrigue. “Though, ah, they haven’t quite lived up to my expectations. They’re exquisitely written, and the portrayal of female pleasure is beautiful, but... I find myself craving something a bit more... intense.”

Her admission stirred a maelstrom of thoughts within him. His mind was consumed by a torrent of sinful fantasies, each more decadent than the last. All he could think about was how he could push the boundaries of her desires and explore the depths of their mutual transgressions.

He took a step closer, the distance between them now minimal. “I also have a chest of forbidden books,” he murmured, his tone dropping to a hushed, secretive note. “In my library at home. Perhaps someday, if you’re interested, I could lend you one. I have a collection of favourites that you might like.”

Her  gaze met his, a flicker of excitement mingling with the challenge in her eyes. “I would like that.” she said softly, “but there’s no need to bring it to me. I can fetch it by myself; one day when your wife isn’t around.” The hint of a smile played on her lips. “Hitch doesn’t seem to like me.”

The way Mikasa spoke Hitch’s name, devoid of any honorifics or any semblance of respect, nearly made Eren laugh. It was undeniable; Hitch, his beloved wife, was widely disliked, and he was no exception to that sentiment—he was among the first to voice it.

“Hitch has never been one to win hearts. Her absence is often a blessing in more ways than one, and, trust me, she blesses me most of the time.”

Mikasa smirked, stepping out of reach. “Then I’ll probably be visiting you very soon, Mr. Jaeger,” she said. “But you know, you shouldn’t mention this to anyone. It could get complicated.”

Eren’s eyes  lingered on her butt as she walked away, his mind filled with vivid, provocative images. He couldn’t help but imagine him not only spanking her with his hand but also with the whip he held so commandingly while her wrists were tied to one of his bedposts. Oh, what a beautiful scenario that was and he wanted to make it a reality.

“No, of course, no,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me.” It was unmistakably clear that Mikasa, that little wretched beast wanted him, and god fuck it, he wanted her just as fiercely. 

Later, as he rode his horse across the vast grasslands and encountered his best friend, who was already heading off to work, a sense of impending chaos settled uneasily in his stomach. Yet, the feeling quickly evaporated as he recalled Mikasa’s lips and her butt—her beautiful round butt.

[medstudentinfandom]

Autistic Alastor thoughts! AKA this man is one of the most autistic men to ever autism, and my sources are like half projection. But! I also have many thoughts/justifications/headcanons that I wanna share. So here they are.

Alastor learned to mask from an incredibly young age. He was a mixed child growing up in the south in the early 1900s, I think he would have recognized VERY early on that he ought to not do anything that would draw more intention than necessary

Went into radio because that was the most socially acceptable way for him to have a career that fully centered around him talking uninterrupted about his special interests.

Had a bit of trouble while alive in finding the line of when dark humor went a bit too far. His jokes about the stock market crash were well received and seen as a lovely little reprieve from the terrifying reality. Making offhand comments about who the "New Orleans Butcher" should target next didn't land quite as well.

His refusal to adapt to modern times relates a lot to his autism. He's already learned everything he can about radio, went through the trouble of learning the powers he was granted in Hell, why would he waste his time learning about all this newfangled technology? All of his old tech works perfectly fine, thank you.

Personally I've pretty much settled in the fact that he is physically incapable of dropping his smile. BUT something something hypermasking to the point the desire to appear "normal" by neurotypical standards loops back around to being creepy and off putting to all nt's in the room.

I think he experienced that somewhat while alive (overcompensating for his lack of eye contact by staring at people HARD, etc.) and tried to adjust that. But in Hell? Full uncanny valley, he does not care, he will be strange and off putting and he will ENJOY IT

Going back to Alastor's refusal to adapt, his hatred for change also means he DESPISES how much Vox has changed. He liked Vox, he was comfortable with Vox, there was literally nothing wrong with the way Vox was. And then he went and changed his body and demeanor and he was supposed to want to stick around him (he does keep his old head to comfort himself)

Not really a big stimmer. Except that he bites. He bites so so much in the least sexy way imaginable. In any given moment if you pull off his gloves, he's got puncture wounds in various stages of rapid healing because the moment he needs to self regulate, he is chomping down.

I also feel the need to mention that I think it would be funny if, while they were close, Alastor consistently used Vox's arm as his own personal chew toy. Something about the silicone faux skin he uses just feels great to bite into, what can he say? This has unfortunately also resulted in Vox having a Pavlovian response of just holding his arm up anytime someone close to him gets clearly agitated.

Sensory issues, a plethora of sensory issues! Absolutely despises the feeling of wet fur, whether it's getting wet while it's still on him or he's cleaning it out of the drain. He has genuinely considered tearing all his fur out from the root to avoid it. Also, I despise his fuckass bob, but I like to tell myself the reason he cuts it Like That in the back is to avoid hair brushing against the back of his neck. That would make him Violent.

Noise is a tricky one. For the most part, he loves a loud, music filled and bustling club and doesn't mind it at all. But I think if he is already feeling overstimulated, someone talking a little too loud is enough to set him off.

Very touch averse, with specific exceptions. If he's the one initiating the contact, and especially if he's already tipsy? All good, that's fine. But if someone else is approaching HIM, especially when he isn't expecting it? Like 80% of the time he will not tolerate at all, and even when he will it is for a very limited amount of time.

And of course, should anyone ever approach and ask him if he's autistic? Well, he doesn't really know at all what you're talking about! His behaviors? Goodness, what's so strange about his behaviors, YOU'RE probably the weird one actually.

Perhaps I will add on to this if more thoughts come to me. Till then thanks for reading lol

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Older Favorites 9

This week, we're looking at some of our favorite older fics - eleven of them, to be exact. Check them out beneath the cut, and leave a comment or kudos if you like them!

would you stay for a while by eldritch_beau (3937, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek sees the ocean for the first time.

Reccer says: A canon-flavored moment I desperately wish had happened. Beautiful prose and powerful emotion.

Closer Still by MithrilWren (4904, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek's latest foray into magical experimentation goes awry, leaving them stuck together in a pocket dimension of their own creation. Or, "trapped in an elevator, but make it fantasy".

Reccer says: This was a delicious oneshot that expanded our favorite wizards' research projects, which in turn gave them an uninterrupted opportunity to open up to each other more. Great characterization and use of canon details.

We’re In a Different Kind of Thing Now by Thischarmingand (2668, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is sixteen (sixty-five, ninety, one hundred and seventeen), and all he wants in the world is...

Reccer says: Sharp writing with a perfectly awful (in the best way) teenaged Essek. I will be back to read and read again as a balm in trying times.

when I fall by darundik (12541, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Overworked corporate shill Essek Thelyss meets PhD student Caleb Widogast and finds there's something to be said for love and friendship.

Reccer says: This is one of my favorite fics. I've reread it several times and I honestly find it very cozy and written with love.

I shine only with the light you gave me by SkyScribbles (4533, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

There are certain things that an Umavi's son should not do, if he wishes to avoid his mother's rage and the disgust of his Den. Dancing with a human is most certainly among them.

Reccer says: Wonderful look at the Kryn Dynasty and its social ladders. Verin is a superstar.

Five Times Teleportation Failed by bob_fish & enemytosleep (10448, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Or the fic where Essek “Teleport Champ” Thelyss spends his free time performing risky teleports For Science while ruminating on what sent him to Aeor in the first place.

Reccer says: The character voice is strong and fills in some missing scenes from Essek’s POV

Lucidian Rim by literalfuckinggarbage (60266, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Pacific Rim but shadowgast, no knowledge of the movie required. Big aliens are appearing and the world made huge mechs to stop them. The mechs need to people who are similar to drive them together.

Reccer says: I've literally read this fic 3 times and it's probably time for my annual re-read. The writing is truly phenomenal the story is great (no idea how close to the movie/book it is since I haven't seen the source material) and very well paced. The mighty nein and vox machina make good appearances as side characters. I love the relationship progression, there's oh no they have to share a room, there's trauma, there's tension, it's great. Putting Essek and Caleb as equals with similar pasts was a good choice and works really well. Read this fic!!! It's incredible :)

Bitter Balm by saturdaysky (3778, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A conversation after the Nein return to Eiselcross, the day before the expedition. Feelings are hard for the unlovable.

Reccer says: It HURTS but it GOOD

but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

During a vacation to Nicodranas with the Mighty Nein, Essek and Caleb play out Dynasty Courting rituals at the expense of everyone else. So, nothing out of the normal for them, just more scandalous hand touching

Reccer says: I liked it!

the other things that make us by saturdaysky (13642, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek returns, when he can, to the sanctuary of Caleb's home. The peace of it is a balm against the tedious peril of the road, which has more misery to share than Essek had ever thought. It's nice to have a place where he can lose himself: in a book, in arcane study, in the confusing allure of Caleb's smile. It's nice. And the cats miss him, Caleb says.

Reccer says: I liked it!

And then two for this last one! the breath before the phrase by KmacKatie (175513, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is a leading violinist, his spot as Shadowhand of the Rosohna Philharmonic Orchestra has been uncontested for over a decade. Caleb Widogast is a recent arrival to the city, convinced by his friends to audition for one of the vacant violinist positions. After starting off on the wrong foot, Caleb and Essek get to slowly know each other, discover what brings them joy, create while defying expectations, and find out that what they can produce together may just be better than anything they can do separately.

Reccer 1 says: I liked it! Reccer 2 says: This has to be my favorite AU. The author's knowledge about music shines brilliantly and I've really enjoyed the music recommended to share a sense of the character's performances. Reading this the first time over a year ago now genuinely re-sparked my love for string instruments and I even attended an orchestra performance last year because of it! I enjoyed the world building, how conflict between characters is handled, and the development of Caleb and Essek's relationship. This is a fic I've read more than once.

You can also check out our past older favorite reclists here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring One Shots! One chapter and done, probably not too long.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[superficialdomina]

Pain (Into Submission, Part 2)

Series masterlist

Note: This part is a continuation of Part 1, Vulnerable. If you haven't read it, may I suggest you start there? Big thank you to @acidcasualties for reading, suggesting, encouraging and just generally being spectacular.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Implied smut, much angst. Awkward conversation and tortured metaphors. Loki's a bit upset.

Loki was avoiding you.

Since that night in the basement chamber, when you had held him as he caught his breath, and the light in the chamber turned from warm torchlight to the stone grey of dawn, he’d carefully managed to deflect your gaze – your presence, even, on multiple occasions. You sighed inwardly as you glimpsed the edge of his booted foot disappearing around the corner ahead of you. Again.

The memory of him vulnerable and naked on the cold floor remained rich and vivid in your mind. Images of him splayed before you – remembered and imagined – had been a source of much solo entertainment under your sheets in recent nights. Was there anything more deliciously seductive? Beautiful, powerful, dangerous… kneeling.

