#Only to find three little ducklings huddled around each other

[twilidragonrin-art]

This was based on a conversation I had with someone on AO3. If you haven't begun reading works from InfiniteWriter7, I highly encourage to check them out.

[s-creations]

Hatching Day

José wished he could say he was prepared to raise children. But his past life and self-doubt leads him to think he's not as ready as he promised he would be.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros       Rating: General Audience       Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Self-Doubt, Depsression, These are minor but still talked about, Hatching, The babies are arriving!

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hello there! I will say, as a bit of a warning, maybe(?), that I'm unaware of José's or Panchito's cannon family members or relationships with their family. There's a lot of creative liberties being used in this AU to match what I want to write. This is just a heads up.

Edit on 02/20/2021: I changed a few words and fixed a few sentences. Nothing major.

José was not much of a ‘family’ person. His own was small and very close minded. It was the father’s way, the man of the house ran the show. You kept your mouth shut or you would be on the receiving end of some punishment. José had left as soon as he could, at the age of 16. No matter how much his mother begged or his father threatened. He left them behind and was honestly better for it. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

 That didn’t mean any relation after this meant much of anything either. They never lasted long. José knew his looks attracted a lot of attention. Parrots were not uncommon. Even more so where he grew up and lived. But his plumage was eye catching and he knew it. Vibrant green was adored and sought after by many. So, while his appearance could draw anyone’s attention in, whatever relationship that could happen fell apart quickly.

 Apparently José’s personality wasn’t too pleasing. Once the charisma fell away, people weren’t thrilled with the parrot’s worries or morose outlook on life. They were expecting to have a carefree parrot with vibrant feathers and an equally blinding personality to cling to their arm. Not a burden. Which was something José had heard numerous times. He quickly learned to play the part of the charmer and leave as quickly as possible the next day. 

 That was how he lived for years. 

 Until he met Panchito. 

 The rooster had been drawn in by the bright plumage, just as others before. José, however, was truthfully curious about the overly friendly and energetic bird. One that seemed to have the parrot stay with him while Panchito soaked in the culture. Curiosity turned to a dangerous attachment that José wasn’t prepared for. One he thought was going to eventually fall away when the rooster realized he didn’t want the parrot around. Only to be taken by the hand, allowing Panchito to take him away from Bahia, back to Mexico where the rooster lived. 

 It was the first time the parrot had experienced someone truly caring for him. Panchito more than patient when José couldn’t carry the suave personality any longer. When he just wanted to hide away and not face the world. Panchito made it clear that he didn’t love the parrot for the facade. He just wanted José. And it was something the parrot struggled with understanding for a while. 

 Just as he was getting comfortable in their relationship and happily traveled around Mexico with Panchito, they attended a local bar that was playing host to the American Navy. Where they met a duck with an interesting accent, a short fuse, and feathers so white it was blinding in the proper light. The relationship with Donald did start as a friendship. But was something that changed to admiration when he showed how fiercely loyal he was. When, on a night out, a stranger had gotten a little too ‘friendly’ with José. It was an amazing show that only lasted a few seconds. The duck knocked the other down with one hit and was making sure José was okay before anyone could even blink. 

 It all turned to painful longing when Donald had to leave. As they watched the ship leave shore, José felt his heart breaking. Turning to the rooster to find a similar look of longing on Panchito’s face as well. It was a silent agreement between the two that, if they ever found Donald again, they wouldn’t let him go. 

 It was a few years later, in a small village in the middle of the jungle, when they found the duck again. Donald seemed to be there with his Great Uncle Scrooge McDuck (the heck!?) and his twin sister Della Duck. The three were there to hunt down some treasure that José doesn’t remember the name of. It didn’t matter as Donald was just as thrilled upon seeing the other two as they were to see him. 

 That evening was spent hidden in a hotel room. Avoiding the heavy rain and scrutinizing eye of Scrooge as they hung around his nephew. The water falling heavily outside hid the already quiet confessions. Tentative kisses were exchanged before they huddled together on the small bed, falling asleep with smiles on their faces. 

 José was shocked but extremely happy when Donald told Scrooge the next morning that he was staying with the parrot and rooster. The older duck was not happy with the idea of leaving his nephew with birds he’d had never met before. It could have turned into an all out fight if  Della hadn’t saved the day by saying it would be best for Donald to take a break from their normal, adventuring routine. Giving the duck a chance to explore the world in his own way. Let him live his life for once.

 If the glare from Scrooge held any indication, he was somehow aware of the budding relationship between the three birds. And was no doubt less than pleased that his nephew was running off with these strangers. But José couldn’t honestly care less. He was with the two people he loved the most in his life and who understood him. The following year and a half was spent traveling the world. Barely a penny to their names, doing performances at hole-in-the-wall bars to make sure they had food and shelter for the night.

  It was a time the parrot liked to reflect on when Donald had to leave them. 

 Their travels came to a halt when Scrooge contacted his nephew. Saying there was one final adventure he needed the duck’s help on. In turn, Donald bargained that he was only going to give up one year to help with this new journey. José still felt a worrying sickness when he and Panchito saw the duck off. Even with the number of times the duck promised he would be back soon. The parrot felt as if there was a dark cloud over the horizon.

 One year turned to two. Donald kept in contact as best he could. Saying the final adventure had a number of unforeseen hurdles. Two became three. Now there was talk of Della carrying. Frustration coming from Donald because his sister was still determined to finish this one final adventure.

 It was halfway through year three that José felt that storm finally hit. He and Panchito began to worry when Donald hadn’t checked in during his normal time. Which only grew when their calls went unanswered. Leaving message after message with someone named Duckworth in hopes that Donald would get back to them soon. It all came to a worrying conclusion when they found the reason for the sudden silence when they reached out to Fethry in a final, desperate act. Only to be hit in the gut when the scatterbrained duck explained what had been happening. 

 The spaceship that took years to build and perfect. Della’s sudden pregnancy, which caused an uproar among the Duck/McDuck family as she wouldn’t tell who the father was. While they’d been aware of Della’s determination of this final adventure, José and Panchito felt sick when they learned that she wanted to fly the spaceship. Even when carrying and finally delivering the eggs, it was all she talked about doing. Then she stole the spaceship the adventuring family had been working on for so long in the middle of the night and left. 

 Just left. No note. No message. Nothing.

 José felt a sickening furry slowly build up within. What kind of person just leaves their own unhatched children? This new adventure wasn’t worth it! The parrot was ready to tell Fethry to let them talk to Della, so he could give her a piece of his mind, wondering why she thought a late night cruise among the stars was okay, when they were told she was gone. An unforeseen obstacle bringing her untimely end. Scrooge and Donald were no longer speaking with each other and the younger duck taking over caring for Della’s unhatched eggs.

 José and Panchito were on the first flight to American they could get. In less than three months afterwards, they were all married, living in a comfortable apartment, holding well paying jobs, and raising three eggs. 

 And José was honestly terrified. 

 He didn’t regret moving, or marrying, or finally settling down. But raising kids? Was he stable enough for that? Donal and Panchito were comforting and supporting when the parrot wasn’t in his best form. But they were aware of what was happening, they were adults. José didn’t have to say anything and they understood. Children were too young to understand why one of their caretakers might be smiling one day and closed off the next. 

 Would José have the same anger issues like his own father? 

 He shivered weakly at the thought, his buzzing mind finding relief when Panchito shifted in his sleep. The parrot tensing as he waited for the other to settle back down before relaxing himself. Donald, who was clinging onto the parrot’s back, mumbled weakly as he nuzzled against the green feathered neck. Despite the comfort and warmth, José still could not fall asleep. Eyes wandering back over to the crib where the eggs were resting.

 They’d been warned by the doctor that the eggs would be hatching soon. Any day in fact. Donald went on full alert to duckling proof the apartment and having the nursery properly prepped. Panchito had been hit with sudden inspiration, pulling up numerous lullabies and stories he wanted to share when the eggs hatched. And José...started to silently panic.

 He shivers again feeling a beak gently preen over the top of his head. Which quieted the spinning thoughts. 

 “I can hear your busy mind.” Panchito whispered, José hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

 “Desculpe querido.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 José pressed closer. Hands slowly brushing through the red feathers. “...What if they hate me?”

 “Who, the eggs? Why would you think that?”

 “With my job, I am going to be gone for so many days at a time. Will they forget about me every time? Will I just be the stranger that lives with them? And you know that I am…” He swallowed, burying himself into the crook of Panchito’s neck. “...What if I do not love them? What if it is just a neutral relationship? What am I going to do?”

 “Shhh, cálmate mi amor. The fact you’re so worried about this shows me how much you care. You can’t judge on something that hasn’t happened yet. And do you truly think we wouldn’t talk about you when you’re away? They will know so much about you it will be like you never left.” 

 José sighed softly. “You make it sound so easy.”

 “Because it is. Now, calm your head and get some sleep.”

 “...Chito? Can you…”

 “Of course, get comfortable.”

 The parrot did as requested. Moving his head back down to rest properly on Panchito’s chest, Donald settled back down as well. José smiled softly when the beak returned to the top of his head. Smoothing through the feathers as José felt himself finally drift off to sleep.

 __________________________

 It was two days later when the eggs hatched.

 José was watching over them in the living room. Resting on the sofa while the eggs were in a cloth nest on the floor nearby. Donald and Panchito working on cleaning the kitchen after dinner. It was calm. The definition of domestic bliss. Until the parrot heard the first crack. 

 His eyes instantly snapped over to the bundle of fabric. Scanning over each egg, briefly wondering if he had just imagined the sound. Only to find a small crack forming along the top of an egg. That grew further pronounced as the seconds ticked by.

 “Hatching…” José was able to weakly force out, barely above a whisper. 

 “What’s wrong?” Panchito turned away from the soapy water. 

 “The eggs are hatching.”

 There was the sound of shattering porcelain. Donald had allowed the plate he was supposed to be putting away in the cupboard to slip from his hands. The duck’s eyes wide with shock. “What...did you say?”

 José was spared repeating his answer when another crack sounded. Louder this time and followed by small peeps. 

 “Oh, okay!” Donal turned only to falter over figuring out what he needed to grab first. “Oh Selene, it’s actually happening. Um-”

 “¡Cuidadoso! The plate! You don’t want to cut yourself.” Panchito advised, offering a hand to keep Donald balanced as he stepped over the pieces. 

 “Right, you’re right. Um, we just...we need… What do we need?”

 José faltered slightly when the egg cracked again, the frantic sounds coming from the kitchen were not helping his nerves. 

 “¡Acalme-se!” The two others froze in their spot, eyes traveling over to the parrot. Who was letting out a slow breath. “Alright, pay attention. Donald, get the broom and dusting pan. Clean up the dish then come out here. Panchito, I need clean towels and warm water. Warm. Not hot. If it is so much for you, it will be too much for them. We will need them in order to get them clean and dried. We also need towels to wrap them in once they are cleaned. Once you have that come out here.”

 Both nodded before breaking away to complete their given tasks. Still trying to calm his nerves, José sat back down, placing a hand on part of the unbroken shell while he picked away pieces. 

 “Hey little one, you are doing great. Just keep pushing. You are almost out.” The parrot let out a small noise of glee when a yellow face suddenly broke free from the egg. Feathers slick and matted down, sticking to the pink skin underneath. A small beak ‘peeped’ softly sounding before the duckling started chipping away again. “There you are… They are breaking out, I can see one!”

 “We’re here, we’re here.” Donald panted weakly as he set a bowl filled with warm water down with an arm full of clean towels. Panchito sliding into the other side of José, letting out small coos and words of encouragement as they watched. 

 That's how all three sat. Pressed together as they gave gentle words, the duckling continuously pushing its way out. There was a collective gasp as the egg finally gave way. The duckling falling out and landing on his stomach. Squirming in the blanket nest as they attempted to right themselves. Donald reacted first. Carefully holding the small form up as his free hand dampened a cloth. Wiping gently over the new feathers and clearing the gunk away from the duckling’s eyes.

 Once cleared away, the eyes opened to reveal a deep amber color. Looking almost brown in a different light. 

 There was no time to rest as the next egg began to break free. As it was closer to Panchito, the rooster grabbed his own cloth to prep. It took less time for this duckling to arrive. While the first seemed to be methodical with its freedom, searching for the best way out, this duckling was more determined to break out as fast as possible. In it’s excitement, the duckling flopped out onto his back. Arms and legs moving frantically as it tried to sit back up. 

