#but i now have a finalized pattern for this vessel size

[tumble-witch]

TW light suggestion of body horror. No descriptions though!

Creatomachia

Bunnix shows up in Marinette's bedroom when it's already dark outside.

Marinette knows what the older heroine is about to ask the second she hears the burrow open. When Bunnix greets her, Marinette is hyperventilating. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, she asks:

- Is it... him again?

Bunnix has a grim expression on her face, yet shakes her head. Marinette exhales. She has another question.

- Is it something I did?

- No. I'm sorry I'm asking this from you again. I'm sorry there will be no answers yet.

- It's okay. I am ready.

At first Ladybug thinks she is on another planet. Another dimension, even. There are cloud fractals in the sky. There is a street light growing out of another one, growing out of another one, growing out of another one... Trees are huge and have so many leaves they are almost a solid green mass. Some buildings are so tall they go way past the clouds in a curvy line. It reminds her of the Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale her mom used to read her before bed.

The roads branch out like blood vessels, getting smaller with each separation, ending in dead ends near the buildings or growing vertically on top of the walls.

The whole city almost looks like it could move at any second. It almost looks alive.

As Ladybug progresses through the streets (if she can even call them that), she finally realizes where the people are.

At least, what's left of them.

Infinite growth apparently works on humans, too. She never thought she'd be so thankful to see somebody not move.

The silence makes her ears ring. Everything is quiet, except for some mechanical sounds the structures make, not really meant to support their own weight in this new form.

Then, she hears laughter.

A girl with hair so long she's not sure where it ends is frantically pacing around the roof, her body movements jittery and odd. As the camera of the heroine's yo-yo focuses on the akuma, helping seek out where the cursed butterfly is hiding, Ladybug realizes the dress this girl is wearing is not grey.

It's is covered in trillions of colourful tiny dots of different shapes and sizes. They seem jittery too, as if trying to move, but some force is making them stay together. This feels like standing up after lying down for too long. Looking at the pattern for too long makes her head hurt

Ladybug continues hiding. She takes her time looking for clues. At this point she's not really sure if the girl is actually laughing or this is a weird hysterical cry. Sometimes the akuma starts muttering under her nose, too quiet to make out most of the words. Ladybug is pretty sure she heard the girl say "I can fix this" a few times though. She shifts to hear the words better.

The akuma turns around

This is the hardest she's ever fought. Chat Blanc feels like child's play now.

While the villain almost looks out of breath, long hair going everywhere, Ladybug is still barely able to keep up.

The air is too dense with oxygen.

The girl has a yo-yo as a weapon, in a cruel twist of irony. And she's damn good with it. Yet, she clearly hesitates in using the thing, saving it as a last resort to escape.

Ladybug tries to reason with the akumatized victim.

- Wait! Please, let me help you!

- You don't understand, - the girl looks around frantically, - I have to fix this! I need to fix this!

Villain's grey yo-yo starts to glow white and she throws it at a fire hydrant, making it grow another one on top.

The akuma was inside the earring. Ladybug was hit by the yo-yo. She doesn't have the time to think as she casts Miraculous cure, just before her brain registered the pain fully.

She'll remember the way it looked when she closes her eyes though.

The streets go back to normal. Her body is normal. Ladybug turns around and meets the eyes of

herself

Marinette sits on the ground, horrified. But before Ladybug can talk to her Bunnix appears and she has to go.

Bunnix doesn't say anything as they walk through the burrow, but she's pretty sure the older heroine is holding her shoulder softer than ever before.

They didn't change anything. They didn't fix anything after they came back, no scoldings, no erasing her name from anywhere, nothing. Marinette is growing more paranoid at every turn, expecting to get akumatized. Her conflict avoidance is at all times high. She's withdrawing from her friends.

Nobody is near when Hawkmoth himself shows up in the middle of the night and she has to transform. He senses her distress immediately.

This is just too easy.

The butterfly lands in her earring just as she started to call for a last effort Lucky Charm.