The two of you had had few interactions since. Briefings, meetings, public interludes that blurred and obscured your newly exposed power dynamic. It was difficult to read him. Superficially, he was as haughty as always; obnoxious and glib, his expression disdainful, his proud chin lifted arrogantly as he argued with the others over petty, trivial matters.

But there were tells. His eyes following you across a crowded room. His tongue nervously wetting an already moistened lower lip as you spoke. And once, that contemptuous laugh breaking off a fraction too early when your gaze fell upon him, his expression quickly and inexplicably contrite.

You frowned slightly at that memory, pressing your lips together as you felt a rush of frustration and lust. He had been avoiding you. It was mildly irritating, though not surprising; you had not expected his submission to be complete after a single orgasm in your hands. Fear, shame, ego - whatever their personal reasons, capitulation was rarely so easy, even in the weak ones. And if you could be certain of one thing, it was that this beautiful God was going to fight it. 

It would make his eventual – inevitable – acceptance all the more delightful. 

This morning was another irksome example. The team were congregating in one of the smaller conference rooms with general agitation, to “await further instruction” from Rogers. The tight space forced Loki to squeeze by you – to your utter delight, and his patent discomfort.

Less than a week ago, you thought wryly, you would have relished the chance to brush by my thigh. Gone out of his way for the opportunity, even. Pathetic little God. The idea was oddly emotive.

"Good morning, prince", you murmured as he passed, emphasising the lowercase "p" on the last word, weighting it with a subtle mockery that only you and he would notice. His eyes widened at your little neg, and you imagined him swelling in his too-tight trousers as you reminded him of his place. Did he want to fall at your feet then and there in the briefing room? Kiss your boot as you roughly twisted his perfect raven curls in your fingers? The God of Mischief might not quite be ready for such a public display of devotion. 

Rogers droned on, and your concentration drifted.

Loki leaned in carefully orchestrated nonchalance against the window, his face set in his trademark smirk. From this vantage, you had an uninterrupted view of his full profile. He did cut a menacing figure, contrived though you were certain it was; long, lean legs rising up to meet slender hips and narrow waist, all sluttishly wrapped in black and green leather that dully reflected the morning sunlight. His broad shoulders rolled back regally, and you could clearly see the outline of his shoulder blades flexing gently with each breath.

Fuck. Pay attention.

You had been watching him more closely since that night in the chamber; knowledge was power, after all, and you had to find it where you could. He was so tactile - the way he traced invisible patterns on the backs of his hands when he was nervous; caught the condensation from the side of his glass and absentmindedly rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger as Steve repeated himself “for those in the back”. You followed his fingertips now as he distractedly drummed them across his leather-clad thigh, imagining them pressing into your flesh as he came undone beneath you. Gods, you needed to stop torturing yourself.

His hair was swept back into a low, tousled bun at the nape of his neck, exposing the soft skin there. Was there still the hint of a bruise where you had nipped his skin? Could he still feel where you had kissed him wetly across his magnificent jaw? As you watched his face, the corner of his mouth twitched up into the briefest smirk, and you felt another jolt of unexpected emotion. I miss him, you realised sadly.

The room broke abruptly, and you were suddenly aware that you hadn’t been listening for several minutes. You shot a quick look at Nat – had you missed anything crucial? Training, 3pm, she mouthed knowingly, and you nodded once in acknowledgement and appreciation. You probably deserved the eye-roll she gave you.

As the room emptied, you glanced at Stark’s fancy translucent wall clock and made a decision. 3pm gave you time to have a little chat with a certain Norse God.

It took several minutes for him to answer your knock, and you wondered briefly if he had been tempted to ignore you.

When he did throw his door open, he wore his usual air of regal arrogance; chin still lifted, shoulders thrown back. But you could feel his awkwardness – his movements seemed mechanical, his breathing a little rapid, his elbows held too close to his body to be entirely natural. He’s nervous, you thought with a thrill.

“Yes, Agent?” His polite words dripped with acid.

“Loki.” His face remained impassive, but he moved back just enough to let you step lightly into the room; his wordless acquiescence made your pulse quicken.

His chambers were richly and elegantly furnished, but dark and secretive. In the quick glimpse you had, you saw him reflected in every detail; from the furs lining the floor like area rugs (was that a polar bear?), to the Nordic relics and symbols adorning every wall. It was unexpectedly sensual.

Loki haughtily cleared his throat, and you resisted the impulse to slap him squarely across the jaw. His perfect, condescending jaw, you thought longingly.

Instead, you opted for candour with a side of hubris. “Why are you avoiding me, Loki?”

He scoffed imperiously. “I am not.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve made leaving a room as I enter it into an elite sport,” you insisted. “Why? Are you ashamed?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, angry, his carefully curated indifference now askew. “I have simply moved on to… other matters of interest.”

“You’re ghosting me?” You raised your eyebrows mildly, a smile curling your mouth. “That seems unlikely. I thought we had a nice time.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, his legendary silver tongue momentarily caught by his growing and uncharacteristic rage. “That’s not – it is not a matter of -” Loki blustered meaninglessly, and you watched insult and fear battle to own the bitterness that swept across his face. With some effort, he collected himself, settling on a mask of seething outrage. “What do you want?”

“I have a proposition. A repeat of our previous tryst, and – hopefully – much more than that.”

He raised his voice – something you rarely heard him do. “I have neither time nor inclination-”

“Loki,” you admonished gently, “we both know that isn’t true. You can pretend it didn’t happen. You can deny how much you enjoyed coming undone in my hands, blindfolded and exposed.” You took a chance at stepping closer to him, reaching out to gently trace your hand up his outer thigh. “But I know what you felt.”

He didn’t move away, but his lips parted in a snarl that bared his perfectly white teeth. “You know nothing, Agent.” He had regained control of his volume, and his words were now menacingly low. “I am a Prince of Asgard,” he hissed. “I am a literal God. Why would I have any interest in what you are suggesting? This proposal,” his lips popped at the word, “is ludicrous and insulting.” He glared down at you, your hand paused at his beautifully curved hip, his chest so close to your face that you could feel it rise and fall. Desire thrummed between your thighs at his proximity.

“Is it?” You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze and reaching for the ascendancy and authority you knew you had, filling yourself with the memory of him vulnerable and naked and sobbing at your feet. “Surely what I can offer you is infinitely preferable to the deftly crafted pain you’re currently stewing in.”

He remained silent, but you imagined you saw the briefest glimmer of surprise dance across his face. What was it that you had said?

Pain.

Cogs whirred in your head. Loki had had plenty of experience with pain. Did he need it? Did he seek it? My sweet little masochist, you thought with a smile.

“You know, humans – and human-like Gods, I suppose – are the only animals that actively seek out pain?” you ventured tentatively. “You can’t train a mouse, for example, to enjoy spicy foods, or to find pleasure in intense exercise.” You continued to trail your hand up the side of his torso, fingers drifting over his sculpted obliques like a beautiful instrument. “Is that what you want, Loki? Does pain make you feel… alive?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “What could you possibly know of pain, Agent?” he hissed. “I have felt pain that you could not imagine; pain that would hurt you just to think about.”

You hesitated, unsure if you were going too far. "Are you sure you're not conflating pain with fear?” He raised his chin defiantly, but you continued quickly. “There’s a correlation between the anticipation of pain, and the intensity with which it is felt. That is, fear of pain is often a far more noxious experience than the stimuli of pain itself.”

He sneered down at you over his long, straight nose. “What exactly are you trying to say, Agent?”

“Only that physical pain doesn't have to come from physical violence.” You paused, willing him to catch up. “You might find pain without fear to be… enjoyable. Exquisite, even.”

“I…” Whatever he was going to say trailed off into the air behind you. You saw the muscle in his jaw quiver as he swallowed nervously.

“I know your feelings about it confuse you." You lowered your voice until it was almost a whisper. "Why would anyone – let alone the great Loki, God of Mischief, future King – why would you want to feel pain? But you do, don’t you? You need it, and you are consumed by shame because of it.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, but this time he turned his head away, eyes closed.

I’m missing something, you thought. There was a wound here… Maybe even one that you could heal. If I could just find it…

And it came to you in a rush that left you giddy. The thing he needed - the onlything Loki had ever needed.

“I am offering you a chance at authenticity, Loki; something that I hazard you’ve not had much opportunity for in your long, if somewhat apocryphal, life. I am offering you a place to belong.”

At your last word, Loki took an unsteady step backwards. His rage evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced; only desperation and sadness remained writ across his face, and you realised with some trepidation that it had been several minutes since he had spoken. You wanted to wrap him in your arms, caress him, hold him until all his fear and shame had been shed like blood.

Not yet.

When he did eventually speak, his voice was composed. “I think you should leave, Agent,” he said coolly, drawing himself up again to his full height, masking his softness once more in leather and steel.

You paused for a fraction of a second, then nodded, letting your hands fall and stepping back from him. Did I reach him? His door snapped closed behind you with a resounding click. I guess we’ll see.

Continued in Part 3: Lost

Tagging some folks who enjoyed part 1. No hard feelings if you'd rather be removed!

@lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @infinitystoner @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @thomase1 @kats72 @vickie5446 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @tomlugirl @lokisninerealms @missmushroomsstuff @ladyloki3 @fandxmslxt69 @sinsandguilt @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @meowmeow-motherfucker @simplyholl @divine-knight-hand

[jo-harrington]

Luminous Beings - Episode 6: Hopeless

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: Eddie's ship is gone, he might be hunted by the Empire...everything seems hopeless. Now what?

Word Count: 7.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Distrust, Mention of Alcohol and Substance Use, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Galactic Politics, Mention of Death, Vague References to Order 66 and the Jedi Purge, Discussion of the Force, Abstract Spirituality

Note: Big big thanks to August for all of her lovely beta-reading and for striving to make me a better writer with her critical eye. Seriously, you push me to be better.

Thanks again to everyone for reading.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Bogano, 10BBY

The first steps out of the Stranger Mantis were disorienting. Eddie always felt that way after a long trip through hyperspace, but more so now. A new planet, a new…everything. Bright suns, fresh air, gentle clouds, and grassy plains as far as the eye could see.

It was a paradise, and it felt like a punishment. Like they'd given up.

Once again, he felt out of control.

There had been a collective sense of mourning aboard the Mantis between himself and his friends. The loss of a ship, the loss of a purpose. They sulked for days. However, they soon realized that everyone aboard—save for Benny, Bob, and Thalia—felt that way.

The first night, one of the kids had cried to her brother about how she missed their family, their friends, and their home. And her brother, only a few years older, had responded with a wisdom that was well beyond his age.

"It's okay," he attempted, trying to soothe her woes. "I miss them, too, but they'd want us to be safe and happy above all else."