 “Aguanta pequeño. You took a bit of a tumble.” Panchito laughed as he cradled the small form close. He cleaned the eyes, both opening to reveal bright blue. The duckling gave a small giggle as they grabbed their feet. “Awww! They’re so eager!”

 José laughed softly at the scene before his attention shifted to the final egg. As the seconds passed, worry started to grow. The parrot’s legs eventually started to bounce as they waited. “The color is still good… How long do we wait? Do we even have a small enough tool to help and not hurt them?”

 Panchito gave a smile and gently preened José’s neck. “It’s only. We just need to be patient. Let them figure it out.”

 That didn’t calm José in the slightest. It was a few more tense moments before the first crack formed. Even then, all three were on edge and it took longer for the first section shell to break away. With a break in the egg, the duckling still seemed to be struggling. Being cautious, the parrot reached forward to help break more away.

 “José…” Donald’s tone held worry and a warning.

 “I think they need help. If a duckling is unable to break free on their own, parents or guardians are allowed to help.” The parrot argued back, continuing his work. A small form flopped into the parrot’s open hand soon, giving a small peep of confusion as they clung onto the parrot’s feathers. Grabbing his own cloth, José continued to speak calmly as he could while cleaning the residue off. 

 Eyes of forest green were soon looking up at José. Head tilting as the duckling seemed to be determining what exactly the parrot was. “Someone appears to be the curious type.”

 The parrot flinched slightly when a cream colored blanket entered his field of vision. Donald gave a smile before shaking the blanket again. Giving a nod of thanks, José took it and easily swaddled the duckling.

 “That was skillfully handled.” The duck casually commented. 

 “I have watched a lot of videos about this. Covered as much information I possibly could. Even asked some of the mother flight attendance for advice. I...I just didn’t know what to expect.” José flushed softly when a kiss was placed on his cheek. Turning to look at Donald, who smiled back.

 “I knew you were ready for this. You were worried for nothing.” 

 The parrot huffed as his cheeks darkened. Feathers ruffled when he stared down a sheepish looking Panchito. “Did you tell Donald.”

 “If it keeps you up at night, then it’s an issue we all need to be aware of!”

 José’s retort was cut short when a disgruntled peeping sound was heard. The duckling in his arms had their face screwed up, legs kicking as best they could in the swaddle. “Oh, they...they are hungry.”

 “I’ll get the bottles.” Donald easily passed his duckling over to the parrot before standing and heading to the kitchen.

 Own duckling finally calming down, Panchito carefully closer to the parrot. He and José leaned against each other as they admired the small bundles they held. The first was in a state of just about to fall asleep. The middle was still wiggling around, but was thankfully staying in the swaddle. The third was still, eyes cautiously looking around as if trying to assess the situation. José marveled at how young they were and how their personalities were already coming through. 

 His heart swelled with absolutely adoration with every second that passed. Bending down to carefully move his beak through the fluffy yellow feathers. The green eyed triplet chirped, giving a wobbly smile as José pulled away. The parrot felt himself just melt. He was so unbelievably happy at that moment.

 “We need names.” Panchito suddenly said.

 ...Aw phooey. 

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//the third spring. miya atsumu//

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: None

Notes: pspspsps someone give me motivation to finish my art project

PART I. II. III. IV.

There was not a single thing that could ruin this perfect spring day.  The sun was high in the sky without a single cloud in sight.  It was warm and bright and nothing could ruin Atsumu’s mood, not even the nervous twisting of his stomach or the clamminess of his palms.   You just looked so pretty and the smile on your face as the soft breeze tossed your hair around was the only sight that he wanted to see for the rest of his days.  

The clear skies and the new blossoms of flowers in every direction never failed to bring a new shine to your eyes that Atsumu found utterly enchanting, leaving him to count down the days to when he could see it again.  Each year when he woke up to the grass starting to take back its green color and the trees beginning to sport new leaves, it was as if his day was instantly made whenever the sun would seep through the blinds to welcome him to a brand new spring day.

The park in which he took you on your first date, where you had your first kiss, where he had been bogged down by allergies, had become a favorite spot for the both of you.  The cherry blossoms that lined the paths had become so much more than just trees full of flowers, they had become little beautiful pieces of memories that were sprinkled throughout your time together.  They represented all of the laughs the two of you had shared, your body falling against his as you were overcome by giggles.  They were the way that you would always scoop the petals up by the handful just to sprinkle them over his head, more than one slipping into his shirt, making your boyfriend jump and dance while he tried to become blossom-free again.  They were the familiarity of lazy morning kisses pressed against his shoulder, the softness of your hand in his, the feeling of your fingers absently entangling in his hair whenever you were seated next to him on the couch, some show playing in the background.  

Atsumu had your sandals in one hand, yours in the other.  You hadn’t been wearing the shoes for thirty minutes before complaining that they were torturing your feet.  You said that the straps were rubbing your ankles and the absolutely miserable pout on your face was enough to have him leaning down to help you out of the strappy shoes.  

“Didn’t I tell ya’ that they looked uncomfortable?” He joked, looking up at you as he slid your shoe off your foot.

You whined, playfully smacking the top of his head and offering him your other foot when prompted.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

You just looked more at peace with the soft grass hitting the soles of your feet, feeling the coolness of the ground with each step.  Even after all of these years, you still had the ability to steal every ounce of air from his lungs with one look, one smile. It was a feeling that he never thought he would experience.  He’d heard other people talk about that feeling of being on cloud nine, like you’re constantly dreaming, as if there wasn’t anything that could tear down your good mood, and for years he had believed that it was impossible to feel that way about any one person.  But, then, three springs ago, you had walked into his life without even realizing that you had his heart beating out of his chest and had him constantly checking to see if his hair looked alright, making sure that he sat up a little straighter and smiled a little wider just to get your attention. And he realized that if this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.  Atsumu wanted to remain in this blissfulness with you for as long as he could.  

You tugged gently at his hand, no words exchanged, you just urged him to follow you down towards the shore of the pond where the ducks piddled about, shaking out their feathers as they swam.  You didn’t even give him a heads up before you plopped yourself down on the grass, pulling him down rather ungracefully to sit beside you.  As if there was a magnet connecting the two of you, your head immediately found his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him to fidget with the tips of his fingers.  

Atsumu hums lightly, planting a gentle kiss to your temple, the slight chill of the spring breeze racing across your bare shoulders, huddling closer to your boyfriend.  “I told ya’ you were going to get cold.”

“But, ‘mu,  I wanted to look cute,” you huff.

“Princess, you always look perfect.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to say that.”

He laughed, a full, genuine laugh, but still not loud enough that he would disrupt the peace of the moment.  “If I didn’t believe it, we wouldn’t be right now, would we?  You’re easily the most beautiful person that I’ve ever laid eyes on, princess.”

You just shook your head, lifting your face towards his, that smile that he wanted to see every single day for the rest of his life was stretched across your lips.  “You’re such a lover boy, ‘mu.”

“Who could blame me?”

He watches as you playfully roll your eyes, but there was no disguising the soft flush of your cheeks at his words.  

Yeah, there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin Atsumu’s good mood.  His stomach was still doing summersaults, but he just tried to focus on anything else.  Your hand as you traced his fingers, the ducks waddling through the grass, small little ducklings following in neat rows, the weight in the pocket of his jacket that was barely noticeable, but, somehow, still very much there.  

Well, alright, maybe there was one thing that could ruin his mood.  But, he swears that he was trying to make this moment as romantic as possible.  He just wanted to get you closer to the water, but when he pulled you to your feet, walking backwards to the shore, Atsumu really did expect you to warn him at the very least.  But, rather, he, quite literally, fell victim to one of the ducks who was just minding its own business in the grass, the perfect tripping hazard to send the setter tumbling backwards down the gentle slope towards the water.  Even over the sounds of frantic quacking and his body splashing into the pond, Atsumu could hear your laughter filling the air as you moved towards him to offer him a helping hand.  And he wanted to smile, he really did, but his brown eyes widened in panic when he placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  It wasn’t there.  He stood quickly, peering down into the water in hopes to maybe see the small glimmer of a diamond catching the rays of sunlight.  But, in the dark murkiness of the pond, there was almost no hope.  His hands immediately went to his hair in frustration, a heavy groan escaping him as he slammed his hands back into the water.

Your brows crinkled in concern, stopping in your tracks.  “Atsumu?  Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighs.  “I just- I had something in my pocket and it must’ve fallen out.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy, silly.  We’ll just look for it.  What was it?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell you!”

“‘Mu, how do you expect me to help you find it when I don’t even know what I’m looking for?”

He just shook his head, squinting towards the water as if that would help him find out of this iSpy nightmare any faster.  “It’s alright, Princess.  Don’t worry about it.  It has to be around here somewhere.”

And so, you sat down on the bank, unsure of what you could do to help other than provide a small bit of emotional support for your obviously distressed boyfriend.  You let your fingers rake through the grass as Atsumu kept bending down to pick things up from the bottom of the lake, examining them closely to see if they were his missing object, and then returning them to the water.  It felt like an hour had passed before his shoulders sagged in defeat and he trudged sadly from the water.  

You wrapped one arm around his waist, standing on your toes to give him a kiss of consolation.  “Come on, ‘mu.  Let’s go home and get you into something dry before you get sick.”  He nodded sadly, unwilling to believe that all his plans had just been flushed down the drain, or rather, the pond.  Completely blinded by his own self-pity, he barely even noticed that you stopped in your tracks.  “I think someone lost their engagement ring, ‘mu.”  

The blonde head of the setter immediately whipped around to look at what you were talking about.  You had bent down to pick up a simple silver band with smaller diamonds set around a slightly larger one in the center, just like the one that he had been hiding in his gym bag for nearly a month now.  “Can I see that?” He took it from your fingers, taking a closer look at the band just to be sure, and sure enough, clear as day, your first initial was elegantly engraved next to his.  “I know who this belongs to.”

“Really?  Whose is it?”

Miya Atsumu loved spring, even if the wind felt like a hundred tiny knives trying to slice him to pieces now that he was dripping from head to toe.  He might’ve looked like a wet dog with his hair plastered flat against his head and clothes hanging limply from his form, and maybe these weren’t going to be the memorable moments that the two of you had always envisioned, but there was no disguising the smile on his face when he sank down onto one knee, watching your hands cover your face in shock as he held the ring out to you.

“It’s yours.”

{Taglist: @moncymonce​ @nicka-nell​ @celosiiaa​}

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #17: Saving Colonel Zhang

(Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gore.)

Tygan pressed a few random keys on his tablet as he looked over Yseult, the war hammer. The weapon glowed purple, pulsating ever so slightly in the darkness of the workshop. The three Chosen stood around it, leaning in closer as they watched Tygan work. He had called them here, after all.

“So.” He said, for the third time, and once again followed it with silence. The Darkstrider was poking around at some of the other machines while his siblings waited for Tygan to finish his thought, like the diligent little servants they were.

Finally, Tygan looked up. “Kon-Mai, this hammer seems to be made of a similar material to your sword.”

“Is it?” She raised a brow.

“Yes, and I was hoping you could give us some insight on the material process, to be frank. We still don’t even have a clue to understanding how your weapon works.”

Kon-Mai tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her tiny ear. “I do not know much, only that it is an ancient art, and involves the torture of living individuals, for the use of their bones to-”

“Thank you, Sister.” Dhar-Mon said, turning seemingly aqua-green. “That will be all.”

Gur-Rai chuckled at his reaction. “I suppose science isn’t always worth it, is it, Brother?”

“Well, perhaps if Vahlen were here...” Tygan muttered as he looked to Dhar-Mon, who was still focused on the hammer. “You said you wielded it in combat?”

“I did.” He hung his head in shame. “I deeply apologize if I have damaged your research, Doctor.”

“On the contrary.” Tygan pushed it toward him. “I’d like you to keep using it.”

Dhar-Mon looked puzzled.

“I would like more information on how the Elders’ weapons interact with their owners.” Tygan elaborated. “And you seem to be...attached. I hypothesize these weapons may ‘choose’ their owners, allowing them to utilize them to their full potential. Like Kon-Mai, and her sword that never misses.”

“That is a theory.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Does it work with guns, too?”

“That, I don’t know.” Tygan broke off as the intercom screeched.

“Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office. Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office.”

“It seems we are summoned.” Dhar-Mon sighed, lifting Yseult and hoisting it onto his back, where the magnetic straps clicked and held it in place. It felt light as a feather on his shoulders.