"Creatomachia, this is Hawkmoth. You are overwhelmed with every problem creating a million smaller ones. Things seem to stack on top of each other and just never end. I'll give you the power to fix everything. In return, you will give me your and Chat Noir's miraculous."

For a split second, everything is white.

[wisteriasymphony]

The Gift of Jubilation - (Pigella & Chat)

(and those who no longer receive it)

Porcalina had no trouble in using her gifts. Under another holder, the Miraculous of the Pig might be seen as an insult or as ineffective in battle, but Porcalina considered it much more like a party trick, and she reserved no qualms about it. When not using it for distractions, Porcalina liked to exchange her gifts like fortunes throughout her teammates, touting herself as a seer who could predict their most wanted future, whether said future be years beyond or the very next morning.

"I can always try again," she comforted Chat Noir. "I swear it's probably something I'm doing wrong. This doesn't usually happen."

Porcalina took her tambourine in hand and begun to sing. This was a necessary part of the process: She channeled the domain of Jubilation through reverent song, remarking to others that her Miraculous would guide how she sang and what syllables and half-words would echo around her. It was never anything resembling a spoken language, at least to Chat Noir's own knowledge, but it seemed to change depending on the person she was divining for. Ladybug would always be sung to in an innocent C Major full of princessy trills and ornaments; Renared's song was a calm B Dorian, and CARA.PACE's was E Locrian with many stops and starts. Many of them were in those more obscure modes, some forgoing classification entirely... And Chat half wondered if it was because the Miraculous itself knew Chat was analyzing each note Porcalina sang to find a pattern and was trying to throw him off its path.

But Chat's song was, like Ladybug's, in a regular key. Multiple, in fact. Porcalina would keep a steady beat on her tambourine and start in a brooding, ghostly D# minor. Porcalina's chants would break in form, often sounding like the grieving wails of a young mother, and then just as they started she would bow her head further and return to low chants and humming. Porcalina kept her eyes shut during these sessions, relaxing all her body so that she could be a true vessel to the whims of Jubilation, and with every sharp breath she would seem to rock back and forth in her seat. Then it would switch to a minor B, hesitant in its patience and spilling in shaky half-words off Porcalina's lips. Now the light which the world kept hiding in little corners would fly in and gather around the seer, enveloping her in a faint ring much like the shape of her tambourine cymbals. And as Porcalina would be tossed back and forth by that which she channeled, the ring would move to accommodate her, much like the rings of rock and dust that surround Saturn... or perhaps even a halo for some sleeping giant far below the rooftops of Paris, far beneath the ground. An omen that Porcalina as the augur she was was simply as much a pawn in the schemes of Gods as any of them were.

As she finished her incantations, Porcalina broke out into her final key: A♭ Major. Key of judgement. Key of the grave. And once her voice has swelled to its loudest... she sighed as if nothing had ever happened, and opened her eyes.

"There," she said, setting down the tambourine and guiding the light surrounding her with her hands. Her arms seemed to wade through the air as she gathered her vision, placing each shard of glimmering light into its place on a sphere the size of her head. "And now, if I did everything right this time..."

There was nothing.

Like the last three times before it, Porcalina had divined that Chat Noir's deepest wish was.... nothing.

Porcalina furrowed her brows, bringing the sphere closer as if the answer she wanted was simply one that was too small to otherwise see. "I mean... Perhaps this is a good sign? Maybe you have everything you could ever want?"

Chat stared at her blankly. Even the teammates he'd known for years could tell that such a statement was laughably untrue. After his short absence from the team, Chat had grown bitter and silent, with deep lines carved onto his face that made him seem much older than the others than he truly was. Hell, he hadn't even gone out of his way to request Porcalina divine for him because he simply couldn't care—His new demeanor was hardly that of someone who had everything he wanted.

"I told you there's no point in it," he spoke to Porcalina. The way his bangs hung over his face seemed to cloak his eyes in shadow, dulling even the bright green of his irises to a shade too dark to determine. And that was all he said to her before standing up and walking away to the edge of the rooftop.