So the crew of the Dragonborn felt like they couldn't really complain about missing out on things like scantily-clad dancers and sub-par drinks when these people, these kids, lost practically everything they'd ever known.

Still, as Eddie's eyes scanned over the generally uninterrupted horizon in front of him, he couldn't help but loathe the sense of displacement. He'd always been used to cities. Civilization. Something. Not...whatever this was.

There were huts and large tents big enough to house dozens of people, with a few small, sturdily constructed buildings dotted around the camp and further out in the distance. Short barrier walls around the perimeter were reinforced with sandbags. Big pieces of mechanical equipment, generators and moisture vaporators, were also familiar shapes around the encampment.

It was a stark difference from what he was used to. What any of them might have been used to, surely.

Benny, the good captain that he was, rolled out as much hospitality as he could.

"Alright," he announced as he herded everyone out of the ship. He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Follow me."

He led the group of nervous passengers around and gave them the grand tour. One of the buildings at the edge of the camp closest to the landing pad housed refreshers, and they were nice, but they felt a little sterile. There was soap that didn’t have a scent and cramped shower stalls. Benny said that they were remnants of the Clone Wars, that he had a buddy who was able to help them source everything through surplus dealers. 

As the Latero droned on about everything that had been crafted for clone troopers, Eddie remembered how Wayne’s work buddies used to grumble about the war on nights they came over to play sabacc. How the Galactic Senate had allocated insane amounts of credits to war efforts, and just like everything else in the damned galaxy, it was all left to rot once the sham of a war was over and the Empire came to power.

“But hey,” Benny’s laugh broke Eddie from his thoughts. “If we can get a real toilet out of it, instead of shitting in a hole, I’m not complaining."

He showed them an old building at the perimeter. Not a pre-fabricated building like the others, but something more makeshift. Something the crew of the Dragonborn were used to seeing on Bracca, with its mismatched durasteel walls and rickety-looking roof. It was where he and Bob stayed when they were on-planet. Not necessarily traditional living quarters, but certainly a home.

And then, Benny gave them all a home too.

They went, tent by tent, and he welcomed them, all the while narrating about how Bob and Thalia struggled how to set everything up and worried that the beds would be uncomfortable or the sheets and blankets too scratchy. Was Bogano too hot or too cold? Would they be happy here?

Eddie didn’t need Force powers to know that happy wasn’t the right word. Happiness took time. Contentedness? Sure.

"You kids can run around and play to your heart's content." Benny laughed as he spoke to the younger refugees. One set of arms folded across his torso while another arm scratched the back of his head. "Don't know about school...but I'm sure none of you will be too bummed about missing out. I'll let Bob know to scrounge up some holobooks on our next supply run. Otherwise holovids will be your teachers. What could possibly go wrong?"

There were a few swoop bikes tucked behind the structure that housed the refreshers. They were off limits apparently, but Eddie and his friends all gave each other knowing looks; it's not like anyone could stop them from taking a joy ride.

"We'll come up with some sort of chore rotation," Benny explained towards the end of the tour. "I'm your resident chef, though. Used to run a little snack window on Takodana once upon a time. Those pirates get hungry. Speaking of hungry, I hope everyone likes shaak stew. I'll make us all a little food. Think of it as a welcome dinner."

He was about to head back to the ship, but he turned to everyone and held his hands out to them. It was a gesture of sincerity and trust.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but this is what we have to work with for the foreseeable future. I...I'm not the best with words. I should've had one of the others do this, but I drew the short straw. What I wanna say though is...there's nothing you need to worry about anymore. You're home now. And you're safe."

It might've been the force abilities that he apparently had, it might've been the stress of the past week, it might've been that he wasn’t a kriffing idiot.

But Eddie had a hard time believing that.

"What would you say if I told you this feels like home for me?"

"I would ask how long you've been here because this place kind of stinks."

Thalia let out a laugh and took his words as permission to enter the tent.

Eddie was the last of his friends to unpack his meager belongings. Their new living arrangements weren't too bad, actually. Bigger than the bunk room on the Dragonborn, with enough space for their instruments and a charging station for D5-TN, who was currently powered down and sulking in his own way.

The others had taken it upon themselves to start helping around the encampment, but they let Eddie have the time alone.

He should have known there would be a limit to how alone he could truly be. And that Thalia would destroy the distance he’d created between them as he avoided her.

“This is nice.” She looked around the tent. “Nicer than where I’m staying.”

“I didn’t know you were staying,” Eddie huffed.

“Well, I’m sure they’re gonna be looking for a blue-haired force user now,” Thalia ran a hand into her hair and ruffled her curls. He could see the slightest bit of growth at the roots, that muddy brown from his memory. From hers. “So I think I need to lay low for a bit.”

"Well, could you lay low somewhere else?" he groused at her.

"Where's the fun in that? Besides, I have something to ask you."

"Ask me? Or tell me?"

"Both."

"Knew it."

He gestured for her to take a seat on Jeff's bunk, across from him. She sighed deeply as she sat and her whole body shrank in on itself at the small comfort.

The wind blew just outside the tent and the kids shouted to each other in the distance, playing some game, as Eddie and Thalia got reacclimated to each other's presence. There was relative silence for a few moments as they sat and watched each other.

Then Thalia finally spoke.

"You know," she started, looking down at her hands settled neatly in her lap. "I had...a different plan, if you can believe it."

"I don't believe in making plans," Eddie responded after a beat. He sniffed judgmentally and then leaned back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. "They always end up changing."

Thalia hummed in response, amused. "I had a feeling you were gonna say something like that."

"I'm an open book, sweetheart."

"Uh huh."

"Unlike someone."

"Do you want an apology?"

"For blowing up my ship? For forcing my friends and I to come to this abandoned planet? For ruining our lives?" He nodded. "Yeah, I would, actually."

"I'm sorry," she said solemnly.

He poked a finger in his ear and wiggled it. "Can you say that again? I didn't hear it."

"I'm sorry," she repeated and then lifted a brow expectantly. "That good enough?"

"How about some groveling?"

"You're pressing your luck."

"Then I accept your apology." He held his hand out to her to shake. "And if there's a way for me to get a reimbursement of the credits I left behind on Coruscant trying to save your hide."

"I'll talk to Bob." She chuckled lightly. "Not like there are many places you can spend it here on Bogano, though."

"I'll figure something out." He grinned. "I always do."

There was another stretch of solemn silence.

"The force..." Thalia broke the silence, then took a deep breath. "Works in mysterious ways."

"Why do you say that?" he asked. She paused again, then reached into her jacket and pulled something from where she'd tucked it. Hidden it. She carefully passed it across to him and he felt his eyes widen.

It was a little leather-bound journal; the cover was a deep mahogany and crafted well, with shapes embossed into it and a loosely knitted cord around its middle. Pieces of rough paper were carefully folded and sewn together inside.

Eddie knew it well, because it was his.

"You...where did you get this?"

"Stole it," she teased lightly. "I...I was planning to give it back to you. And I would've if the inquisitors hadn't shown up. I think it would've been a nice goodbye. A real goodbye."

"I thought I lost it," he muttered. "It's been a while since I'd seen it."

"I know." She nodded. "Found it in a camtono while I was organizing the ship. There were all sorts of things inside. Tiny figurines, dice...but this was the thing that caught my eye the most. It felt lost. It was excited for someone to open it again."

"And did you? Open it?"

"I might've," she said slyly.

Eddie eagerly untied the cord and flipped through the long-forgotten pages. He traced his fingers over his own scratchy handwriting inside; stories that he used to write to entertain his friends, little notes and ideas for their games. They'd come up with names and planets that didn't exist and creatures, and he'd lead them through the little made-up adventures to pass the time. Both back home and when they started travelling.

It got boring in space.

"Why a journal?" Thalia questioned. "Why not a datapad?"

He looked over at her and saw the way her mouth quirked at the corners. Not quite a smile, but enough of one.

"Something tells me you already know," he accused lightheartedly.

"Oh yeah?"

"So why ask?"

"Because I'd rather hear the story from you," she assured him. "Than experience it through echoes in the Force."

He looked down at the little book again. He was nervous, but it was an acceptable answer; he could do this...he could tell her.

"My uncle Wane gave it to me," he began. "After my mom died, my dad had a hard time. He loved her but he couldn't handle his...grief, I guess. Wane always said I was just like him...itching to get off planet. But mom was the only thing holding him down. So once she was gone, he didn't really have a reason to stay."

Not even me, he thought bitterly for the millionth time in his life.

"Anyway." He cleared his throat and held up the journal. "Wane took me in. And he says he's a homebody, that he has no interest in doing much more than keeping his head down and sticking to the status quo. But he's just as curious about the galaxy as I am. As Al was. Full of stories that he's heard over the years. Some are fun, others are a little more...cautionary.

"So when he saw me tapping away at my datapad, writing little stories, he marched his ass down to the Terrace and got this for me. Sat me down and told me this...I mean, I guess I know it's true now. But back then it was unbelievable."

He remembered being eight or nine, hearing the story and thinking Wane was just being his usual old coot self.

"This planet...Taris...used to be a bigger metropolis than Coruscant. Skyscrapers and resorts and casinos and pleasure barges. If it wasn't in the Outer Rim, it could've been the Capital of the Old Republic. Took thousands of years to build...and a single year to destroy. All of the people, all of the technology, all of the money couldn't save them. But what did survive? Books. Hand written and printed books, unwanted, deep in the undercity. Along with the few survivors.

"So he said to me, 'Ed, don't you trust any of your important thoughts to a datapad. You better write them all down.' And he handed me this journal, and the rest is history. Honestly, I don't think that I would've ever gotten the courage to leave Bracca if it wasn't for Wane and this journal. Everything I ever thought was important to me, I put in here."

He stopped at a page that had his rough little sketches of a ship and the name Dragonborn scrawled across the top. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, then he looked up at Thalia and forced a wry smile.

"So, did I tell the story better than your...Force Echo?"

Her fingers twitched on her lap, and in his mind's eye, Eddie could see her reach across to comfort him. He almost wanted her to. But she stayed on Jeff's bed and simply stated, "You absolutely did."

"Why, thank you." He held his arms out and did a little bow in his seat, hamming it up to try and push past the heavy emotions that lingered. "So...what does this have to do with the force working in mysterious ways?"

Thalia scoffed and rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath before stating, "You know, there have been plenty of scholars in the history of the galaxy that have questioned whether we truly have freewill. Or if there is some predetermined fate that the Force keeps us moving towards."

Fate? Well, that was bantha shit in Eddie's opinion.

Still, he asked her, "What do you think?"

Of course, she avoided the question in the way only she could.

It seemed it was her turn to tell a story.