Kon-Mai bowed to Tygan and turned, leading her brothers toward their Commander. They followed her in a line, Gur-Rai in the middle and Dhar-Mon bringing up the rear, like a mother duck and her ducklings.

Kon-Mai chuckled at the thought.

.

.

“Well, the gang’s all here.” Bradford tossed his clipboard onto Senuna’s bed as the Chosen entered the room.

“Shrinemaiden, Darkstrider…” He nodded to Dhar-Mon. “...Hieromonk.”

“Central.” Kon-Mai bowed to him.

Senuna stood up. She looked a bit worse for wear, like she hadn’t slept at all the previous night. “Remember when I said I would be sending you all out together soon?”

Gur-Rai grinned. “We’re gettin’ the band back together?” He plopped down on one of her couches, far off to the side, and put his feet up. “Hit me, Commander. What have you got?”

“Have you three ever heard of Shaojie Zhang?” Bradford asked as the Commander sat down across from the Chosen, rubbing some of the smudged eyeliner off her eye.

Both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai hesitated for a moment, but Gur-Rai jumped in immediately. “Ol’ Chilong? A naughty little Triad spy who defected to XCOM.” He nodded. “I’ve heard. What of him?”

“He’s alive.” Senuna seemed to almost sigh, but her voice trembled.

“We THINK he’s alive.” Jane clarified. “Our recent conversation with Nuwa Shen revealed that there is, in fact, a hidden ADVENT prison complex in the Khasi Hills of India. And she apparently has it on good authority that Shaojie Zhang is being held inside.”

Gur-Rai blinked for a moment, his eyes becoming unfocused. “...Never heard of that place...huh. Must be new…”

“Perhaps it is.” Kon-Mai assured him. “The Crimson Dragon is known to be very dangerous. ADVENT would want him under wraps.”

“Yeah.” Bradford said. “So that’s why we called you three...this operation is going to be dangerous.”

“Very dangerous.” There was a glimmer in Senuna’s eye. “Which is why you three are going down together~”

Gur-Rai let out a cheer and even Dhar-Mon seemed to look a bit happier. Kon-Mai chuckled at her older brother’s reaction.

“Look out ADVENT.” Gur-Rai said as he stood. “The boys—and girl—are back in town!”

.

.

“Well, Dhar-Mon, you’ll get to test out your new weapon sooner than you thought.” Gur-Rai noted as he strapped on his armor plates.

Dhar-Mon nodded silently, only barely acknowledging his brother, who then tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “What’s going on with you, Brother? You’re acting like Kon-Mai.”

“I heard that.” His sister hissed.

“I am fine, Brother.” Dhar-Mon assured him. “I simply...don’t have much to say anymore.”

“Alright, that’s DEFINITELY unlike you.”

“It is unlike how I was.” Dhar-Mon mused, pulling on the sleeves of his robes. “Before, I could not take a breath, lest I be praising the Elders.” He almost spat their name. “Now released from their hold, I find I have little to say.”

“Well, what’s on your mind?” Gur-Rai asked. “We could talk about that.”

“Indeed.” Kon-Mai said as she began plaiting her hair into several small braids. It had gotten longer in the weeks she’d been there, and now reached her upper back. “It is imperative we grow to trust each other as family, in battle and in conversation.”

“I’ll start!” Gur-Rai cried. “I found this amazing new book called ‘Blue Jesus.’ Picked it up because, well, we’re blue, so the title caught my eye.”

“Blue Jesus…” Dhar-Mon had heard that name, Jesus. It was spoken in whispers, by worshipers of the dead god. It was a name considered sacrilege by the Elders. Those who spoke it often died with the name on their lips.

“What is it about?” Kon-Mai asked. “I have been looking for new reading material. All of my favorite books were left behind at my stronghold.”

“So this kid, named Buddy, is friends with a kid whose skin is entirely blue. His name is Early.”

“Those are unusual names.” Dhar-Mon interjected.

“I do not think we have the right to criticize.” Kon-Mai chuckled. “Continue, Gur-Rai.”

“So, one day Buddy and Early are down at the river, doing the kind of stuff little boys do. And they find a dead baby.”

Kon-Mai made a face, a mix of terror, disgust, and almost crushing sadness. Dhar-Mon saw it before she could right herself, and she looked like Gur-Rai had just told her her own child was found dead.

“Hold your horses, Sister.” Gur-Rai raised his hand. “Because while Buddy runs to get help, Early touches the baby and brings it back to life.”

Now both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai looked at their brother in wonder.

“Back to life…?” Kon-Mai muttered.

Gur-Rai nodded.  “Mind you, before this everybody hated Early and his family, because they were blue and that’s very strange for humans. But after Early brings the baby back, people change their tune very quickly. Some of them are nice to him all of a sudden. Some people treat him even worse.” His eyes narrowed. “Some people think he’s-”

“Jesus.” Dhar-Mon muttered.

“Yep. Anyway, I’m about halfway through and it’s a fantastic read.” He finished his sentence just as two other humans walked in and stopped, staring at them.

The three siblings turned and looked at the soldiers, one dressed in the blue and white uniform of a medical officer, and the other dressed in light armor and holding a hacking kit. They halted when they saw the three Chosen, and the medic seemed to groan.

“Well, the gang’s all here~” Gur-Rai smiled and crossed his arms. “I assume you two are coming along for the ride.”

The medic, a young girl with brown hair in two, Mickey-Mouse like buns, looked at the man to her right. He coughed, straightening up as if he could compare to the height of the Chosen.

“Shamil Naumov.” He said, pressing his hand to his chest to indicate that the name was indeed his own. “The Commander said you’d probably need a hacker, so...that’s me.”

Gur-Rai scoffed. “I doubt that. I can do your job in half the time it takes you.”

“Yes, Brother, but won’t you also be busy with your gun? Shooting down our enemies?” Kon-Mai gave him a look. “An extra set of hands may be useful.”

“Well, if the Commander insists.” He shrugged and looked towards the girl. “And what’s your name, beautiful?”

“...Vicky.” She said curtly.

Kon-Mai recognized that name. “Are you a friend to Malinalli?”

“Friend?” Vicky grimaced, then bobbed her head from side to side. “...I guess.”

“Do you guys know the objective?” Shamil began looking through his data pad.

“We are to rescue Shaojie Zhang.” Dhar-Mon said with conviction.

“Right. This is supposed to be stealthy but…” He eyed Dhar-Mon. “If things go south, don’t be afraid to make some noise.”

“Oh, we shall.” Kon-Mai smiled, bearing her sharp teeth. Vicky seemed to shudder.

“Okay.” Shamil perked up. “All aboard the Skyranger then.”

.

.

The Skyranger seemed to shudder as it drew closer to the sea of black trees. The sky had grown dark and cloudy, and there settled over the ship an air of foreboding.

The Shinemaiden huddled herself in the corner of the Skyranger, leaving space for the rest of her compatriots. Even so, three Chosen all crammed into a canteen was beginning to cause some claustrophobia. Dhar-Mon was running into the same problem as last time, and desperately wished he still had the ability to teleport.

“Are we there yet?” Gur-Rai called up to Firebrand.

“Ask me one more time and I’mma turn this cab right around!” Firebrand called back to him. Kon-Mai chuckled at her brother getting scolded, and Gur-Rai stuck out his tongue at her.

The plane dropped low over a dense area of wood and opened her doors. Gur-Rai got to his feet and looked out. “Tricky landing!”

“Be careful goin’ down!” Firebrand called.

Kon-Mai looked to Dhar-Mon, preparing to offer him a hand, but he smiled and shook his head to indicate he would be fine. She nodded to him and took a rope from Gur-Rai, skydiving backwards off the ship and swinging, Tarzan-style, into a nearby tree.

“Showoff.” Gur-Rai muttered as he slid down after her, Dhar-Mon following behind him. Their two human compatriots dropped to the ground behind them.

“What do you see, Sister?” Gur-Rai asked.

“To the north.” Kon-Mai said, her already raspy voice further distorted by their communicators. “The building is small. One story only. Pure white, yet the windows are black.”

“Any enemies?”

“The usual cannon fodder.” She chuckled. “...And that is all...strange...”

Dhar-Mon and Gur-Rai looked at each other. “This seems to be a trap.” Dhar-Mon said.

“Oh it probably is.” Gur-Rai smiled. “I’m counting on it. Kon-Mai?”

“Yes?” She drawled her voice a bit with the question.

“Take the east side.” Gur-Rai said. “And I’ll take the west. Dhar-Mon,” He turned to his brother “remember what you did at the UFO? Do that again.”

Dhar-Mon nodded. “These traitors shall feel the wrath of my power.”

Gur-Rai smiled. “Now THERE’S my big brother.” He patted him on the shoulder and leapt into a tree. “You two.” He called to the humans. “Stay behind Dhar-Mon.”

“We can fight too!” Vicky hissed.

“I do not doubt that.” Dhar-Mon annunciated as turned to her, staring down at her short stature. “But your kind are very…” He fumbled for the word.

“Squishy.” Gur-Rai cut in.

“Yes.” Dhar-Mon nodded. “In any case, I shall protect you.”

“I mean…” Shamil shrugged and chuckled. “I won’t argue with the guy holding the big whacky stick.”

Dhar-Mon scowled and turned toward the facility, keeping low as he led them forward. He could hear his brother and sister in the trees, moving from branch to branch. Only trained ears could detect such slight sounds. Those two were as quiet as the grave.

He stopped as he reached the treeline, holding his breath. “We are in position.” He whispered.

“Perfect~” He heard Gur-Rai chuckle. “Sister?”

“I am ready.” He heard the quiet shing of her blade.

There was a moment of silence. They all held their breath...

“Now!”

On his brother’s signal, Dhar-Mon stood, raising his hands, and a bolt of psionic energy crackled toward the soldiers, striking them each in a succinct line. One by one they fell. Those who did not fall turned on them with guns drawn, right as Dhar-Mon saw a flash of blue dart out from the trees. Then, the screaming began.

His sister’s blade flashed in the pale moonlight as she cut through the trooper closest to her, their body separating at the waist and flying in different directions. The other soldiers turned on her, guns drawn and ready to fire, and she smiled.

“Hello, boys.” She growled. “Is that any way to greet me?”

A flash of red, this time from the treeline, sent another trooper flying. Gur-Rai cackled as he watched their body ragdoll.

There were about seven soldiers left, and while they seemed to be realizing the hopeless position they were in, they were not backing down. As Kon-Mai shifted to move for cover, one of them fired on her. The bullet bounced off her armor, smacking her in the ribcage. She muttered a grunt as it struck her. It stung badly against her skin, but there was no tear in the fabric, and no wound in her flesh.

“Insolent fool!” Dhar-Mon bellowed, raising his arms as his palms began to glow. “How dare you strike her?!”

“I think they know we’re off payroll!” Gur-Rai said, just as a rain of bullets shredded the branch he was standing on. He leapt to another tree as that one disintegrated.

The bullet rain began, and both Shamil and Vicky dove behind trees for cover. Dhar-Mon also got low, sheltering behind the shrubbery. He felt a few hit his shoulder pauldron, but none broke the surface. Yet.

The firing began to die down as the troopers ran out of ammo, and Kon-Mai took her shot. She dashed out from behind the crate and plunged her sword through the back of her unsuspecting victim, then hoisted him up and catapulted his body into one of his comrades, knocking the other to the ground. 

She smiled, but only briefly, because she was now out in the open, all guns trained on her. One particularly fast one turned on her and fired. It would have hit her in the face had she not raised her arm to deflect it. Her sword arm. The mesh deflected the bullet, but her arm went numb with the shock and she cried out, dropping her sword.

“NO!” Dhar-Mon sprang up and, ripping Yseult from his back, charged at his sister’s assailant. The hit was slow, and the trooper began to move to dodge, but as he did the hammer itself seemed to move on it’s own, correcting it’s course automatically so it plowed into the trooper’s head, cracking it like an egg.

With that trooper falling over in a bloody heap, Dhar-Mon focused his energy towards the next man, and with a glow of purple he could see their mind bending under his will. These troops had little fight in them, and the soldier easily picked up their gun and turned on their own men.

The Shrinemaiden lifted her sword again, testing her arm, and made a leap for the roof, where she was again hidden from sight. She heard the clink of a grappling hook as Gur-Rai zipped over to her, landing beside her.

“Close call.” He muttered, training his sniper on one. “Hey. You didn’t happen to bring that old shotgun I made you, did you?”

She sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“Now would be an excellent time to use it~”

“You know my aim with a firearm is poor.” She muttered, pulling Arashi from her back and copying her brother’s stance. “Do not blame me if I miss and reveal our position.”

“Sister.” Gur-Rai made a tut tut noise. “What did I tell you all those years ago?”

She scowled.

“Sister~”

“‘Sister, you will be the eye of the storm’.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shall fire on your mark.”

“Good.” He raised a hand. “Three. Two. One!”

She took a breath, held it, and pulled the trigger, the recoil punching her in the shoulder. The bullet cut through a stack of crates, which upon being hit, detonated in a burst of flames. The splinters of wood exploded out in a swath of fiery debris, torching the three troopers who had been using the boxes as cover.

Kon-Mai glared at Gur-Rai, who was wearing the biggest shit eating grin she’d ever seen.

“You knew I would miss.” She said accusingly.

“Sister, I am simply playing to your strengths.” He gestured. “And look, they’re dead either way.”

She smiled, just a tad. He was right, after all. They were dead, either way.

“I have a clear shot for the door!” Shamil cried into the comm. 

“I’ll cover you!” Gur-Rai looked through his scope again. “You look fine from up here.”

“Okay.” Vicky and Shamil made a dash for the front door. From the other side of the roof, there was a clang as yet another trooper was introduced to the business end of the Hieromonk’s weapon.

“Working on the door-” They heard it slide open almost immediately after Shamil plugged in. “...That was easy…”

“Too easy.” Gur-Rai looked at Kon-Mai.

“No doubt they are leading us to the trap, like pigs to slaughter.” Kon-Mai bit her lip. “Dhar-Mon.”

“I am here, Sister!” He shouted into his comm, causing slight distortion.

“We are moving inside. Take a position in the rear, I have a sinking feeling more shall join us.”

“As you wish.” He said.

Shrinemaiden and Darkstrider jumped from the building, landing on their feet gracefully in front of the open doorway. Kon-Mai peeked inside and scanned the hallway.

“The coast is empty.” She stood to the side and let Shamil and Vicky in first, Gur-Rai following behind. She waited for Dhar-Mon, who had called forth his psionic energy to his hands once again, and he nodded for her to go. With him close behind, they dashed inside.

The building was dilapidated, old and partially rotted. It looked more like a scene of a horror movie than a scientific building. Gur-Rai let loose a whistle. “ADVENT is really letting their best go unchecked.”

“This is disgraceful.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “What would have caused them to leave this place in such a state?”

“Diverting materials.” Vicky finally spoke up. “Maybe to the Avatar Project.”

No one said a word to that. It was a very plausible explanation.

“Where are we going?” Kon-Mai asked Shamil.

“My computer hates this place but…” He smacked it. “Okay. We make a right turn here, then another...then another…”

“Into the center?” She raised a brow. “Like circling the drain.”

“Hey if worse comes to worst, I’ll shoot out the ceiling.” Gur-Rai winked.

“Wonderful. That will work perfectly in our favor.” She rolled her eyes.

The quiet of the facility was nearly stifling as they descended deeper and deeper into the bowels. Each turn let them to another door, each door was harder and harder to crack. Each time the Chosen would stand guard for their human compatriots, and each time they were met with empty halls and deserted rooms. The silence was beginning to grow worrisome.

Dhar-Mon growled. “Where are the guards? Do they intend to do nothing to stop us?!”

“Oh, they’re coming.” Gur-Rai muttered. “It’s the when that’s bothering me.”

“Keep your eyes sharp, Brother.” Kon-Mai said, one hand on the hilt of her sword. “With each step we draw closer to our goal.”

Finally, they rounded one last corner, shrouded in darkness by broken lights, and came to a final door, sealed with magnetic energy and reinforced with layers of metal.

Shamil stared at it for a moment. “...There’s no keypad.”

They looked around. He was correct, there was no keypad in sight.

“How do we open this then?” Vicky scoffed. “Do we all stand in front of it and yell open sesame?”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Gur-Rai holstered his rifle and went up to the door, putting his hand against the metal. “That tickles…”

“What do you sense, Brother?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Psionic energy.” He looked back at Dhar-Mon. “I think this is your department, my brother.”

Dhar-Mon followed Gur-Rai’s movement, pressing five fingertips against the metal of the door and focusing. His brow creased and he winced, then jerked away. “It is fighting back.”

Gur-Rai raised a brow. “Wow, didn’t know it did that.”

“Allow me to help.” Kon-Mai stepped up, in between her brothers, and laid her free hand on the door as well. Closing her eyes, she let what psionic energy she possessed flow into her fingers, joining with her brothers. The three of them kept pressure on it, and while the door seemed to be fighting back, they could feel it being worn down, the magnetic field slowly dissipating…

There was a click. Slowly, with churning gears, the door dragged itself open, and the contents of the room were revealed.

“Holy fuck.” Gur-Rai gasped. Vicky rushed in immediately, followed by Dhar-Mon and his sister. Shamil and Gur-Rai stayed back, their mouths hanging open in horror.

“It’s him…” Shamil whispered. “What have they done to him…?”

The limp form of Shaojie Zhang hung by his wrists and ankles, strapped against the wall with metal cuffs and braces. His skin was deeply jaundiced and bruised and his joints were severely bloated, possibly from fluid or even rot. But the worst was his abdomen, ripped open to expose his organs, still desperately pumping to keep him alive. Tubes were burned into the open crevice in his body, writhing on their own as though they were feeding off him.

“Oh God, oh Jesus, they didn’t teach us this in bootcamp…” Vicky hissed as she looked in her medical kit. “What the fuck do we do?!”

The Hieromonk stepped forward and pressed his hand against Zhang’s neck, checking his pulse, and Zhang’s eyes suddenly flew open. Kon-Mai reached for her sword, but stopped. Zhang looked at her with terror in his eyes.

“It is alright.” She lowered her hands. “We are not here to hurt you.”

He tried to speak but it came out in panicked gasps, as though his voice no longer worked. He seemed to be writhing against his restraints with what strength he still possessed.

“We are with XCOM.” She showed the badge on her shoulder. “Do you see?”

He stopped struggling, but still looked between her and Dhar-Mon with undisguised panic.

“I do not think he trusts us.” Dhar-Mon said to his sister.

“He has little choice. We don’t have time to prove ourselves.” She growled. “Vicky.”

“I’m working, bitch!” Vicky snapped. “I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to untie him!”

“Let me try.” Gur-Rai jogged up. “I’ve been inside a few men in my day~”

Dhar-Mon made a fake gagging motion and rolled his eyes. Kon-Mai let slip a smile, and Gur-Rai cracked his knuckles and got to work.

“Let’s see here. Well that’s your appendix there, you don’t need that.” He slipped two finger’s into Zhang’s abdominal cavity. “This is gonna hurt.” He pinched off the appendix, and the tube attached to it, and yanked. It came out with a wet splat, and Zhang began to spasm.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vicky screamed, and Dhar-Mon rushed in and put his hand back on Zhang’s neck.

“His heart races with the agony, Brother.” Dhar-Mon looked at him.

“Good, that means he’s alive.” Gur-Rai licked his lips. “One down, four to go. This next one's on your liver…” He reached back. “Sis, you got your dagger?”

“I do not like what you are planning.” She said as she pulled her dagger from her belt and handed it to him.

There was intense silence, broken only by the ominous chattering and clicking sounds of the old walls as Gur-Rai slipped the blade of the dagger in between the fleshy organ and the teeth of the tube that held it in place. Zhang’s entire body tensed up for a moment, until Gur-Rai managed to wriggle it in just the right way that the teeth came loose, and the tube fell out and onto the floor.

“Hell yeah.” He let out a breath. “Almost done, Bud.”

The creaking in the walls grew louder for a moment, almost sounding like scraping. Kon-Mai looked around, drawing her blade again. “Something is amiss.”

“Put that thing away. It’s scaring him.” Vicky scolded.

Kon-Mai bore her teeth. “Very well. I shall allow us to remain unsheltered, like sitting ducks.”

Vicky made a mocking gesture with her hand and turned to look at Shamil. “Shammy! You have your pistol?”

“Yeah…” He sounded distracted.

“See? Shammy has the door. We’ll be fine.”

Zhang wailed in pain. Two of the tubes dropped to the floor, along with a piece of flesh.

“That one didn’t wanna let go. One more…” Gur-Rai grimaced. “And...fuck.”

“What…?” Kon-Mai peered over her shoulder.

“It’s on his heart.” Gur-Rai sighed. “Fuck. Okay. This is fine.” He twirled the dagger in his hand. “They don’t call me the Helsinki Heartbreaker for nothin’!”

“I have many questions.” Kon-Mai sighed, peering in closer to watch her brother begin his work.

“It’s just like replacing the RAM in a computer.” He hissed. “Gotta make sure not to bend the casing.”

There was a sudden, loud shriek from the door, followed by gunshots in rapid succession. The Chosen all jumped in surprise, Kon-Mai grabbing her katana. “Who goes there?!”

“Shammy!” Vicky called. The lights flickered for a moment, and they saw Shamil’s figure stumble towards the door.

“Shammy! Are you ok?!” Vicky rushed towards him but Kon-Mai grabbed her.

“Wait-”

“What are you doing?! Let me go! Sham-” She broke off.

Shamil’s mouth moved, but no words came forth. He stumbled inside, fell to his knees and hit the floor, green ooze spilling from the wound on his neck. As his body spasmed once and fell limp, a shriek came from the hallway so loud it could shatter bone.

“CHRYSSALIDS!” Kon-Mai pulled Vicky behind her and rushed to the door. “Gur-Rai, hurry!”

“You can’t exactly rush open heart surgery!” He snapped. “Dhar-Mon, go help her!”

“You need assistance here!”

“If Vicky would DO HER FUCKING JOB maybe that wouldn’t be the case!” He growled back at the human medic, who had abandoned the mission and ran to Shamil.

“Move, Child!” Dhar-Mon ran to Vicky and grabbed her arm.

“Let me go! He’s alive, I know it!”

“His corpse shall be a feeding ground, soon enough!” Dhar-Mon tossed her towards Gur-Rai. “Come, and save the man who still has a fighting chance!”

“Fuck you, you big dumb bohunk!” Vicky spat. “You don’t get it because you’re not human! You don’t know how to love like we do! I bet you’d sacrifice your own siblings if you had to!”

Dhar-Mon’s eyes grew dark, as did the room around him. “Do not speak such dark language to ME, little wretch! It was not I who let him die!”

“VICKY, COME DO YOUR FUCKING JOB, OR I WILL JAM MY GUN UP YOUR ASS AND PULL THE TRIGGER!” Gur-Rai shouted.

“FUCK OFF, YOU ROTTEN FISH STICK!” She ran for the door, grabbing Shammy by the arms and beginning to drag him, slowly, towards the door. “I’m getting out of here!”

Dhar-Mon looked at Gur-Rai.

“Toss me her medkit.” He muttered.

“You will need help.” Dhar-Mon protested as he handed it off.

“I’m not the one facing down a Chryssalid. Go help Kon-Mai.”

Dhar-Mon nodded and ran to the door. The Chryssalid was still in the outer hallway, and Kon-Mai seemed to be holding it back with her blade, but with each attack it drew a bit closer to her, each strike was a little more sure. And to make matters worse, the walls were clicking again.

“They have brethren coming to join the fray.” Kon-Mai grimaced. “Kill one, and another takes its place!”

“Then we must retreat!” Dhar-Mon lifted his arms, purple energy glowing at his fingertips.

“They block the way!”

“Stand before me, Sister.” He looked at her. “And be ready. I have an idea.”

She blinked, then grinned, her teeth glistening in the light. “I understand, Brother.” 

Dhar-Mon moved behind her, and Kon-Mai kept her blade out, waiting for the Chryssalids to come scuttling out of the walls. One by one, more joined the fray, littering the hallway, clawing at each other to get through…

Dhar-Mon reached out with his mind, and Kon-Mai felt his power seep into her body, entwining with her neurons and synapses, flowing into her blood. She turned her sword upside down and jammed it into the ground, cutting through the concrete. Pulling back, a purple wave rose before her. 

Kon-Mai’s blade sliced through the concrete floors, the wave of psionic energy building and building. Then, with a demonic smile, she ripped the sword out of the ground and sliced across her path, propelling the mount of energy into the Chryssalids, who were all lined up nicely in her path. Their bodies flew, crunching on the ground as they bent under her Harbor Wave.