Ladybug approached Porcalina from behind, placing a kind hand on the girl's shoulder. "Still nothing?" she asked.

"Yeah. ...It's almost like it doesn't work on him at all," Porcalina sighed. "Or maybe he just doesn't have anything worth wishing for."

Chat could hear them talk behind his back; They did it often, but not once did it go unheard. And she was right to think he didn't wish for anything anymore. He found no joy in it. Only the aching feeling that maybe, there was once something he had wished for... that he was no longer allowed to remember.

[illmoraineakoi]

Hollow Knight Vessel Plush Update

I've made a test 'final version' head and body; and they've turned out amazingly. I love them. They've both turned out so well.

I'm making a test body with interfacing at the neck, to see if that'll help stiffen the area up, to keep the head from being wobbly. The cloak should also help, but I want to make that area as durable as I can, to give it the best shot at lasting. Big parts attached to narrow places are always an issue, but hopefully the interfacing and lots of stuffing will work well.

I fucked up the eye patterns. I had made a separate eye pattern piece, and marked all 36 pairs with it. What this did was make the eye pieces too big for the eye hole on the face piece. That's why the pieces weren't fitting. What I should have did was use the empty hole on the face pattern piece to mark the eye pieces. Now I'll have to manually remark every pair over the old marks, so they're the right size.

I've decided to focus on groups of Vessels to sew completely before moving on. Currently, I've done Ghost (the Testee lol) and another 1 and a half bodies sewn, probably Hollow and Greenpath. After GP's other half is sewn, I might do two more heads before moving onto the Deepnest Four. Or just continue with bodies, because they're really fun lmao

I can get through 1 full Vessel body per day, and probably at least 1 head a day. So A full Vessel (sans cloak) every two days. Which isn't a bad pace for hand sewing. So If i do one per day, I'll have them all done in about 72 days. Probably more, because I might take some days to rest my fingers.

I've decided to put off marking the cloak pieces. I still need to make the long cloak piece tests, and the idea of making out so many pieces is very daunting. I think I should also probably do a dye test, as well, to make sure everything will turn out as I want; I just don't want to waste a bottle of dye on just one cloak. but If i wait and try to do multiple, and it doesn't work or turn out, I've just wasted both fabric and effort, which would be much more devastating.

I'm not sure about the bean pouch in the body just yet. I like the extra weight they add, but trying to stuff around them is a pain. Not sure about the shape either. Might play around with it some more.

It just feels really good to finally, after months, be sewing. It's so satisfying. And they're so cute, I love them so much. Feels good man. Feels really good :)

[pudding-parade]

Hey! I also have a tribal save but mine is for TS2. I was looking into having a tribal save for TS3 too though, since the open world lends itself to that kind of storytelling. Do you have any CC recommendations? Love your posts btw!

Hi there!

I agree that TS3 is muuuuuuuch better suited to a tribal scenario than TS2 is, just by virtue of the open world. I had answered a similar ask a while back here, and all of my recs there still apply. However, there have been new things released since then, as well as stuff that I forgot on the first list. So, some addendums:

This mod! This mod means that you can get rid of the bushes that function as toilets and/or all-in-one bathrooms. It also makes it so that Sims can just sleep on the ground, which is helpful if, like me, you start out your primitive sims with absolutely nothing on their lot and they have to "build" things by, for instance, cutting down trees using the woodcutter's tree from Ani, who is linked in the original list I made.

Also this mod, which allows you to hunt deer, raccoons, and minor pets for food as well as to forage for wild harvestables, mushrooms, and eggs laid by wild birds without having to micromanage the hunter/forager.

Annnnnd this mod, which is a conversion of the Sims Medieval cooking fireplaces to TS3, with functionality borrowed from Sims Medieval, too. Technically, they're "too new" for a prehistoric/tribal scenario, but they're tons better than, you know, an electric stove.