“The Jedi..." She paused in thought. "They take...took...children from their homes when they were very young, to begin teaching them the ways of the Force very early. To teach them to follow the light. And to prevent them from forming an attachment to their homes or their families. For some, that meant they were taken as babies. For me? I was...old enough to remember. Not much. But faces and names and places. Feelings. Things.

“The first time I came here…well, that’s a story in and of itself. I came across another survivor of the Purge, who urged me to try and find Master Cordova. I hired Benny and Bob to take me to a remote planet no one had heard of, but once I got here…everything clicked. Everything felt right. I could feel Master Cordova’s signature in the force. He might still be missing, but his presence is here if you know where to look. I could feel the planet itself urging me to reconnect with the force, taking me on a journey of self-discovery. Most of all, I could feel the long-forgotten memories of my childhood return.

“Bogano reminds me of the home I remember. Fields and marsh mud and soft wind…and nothing. So much nothing. So much death.”

Eddie felt a chill down his spine.

“Death? You feel…death here?” he asked, but she ignored it.

"One of the last things I remember, before the masters came, were letters. Paper letters. Electronics were shoddy at best, but the colony was safe enough for children to run around alone. My mother handed me a letter to take to my aunt who lived by Olaris Spaceport."

Eddie frowned.

Olaris...why was that familiar?

"You know why," Thalia responded, as if she could hear his thoughts.

"I'm gonna need you to stop doing that, sweetheart." He scoffed. "Or teach me how to stop you."

"We'll get to that," she said dismissively, then leaned closer and grabbed Eddie's hand. "You know why Olaris sounds familiar. Think about it. Really think. You know the answer."

Olaris. He let the word bounce around his thoughts for a moment. At first he could hear the echo in Thalia's voice.

It quickly changed to his uncle's, in the tone he used when he spun tales for Eddie's entertainment. Stories to get him to fall asleep on those long nights when he missed his parents.

The Sinking City. Olaris Spaceport. The Verdant Marshes.

Marsh mud and soft winds and death.

He looked down at his journal and muttered, "You're from Taris."

Thalia smiled sadly.

"Your uncle tells you a story and gives you a journal to write in. Paper to write on. Because of a half-destroyed planet where technology failed them. You write down all of your dreams, and one day those dreams take you halfway across the galaxy where you meet someone from that planet. Someone who tells you that...that you're something special. Something worth protecting. Something worth saving.”

"Bob said you'd done research on me," Eddie whispered.

"There are some things that you can't find out just by slicing, Eddie," she whispered back with a nervous smile. "I think...I think that's fate."

He pulled his hand away from hers and stood. He paced the length of the tent, mind racing as he tried to find some flaw in her story. Flaw in her logic. He pivoted to face her many times, only to keep pacing, unable to find some point to bring up.

"I didn't listen when you offered to bring me to Bogano. But you blew up my ship and brought me here anyway.” He pointed at her. "How is that fate? You forced me to come here."

"I didn't know the inquisitors were going to show up!" Thalia threw her hands in the air. "I was going to try one last ditch effort to get you to come, with the journal. But they beat me to it. Regardless of what I had planned—of what you had set your mind on—we ended up here."

"But you blew up my ship!"

"But I blew up your ship!" She got to her feet abruptly and closed the distance. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket to get him to stop pacing and shook him. "Do you want another apology? Or a smack in the face? I'm trying to ask you something important here, Eddie. I’m trying to ask if you want to learn the ways of the force.”

What?

“But you're too kriffing stubborn,” she continued, all the while still shaking him. “All roads led you here. To this minute. To this planet. To me. Whether you wanted it to or not."

"Fine!" he shouted at her.

"Fine! And you're here now."

"And I'm here!"

"So do you want me to teach you how to harness the Force? Or not? You big...scruffy...stupid...moof-milker!"

"Yes, I would like that a lot actually!"

"Gah!" She shoved him with all her might, sending him back a few steps. There was fire in her eyes as she seethed at him. It was funny. It was cute. "I knew you would say no! I hate you so much. You're such a little—"

"Thalia!" Eddie took a step towards her but she kept on yelling. "Thalia! I said yes!"

She went silent immediately, shoulders heaving as she caught her breath.

"You did?" she asked after a beat. She straightened her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair, trying to compose herself. "You did."

“Against my best judgement, yeah.” He huffed a bit of a laugh. “I guess I believe in fate after all.”

“Great.”

"Good."

"Good." She nodded and then headed out. "We'll get started in the morning then. Meet me at the edge of camp, by the vaporators, after breakfast."

And once she was gone, Eddie really let it all sink in. Let it all hit him.

What the hell had he just agreed to?

Eddie Moonsun and routines had, historically, never really gotten along.

He'd always been late for his classes at the Training Institute back on Bracca, rarely did his homework with any sort of timeliness. Once he was the Captain of his own ship, he knew not to delude himself into thinking he would grow up or take any more responsibility. He was going to be a great smuggler, sure, and his friends relied on his leadership to succeed, but that didn't mean he needed to wake up early every morning. Or adhere to any sort of schedule.

The only time that he could be considered reliable to stick to a schedule was when he promised to deliver something to a client on a certain date. That was just because money was involved.

So, it shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone, least of all to Eddie, that he was hopeless when it came to the expectations of routines that Thalia set for him.

He was late to meet up with her after lunch. He and Benny had been discussing a plan to replace the Dragonborn when he realized. He'd run across camp, interrupting the small group of kids that Thalia guided through meditation.

Their eyes all popped open in unison, giggling at his flustered appearance. Hair disheveled, out of breath, cheeks flushed.

"Sorry, I thought it was just going to be the two of us, sweetheart," he apologized as Thalia pulled him aside.

"They need to learn the basics," she explained. "Grounding themselves, their abilities. Learning to control them. You...it's going to be a little different. You're older."

"I'm still a kid at heart."

She laughed. "Oh I don't doubt that.” 

Then she explained what it was she expected of their time training together:

Wake up, walk the perimeter of the camp—some kind of patrol perhaps?—breakfast, chores, lunch, meditation with the kids, dinner, then bed.

"What about fun?" he questioned when she told him.

"What about fun?" Her brows shot up in surprise.

"You didn't give us any time for...I don't know...playing sabacc or reading, or...anything!" He threw his arms up in the air. "What about lightsaber training?"

"What about lightsaber training?"

"Stop repeating what I say!"

"You're not going to start with a lightsaber." Thalia scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Younglings don't get a lightsaber for...a few years at least."

"What?" Eddie screeched. "I have to wait a few years?"

"If you even get one." Thalia grabbed him as he tried to walk away from her. He mumbled expletives under his breath. "You need to learn how to channel the force first. Then to control your abilities. Then we can talk about a lightsaber."

He looked over her shoulder at the group of kids, all sitting restlessly, and he wondered if they would get a lightsaber eventually. Or now. Would this be different if he'd been found at their age?

He let the thought roll around in his head for a second, let it simmer with the doubt inside of him. When he'd agreed to this, he supposed he'd gotten caught up in the novelty of it. Be taught the ways of a Jedi? Become a hero? Sure. That was an easy yes. But how could he be one? He was just...a scoundrel. A no one.

"What if you were wrong?" Eddie asked abruptly. "I...I don't have...I can't move things with a wave of my hand or feel any echoes. You said you had a list? What if...if my name was on it by mistake?"

"I'm not wrong," Thalia insisted.

"But what if?"

"I'm not," she repeated. "But if I am...well, we just have to find out in the first place, right?"

She gave him a knowing, smug look and waited for him to agree.

"I guess," he said reluctantly.

She took a step forward and took his hands in hers, then looked deep into his eyes with a sincerity he hadn't known in anyone outside of his uncle and his friends. It was shocking, especially coming from her.

"I believe in you, Eddie," she muttered gently. "I hope I can help you believe in yourself."

He didn't know how to respond. So he just nodded.

She stepped back, pulling him along with her. "We just have to start. So, let's go."

She led him over to the group and made him sit, legs crossed, amongst them.

Meditation was difficult.

Day after day, he simply sat there amongst the kids, waiting for something to happen. Anything. To the point where he was starting to get desperate.

He wasn't really sure what he should've been doing; he looked around at the others. Max's hands rested on her knees, Will kept his eyes closed, and El was practically buzzing with energy even though she herself remained perfectly still. The atoms around her shifted imperceptibly, or so it seemed.

But for Eddie? Nothing worked.

He couldn't stay still enough, keep his eyes closed for long enough, or stay in one position. There were too many noises, too many feelings, too many bodies near him.

And the frustration he felt over failing at the simplest activity led to more failure and discontent with everything else expected of him. He stayed up late every night with worry, slept in every morning, missed all of the one-on-one time that Thalia had planned. He grumped and groused, threw insults at everyone who could take it. It happened to the point where he'd even pissed Hop who was apparently El’s adoptive father. El, the so-called force protege.

He even began to annoy his friends.

"You're being a real piece of bantha shit, Ed," Jeff called him out when he'd grumbled through chores for the 3rd day in a row. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Eddie hissed.

D5-TN rolled by, honking and whistling in a way that almost sounded like Eddie's own grumbling. It earned laughs from the rest of the crew of the Dragonborn—former crew, that is—but Eddie simply kicked the back of Dustin's can-shaped body and stormed off.

He walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Past the edge of the camp, past the small body of murky water that he and Thalia were supposed to meet every morning but never did, past the series of machines and satellites that Bob had erected to pick up any stray comms.

Until he was well and truly alone for the first time in...well, had he ever been this alone?

Eddie observed his surroundings. The small outline of the camp from the direction that he came and, up ahead, a spire of stone cut through the burning, setting twin suns. He closed his eyes and savored the warmth of it on his face, smelled the sweet grasses and peaty soil around him. Little critters jumped and chittered around him—boglings—but it was generally peaceful. Quiet.

He let instinct control his body, let himself fall to the ground with his legs crossed and hands rested on his knees. He breathed deeply, tried to focus on...focus on nothing. Wasn't that what Thalia instructed them all to do?

Breathe deeply, clear their minds until they were the only ones there. Push out all of the distractions of the outside world, then they might find the light within them.

But what light was there in Eddie? He couldn't feel that within him. When he thought of the force, when he thought of the Jedi...he thought of the heroes of his childhood. He thought of the austere monks that could move things with their mind and preached peace and justice and balance. Even Thalia, the self-proclaimed not-Jedi, was surrounded by calm.

He was...he was chaos personified. He was wild and unpredictable. He was always looking for the next place. He was restless. He was less than. He could never be like that. Wise and powerful and serene. It was simply not him.

"Is that what you think about yourself?" Eddie's eyes popped open and shouted in surprise at Thalia's sudden interruption of his...well, it wasn't really meditation, was it? "Probably not," she answered his thoughts again.

"Stop that!" he growled at her.