She looked back at Dhar-Mon, who let his arms drop and wiped his forehead.

“Are you well?” Her smile disappeared into a look of worry.

“That was nothing.” He smiled. “The pathway is clear, all we require is-” He broke off as Vicky began to scream.

“FUCK!” Gur-Rai yelled as he looked back at her. “The corpse!”

Kon-Mai gasped. “Vicky! Get away!” She rushed in and grabbed Vicky by the arm, pulling her back as Shamil’s corpse exploded, a Chryssalid of monstrous proportions clawing its way out from inside him.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Gur-Rai twisted the dagger, and the claw around Zhang’s heart finally popped off. The restraints around his limps loosened and fell away, and he collapsed in Darkstrider’s arms.

“Dhar-Mon!” Gur-Rai called, struggling to keep Zhang from falling over. “I NEED YOU!”

“I am busy!” Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back as Kon-Mai dashed toward the Chryssalid. It was huge, as tall as the ceiling and larger than the one’s they’d encountered in the hall, and despite the great height of the Chosen, it easily dwarfed them. However, Kon-Mai was not deterred.

“I shall hold the monster!” Kon-Mai shouted. “Take Zhang and run!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Gur-Rai spat, looking around. He laid Zhang on the ground and patted his head. “Hang tight, my dude. I’m gonna blaze a new trail.” Determined, the Darkstrider drew his gun.

Dhar-Mon dashed in as Kon-Mai slipped on Shamil’s blood, her leg twisting as she hit the ground. The Chryssalid went to stab her, but it’s claw was knocked away by Dhar-Mon’s hammer.

“BACK, YE FOUL CREATURE!” He commanded, his voice booming. “BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!”

Kon-Mai crawled away, her leg screaming with pain as she got up, but she shook it off and dashed around behind, slicing through one of the Chryssalid’s appendages as payback. It screeched, writhing in agony as the digit fell limp beside it.

“GOT IT!” There was a boom, the room shook, and Gur-Rai waved them over to where he had blown a hole in the corner. “Secret tunnel, right here!”

“Then go!” Dhar-Mon grabbed Vicky and shoved her toward Gur-Rai. “I shall carry Zhang!”

Kon-Mai blocked the creature's stabs toward her brother as he darted around it’s legs, carefully picking up Zhang bridal style. The poor man was barely conscious, but he was alive.

“You shall be home soon enough.” He assured him, following Gur-Rai into the tunnel. “Kon-Mai!”

As Dhar-Mon called her name, Kon-Mai dropped her defense and sprinted for the hole in the wall, the Chryssalid on her heels. She dove inside just as she felt it smash into the edges, just a bit too big for the opening in the wall. Looking forward into the darkness, the five survivors ran.

.

.

“Gur-Rai.” Kon-Mai grunted. “I believe we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost.” He insisted. “I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Oh?” She muttered sarcastically. “Then where are we?”

“We’re in a secret tunnel.” He looked back at her, smirking.

“You dare jest when a man is dying?” Dhar-Mon sighed. “That is typical of you, Brother.”

“Hey, if I can’t laugh, all I can do is scream.” He stopped. “...Left or right?” He looked down at Vicky, who was walking silently beside him. “What do you think, left or right?”

“I don’t care.” Vicky snapped. “One of my fucking friends is DEAD!”

“Okay, and you’ll be joining him if we don’t get out of here.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Sis, what do you think?”

Kon-Mai stood still and listened for a moment. “...Right.”

“Right?”

“Yes. I hear air moving through that tunnel.”

“Well then, right you are!” Gur-Rai snickered at his own joke and led the party down the right side.

Kon-Mai looked back at Dhar-Mon, still carrying Zhang. “How is he?”

“Alive.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “I fear how long that will be true, though.”

She fell back and looked over the man. Even in the dim light, she could see the horrifying extent of his injuries. It was a wonder how he was even alive in the first place. His eyes met hers, and she tried to offer him a smile.

“We will be home soon, my dear.” She said as softly and motherly as she could. “If only we had a blanket, something to keep him warm…”

“I have one…” Vicky muttered. “In my medpack.”

“We had to leave the medpack.” Gur-Rai snapped.

“Maybe if you didn’t take it-!”

“Maybe, and this is just me spitballing here.” Gur-Rai turned on her “Maybe if you did YOUR JOB, and HELPED ME instead of messing around with a corpse, we WOULD have the medkit!”

“SHUT UP!” Vicky covered her ears. “You don’t understand! None of you fucking understand!” She glared at him. “You can’t understand, because you’re fucking ALIENS, and you can’t love anything!”

“Stop…”

The soft whisper came from the man in Dhar-Mon’s arms. They all looked at Zhang, who couldn’t even look at Vicky as he spoke.

“Stop…” He said again, his voice no more than a whisper.

Vicky and Gur-Rai looked at each other, and Kon-Mai glared back at them.

“Stop.” Zhang said again. As he opened his mouth to speak, he gasped for air, coughing.

“Just rest.” Kon-Mai whispered, rushing to him and lifting his head slightly in her hand. “Please, rest.” She looked back at Gur-Rai. “He is fading, quickly.”

“...Let’s just keep moving.” Gur-Rai mumbled.

The tunnel began to widen out, the walls once again taking on the white facility color, although they were significantly more dilapidated than above. As they walked, the white ground became filthy, and it soon became clear that it was not rocks they were stepping over, but bones. They passed ancient corpses of human figures, some wearing labcoats, some wearing trooper armor, some wearing nothing. Their conditions ranged from full skeletons with dried meat still clinging to their bones, to bleached and crumbling, and all of them crawling with bugs and snakes. Zhang’s eyes followed them as they walked beside them.

“Who were such unfortunate souls?” Dhar-Mon mused.

“Doctors…” Zhang whispered. “For me.”

Dhar-Mon stopped, adjusting Zhang in his arms so the man’s head laid on his shoulder. “Were you so strong?” He chuckled.

He felt Zhang nod weakly. 

Dhar-Mon stopped briefly, looking down at Zhang. “You were?”

Zhang met his eyes, and to Dhar-Mon’s horror, those eyes began to take on a purple glow. He felt that familiar tingling of psionics, and suddenly he understood.

“HEADS UP!” Gur-Rai called. “We found our exit!”

Dhar-Mon power walked over to his siblings, as the tunnel began to fan out, the walls becoming rock, then dirt.

“Be wary.” His sister reached for her blade. “I hear something on the wind…”

Gur-Rai fell back a bit, and Kon-Mai took point, crouching as she moved toward the shred of light coming from above them. “I see the moonlight…” She hissed. “But there is movement…”

“Careful…” He warned her gently, and drew his own weapon. “Don’t want another Chryssalid atta-”

His comm suddenly exploded in static. “Come...Menace 1-5! Com...where the hell...you?!”

“Is that Bryni?” He said with a smile. “Good to hear from you, Dollface~”

“Good...alive! Got...ang?”

“You’re cutting out.” He said. “Wait until we’re outside.”

Kon-Mai led them out, the tunnel widening into the mouth of a cave, and they emerged into the forest. The Skyranger was flying in circles above them, and Gur-Rai waved his arms, beckoning her to let down the ropes.

“Firebrand, we need a stretcher!” He called. “Zhang’s looking pretty bad!”

…

“I don’t know how you did it.” Tygan as Zhang was wheeled by two of the nurses into he operating theatre. “With wounds like that? He shouldn’t be alive.”

“We have excellent teamwork skills~” Gur-Rai wrapped his arms around his sibling’s shoulders. “I imagine like this, we’ll be able to take the Elders down no problemo~”

“Do not get cocky.” Dhar-Mon scoffed. “We simply did what we had to, in order to save Zhang’s life.”

“Yes, well…” Tygan sighed. “The Commander is...not as happy as she could be. It’s been a while since we lost a soldier…”

“Shamil died with great honor.” Kon-Mai bowed her head. “Not once did he falter in his duty.”

“Vicky on the other hand…” Gur-Rai grimaced.

“Vicky is being dealt with.” Tygan bit his lip. “Don’t be too hard on her. That’s the Commander’s job. In the meantime, I believe Bradford-”

“-wants to see you.” A voice behind them said. “And you’d be right.”

As the three turned, Tygan followed the nurses into the theatre in order to start scrubbing up for Zhang’s surgery. Behind them, there stood Bradford, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“So I talked with the Commander.” He said. “Getting Zhang back...that was a big deal. And you three went above and beyond.”

“He is a good soldier.” Kon-Mai nodded.

“He’s also a good friend.” Bradford added. “We knew him before this war took a downward spiral and…” He sighed. “It’s good to have him back and relatively okay. The fact that you three brought him back to us…” He held out his hand. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

Gur-Rai reached out and shook Bradford’s hand, as Kon-Mai and Dhar-Mon bowed in return.

“Now, for your reward.”

“We get a raise.” Gur-Rai smirked.

“God, I wish. No.” Bradford straightened his back, standing at attention. “I hereby promote you three to the rank of Sergeant.”

Kon-Mai gasped in shock, and Dhar-Mon blinked in confusion. Gur-Rai, on the other hand, simply smiled and saluted Bradford in return.

“Central.” Dhar-Mon murmured. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.” Bradford smiled, and saluted the three of them. “For your excellent work in the field, and together.”

.

.

Vicky met the Commander’s gaze, then shivered and directed her gaze at the ground once again. In the darkness of the room, Senuna’s eyes cut through her like a beacon, glowing with unimaginable power.

“Your actions today were a disgrace.” Senuna hissed behind her fingers, which she held to her lips. “I put my trust in you.”

“I’m sorry, Commander…” Vicky lowered her head.

“You not only neglected your duty, but you fought with your own teammates and insulted one of my best soldiers.” Senuna stood. “Your negligence cost us Shamil. And it NEARLY cost us ZHANG!” She slammed her hands into the desk. “Do you have ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT HE IS?! What it would mean if he had DIED?!”

Vicky fell to her knees, hugging herself. “I’m sorry, Commander! I’m sorry!” She was screaming. “I’m sorry! Shamil was...I couldn’t leave him!”

“And yet you had to leave him either way!” Senuna threw her hands up. “But I suppose this is my fault. Vet your soldiers and all that. This is what I get for trusting you.” She turned on Vicky again, who had dissolved into a puddle of tears. “Get. Up.”

She lifted her head.

“I am stripping you of your rank.” Senuna said. “When we next land at the Houston Safe Haven, YOU shall be returning there!”

Vicky’s jaw dropped. “No, Madam, please-”

“From this moment on, you are no longer a member of XCOM.” Senuna almost snarled. “I never want to see you on MY SHIP AGAIN.”

“Madam, NO!” Vicky clasped her hands. “Please! All I wanted to do was help! I want to help!”

“Then get out.” Senuna raised her hands, aquamarine lightning dancing on her fingertips. “What I'm doing for you is a mercy: you have no idea the powers you have crossed this day.”

.

.

.

.

.

(Today, we see a side of Senuna she usually keeps hidden. We also got to see the Chosen finally working as a team, and I for one love it! Can’t wait t write more battle scenes with all three of them!)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[minascarstairs]

tidings of comfort and joy..

>>>> AO3 LINK <<<<

for my bakery lady, you know who you are.

Jem Carstairs loves Christmas. 

When he’s little, Christmas in Shanghai consists of long dinners.

It consists of warm hugs from his mother.

Presents from England his father brings back for him. 

It consists of light, and laughter.

Of love.

It’s this, Jem thinks, this feeling.

He wants it to last forever.

___________________________________________

Christmases at the institute are bittersweet.

On the one hand, he misses the warmth of his family, his biological family. He misses when his time wasn’t limited, when his days felt endless. 

On the other, he has found a new family in England, chosen for himself. They’re friends, people who love him, people who, like him, each carry losses of their own.

This night, Christmas dinner at the institute is lively, and Jem can’t find a reason to complain when he has his parabatai to spend it with. 

“What is that!?” Will exclaims, once they’re all seated around the dinner table. 

“What is what?” Charlotte asks. Confused at the distaste in the boy’s tone.

“That…. thing!” Will points at the piece of meat like it has personally harmed him. 

“It’s cooked duck, William,” Jessamine’s shrill voice interrupts, annoyed at the dramatics, “it’s what the real high society has for Christmas.”

Jem anticipates what comes next: Will, with his peculiar fear of poultry will refuse to eat a bite, which will lead to exasperation from Charlotte and Sophie.