Related to the above, @murfeelee made different cauldrons using the above mod here. It includes a stand-alone cauldron that looks a little better for "tribal" purposes. They've also made lots of other stuff that can work for tribal scenarios, including lots of stuff converted from other games like Skyrim, so I encourage you to look through it all.

Lastly for mods, there @zoeoe-sims's functional well system. I don't always use this for tribal scenarios, but I often do, mostly so that they can't have sinks (generally the only plumbing I use with tribal situations now that there's the "One With Nature" mod) without having to gather/store water first. @danjaley also made additional wells and storage vessels for the mod here.

In addition to Venus Princess's clothing/accessories/shoes (she's on the first list), I also use clothing from Bill-Sims. Their stuff is on T$R, here. T$R is a pain in the butt to use, but this person has made a lot of crop tops and short dresses and such that work pretty well for tribals if you CASt them with leather/fur or homespun fabric patterns. So, it's worth the pain-in-the-buttness. As a bonus, their clothing is all preg-morphed.

I can't believe I forgot @mspoodle1 in my original list! DUUUUUUH! But, since I made that original list, she's also made a series of many medieval objects and default replacements. Medieval doesn't always work for a tribal scenario, at least not if you're going for authenticity, but it's hella better than modern-looking stuff!

Another thing I can't believe I forgot on the other list: All of the walls/floors from Castaway Stories converted to TS3.

I also strongly recommend roadless worlds for your tribal scenario. Otherwise you'll have taxis and stuff that, even if you default replace them with, like, wagons, they still don't really work well with a tribal scenario. I absolutely love the roadless worlds made by Mammut at SimsZoo. They're well made, pretty, and have many flat lots of all different sizes already placed down as well as room to add more if you want/need to. Here's a link to all the TS3 worlds uploaded to SimsZoo. They're not all roadless, but of those that are, my particular favorites are Erandil, Runebu, and Nimmerwald. I'm using Guantuga in my tribal save, which comes with medieval/pirate-style pre-built lots; I just bulldozed all but the dive lots for my own use.

Finally, in my other list, I recommended a particular set made by @aroundthesims, but I also highly recommend poking around her entire site because there are lots of bits and bobs here and there that that can be useful for tribal scenarios. For instance, I recommend the basket in this set for putting babies in, if you don't want them to just be in cribs all the time.

And I think that's it! Unless I've forgotten someone(s) else, in which case this post might get edited. :)

[oh-no-the-hyperfixations]

I never posted this anywhere but oh well- might as well do it now-

A year ago i started a sculpting project for TMA, it took 3 full months of work-

(I’ll have to dig them out again for more pictures- but these are what i have saved)

I wanted to pair them up to be with their Related fear, (or ones I thought looked nice together)

Because of time constants i had to make the buried/vast vessels into tiny little pinch pots just to finish them on time-

The pairings in final order were

The eye-the lonely

The web-the hive

The stranger-the spiral

The slaughter-the desolation

The flesh-the end

The hunt-the dark

The vast-the buried

The Eye is a green sky full of eyes

The lonely is a foggy lighthouse and graveyard

The web is well.. a spider

The corruption is simply a sickly bee hive

The stranger is a circus tent

The spiral is a Neon mess of colors that spiral out from small black doors

The slaughter is an atom bomb with the tune for “a hunting we will go” scrawled up the side of it

The desolation is a melted candle with painted skulls and a match stick on the inside

The flesh is a hunk of meat

The end is a black skull with red vines linking it to the flesh mug

The hunt is a beastly thing with teeth and fur

The dark is a pitch black, sleek and simple version of the hunts vessel. i wanted to base it off of gothic cathedrals and shadows

The vast and the buried are the size of a quarter and thus were hard to paint. The vast is sky blue and the buried is a medium dirt color with craggy rock patterns.