"No," she scoffed and dropped to the ground before him, knees almost touching his. "It's fun to mess with you." He refused to look at her. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you didn't try and mess with me before either. I know you enjoyed it."

"I don't like having the privacy of my mind invaded," he spat at her.

"I'm not reading your thoughts, per se," she explained. "Some people can. But I'm simply feeling the way you interact with the world around you. And you were projecting a lot of...self-doubt."

"I told you I didn't think this force thing was for me," he snarked. "Of course I doubt myself."

She rolled her eyes.

"Why are you so hell-bent on this?" he questioned.

"Because you're barely even trying, and you're already quitting."

"I can't do what the others can. I can't even meditate."

"Everyone is different." She reached across and poked him, hard, in the chest. "Did I, or did I not make that clear when I explained that I wasn't given the opportunity to be a Jedi? I'm not a soldier. I couldn't...wave a lightsaber around and take a life. But that doesn't mean I couldn't do other things."

"Like what?" he scoffed. "Your little mind tricks. Your little force echoes. Your little...memory walks."

"Yes."

"How useful."

"It is useful. It's a gateway. It's how I found out how to do more, how to be more. How to redeem myself. How to be this. How to find you."

"And once again I say, I'm useless. I'm nothing."

Thalia sighed again, but closed her eyes this time.

"Listen, I'm no teacher," she began, but Eddie was quick to interrupt her.

"Well, don't look at me. I barely paid attention in class."

She ignored him and continued. "That doesn't mean I'm going to give up on you." Her eyes opened and stared deeply into his. "Those kids? They could be the next Jedi Order. They could be the ones that take down the empire, protect the galaxy. But doesn't that just put us right back where we started? A Jedi Order that doesn't care to do things the right way? One that values soldiers over...peace? I can't do that to them. I need to protect them from that.

"But you, Eddie...you're...nothing. You're a blank slate and a loose canon, and you don't fit in any one slot because you aren't meant to. If the Jedi didn't come and find you, it's because you didn't fit their mold. And that's a good thing. Maybe that's what we need right now to save the light that is left.

"A single spark of courage," she concluded, almost reciting some quote she knew from her past life. "Can ignite the fires of hope and restore peace across the galaxy. We are that spark. You are that spark."

His eyes darted between hers, a warm feeling building in his chest at her words.

"You know," he muttered. "You might find a career in motivational speeches since Star Tours isn't gonna end up working out for you."

Thalia snorted and gently pushed against his shoulder. Then she took his hands in hers and told him to match her breathing.

Breathe. In. Out. Breathe.

"The Jedi," Thalia explained as she wrapped a scrap of cloth around his head to cover his eyes, "were focused on these higher realms of thought. Find the light within and suddenly the whole universe opens up for them. One being dies and they become one with the force, part of a greater whole. Fulfill their destiny to strengthen the force. Which is true!

“But, it didn't ground them into reality. In fact, they were so focused on the rest of the force that they even went without themselves. They clung to their emptiness, convinced themselves it was superior. No emotions, no attachments. No fear, no love. And when it was time for them to face reality, they were unprepared to deal with the fall they took."

"I don't see why that means I need to keep my eyes closed, sweetheart," Eddie muttered as she tied the cloth tighter.

They stood at the edge of camp, late at night. Everyone else was asleep, even the droids, but they were wide awake and training. A small warming fire was glowing nearby, but they were almost entirely bathed in the darkness of night. The only other light they had was the star-filled sky above them.

It made the blindfold almost doubly-redundant.

"Because you're the opposite. You’re…unique. You’re you, and you feel so much. When you try to meditate, you can't stand the thought of finding the light within yourself." Eddie tried to protest but she stopped him. "And that's good, for what we want. It means you're inclined to the Living Force."

He could practically hear the unspoken like me in her voice.

"And what does that mean?"

"The Living Force is exactly what it sounds like. All things living. All life is unique and special and part of the greater whole already. We live our destiny. To live, before we become one with the force, is a gift.”

On and on she went, and he could feel her pacing around him; she explained everything she expected from him calmly and in great detail, but didn’t dumb it down or condescend to him at all.

They were all incredibly confusing concepts, and Eddie made a few self-deprecating jokes about thinking it was only as simple as sword fights and good vs evil. But Thalia was patient with him, and explained how the Living Force affected those things. It was eye-opening, pun intended, and it made him more eager and excited to finally find where his strengths in the force lay.

When she got to the end, she took one of his hands in hers and settled the other on her chest, right over her heart.

“What are you doing?” He tried to tug his hand away, to pull it to his own chest but she held it there steadily.

“These are the first steps,” she explained. “But we need to jumpstart your training. I had hoped getting you up early before the rest of camp was awake, you’d be able to feel the little changes in the world as everything came to life for the day—”

“I’m not a morning person.”

“—but you aren't a morning person so we need to try a different approach. This is it. We get you to recognize how the living force manifests in me, then we branch out to the rest of the camp. And eventually…eventually you’ll be able to find it within yourself too.”

“Again I ask, why the blindfold?”

“Your eyes can deceive you. Sight is both the strongest and weakest sense. You won’t truly feel what it is that you need to feel if you keep relying on what you see.”

“That…” Eddie let the thought mull around his head for a moment. “…makes sense.”

He could hear the smile in Thalia's voice when she said, “Glad you’re finally seeing things from my perspective."

"Don't expect it to happen again."

"Uh-huh. Now, I want you to feel. Feel the physical aspects of me as I stand here in front of you. With you. And then we can build from there.” She squeezed one hand, and then pressed the other hand further into her chest.

He took a deep breath. Once, twice. Tried to sync his breathing along with hers like they'd done the other day, so he could focus on what he felt.

The steadiness of her pulse beneath his fingers, the stitches of her jacket that indented into his palm, her unexpected calluses that brushed against the back of his hand. She was solid and real and tangible in his grasp. She felt like Thalia, which seemed a little obvious since she was Thalia...but there was just something intrinsic that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

It felt the way it did when he kissed her. Calm and bright. Quiet and powerful. Human. Alive. Here with him, here for him.

He'd been a little shit to her, but she had been there for him. He couldn't deny that. She was right, the small little things that connected them. Maybe it wasn't fate in the way that you would think of it, but she hadn't given up on him. Hadn't given up on trying to save him. And how many others could he confidently say had done that for him in his life?

She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

And then his touch went through her. He reached into her.

She evaporated and he fell forward, stumbling ahead a few steps. He waved his arms frantically, trying to find her; he called her name but got no response.

Panic settled in, shortness of breath and the sudden urge to rip the blindfold off and run away. In fact, his hands had immediately went to his face, fingers gripping the cloth. But, for some reason, he stopped.

Calmness settled over him, deep breathing that wasn't his...but who did it belong to?

He tried calling for Thalia again, to no avail, and then he thought beyond her. Because he wasn't really alone. They were just at the edge of camp. He focused on the crackling of the fire and the distant beeps of machinery, then further beyond that. Dayv's snoring, G'areth farting, Benny checking readings in the cockpit of the Mantis before he went to sleep himself.

There were over a dozen consciousnesses in the depths of sleep; just out of reach, past the edge of his blindfold. He could feel them, practically see them. See their dreams. Nebulous clouds and colors of their minds, of their souls, floating and swirling in innocence and imagination. Pinpricks of light, like the millions of stars above him.

No, not just above him.

Every being in the camp...they were all made of starlight.

Then the stars began to converge, forming shapes around him in his sightless landscape. Until he could see again, see everything. The camp, the fire, the sky above and the planet below. All living creatures, not just the members of their ragtag little party, but the wild creatures that lived beyond the confines of their camp, too. He could even see the millions of electrical signals relaying on D5-TN's motherboard.

Was this it? Was this what Thalia felt? Saw? Was this what she was trying to get him to see too? Was this it? Was this the Living Force?

Was he doing it? He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that this was the Force, and that he was doing it...he did it. He had it.

It was overwhelming, and out of his control.

It was exhilarating.

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back and the weight of a hand settled back into his. He squeezed first this time, and she squeezed back. Without him taking his blindfold off, she began to take shape before him.

Gleaming and glowing, Thalia's luminous inner starlight formed her gentle smile and her wind-swept curls, the shape of her body and the depth of her soul. She burned and glowed brightly under his touch.

She was beautiful.

Then it was gone as she abruptly reached up and pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He blinked and found her there, tangible and whole and human, in the flesh before him. Even in the low light, he could see the blush that burned her cheeks.

"Alright." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "That's enough for tonight."

She tried to pull her hand away from his but he held fast.

"I did it," he whispered, tears building in the corners of his eyes. "I really...I did it." The defensiveness melted from her posture and she took a step closer, squeezing his hand once again.

"I told you that you could," she insisted. Pride was evident in her voice.

Eddie started rambling, relaying everything to her. The entire experience. He was full of wonder and disbelief as he spoke a mile-a-minute, fumbling over his own words like he couldn't tell her fast enough.

He paused to catch his breath and his eyes darted from her to the camp, then out into the wild and back. It wasn't as vivid as it had been as the blindfold was on, but he could still see the little remnants of energy that emanated from the world around them.

"I just..." He ran a hand into his hair and started laughing. "Is that...well, no wonder you keep reading my mind, sweetheart, if that's what you see all the time."

She let out a chuckle, and opened her mouth to say something. Eddie could sense the snark that was building in her chest, about to come from her lips.

But before the words could escape her, he closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers, arms circling her.

Thalia stiffened in his grasp again, and then settled against him. Unlike the reluctance she showed on Outpost 86, she accepted his embrace this time, accepted his kiss.

Their lips moved together and their hands softly explored of their own volition. The heat between them roared and crackled, like the warming fire beside them. It was hesitant and gentle, but still bright and burning.

He thought about other kisses he'd experienced in his life—shit, he could even sense the vestiges of Thalia's recollection of kisses she'd had in the past—and he decided that he liked that there was something different about this experience with her.

For the first time in his life, this kiss felt like hope.

Next Chapter: Episode 7 - The Force is With Me

The Tag List for Luminous Beings is currently open; please comment/ask/DM to be added.

[katblu42]

Manhattan at 2am

Very short fic snippet - what I would have written for last week's Flash Fiction Friday prompt of Lights and Sirens if I'd had myself together!

I do not know why he's in NYC, and in this state, but have some exhausted Scott.

The storm had passed.  Flashes of light still lit up the clouds away to the south east over the water, but the rain had stopped.  Scott scrunched his toes into the plush carpet a few times as he gazed out over the New York City skyline.  The floor to ceiling window offered him an uninterrupted view of downtown Manhattan, alive with light and movement even at 2am.

Raindrops on the glass caught and refracted the light, and bent some of the straight edges of buildings in interesting ways if he concentrated on them.  But he wasn’t really concentrating on anything.  Not even the gaggle of vehicles with blue and red lights flashing congregating outside a building several blocks away to the south.