Jem watches in silence as the scene unfolds, smiling at his new, albeit loud, people. 

Christmases might be different now, compared to the Shanghai holidays shared with his parents, but this familiar display of rowdy affection brings a warmth to Jem’s frail heart. 

Christmases like this, he thinks, aren’t so bad.

___________________________________________

As a Silent Brother, Brother Zachariah stops celebrating Christmas. 

Instead, his nights now consist of time spent in the Silent City, of healing, but most of all, of eery, deadly silence. 

The Christmases at the beginning of his Brotherhood service are the hardest. He longs for what he used to have, of who he used to be. 

He thinks of times spent with his family in Shanghai, of holidays before, in a different lifetime. He thinks of his family, his loved ones. The people he misses. Of his mother, his father, of Will,

Of Tessa…

As a Silent Brother, Zachariah wonders if he’s even allowed to miss them, if, instead, he should just be glad he’s alive at all. 

One Christmas Eve, though time has become a hazy concept, Zachariah visits the Herondale residence, he doesn’t know why he does it, why he would subject himself to this way of silent torture, yet his feet seem to carry him there anyway. 

Standing on their doorstep, hand poised in a fist ready to knock on the door, he finds that he hesitates.

What is he doing?

Why is he here?

He’s vaguely aware of laughter somewhere, the faint sound of carols in the London streets.

The effects of his illness have prevented him from fully adhering to the Silent Brother laws, and It is moments like this that he longs, begs, for his ties to his humanity to be severed

��It’s moments like this when he’s sure he doesn’t quite fully belong anywhere anymore. His person drifting somewhere between Brother Zachariah and Jem Carstairs. 

Inside, a wave of warm laughter shocks him from his thoughts, and feeds the hollow feeling in his chest. 

Fisting his hands, he burrows his chin deeply in his robe. Then, Brother Zachariah turns from the door and starts making his way back through the harsh winter night. 

In silence. 

___________________________________________

His first Christmas with Tessa feels like pure magic.

Sitting in their London apartment, her sock-clad feet on his lap, he laughs at something Tessa is telling him. A joke of some sort, based on their shared memories of good old times. 

So far, their night has consisted of a three course meal, courtesy of Jem, but if you ask her, Tessa proclaims she helped him cook, a feat she’s, to his utter delight, decidedly not very good at. 

He smiles at the thought.

Currently, they’re watching Christmas movies on their couch, mugs of eggnog on their too small coffee-table. There’s something so domestic about it. It makes him smile.

Later, he thinks, she’ll give him a look, one that shows the glint in her eyes. A glint that’s so truly, irrevocably Tessa. She’ll shut off the TV, give him a teasing kiss, and pull him into their shared bedroom. The night undoubtedly ending in a mix of tangled limbs, undying laughter, and piles of Christmas sweaters on their bedroom floor.

For now, Tessa’s joke is followed by a comfortable silence, their apartment cozy and warm, though that could also be caused by the obscene amount of Eggnog they’ve consumed. 

Jem finds that he doesn’t mind the silence as much anymore, now that he doesn’t necessarily associate it with something bad. 

Instead, he revels in it. 

The kind of silence that only comes with blissful and utter content. 

It’s christmases like this, thinks Jem, that couldn’t possibly make him any happier.

____________________________________________

It itches. That’s all Jem can think about as he adjusts the fake white beard that’s hiding his entire chin from sight. His disguise is elaborate, meaning Tessa and Kit have gone all out to complete this particular mission. 

Helping him dress up in his five-piece Santa costume, Kit can’t help the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Looking good, old man,” Kit teases, handing him his bright red Christmas hat.

Though his Mina had yet to turn one, she revelled in the Christmas spirit, her beautiful face lighting up every time Tessa turned on the Christmas lights or brought home a new stuffed animal to add to her collection. 

Adventurous as their baby was, Tessa had promised her she could meet Santa this year. 

Jem was all but glad to provide, even if it meant donning this ridiculous costume. 

Quietly entering their dimly-lit living room, Jem plants a sack of presents under their tree, a tree that him and Tessa had carefully trimmed to match their victorian decor. Containing an ornament that represents each member of their family, the tree covers a large part of their living room. There’s a little violin for him, a cat bauble for Church, a book for Tessa, a tiny Batman for Kit, but also a tiny duckling, and a Chinese lantern to remind him of Christmases past.

As if on cue, the door creaks open, revealing his wife in her night robe, carrying a wide-eyed baby on one arm. 

“Look, Mina!” Tessa whispers to their baby. 

Jem still can’t help but think of her as a tiny miracle. 

“Look who’s here!” her voice carrying a tone of wonder.

Mina’s tiny giggles echo through the room, also summoning Kit from his bedroom, sporting a knowing smile on his face.

“Min, look! Isn’t this cool? Santa came to visit!”

Though growing up as an only child, Kit had really taken to Mina, going out on outings of his own, and having his own inside jokes with her. Or, at least, Jem thought they were inside jokes. 

“Say bye Santa!” Kit says as he takes her hand and encourages the baby to wave.

Giving Jem a wink, Tessa ushers both of them out of the room, no doubt already preoccupied with trying to get their energetic baby to sleep through the night after such an incredibly exciting ordeal. 

On Christmas day tomorrow, Jem will undoubtedly be reminded of the people they both have lost. Of his parents, of his second family, of their Will, of her children. But most of all, they will celebrate what they have. How a new chance of life was given to both of them. They’ll huddle by their fireplace, enjoy Jem’s cooking, watch one of Kit’s movies, and Tessa will undoubtedly demand Jem play a Christmas carol for them. 

Jem, though prideful, can admit that he’s wrong sometimes. 

Christmases like this, are the best. 

[amarits]

The picture on Tim’s phone was too small. It took him forever to find Jason among the tiny figures, even knowing where he’d just been. There were two cameras, but the angles were weird and Tim had to keep switching between them to search the whole room. It would be a lot easier with his tablet, but his mom had said bringing it to a party would be “a breach of common etiquette and mark him as a social pariah.” 

He wondered if that was better or worse than being caught hiding under a table. 

Jason was still with that girl Tim had sent over, and he felt a bewildering surge of jealousy. It wasn’t like Jason was going to be friends with her now. They just happened to be standing next to each other when the Penguin showed up. It didn’t mean anything. 

Jason stepped protectively in front of her and Tim had to swallow down another completely ridiculous, unfounded wave of bitterness. What, did he want to be protected by Robin? He could take care of himself, thank you very much. It was stupid he was even thinking about this. He had a job to do.

He carefully searched the ballroom three times before deciding that Mr. Wayne definitely wasn’t there. That was good, right? Did he already get out? Did he have, like, some magic bat precognition that told him when danger was coming, like how animals sensed earthquakes before they happened? 

That would explain a lot really. 

When he was younger, he thought Batman probably had all kinds of bat-themed powers like sonar and flying and blood drinking, but he’d methodically ruled them out, one after another. Precognition could still on the table though. 

He slowly flipped through the cameras starting with the garage and working his way back towards the ballroom, taking extra care to check every single shadow. He hadn’t completely ruled out shadow camouflage as a super power but he was preeetty sure by now that Batman was just sneaky. 

He’d almost convinced himself that Batman had just completely left the building, probably for some super elaborate plan, when he found Mr. Wayne just one room over in the dining hall. He was with a few members of the planning committee, surrounded by the full array of charity auction items. They were probably making sure everything was ready for later. 

He also had one of Penguin’s thugs pointing a gun at him. So much for precognition. 

This was worse than being in the ballroom, actually. Fewer people meant it would be way too obvious if Mr. Wayne tried to make his escape. Jason was in a much better position to sneak out.

Except for that stupid, annoying cling-on he’d picked up. She was still there when Tim switched back to Jason’s view, standing way too close to Jason in Tim’s humble opinion.

He switched back to the dining hall. Mr. Wayne had maybe inched a little closer to a large arched window. He wasn’t actually looking at it, but Tim imagined him flinging himself out the window and changing into the Batman suit mid-fall.

Did they even have their suits with them? This wasn’t the manor, and it wasn’t like the Batsuit would fit under Mr. Wayne’s tuxedo. 

In the ballroom, Penguin’s men were taking out bags out and collecting jewelry and wallets. His mom made a show of removing her earrings and necklace to drop in the bag, but didn’t remove her bracelet, which he knew was easily worth three times as much as her other jewelry combined. Tim’s heart caught in his throat, but the men didn’t seem to notice. 

His mom's expression didn’t change as they walked away, but he could already hear her bragging at the next gala about how she’d gotten one over on the dumb criminals. 

Where was Jason? Tim scanned the tiny faces. Had he already managed to sneak out or had he moved into one of the groups? People were so crowded together, it was hard to see individuals. He found the Nelsons, not far from his mom. The Alcocks, the Davilas. Prince Vinson, who was Tim’s age and had parents with apparently very high hopes for him. The heiress had her phone raised, brazenly recording the Penguin. Stupid. She should hold the phone naturally by her side, turned just enough to face them. That was just basics. 

He spotted Jason’s groupie before he saw Jason. He had blended back into the crowd, probably preparing to escape unnoticed. Except that stupid girl was still with him with her vibrant purple dress and bright yellow hair. Jason was never going to be able to slip away as long as she was following him around like a lost duckling. 

He flipped back to Mr. Wayne. His mission to throw himself out the window didn’t look like it was going very well. Had he gotten closer? Maybe. Maybe not. It was hard to tell. One of the Penguin’s lackeys was collecting wallets and jewelry in there too, while another aimed his gun at the huddled guests. 

There were only two bad guys. Mr. Wayne could easily take them out before they could even react. But he just dropped his watch, wallet, and cufflinks into the bag with a little apologetic smile, like he was sorry he couldn’t give them more. 

Back to Jason. He was so close to a door, but that girl was still right there beside him, practically touching shoulders. Tim pressed his face against his knees to muffle a groan. 

This was so frustrating. There had to be something he could do. He could turn off the power, but he didn’t want these guys panicking and shooting blindly into the crowd. He just needed to distract them long enough for Jason to get away. Then he’d come back as Robin, free Mr. Wayne, and Batman and Robin would kick Penguin butt. 

Read More on Ao3

[superwolfiestar]

Super Caballeros Rewritten Ch.2

Panchito's eyes began to open as he laid flat on his back. His vision was fuzzy, but he could make out the clear blue sky above him. He thought to himself for a second and tried to remember what had happened. He tried to stand up and fell to his knees as all of his muscles were sore. Then, after a moment of thought, he recalled the crazy event and the first thing that popped into his mind was, "JOSE!"

Against his body's injuries, Panchito pushed himself to get up and look around. Jose was nowhere in sight, but instead was a place that was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Instead of a giant city, it was a lush, green field of grass. Trees were abundant and nearby was a small pond full of crystal-clear water. All of this seemed fairly normal, until Panchito happened to notice a row of strange square blocks floating in midair, each with a question mark imprinted on them.

As Panchito continued to explore this new place, it gradually became more and more clear that there was no resemblance to the world he knew. All of these strange places were colored very differently than in Panchito's world, and some variations of them ever had wings. It was astounding to Panchito, yet somehow didn't frighten him.

As amazing as this new world was, Panchito was intent on finding his green bird. He continued searching around the area until he grew tired and decided to rest underneath a large tree. He sat down and breathed heavily. "We finally get work and something like this has to happen," Panchito said to himself. As he once again looked around, something caught his eye on the other side of the tree. He leaned over to check it out and saw Jose’s feet. He quickly jumped up and poked his head around the other side of the tree to find his lover on his back in a deep sleep.

Panchito lifted Jose so he was sitting up and shook him. "Jose! Wake up!" Panchiot shouted. "How do you sleep through something like that? WAKE UP JOSE!" Jose jumped out of his sleep and rubbed his eyes. "Panchito? Why are you yelling?"

Panchito shook his head, "We have a problem, Jose," he began to explain. After Panchito helped him up, Jose took a look around the new place as Mario did, only his reaction was slightly less calming. He began to shake like a leaf in his normal fashion. "P-P-Panchito? W-what is this place?" All Panchiot could do was shrug and shake his head, indicating to his brother that even he had no clue where they were.

"Ow my aching head." Jose cried as he rubbed his head in an attempt to soothe the pain. The green parrot opened his eyes and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Everything in this strange place they looked so different to them. "Panchito," Jose yelped. "I don't think we’re in Tenderfeet anymore."