[flecks-of-stardust]

[image description: my new Greenpath Vessel doll. They have two black, oval eyes, two short horns on each side of their head, and a dark blue cloak with a slightly frayed hem and some tears in it. They are supported by my hand. end image description]

babby real :)

no brain cells for a ramble about the process right now, but man crochet is Not the right medium to get that ripped clothing look

also behold, the twins:

[image description: my Ghost and Greenpath Vessel (Orchid) dolls sitting side by side, supported by my arm. They are roughly the same height. end image description]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The little details: A Morgan and Tilith story

The shuttle carved through the upper atmosphere of the planet like a hot knife through butter and smoothly made its way through the swirling cloud banks. 

Aboard the security detail sat in the front of the craft going over the security details one final time while the diplomats in the rear made their own final preparations. 

They were a rather somber group; the weight of what they were meant to achieve bearing down on them as steadily as the gravity of the world they were speeding towards. 

“Shall we go over the talking points once more?” 

The Parziean delegate Jaldel’s voice was quiet but still held a tone of authority. She had asked the question yet was already opening the data packages with her nimble blue fingers as if she had issued a statement. 

Opposite the Parziean the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates were nodding in agreement and opening their own data packages. Jaldel turned and looked at the remaining delegates behind her. “Would you care you care to join us?” 

Occupying the rear corner of the diplomat sat the Hive delegate Tilith. Her size had required the crew to remove several seats to make enough space for her to sit in. When the crew had inquired if she would need specialized safety harnesses for when the shuttle breached atmo Tilith had politely refused, displaying her leg talons piercing through the lush carpet of the cabin and biting into the metal decking beneath it. 

Tilith had not moved for the entire duration of the flight from the federation worlds. Jaldel would have paid her no mind had she not mumbled and made rapid clicking sounds underneath her silver veil covering her mandibles.

“Delegate Tilith I believe is communicating with the Hive mind and no doubt rather engaged to join you” came a voice next to Tilith. 

Sitting next to her sat the human delegate, Earl von Morgan. He was considered a wild card in the federation; his elderly exterior appearance rarely matching his youthful and somewhat bold actions. Rumor was he had pulled a gun on a member of the inner ten when they attempted to black mail him into joining their group shortly before the Secessionist Schism war had broken out and that he was favored by not only Tilith but other members of the Hive ruling caste. 

Morgan calmly shook his head at Jaldel’s offer and instead pulled out a paper wrapped herb from his coat pocket. “I must decline, as I have a feeling that any laid plans we may concoct will be any use to us once we get down there.” 

He placed the wrapping into his mouth and reached into a his opposite pocket to retrieve a small lighter while Jaldel looked at him reprovingly. 

“More of your human wisdom?” the Flinchestet quipped drawing a chuckle from Brumark. 

Morgan lit his wrapping and took a deep inhale of it before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke in the Flinchestet’s direction causing them to cough and wave their hand in the air to disperse the smoke.  

“Rather more of a feeling.” Morgan said, taking another deep inhale as the shutters along the shuttle windows began to rise slowly and for the first time the delegates got a look at the planet they were here to save. 

“Something here feels very wrong.”

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The shuttle doors finally opened and the ramp descended to the muddy surface of the planet much to Jaldel’s confusion. She tapped her communication device in her ear and spoke.

“Pilot, are you sure these are the coordinates you were given?”

“That is correct, mam.” The pilots reply was swift, but held a hint of uneasiness that Jaldel was feeling. “This is the location they gave me to follow for your meeting with the prince.” She looked out of the doorway once again to the world below and found herself hesitant to leave.

The coordinates for the discussion had led them to the front lines of the conflict rather than a safe location far away. the landing pad was nothing more than a hastily assembled cleared area that had been covered with metal grates while all of the buildings surrounding it were somewhat dug into the ground itself. The sounds of distant fighting could be heard and if she listened closely over the spin down of the shuttle engines she could hear the thumping sound of artillery gun.

Across the makeshift landing pad stood a trio of Tugundans. Two were dressed in full battle armor, their faces hard and seemingly uninterested while their weapons were held firmly at their sides. The third Tugundan standing in the middle wore a rather over decorated officers uniform, though even from this distance Jaldel could tell it was stained and hadn’t been cleaned in some time. 