The brief thought crossed his mind that sirens would be wailing through the streets, but there was no chance of hearing them from way up here.  Not with the soundproofing they had for the penthouse apartment.  He did wonder if whatever emergency was occurring would involve evacuating a bunch of bleary-eyed people in pyjamas out onto the street until the situation could be resolved.  He couldn’t see any smoke or flames, so he hoped the fire trucks were merely responding to alarms sent haywire by storm induced power fluctuations.

With a small sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass. 

Traffic moved silently through the streets below marking time in streaks of white headlights and red taillights.

Then a warm hand rested on his shoulder.  A warm hand attached to a well-muscled arm that gently draped across his upper back.  And the brother attached to that arm now stood close enough beside him that a comforting warmth began to permeate through Scott’s thin cotton sleep attire.

A familiar voice rumbled softly.*

On some level Scott knew he should respond, but he couldn’t seem to summon the energy.  He may have sagged a little against his ever-steady brother.

The voice rumbled again and was joined by a second, more melodious voice and a faint blue glow reflecting off the inside of the window glass.**

He didn’t remember moving.

There was warmth and softness.  Comfort and familiarity.

He was in bed, covers tucked neatly over him, snuggled up against a heat source that rose and fell with slow, even breaths.  Virgil.

Music was playing quietly.  A recording of one of Virgil’s piano pieces.  John’s doing.

There would be more meetings tomorrow.  Board members, clients, investors, employees . . . responsibilities.

But for now he was content to let the siren song of jazz piano lure him down into the depths of slumber.

* “Scott? You okay?”

** “John, you were right.  I’ve got him now.”      “FAB.  Let me know if you need anything.”

[oneknightstand-if]

Public Service Announcement

Days Since Computer Randomly Turned Itself Off and Refused to Power on Again: 150 17 7 6 0  (✿ ︣⓪ ᴗ ︣⓪)っ🗡

Screw you, expensive uninterruptible power source that randomly turns itself off for no good reason. I took this opportunity to replace it with a cheap Amazon-brand one that arrived a few days ago not that I would've dared to turn my computer off to try and plug it in before then.

Hopefully that will help with this. Computer only took half an hour to turn on this time, that means it likes the new backup battery source, right?

[tcfactory]

Oooh - are you doing the backstory bit? Anything you like, for Sky Ballet - I think it is such a wonderful fic!

Thank you! 💕

I'm trying to focus on getting all the details to fit right for Crossed Sparks (and I'm very tentatively cooking something for Damocles, which would be a prequel of sorts about Sentinel and the lead-up to the betrayal, but I'm holding that plan in reserve until after I see the reactions to the Big Reveal), so as much as I love Sky Ballet (it's the fic I'm most proud of currently), I'm not sure I could tell you much.

Hmmm. Maybe not really interesting in the grand scheme of things, but the reason why I decided to scrap Megatron's point of view was because he was already so desensitized to the Horrors that his side of the story (at least for the early parts) would have been too much like a wacky sitcom. Everybody giving him shit and laughing at him for his increasingly desperate attempts at flirting with Orion that go completely unnoticed by the object of his affections, him turning the table on Soundwave when he gets a stupid crush on Starscream and can't communicate it like a normal person, Knock Out showing up one day out of the blue, all confidence and bluster like "Hi, I'm your new medic, you can send my pay to this account." "We didn't hire a new medic." "Tough luck, because I have already moved in." that sort of thing. Like, sure, there are Horrors happening, but that's like saying that the sun is going to rise in the morning, it's so normal and inconsequential to their immediate lives.

Just like how Orion slowly arrived at the stance that someone needs to change things from within the system and that someone has to be him because he can't trust others to do it right, Megatron's radicalization was also just a slow, gradual side effect of trying to live his life and make things better for the people around him.

Oh, also also. Not directly related to the Sky Ballet bots, but I have written up a thing about that universe's Primus for someone that I think is kinda interesting?

So, I like my gods to be a bit incomprehensible, even the good ones - and it goes both ways. So inhabitants of the material world can't comprehend Primus in his entirety, because bits of him are spread apart into subspace pockets and different timestreams and poking into other universes and god knows what else is going on there that they can't even imagine, but from the other side, Primus really has to twist himself into pretzels and maybe get the divine equivalent of a microscope to perceive anything from the material world with any clarity.

There are ways he is connected - Cybertron is part of his body and it contains (part of?) his spark and at least one brain module and it's theorized that it can assume robot-mode because they have historical records of it happening in the earliest recorded eras of history - but there is such a massive difference of scale between mortals (even the transformers that live so long its already incomprehensible to us) and the divine that mortals can't think big enough and Primus can't think small enough for them to ever directly communicate. One of the gimmicks of Optimus' Matrix is that it can connect the Matrix Bearer to one of Primus' spare brain modules - essentially a near infinite, ancient supercomputer filling out an entire pocket dimension - to borrow a fraction of a fraction of its processing power, which is somewhat like trying to do your 3rd grade math homework on NASA's most advanced supercomputer, but hey, as long as Primus allows it...

It is possible to perceive what mood Primus is in, technically - Rung can do it at the top of the hat (but he is the mortal incarnation of Primus, the biggest fraction of the god that can exist in a mortal form and retain some of Primus' personality, so he doesn't really count), Prowl could probably do it if you got him an external power source and let him run his tacnet uninterrupted at full capacity for about a week, Soundwave can get the general vibe in a few hours (those extra brain modules have to be good for something) - but considering that he's not exactly quick on the uptake by mortal standards, the current forecast is "mourning the death of Unicron" for the next couple billion years, so it's not exactly useful information.

Optimus and Megatron have both been Seen and Acknowledged by Primus at least once in their lives when they fired the shot that killed Unicron, which was a profoundly terrifying and uncomfortable experience for both of them. It's like the entire universe blinked and looked directly at you for just a moment.

[prostarchina]

Uninterruptible Power Supply UPS System for Computers Protection

In today’s technology-driven world, computers play a vital role in both personal and professional settings. However, their functionality and lifespan heavily rely on a steady and reliable power supply. Power disruptions, such as blackouts, voltage fluctuations, or surges, can not only cause data loss but also damage computer hardware. To safeguard computers against these risks, Uninterruptible…

[vashwoodficrecs]

All Tomorrows Always

by: Insomniac_with_dreams | @insomniacwritesdreams

E, Vashwood, 8k, complete

Wolfwood goes to Inner December for a donut. Is it a waste of an entire day and a literal pain in the ass as he sits on a worn leather seat on a bumping bus? Yeah. Maybe a little bit. But there just aren’t any worthy sources of baked goods in Outer December, and Vash needs a donut. He probably needs something much more powerful. A doctor. Or a year's worth of uninterrupted sleep. Something. Something that Wolfwood can’t give him, no matter how much he wants to be able to. But he can get him a damn donut.

Takes place after I Won't Lie, if There's Somethin' Still to Take

Finally some flu- wait, no this is still angsty as hell. Look, this feels very real after what the two of them go through on the Ark. They're broken, they're fucked up, they're different. And god, they love each other so fucking much 😭😭😭

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Hey-ho, go on and tell us about how much everyone in DMC swears and do include your characters!!

Oh bless you for asking me an easy one on a Monday evening lmao. I do have thoughts a-plenty.

---

Let's start with the least sweary of the bunch and work our way up.

Vergil is almost as obsessed with dignity and an honorable appearance as he is (or was) with power. Swearing is uncouth and very un-Sparda-like, in his opinion. The worst you'll get out of him is a highly threatning "You..." with a full gamut of implied swearing. Or something like "buffoon" or "cretin". He's entirely capable of digging through a thesaurus for obscure ways to insult people.

On the other hand, V will say "shit" when things truly are as dismal as they can get. Quietly, under his breath, but with pathos. Griffon does 90% of the swearing for him. And if we believe Griffon, Shadow does about 9% of the rest but he refuses to repeat what she says, claiming it's too vile. But it's Griffon, who buys it, right?

Now, Kyrie, sweet and lovely Kyrie is a master of the Precision F-Strike. She has the patience of the saints and she's raising three boys and a whole-ass adult child who swears like a sailor. So her moments of dropping F-Bombs are very rare, but always editorial. Kyrie however has the amazing ability to be insanely passive-aggressive when annoyed, all while being incredinbly pleasant... and capable of making "thank you" sound like "fuck you, you soulless bitch".

Roy, Tess' elderly, sweet familiar, has a patience threshold that reaches beyond the moon. He is the epitome of the unflappable, stiff-upper-lip Brit without being British. It takes a lot to motivate him to swearing, but get him there, and he swears quite heartily like a Scottish sailor... and not above employing long-dead languages. But do expect you to insult you on the sly or call you a "silly cabbage" which is somehow more insulting that being called, say, "fuckface", coming from a being as old as he is.

Contrary to his image, Dante swears surprisingly little. He needs to be made really, really mad to start dropping F-Bombs and again, his threshold is pretty high. Childish insults don't count, which is why he'll happily call some hapless demon "buckethead" and shit all over their skills in battle without swearing.

On the other end, Trish will swear only when inconvenienced, and mostly under her breath. She learned swearing from Dante and has become aware that a lot of Dante's swearing is incredibly childish and infantile and therefore cringe. Her association with Lady is definitely helping. She's more likely to laugh at someone than call their mother something unpleasant.

Lady swears when particularly frustrated, which is rather often. And much of the source of her frustration is Dante. Or demons. Or shenanigans that cost her money. Or hijinks that damage her equipment, which costs her money. The woman has many reasons to let it rip and she does. She's very fond of rude gestures.

Nero is the problem child, this kid will start swearing loudly and heartily at the slightest provocation and loves pissing people off by insulting their mothers. He's not very creative about it... yet... but he's getting there as he hangs out with people who know more swear words than he does. He's very good at stealth insults.

As angry and sweary as he is though, there is yet another level he can only aspire to achieve... and he pays attention.

The sweariest and most vehemently offensive of the bunch is Tess who makes up for her small stature and unassuming looks with a wellspring of vulgarity and cursing that is as deep as outer space. Piss her off enough and her speech becomes a constant, uninterrupted stream of vile swearing that can go on without repetition for 5 or 6 minutes in about 4 different languages. Nero is in awe of this woman and Dante winces when she suddenly goes off like a grenade. He is wholly convinced this is a matter of stature-- "She's tiny, so all her rage and spite and swearing gets super concentrated."

[resquices-of-godhood]

XI JUSTICE

Justice is your firm-but-fair reminder that there is a consequence for every action. Whatever life is handing you at this moment comes from decisions you and others have made in the past, reflecting natural cause-and-effect. When this card comes up in your Tarot reading, make sure you are acting fairly in all your interactions with others.