"I don't know what would give you that impression," Panchito said in a sarcastic tone. "Was it the fact there are no apartment complexes or tall skyscrapers to be seen or the fact that the hills are so colorful with different patterns design?"

Jose looked at the hill up to see that indeed Panchito was correct. He felt uneasy being in this place. It was to him like a new reality. They tensing up with each sight he saw. "I think it is best we go back home meu amor." Jose gave his lover a small tug on the shirt indicating that he wanted to leave.

“I don’t know Jose, but I have no idea where we came out at. And it looks like we are stuck here forever until we find a way to get back home.

"But Pan-" Jose said before being interrupted by a strange sound. “Shhh!” Panchito shush him. “Did you hear that?” Jose nodded at his lover, “yes,” he replied.

They stood there quite as the sound is coming from the brush.

“Could this be…?”

“Shush! We don’t want to get caught!”

“Are those legendary heroes!!”

The caballeros plumber walked over to the bushes and slowly pulled apart the branches. It reveals a three kids, they are all the same little and possibly triplet ducklings but with weird same color outfits they are wearing. The duck one is wearing a red vest with gold lining. He has a strange white Mushroom hat thing on his head with red dots around it. The other one was wearing a blue vest with gold lining. He also appears to have a white mushroom hat with blue dots around its. The last one was wearing a green vest with gold lining. Like the other small ducks. He has white Mushroom with green dots around it.

“Who are you boys!?” Jose ask in a gentle voice. The boys were hugging each other, frightened, terrified and shaking. “P-please don’t hurt us!” The red duck exclaimed.

“We don’t want to turn into stones!!!” The green shouted, closing his both eyes.

“Please don’t!” The blue one began to cry as the two caballeros plumber look confused and shocked. What did they mean by turning them into stones?

“N-ninos! Ninos! Calm down!” Panchito try to calm the boys down. “W-W do not mean to frighten you three! But we won’t hurt you! We promise!” Panchito and Jose put their hands up.

“Oh thank goodness,” the red duck began to call down. “We are the toads! My name is Huey and this is my two triplets brother.” Huey introduced himself to the plumbers. “This Dewey,” he pointed the blue one. “And this is Louie!” He pointed the green one.

“It’s very nice to meet you three, my name is Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González the third! And this is my um… friend, José Carioca!” He introduced them to the boys.

“It is very nice to make your acquaintance!” Jose tip his green hat.

After a brief introduction, the duo explained their situation to the boys, who, in return, told them all about the world they were in. The Caballeros both jumped and together said, "THE MUSHROOM KINGDOM?" It didn't seem real, but this world existed as much as New Tenderfeet did. However, the boys didn't know they could have gotten there by the means they did. It had seemed that if Panchiof's drain theory failed they would be stuck there. But the boys seemed less concerned with them leaving.

“Huddle!” Huey announced as he and his triplet brothers began to huddle and whispered to each other so Panchito and Jose can’t hear them while the two Caballeros look confused.

“Could this two be a legendary heroes from my book? They are going to save the boy princess!” Huey exclaimed while whispered.

“It couldn’t be could it?” Louie raises his eyebrows.

“They must be!” Dewey exclaimed with the wide eyed.

“They ARE legendary heroes just what the book said!!!”

The boys then turn to face the two Caballeros as Huey step up toward them.

"Panchito and Jose. I think it’s best that we will explain to you later but I don’t think it safe to be out here. Come, we will take you two to Scrooge McDuck! Please come with us." The boys began to run and Panchito and Jose look at each other and they began followed behind them.

———————

Music:

World 1 - Super Mario 3D Land

Beware of the Forest’s Mushrooms- Super Mario RPG

[javistg]

One Victor CH 15. Part 1.

It’s been a few months since I updated One Victor. July hasn’t been as productive as I hoped, but I’ve still managed to write a few things in my free time.

Here’s part 1. Some of you will probably recognise some of this from a previous snippet, but I’ve added an entire scene and changed the ending. I’m pretty happy with the way this is right now. so I probably won’t make any more changes to it. 

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 15. Part 1.

District 12 was covered in snow.

Bundled in his warm winter coat, Peeta stepped onto the platform which had been set up on the Town Square right behind the Justice Building.

The large crowd gathered there cheered and clapped. Their applause was soft and dull, muffled by the gloves they wore, but their eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Smiling against the chilly air, Peeta thanked his audience and repeated Effie’s speech once more.

Right as he was about to finish, he turned his eyes to the back of the crowd and the hundreds of miners who were assembled there. Exhaustion lined their haggard faces, but the mix of curiosity and suspicion which lit their eyes inspired him.

Squaring back his shoulders, Peeta talked about the power of coal. “As modest as they look, these black rocks we extract from the earth warm our homes and fuel our factories.” Opening his arms, he pointed to the streetlights around the square. “They help create the electricity that lights our towns.”

Someone in the crowd hooted, a few others followed applauding to show their support.

Peeta slipped his hands back into his pockets. His modulated voice reached everyone in the square. “Sadly, as necessary as it is, coal is often-overlooked. Today, I want to say ‘thank you’ to all of you, our brave miners of District 12. Thank you, for going into those deep, dark tunnels every day. Our lives are better because of you.”

As the square erupted in a round of enthusiastic cheers, Peeta’s heart began to race. For better or worse, the Victory Tour was officially over.

There was still a dinner scheduled for that night at the mayor’s house, but he wasn’t worried about it. He had been there plenty of times and he already knew every guest on the list --he certainly didn’t need Effie’s lessons on district etiquette for this event. For the next few hours, he was free to do as he pleased.

As the square began to clear, Peeta made his way down the stairs.

His feet had barely touched the ground when his father pulled him into a tight hug and heartily patted his back. “Welcome home, son!”

“Thanks, Pop!”

As he pulled away from his father’s embrace, Peeta noticed the other people who were waiting for him. Along with a handful of merchant friends he hadn’t seen in ages, he saw his brothers, his mother, and Madge.

Madge was the first to act, she quickly reached for his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Welcome home, Peeta!” Before he could even respond, she signalled toward her house. “I gotta go, --I promised my mom I’d help her get ready for tonight-- but I’ll see you later, OK?”

Still a bit disoriented, Peeta nodded. “See you later.”

Madge dashed off. Her purple scarf flapped in the wind behind her.

Rye and Bran were up next. After hugging him, they ruffled his hair --effectively ruining Adriana’s meticulous work-- and joked about their little brother turning into a seasoned traveller.

“Did you bring me any presents?” Rye asked.  

With an annoyed huff, Mrs Mellark interrupted the conversation. Stepping between her sons, she briefly hugged the youngest.

Just as she was letting go, she patted Peeta’s shoulder. “Nice coat,” she mumbled before turning away.

Like three ducklings, Mr Mellark and his sons said a quick goodbye and quietly followed Mrs Mellark back to the bakery.

With his family gone, Peeta took a better look at the remainder of his welcoming party.

It wasn’t a big group. Toben and Terrence –the postmaster’s twins who had once been in Peeta’s wrestling team— stood between Clara, –the carpenter’s daughter—and Peeta’s old neighbour, Delly Cartwright. Each boy held a girl’s hand as they stood huddled together --presumably to keep each other warm.

Not surprisingly, Delly was the first one to speak. A warm smile curved her lips. “Welcome back!”

Peeta smiled back. Growing up, Delly had been one of his closest friends. She had always been cheery and kind, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to her.

With a heavy heart, he realized that he didn’t have much to say to her now. “Thank you, Delly.”

The rest of the group welcomed him with polite smiles and awkward hugs, exchanging a few tense pleasantries while Peeta wondered why they had felt the need to stay behind and talk to him on this particular occasion.

After a short, stilted, conversation, Delly announced that she had to go back to the shoe shop. The rest of the group followed, quickly excusing themselves and retreating back into their homes, all too eager to hide behind their apprenticeships and schoolwork.

After two weeks of fanfare and stress, Peeta suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a deserted street conversing with the wind.

As a train whistled in the station signalling a new departure, he realized he wasn’t ready to face the empty mansion he insisted on calling home. Restless, he decided to take a walk around town.

He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but he wasn’t surprised when his feet lead him to one of the paths which crossed the Seam. He’d only been there a couple of times in his life, but the place captivated him.

The run-down shacks, unpaved lanes and unmarked streets were all hauntingly beautiful in his eyes.

No, he wasn’t blind to the fact that all that chaotic beauty was the product of extreme poverty and need. He knew how hard life was for people in the Seam. But he also knew how loyal they were and how they protected each other through thick and thin. He couldn’t help but admire their resourcefulness and strength.

In the face of adversity, Seam eyes shone with determination, their voices sang with pride.

He had almost reached the end of the main road when he saw her.

Katniss was about to knock on a door a couple houses down.

Without even thinking, he called out, “Katniss!”

Katniss swung around, her silver eyes widened in surprise and she smiled. “Peeta! Welcome back!”

Peeta smiled, pleased by the happy lilt in her voice.

Forgetting about the door, Katniss closed the distance between them. “What brings you round?”

Peeta shrugged. “Don’t know, I just felt like going for a walk.” He looked up, taking in the snow-covered rooftops of the shantytown. “Somehow, I ended up here.” A new thought crossed his mind. “Are you busy?”

Katniss shook her head. “Not particularly. What did you have in mind?”

“Not much,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, “I brought a few things back from the tour. Maybe I could show them to you, if you have time?”

“Sure!” Turning sideways, she pointed back to the house. “Just let me tell Prim –she’s over at Penny’s. My mother is out visiting a patient, and I don’t want her to worry if she goes back home and doesn’t find us.”

Peeta nodded. “She can come along, if she wants. I don’t mind.”

Katniss crossed her arms and, looking down, began inspecting the thin layer of freshly-fallen snow like it was the most interesting thing in the district. “I… I think she has schoolwork.”

“Oh, right.”

Katniss looked back up, her gray eyes held a fondness Peeta had never seen before. It was so comforting he almost forgot the biting chill in the air. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Dazed, Peeta nodded.

Katniss backed away. “I’ll be back in a second, OK?”

“Sure, I’ll wait here.”

Katniss went back to the shack and knocked. A moment later, the door opened, and Peeta saw a blond head pop out.

Katniss moved closer to the door, blocking Prim from view.

Peeta waited, rocking slightly in place to keep his limbs from freezing while Katniss talked to her sister. Everything seemed to be going well until he heard her yell. “Prim!”

With cat-like reflexes, Prim snuck around her sister. As soon as her eyes landed on Peeta, she began to wave. “Welcome back!” she called out.

Peeta smiled, touched by Prim’s greeting. “Thanks, Prim!”

“You’re welcome!” The twelve-year old turned around to face her sister. Katniss was scowling, but she didn’t seem mad.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun.” Katniss reached for one of Prim’s braids and gave it a little tug. “Time to go back inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Prim kissed her sister’s cheek. Turning to Peeta, she waved once more. “Bye!”

Peeta waved back and watched as Prim disappeared behind the closed door.

With an annoyed huff, Katniss stuffed her hands in her pockets, trained her eyes on the ground and began walking. She reached Peeta’s side and didn’t stop.

Without a word, he fell into step with her and, together, they made their way along the cold, deserted street.

They were almost out of the Seam when she looked up. Her scowl had been replaced by an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

Peeta shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about. She’s a sweet kid. You’re lucky to have her.”

Katniss’s face lit up. “I know. She’s kind, and responsible, and smart --so smart! But… it used to be easier.”

“Well, she’s growing up. That’s a good thing, right?”

Katniss nodded. “It is. It’s just… Sometimes I wish we could go back, you know? To when she was younger, and things were simpler --back when I didn’t have to worry about--,”

Peeta sucked in a breath and waited for Katniss to finish her thought. But her smile was replaced by a frown and the words never came.

Biting his lip, Peeta looked down at his feet and hoped the sound of snow crunching as they walked would distract him from the melancholy spreading through his chest. It didn’t.

He wasn’t surprised by her silence, not really. He knew what Katniss had been getting at and he understood why the words stuck to her tongue; why she was afraid of saying them out loud --especially in front of him.

In all their weeks working together in the greenhouse, in all of their trades, they had never spoken of the one thing that made their arrangement possible --the twisted turn of fate that had put him in a position where he could buy her wares and provide her with a steady income.

Playing dumb had worked for them so far. Like the shrubs they tended to, their budding relationship had needed light and warmth to blossom. But the cold reality was knocking on his door, and he couldn’t pretend any longer. Not there, not with her.