The Flinchestet behind her was looking rather pale, even for one of her kind, and the Brumark was attempting to hide their nervousness by clenching deeply into the cushioned chair beside them. Jaldel stood atop the ramp taking it all in while considering her options when the pilot cut in again. 

“Mam, I’m being told that the delegation needs to exit now or we take off again as medical supply vessels are being held in holding patterns till we clear the pad.” 

Before she could respond Morgan began descending the ramp followed by Tilith who had woken from her trance like state only moments before. Jaldel was struck by how seemingly calm Morgan was as he walked into the warzone and realized she could not be shown up by this human and quickly followed after him down the ramp. 

The delegation made their way across the landing pad and stood in front of the trio of Tugundans. Jaldel stepped forward to the officer and produced a document. 

“By order of the Cosmic Federation, we are here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities between both the Tugunda and the-”

Before she could finish her sentence  the officer held up one hand to forestall Jaldel while the other went to a communication device in his ear. The officer was nodding at something that only he could hear. Without saying a word he pulled out a device and entered in several keys. Behind him large doors opened from the earth entrenched building and he quickly motioned the delegation inside.

“We have just received word that an enemy chemical strike is inbound.” He pointed to the delegations shuttle. “Tell your pilot to get back into the space as quickly as possible and enter the bunker.” 

The Flinchestet and Brumark delegates looked shaken and quickly entered the bunker followed shortly by Tilith and Morgan while Jaldel relayed the officers warning to the pilot. Jaldel watched the shuttle take off again before stepping inside the bunker just as the doors began sealing themselves. 

The group was led through a series of tunnels and passage ways. Overhead the loud thumping of artillery shells impacting could be felt as the tunnels would shake every so often. 

Much to the surprise of the delegation the tunnels were far from empty as row upon row of injured Tugunda soldiers lined either side of the tunnel.  Soldiers rushing passed in the opposite direction left the delegates single file and bumping into the injured soldiers much to their displeasure. 

After some time the group was led into a small room lit with a flickering overhead light. A wide metal table sat under the light with simple metal chairs surrounding it while military maps and charts decorated the walls. 

The officer sat at one side of the table while the two accompanying soldiers left the room to stand guard outside. He motioned the delegates to the chairs opposite him which they reluctantly took. 

“My name is Kucvulan, war strider and second in command to prince Marsov.” He removed his cap to reveal several bandages and dressings covering the back of his head which he bristled at. 

“I am Jaldel, head diplomat of this delegation.” Her emphasis at this was clear to establish her superiority fr the negotiations.   “We are here to negotiate a ceasefire between both parties of this conflict.” At the mention of the ceasefire Kucvulan appeared irked. “Did you not see the dozens of wounded outside? All a result of our enemies brutality; and you would us break bread with them?” 

The Flinchestet delegate coughed. “Forgive me, but we are here to negotiate with prince Marsov. Your feelings are irrelevant to these discussions.” 

“Prince Marsov is currently organizing the war from the front lines and is indisposed of. In his place he has appointed me as his representative.”

Nearly all of the delegates looked surprised at this save for Morgan who quietly sat at the corner of the table next to Tilith. As the negotiations continued he said very little in fact save for the casual remark but otherwise was quiet and calmly stroked his mustache. 

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Several hours had passed before the negotiation broke for the day and the delegates returned to their ship with the ride back into space certainly had a more somber mood as the everyone slowly absorbed what they had seen. It was some time before Jaldel spoke and broke the silence.

“It is clear the Tugundan’s are not at fault for this conflict.” 

Both the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates nodded in agreement. 

“The horrors they have endured no doubt leaving their resolve to finish this conflict iron.”

A soft chuckling drew the gathered groups attention to the back of the shuttle to see Morgan lighting another herbal wrapping.