Without a cult, finding new vessels is difficult, as no one worships the crown bearer. The Bishops' actions make people clamor for justice, however, and Eva ends up at the land of the dead to become the one to bring it.

Eva is a large orange bear, with a large ursine body and powerful limbs. She manages to be the largest female between the vessels, even larger than Forneus, who is by no means a small girl. She has feline whiskers growing from her face.

Those 15 years between vessels were rough for the world. Without a cult to welcome dissenters from the Old Faith, the Bishops' forces were taking any and all they could find. Worse, sheep flocks were being decimated often enough to be very concerning. Amidst all that carnage, one bear tried to stand up against them, just to be struck down as she vowed to bring justice against the Bishops for their crimes.

That's how Eva ended up in front of The One Who Waits, god of Death and Judgement. It was time for a vessel that took on that second aspect to arise, and so she did.

After being revived, Eva never technically started a cult. Sure, she was the leader of a group of equally justice seeking individuals that fulfilled the devotion sourcing part of a cult, but that group was not one.

The group was composed by her, an elephant, a hippo, a narwhal, a hammerhead and a crow, each wearing red, blue, green, yellow, purple and grey clothes and armor while fighting the Old Faith's forces.

This group would move around, defending settlements and flocks being attacked by heretics, or doing incursions into the Bishops' territories, specially Shamura's, who seemed to be needing a good reminder of what they have done in the past. All in all, Eva's tenure as a vessel was basically one long, uninterrupted crusade.

Eventually, after 36 years, her team started to get too old to keep up with this, and with the approaching appearance of the promised liberator, it was time to relinquish the crown, so a new bearer could be selected. After returning, however, she never stopped fighting for justice, getting new members to her group as time passed, and replacing the crown with a replica of her chosen weapon.

For the next 4 years, there have been no vessels or a Death cult

Eva's favored weapon was actually a shield. Bears are armed by nature, after all, so there was no need to carry other weapons. Her fleece took the form of a vest she used over her robes, and she had a bracer that allowed to instantly change into a red colored suit of armor. Her team have matching bracelets that give them armor of their respective colors.

And before you ask, yes, this is a Mighty Morphing Power Rangers reference!

(hope this helps with the whimsy, @joffyworld)

[denkoarts]

Visitor: 9

X.x.X

The run to the freight elevator was mostly uninterrupted. There were a few guards here and there, but far from the dozens they had been expecting. In addition, they all seemed to be going somewhere...

Something was up, and he wasn't sure if he was a fan. Still, all they could do was keep going.

Coming to the big industrial doors, he had to wonder just how he'd actually override the drive motors to send it further down. No time to ponder it, though. Just have to try. For Jake. He sets the fox back down to his feet and begins to feel the walls of the cab. There must be a hidden panel somewhere, how else would they activate it?

The visitor, too, got to work, employing Haywire to scan the other half of the walls. Denko wasn't really sure what exactly they were doing - maybe scanning for electrical activity - though it wasn't really the time to inquire. As long as it worked, then he needn't pry.

. . . 

"Fwee! Bloboop bwow!"

Judging by the unmistakable beeps and boops of Haywire, they'd just found something. The feline pulled away from his side of the lift to check in on the other.

"There's a sizable power supply five meters past the back wall which seems to connect to the mechanism of the lift," Jake explained. "The system's a little primitive if you ask me-" Not exactly the hidden control panel that Denko had hoped for, but they look to be on the right track either way.

"Input source?"

Jake shot a puzzled glance at Denko. "...It's a power supply. You don't parse commands through a battery, it's only either on or off." He responded with a roll of the eyes.

"Well, maybe we could get down there quick," he offhandedly suggested. He wasn't being serious, really, as he thought it unlikely for a lift to simply drop to the lowest floor after a possible outage.

To his surprise, Jake was considering it. He waltzed over to the small gap between the cabin and the rest of the facility, before steadying a small hexagon-like device over it and turning it on. The device flashed to life with flickering bursts of blue energy, the waves making its way in the crevice and...

SSZZZCH-

"FREIGHT LOCK FAILURE. VACATE CABIN IMMEDIATELY."

At the same time as the announcement, the two of them felt the floor drop a meter before the power supply kicked in to keep the lift from plummeting further. Jake brought the peculiar device back to his belt before looking back at Denko and flashing a smug grin.

X.x.X

Wasn't expecting that, was he?

Sarcasm or not, it wasn't an awful idea. Gravity was far more forgiving here, and there was the added crutch of a floor falling along with them. Besides, the current situation justified any sort of discomfort. "We really should hurry up," he spoke, approaching the back wall again. "Think you can shut it down?"

Denko shook himself out of the brief funk he was in and joined Jake. "Probably," he muttered, placing both paws onto the wall, positioned close to where he could feel the power supply. "How much, or do you not mind a fall?"

"Do you?"

Seems that was all he needed to hear. The incandescents lighting the cab flickered, Denko starting to trace the lift's energy back to the source. Soon enough, the lift goes dark, only lit up by the Zeraora's yellow electrical tufts. They could hear the car straining to stay put, fighting a losing battle against gravity and Denko's thirst for energy.

Not long after, a victor was determined: Denko. Just as he finished, gravity took over and sent the lift plummeting to the bottom of the shaft. If not for the banisters, nothing would've kept them from experiencing weightlessness for the next couple of seconds.

Of course, up until they strike the bottom, sending Jake sprawling. Lesson learned, the floor falling with you does not always mean it's a better landing-

Shoulda just listened to his gut and jumped…

"Cats always land on their feet, huh," Jake quips, seeing how unfazed Denko appeared by the impact. He was already at work, trying to figure out how to pry open the bottom floor's door.

Oh well, he's had worse landings. All they could do now was keep trucking along.

"I'm not finding circuit flow, or any macroscopic fields at all," Denko sighed. "Guess they really don't want to risk intruders finding out what goes on beyond this door."

Brandishing Haywire once more to scan the surroundings, it confirms the cat's words. "N0 unr3g1ster3d 4ct1vi7y f0und." Other than the unpowered components for the lift, the area was dry of electronics.

"Must open by hand then," Jake replied, dismayed. "I can cut through, but it'll take some time." He was never able to learn how to deal with these doors in any other way. Lockpicks and panel hacks he could do with his eyes closed, but this?

A memory of someone he knew who had a tool for this passes his mind, but it's too hazy to make out.

Denko stretched his paws above his head and yawned. "Well, you do that." The idle gesture was somewhat irritating, but Jake could hardly blame him. He'd probably just spent the past few hours running around and beating up grunts just to save his skin. The thought lets him grow a faint smile, continuing to work at the metal barrier.

X.x.X

This may be a temporary reprieve, but Denko was still thinking about the mission. Something was still bugging him: the lack of guards on their way to the elevator. An order to not engage could've been issued, but that wouldn't explain the few that were running elsewhere. At the same time, if they were supposed to attack and just had to arm themselves first, why hadn't anyone been properly geared.

"Haywire?"

No response. They were busy right now, after all-

"Was there anything else on the map that would change a user's elevation, other than the lift?"

"Why are you asking that now," was all that Jake said.

"I just..."

The fox stopped to face the other. "We'd have used it if that was an option. But we didn't, because there weren't any other options we could see on the map."

"'On the map', so it's possible that other options did exist, they just weren't marked."

He paused, before facing his handiwork once more. "I guess that's true. Still, why bring it up here?"

All of a sudden, the two halves of the metal door began to slide apart. For the brief moment that Jake could see the other side, a large group of guards aimed automatic rifles right at him. One gunshot is followed by another, before a flurry of bullets prompts Denko to yank him behind cover.

"That! They knew we were coming," he blurted out, still gripping onto Jake's arm. "Give me a second, and we can slip by and-"

Jake wrenched his arm free, fluidly yanking his gun from his vest as an intense light shone within the muzzle.

X.x.X

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!!" He shrieked as his fur flared. Before Denko could stop him, Jake rushed out of cover and fired into the crowd of armed humans, spraying blood from the powerful shot. For a moment, all was still. Each side held a different emotion. The surviving guards were frightened by the sheer power of the alien technology, whereas Denko was caught severely off guard by the vengeful act.

As for Jake, he was just glad to finally be able to release such pent up rage.

The inaction lasted for merely a second, the sounds of continuous gunfire cutting through the brief silence. Jake was undisturbed by the bullets, barreling forward with supernatural wrath and throwing aside as many as he could before they could have the chance to fall back. He didn't care anymore if these "Plasma Corp" fodder lost their lives opposite his wrath.

Though, in his outburst, he forgot - or maybe just didn't care - about someone who would…

A familiar paw grabs at his dominant forearm, another reaching out to rip away his firearm. The next thing he knew, his back was shoved against the wall with an incredibly agitated Denko sneering right in his face. "What the FUCK are you doing?!"

He...

The rage quickly melted from his eyes.

Why? Denko was only his tour guide for this planet, things just went awry. Jake's been telling himself that he wasn't anything special, that he'd be left behind like everyone else he's come across. Hell, hours earlier he'd already abandoned him to pursue the Ion's captors. So why did he feel so damn ashamed? “I…” He couldn't tell if the burning in his eyes were tears or a burst blood vessel.

...!

His consciousness suddenly fading away indicated that he wasn't about to find the answer anytime soon. Both he and Denko collapsed onto the ground, struck by one tranquilizer each.

X.x.X

Denko is the first to shake himself out of dreamland. Where were they? What was going-

Attempts to move his limbs were halted by some kind of psychic hold. No matter how much he struggled, breaking free was out of the question.

At least his upper body, save for his arms, were unaffected, allowing him to scan the large room they now appeared to be in. There were a few humans around, more just behind airtight doors on each side of the room. Most of them appeared to be unarmed. Jake was unconscious next to him, likely immobile as well.

A human made eye contact with him, before performing a hand signal to seemingly nobody.

One of the doors steadily opened up. Another human walked in, looking at Denko. One-sided windows must populate the walls.

"My name is Dr. Valeri, head of the EID, Extraterrestrial Investigations Division," the human introduced himself. "Zeraora, can you speak on behalf of Subject 4-A1B5?"

"No," he quickly answered, shaking his head. "His name is Jake." He spares a glance at the fox. Even if he wanted to, humans couldn't normally understand him. Untrusted psychics couldn't pick his mind either, meaning they had no choice but to get answers out of the reluctant subject in question.

"Understood." Valeri approaches the unconscious Jake and lays a hand on the back of his head. "Wakey-wakey..."

Suddenly, Jake's eyes shot open. Instinct took over as he tried to attack the unfamiliar presence, though the invisible force holding Denko also kept them still. After a moment of struggle and biting at air, he calmed upon catching sight of the cat.