Peeta’s life was tainted with treason and deceit, --and it wasn’t going to get any better-- but his relationship with Katniss was still pure and he wanted to keep it just as it was.

No, he bitterly corrected himself, that’s not enough, not anymore.

After spending years watching Katniss from afar --wondering who she was and what she was really like-- he had finally found an opportunity to approach her and, now that they were talking, he had discovered that he liked her far more than he’d originally thought.

Katniss was quiet and shy, but she was also smart, funny and sweet. She was devoted to her sister, loyal to her friends, and stubborn –annoyingly so.

She could make him laugh --even when he was having a bad day-- and, sometimes, she made him bristle. Her exasperating habit of keeping track of all of their transactions was something he respected and hated in equal measure.

He still couldn’t believe she had felt the need to repay him for the bread he’d given her all those years ago, but he was glad to know she had valued his gesture enough to remember it. He didn’t know how he had managed to hold his tongue and accept her terms the first time she visited the greenhouse, but he was glad he had.

As fragile as it still was, their friendship was one of the few things that felt right in his life. Their connection was real, based on trust and respect --something innocent and precious, something the Capitol’s blood-stained hands hadn’t touched. It was the one good thing to come out of his time in the arena.

He knew he was probably being reckless –selfish at the very least-- but he couldn’t help himself. The past weeks of loneliness and fear had taught him that the moments he shared with Katniss were the only ones when he was at peace --the only ones that truly mattered.

In spite of everything that was happening around him, Peeta refused to let go. He wanted Katniss to be a part of his life, and he was determined to become a part of hers too.

That’s never going to happen if you shy away from the truth and leave things unsaid.A bitter little voice inside of him piped in.

Peeta set his jaw, he hated to admit it, but he knew the hateful little voice was right. The closeness he craved would never come from walking on eggshells and keeping secrets.

As much as it scared him, he knew he had to be bolder when it came to Katniss.

As the gates of Victors’ Village came into view, a new resolution settled deep within him. From now on, he was going to follow the stubborn part of him that refused to give up; the part that hoped that the girl walking next to him could want him just as much as he wanted her.

Without any warning, Peeta reached for Katniss’s elbow, and stopped short. The movement made her whirl around.

Startled, Katniss gasped. Her warm breath turned into a puffy cloud that floated away in the chilly air.

Gently, Peeta prompted, “A time when you didn’t have to worry about…”

A deep sadness clouded her eyes, but she didn’t look away. When she spoke, her shy words were surprisingly clear. “The reaping. The Games.”

Peeta moved his hand up her arm. He reached her shoulder, gave it a little squeeze and let go. Looking straight into her silvery eyes, he said, “I’m a victor, Katniss.”

Three little words. Just a simple statement of fact. He was shocked by how foreign they sounded in his voice.

Setting his own discomfort aside for a moment, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a crooked smile. “Not exactly news, is it?”

Katniss shook her head. Slowly, her lips turned to mirror his smile. “I think Prim might have mentioned something in passing the other day.”

Relieved to discover his sudden outburst hadn’t scared her away, Peeta laughed.

Sobering up, he stepped closer to her, leaned down, and whispered, “I wish I could change that, you know? I wish I could make it so that no one else had to go through a reaping or a Game, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t make it better. For Prim. For you.”

Overwhelmed by his proximity, Katniss looked down to the white, unblemished snow covering the street. There were no footprints, no signals of life or movement around them.

Feeling suddenly exposed on the deserted street, she whispered, “We better get moving before we get too cold.”

Peeta nodded. Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he began walking again. This time, it was Katniss who followed.

XXXXX

The frosty winter air kissed her cheeks, but Katniss hardly noticed. She could still feel Peeta’s warm breath on her neck, the soft caress of his voice lighting her skin on fire.

His whispered words danced in her head making her lightheaded with fear, and hope, and wonder.

Maybe it was the fact that he had apologized for the things he couldn’t change --instead of simply complaining about them-- but the raw honesty of his words had moved her in a way none of Gale’s rants ever had.

As Peeta climbed up the steps to his front porch, Katniss reached a decision. If Peeta ever decided to change the way things were, she would follow.  

[clover-xiv]

making connections

Have you seen her?

This is a lampblack hour. Drunkards line the street in rows, and the thieves that work the darkest shift of the night ply you not with misdirection and a smile, but with a dagger to your throat. Three voices converge under an eave in the black, and then you see her, a small figure, huddled, looking up at them. Thinly, under the din of driving rain against rooftops, you can hear her pleading. She’s looking for something, someone.

She cuts a strange figure in the taverns and the pits and the stews, a girl with good boots and a farmgirl’s dress, approaching each counter to ask the innkeep of the local news. This is a bad part of town, where narrow buildings shoulder each other, bent like palsied beggars come to roost on a stoop. In the dim, she’s a closed cell, a mote of something white and virginal floating through cock-fights and knuckle-boxing arenas, through hollowed taverns with hollowed faces staring, through debtor’s prisons and dank corridors heavy with the smoke of the poppy.

Women like her seldom come here alone; the ones this young have haunted smiles, and sunken eyes, and their cruel taskmasters watch from the corner as they ply their trade. But this one’s hale, and her eyes are warm, and her cheek unmarked. She makes patrons nervous as they watch her, like a row of ducklings crossing a busy road. Oblivious to mortal peril. The proverbial wolves haunt her scent.

She peels away from the three men, shouldering a wool shawl against a gust that forces down the alley. Across the muddied street, she looks at you; without hesitating, she crosses the street.

introduction

Clover is an idealistic young woman travelling Eorzea in search of her estranged father, the notorious highwayman Beaton Wetherly. She’s supped nightly of tales of adventure and honest criminals from a young age, and has formed a set of naive and colourful opinions of a world she’s never seen. Now on the road, I’m looking for acquaintances and companions for her on her travels. Whether they taint her idealistic views or reinforce them is up to you! 

basics

Age: 19 Race: Midlander Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Marital status: Single Profession:  Trapper, adventurer; former farmgirl Find her in: Thanalan, more rarely the Shroud, very itinerantly Limsa

hooks 

Cons, Tricksters and Scoundrels.

Clover knows little of the world beyond the hedgerows of the farm she abandoned. Her world is painted in the simple and crude pictures painted on diviner’s cards, motley and gaudy and colourful. She’s not unlike droves of other young women who come from the country to the city to seek their fortunes. Her naivete and trusting nature could attract those seeking an easy mark.

Bards, Storytellers, Knights and Adventurers.

The girl was satisfied with her lot until the day she first heard a bard weave a ballad of a far-off place. She listens raptly to the tales and stories shared by the woodsmen, the hunters, the vagabonds around the fire at dusk, bunks down every night on a straw cot in some tavern room, or some ditch by the road, and pulls a blanket over her and falls asleep. She dreams of places across the sea.

Honest (and Dishonest) Work.

Clover floats along roads seeking odd-jobs to keep her and her belly full and her heels shod. She’s taken up trapping (and poaching), dressing and selling pelts to pay and barter her way, but she would accept almost any kind of work, permanent or impermanent.

The Long Arm of the Law.

‘Brand a man a thief, and he’ll never find himself a day’s worth of honest labour again.’ The farmgirl nurses in her breast a suspicion towards all those who bear arms in service of the law, from the time she saw her father dragged away and clapped in the stocks for poaching.  Her father instilled in her and old and simmering hatred of the law, but that does not mean her past won’t catch up with her, on the road, in a remote tavern, in a back Ul’dahn alley.

Create Your Own.

The above is only a short list to spark some ideas, and I’m more than happy to hear anything and everything else you might have in mind! If any of these options interest you, please either private message me here, on my Discord (Mossycoats#2106), or in game under Clover Wetherly. 

[danafraedrich]

Surviving DragonCon: My Mistakes

***Prepare yourself for lots of amazing cosplay pics.

DragonCon, for those of you who don't know, is America's second largest pop culture/comics convention - second only to the San Diego Comic Con. Basically, imagine you and 100,000 fellow geeks spread across five hotels and a convention center. That seems like a goodly amount of space for all of you, right? 😅 Well, that's what my brain thought. This was my first year attending DragonCon, and I am so grateful for the lovely group of friends (and D*Con veterans) who went with me because I probably wouldn't have lasted without them. So that's my first tip for survival.

Don't go it alone ~ Seriously. I am quite an extroverted person, and I was overwhelmed only two hours after arriving. I was staying in a different hotel from my friends I'd come with, so I had to go find my room and the other friends with whom I was sharing. Then there's registration, and lunch needed to be had, and I didn't know where to go and I am the most directionally challenged person ever. Thank goodness for my friend, Gary, who walked with me to registration! But yeah, like I said, that was just the first two hours. Then there was reconnecting with people and planning my schedule and all the new people I was meeting in a very short span of time. By lunch, I had sincere concerns I was going to hate this experience and was asking myself, "Why did I decide to do this?" My amazing friends were invaluable in restoring my confidence and helping me adjust, so get yourself a gold star squad! I admit to following them around like a baby duckling for a while. #NotAshamed Okay, so this one isn't a mistake I made, but I need you to hear this advice.

Wheels are your friends ~ I'm more embarrassed by this one than any other. The rookiest of rookie mistakes, I brought a bag without wheels! 😣 Dana, what were you thinking?! As I mentioned previously, I wasn't staying in the same room as my carpool friend-group, so I had to haul my bag across three hotels, and I do not pack light. Whew! So sweaty by the time I got to my room. Seriously, use a bag with wheels.

On that same note, I highly recommend a backpack or something similar to carry stuff with you. A lot of people at con had those bags of holding from ThinkGeek. I don't just mean your wallet either. I mean food and water (more on that next). That might sound a little over the top but trust me. I happen to have a great side pouch to go with my steampunk outfits, which was a lifesaver. Oh! And bring backup chargers for your phone and other devices. You'll be amazed at how quickly you use up the batteries in your phone at con.

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this ~  Food and water. Real food, not candy (another dumb move on my part) and not soda. DragonCon will make you sweat like you wouldn't believe because not all the paths are air conditioned, there are tons of people around, and it's Georgia in bloody August. There are water stations around the con (bless those sweet organizers), but I still recommend having water on you. As for food, bring something substantial, something with protein. I'm glad I had a little forethought and brought those little chicken salad snack packs, but I only brought four for the entire weekend. I also brought trail mix (with dried fruits, nuts, and seeds - again, no candy). Those are great choices. Starbucks also sells some pretty good food, but you will spend at least thirty minutes waiting in line to get it, and it's more expensive than bringing your own stuff.

Take some time to get away ~ Sensory overload is real (even if you’re extroverted like me). There are amazing costumes every five feet, of which you might get carried away taking pictures. Events around the clock - the con runs twenty-four hours a day. Plus all the mental energy you're spending if you go to educational panels like I did. If you're friends are like mine, they're gonna be super sweet and invite you to a bunch of things too. You might even end up playing PA/handler for someone like I did because con is intense for everyone, but especially those working it. Take some time to recharge. On Sunday night, I ended up huddled in my favorite hoodie in my hotel room watching Voltron because I just could not people anymore, and that's okay. Plus, con attendees really like to party. I do too, just privately with my friends, not in large public settings. And alcohol at con is expensive! So yeah, me and my hoodie had a good ol' night by ourselves, and I felt so refreshed the next day. Do take time for yourself to recharge. I know DragonCon only happens once a year and you want to see all the people and do all the things, but self-care is important too. And speaking of doing all the things...

You can’t do all the things ~ And that’s okay. It has to be okay because, let me repeat, you can’t do all the things. DragonCon has no lack of available workshops, panels, movies, contests, and other activities. This was my schedule at one point:

There are panels on everything. Don't believe me? Check out this little gem on the Science track:

I made the mistake of spreading myself too thin. The different tracks are in different areas of different hotels, and even though there's a half-hour between each one, that's not a lot of time to get around. I mean, you can do it - my scrappy friend, Bethany, does - but you've got to really work for it, and DragonCon requires you to make energy choices. I tried to do the Writing track, the Alternate History track, the Costuming track, and a few others. 😂 Dana, you're hilarious. Yeah, that lasted all of about a day. What I found worked best for me was to pick something to focus on - Writing, as you might have guessed - and then if you have a bunch of extra space, fill in something else. And if you don't end up making a thing, try not to sweat it too much. I missed out on a Runner 5 meetup because I didn't really keep up with my emails during the weekend, and that really bums me out, but I've learned for next year.

So that's my advice. Do you have other tips? Let me know in the comments below 👇.

Thanks for reading!