"Our meeting was intended to occur later, but all that was left was minor preparations and confirmations from the higher-ups." Valeri then repeats his introduction for Jake. "If you would, please indulge me in a few of my questions. You do not need to go into detail, this is just to satisfy my own curiosities."

A low growl comes out of Jake, refusing to make eye contact with the human. Nonetheless, he nods.

"Your physical appearance bears resemblance to that of members of the Zorua line, though examination of your DNA indicates that you are unrelated. Can you tell us a bit about why your species could resemble one of our own?"

Initially, Jake's silent. Valeri was just about to repeat himself when his mouth began to move.

"...don't know."

"I see." The researcher writes something down, as if the answers still had to be recorded. So much for 'my own curiosities'.

"What is your relationship with the Zeraora you seem to have allied yourself with?"

Again, no answer right away. Denko was holding his breath as well. "He's..."

His voice trails off. Valeri writes something else down.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have asked something so obvious," he spoke, dismissing the previous question. "Then, please answer this one. Are you affiliated with the sentient plantlike lifeform that accompanied the Zeraora during his intrusion?"

George.

Jake hesitates. Not out of noncompliance, but out of fear.

"...y-yes," he manages to spit out. "Where is he...?"

The two intruders are rotated 180 degrees. They catch sight of the distinct potted carnivorous plant in some cylindrical container, not conscious. The humans seemed to be running tests on him like a damn rattata. Though, something else grabs their attention as they complete their shift in orientation.

The Ion.

"My ship! What are you doing to my baby?!" This is the loudest Jake's gotten since regaining consciousness, rightfully so. The end was right there, just out of reach.

"Don't worry, we fixed what we could from the initial impact," Valeri attempted to reassure them. "We wished to negotiate a treaty with you in order to further our own interstellar reach."

Denko growled, tired of the seemingly false reassurance. "Stop, do you think we actually believe that?"

To his surprise, Valeri looked over at Denko with a look that indicated complete understanding of his words. "History may have ruined the public's perception of our organization, but I assure you that we wholeheartedly intend to benefit the evolution of humans and Pokémon.

It gave him complete pause. The fact that Denko was understood and that, even behind the scenes, they continued to stand by their goals.

Both intruders are released from their psychic holds.

"This is your decision, Jake. Please consider-"

"No," he immediately spoke. Surprised by the sudden answer, Valeri tried to elaborate before Jake kept going. "Why would I even think about helping you after taking me captive, treating me like I'm some research subject, and... and..."

He stammered, failing to get his final thought out. Denko saw this as an opportune moment to step forward.

"The Ion will be returned to Jake and George, and I will be reporting Plasma Corp for mistreatment of life and attempting to obscure such a violation," he decreed. Denko wasn't sure if those were legal international crimes, but there's a chance that Plasma Corp wouldn't know either. Besides, intimidation played a crucial role as guardian of Earth.

Valeri was silent, unsure how exactly to respond. Though eventually... "Okay."

He glanced over to George, sighing. "Unfortunately, we cannot release Subject... George, until-"

"No."

"-we verify the... I'm sorry?"

Jake was furious, even more so than earlier. "I am NOT leaving him behind." He begins marching towards the capsule containing George, intent on freeing him. Denko felt the same way, but he thought there was no way Jake could free George in this environment himself.

So, Denko decided he would be the one to do it. His eyes flashed a vibrant blue, and all surrounding movement ceased. Not wasting his breath, Denko dashed past Jake and the researchers, their current states preserved like a photo. He almost felt sorry, knowing that they were still helpless to prevent George's rescue.

They ripped George's container from the compartment, took Jake's hand, and rushed them over to the Ion. Just in time, as the energy reserved for this power was running dry, prompting the flow of time to continue as normal.

Confusion arose among the researchers, in addition to Jake.

"...What'd I-"

Denko interrupts his puzzled reaction. "I'll explain later." He then steps forward to address the humans.

"As I explained, the Ion will be returned."

Seeing Denko bracing the plant on his torso, Valeri rushed up to the Ion to reclaim him. Well, it would be more accurate to say that he tried. George was quickly passed to Jake's arms before Denko grabbed the human and pinned him down to the ground.

"Do not intervene, this situation is in our control now." The human attempted to pry his paw away, but a mere researcher would never be able to accomplish such a task. Why were they prolonging a battle that they've already lost?

Suddenly, the human's attention shifts. "H-hey!" He reached an arm out, towards another human rushing past them into the Ion.

Shit, he... He can't let them reach Jake.

"Stay," Denko ordered Valeri, releasing him and pouncing at the other human.

THUNK!

Ack! Ow ow ow... Denko palmed his forehead in pain. How'd he just ram into the wall like that...? He had to use the railing to keep upright. Looking back at the situation, he sees Valeri managing to stand back up, and no second human. In fact, something had seemed a little off just before Denko leapt at them.

"This ship is not taking off," Valeri barked, entering an animalistic battle stance. Blinking, he disappeared from Denko's view. The pain starting to subside, he pushed himself to his feet and tried to anticipate his next move. Was Valeri a Zoroark? What was going on here?

A few seconds passed without an attack, before Denko realized: Valeri was likely attempting to stop the Ion from taking off, as he had just said. Shit, he probably knows where some emergency shutdown switch was or something. Jake likely knew how to override it, but Valeri would still be on board.

Fully recuperated, Denko raised the access ramp closed and rushed off to find the intruder.

...

The hell was up with this place? Denko was sure the exterior was only the size of a truck. He must've ran the length of, like, ten trucks trying to find the damn scientist. It didn't help that the main corridor was host to an array of other paths that only made Valeri's location harder to snuff out.

He was close to giving up the pursuit and waiting for Jake at the front of the ship (where he figured the cockpit would be), but a familiar voice ringing throughout the Ion changed his mind.

"He's heading towards the emergency deck!" The speakers belting out Jake's voice were hardly configured, certainly because of disuse. "Go into door 2F and follow the white pathway."

Yeesh. With so much space in here, Denko wonders why Jake even agreed to stay in his apartment. Not that he minded his stay, and he would've still been stranded had he chosen to reside here, but at least it would've been an environment he was more familiar with.

...Granted, he wasn't seeing much outside of the bare essentials.

No time to let his mind wander, he's through 2F and now has to focus.

. . .

There! Denko could sense his heat signature, scrambling around a room. It didn't take long to approach and confront him. "Valeri!" Startled, the researcher vanished from his sight once more. This time though, he wasn't escaping from Denko's radar. His paw stretched out and grasped Valeri's neck, his body becoming visible once more in reaction.

"Did I not make myself clear, we're leaving." He stared daggers into Valeri, his rage palpable, as if one twitch away from crushing the human's neck like glass. At this point, he very well might. The three of them have gone through hell in order to get here, and frankly he's had-

Ghk-

A sharp pain punctures through his thoughts. Instinctively loosening his grip, Denko looks down to see that an arrow had been shot into his torso. No, not just any arrow.

A Terastal Dart.

With a huff, Valeri is shoved to the other end of the room as Denko carefully takes out the dart and covers the injury with a paw. "Bastard..."

Valeri quickly looks over their side of the room and catches sight of a red button encased in a bolted-down glass top. The button itself read SOS, so of course he'd shatter the glass and press it to call for backup.

X.x.X

“Okay, okay, he should have a handle on that quack until I can getcha back online…” Jake mumbled to himself, flipping switches and dialing knobs in the cockpit. “F1N411Y…1 W45 s0 51CK 0F tH4t 7H1Ng5 Pr0C3551Ng p0w3r.” Haywire whistled from his PROPER body, a gold droid roughly the size and shape of a soccer ball, resting in its slot in the central control panel.

Jake didn't have enough sass left in him for a witty retort, settling for a quiet scoff as his digits continued to dance through the tiny space, prepping to blast his way through a mountain if it meant getting the HELL off the ro-

“0UT80UND 51GNAl!! 0UT80UND 51GNA1!!” Outbound…? No, no, he definitely didn't accidentally trigger a comm. That was on panel A37, not 1004... “... What's the status of the natives? Bring it up front.” “1nN3r C4M3r4s 5T1L1 D0Wn, s1r.” “Rrrrgh…FUCK!” Jake's fist met his armrest, and he leapt over the back of the seat and made for the second level.

He never used the emergency deck, but ships were required to have them to be used for even marginally legal stuff, like courier work. It was more of a formality than anything, but he still at least kept it passing inspection. Even if there was the possibility of…

No. No, that wasn't possible. On this backwater planet in the space boonies? No way.

Regardless, he wanted to make sure there wasn't any funny business going on.

...!

Something rushes past him, an unfamiliar presence. Perhaps a little antsy, Jake whips his gun around and fires at the open air.

"NO!" The cat's yell rang out from behind. Valeri appeared where Jake had shot, the metal shaving missing by a hair. "Don't," Denko spoke in a calm tone, obviously wanting to diffuse the situation.

...Well, he could at least ask about that signal.

"What happened?"

"We fought, he pressed a button, and then tried to retreat."

A... button?

He was beginning to waver. There was only one thing he could think of, and the possibility made his fur stand on end.

"What button?"

Valeri's response confirmed his greatest fear; Three letters: SOS.

Daddy's coming.

"N-No…No, you didn't." The paw gripping his weapon began to tremble as the reality of the situation set in. "You CAN'T have! I…there was nothing left of tha-" Suddenly, the gun dropped onto the floor and Jake quickly stepped back from the two. If his fur wasn't going crazy before, it REALLY started to freak out now. Strands of it reached out and clung to crevices in the steel hall as he began to hyperventilate.

"Wha…Oh nononono…!" He grasped at his chest like his charm was just buried underneath his dancing fur, but even as blood darkened it, no avail. It was gone. His ears rang with alarm bells, and then something grabbed his arm.

Without thinking, he screamed and pulled away. He didn't get far before the floor buckled and wobbled like rubber underfoot, ripping the assailant away and flinging Jake into a wall. But instead of the hard impact of steel beckoning him to unconsciousness, it tore like fabric, leading not outside, but…into a darkness deeper than the void of space.

And he fell. Deeper and deeper into suffocating blackness, dark laughter echoing throughout his whole body.

X.x.X

Denko and Valeri, however, were spat entirely out of the vessel. The Ion began to rattle and twitch from the ethereal darkness thrashing about within.

"Sir, the energy readings are approaching dangerous levels!" One of the scientists off to the side exclaimed. "We need to abort, get away from the ship."

Though Valeri quickly obliged, all Denko could do was lay on his back frozen, his gaze fixed on the foggy void beyond the hanging ramp into the Ion. What was happening, he didn't mean to... He just wanted to see what was going on!

"Zeraora, come with me," the hybrid spoke, trying to lift him up. "You must leave, we've set a contained implosion to go off in 30 seconds!"

What?