“What do you find so amusing?” Jaldel said, a tone of anger slowly rising in her voice. 

Morgan took a deep inhale and blew out a small cloud of smoke and looked back at the delegates. “You’ve all been played for fools like a fish biting down on a hook.”

The trio looked confused at this remark as Morgan stood and went to the refreshment cabinet and began pouring two glasses of the finest Gloven wine before returning to his seat and handing one to Tilith. 

“The whole point of our negotiations was to bring about an end to this conflict for both sides.” Morgan began before he took a sip of his drink. “But would it not be better for the Tugundan’s to have the frame of war cast so that it makes them out to be the victims and thus garner more support from us?” Morgan noticed the trios confused faces for the first time. “Are you telling me none of you saw the signs?” 

Jaldel bristled at that remark, taking it as an insult to her intellect. “I believe it is you with the faulty perspective. I was paying attention to every detail from the moment we stepped off the shuttle.” Morgan nodded. “Then let us begin the breakdown of events from there shall we?”

He sat down again and took a fresh inhale before continuing. “Does it not strike you as somewhat odd timing that the exact moment we set foot on this world was to coincide with an artillery attack?” 

“Hardly.” Jaldel counter. “They have been fighting for months on end.”

“A fair point I grant you, but the other side must have known we were arriving as we are scheduled to meet with them as well in the coming days. Why would they jeopardize their negotiating position by launching an attack that may have very well killed us all?” 

Before Jaldel could counter again Morgan continued. “And then there is the manner of the attack itself. Kucvulan said it was a chemical attack, correct?”

“Indeed.” the Brumark spoke. 

“Then where was any of the hazmat protection gear for the soldiers?” 

The trio were silent and so Morgan pressed on. “If these chemical attacks that have badly disfigured their forces have truly been going on for months then every soldier we passed should have had some sort of protective gear they would have been scrambling for at the mere warning of a chemical strike.” 

“We were underground in a secure facility.” the Flinchestet added, “There would have been no need to have such protection.” 

“By that logic then why do ships have escape pods if they were built to not to be destroyed?”  It was here that Tilith spoke for the first time, her voice soft but with a tone that seemed to extend each syllable longer than it needed to be. 

The Flinchestet looked as if they were going to say something but stopped themselves as if realizing Tilith’s point, but Jaldel was still not convinced. 

“Kucvulan himself did not carry one and that confidence must have inspired his troops take comfort that if there commander did not need protection then they must be safe.”

Morgan stubbed the butt of his herbal wrap into the arm of his chair and then tossed it aside into a waste container. “Since you brought him up I think we should discuss the war strider himself next.” 

Jaldel scoff and reclined in her seat. “What is there to discuss? He seems the perfect model of a Tugundan officer.” 

“A bit too perfect for my liking?” Morgan said downing the remains of his drink in a single go. 

“Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?” Jaldel prodded. “Is this all some big show to hide your displeasure at being shown up?”

Morgan laughed loudly and swatted his chair arm at Jaldel’s words. It took him some time to recompose himself and wipe the tears from his eyes before staring down Jaldel. 

“Why would I be jealous of a man so eager to get his head blown off by the first enemy sniper?” 

The trio once again looked confused and now it was Morgan’s turn to lean back into his chair. 

“No sane officer would wear such a brightly colored uniform covered in medals and commendations on front lines. You might as well tie a little sign around your neck saying “Shoot me, I’m important.” Tilith chuckled and the Brumark coughed loudly when Jaldel glared at him. 

“When we passed the soldiers I touched several of them. Though it was brief their minds were full of anguish and pain from the previous days.” 

The Flinchestet’s mind entering ability through physical contact appeared to back Jaldel’s perspective. She nodded to the Flinchestet and smirked at Morgan. “You can not hide the secrets of your mind from a Flinchestet.” 

“Unless you’ve seen a few slasher flicks so I’m told.” Morgan remarked under his breath.“I will grant you I can not deny our colleagues ability, but the evidence does appear to tell a different story.” 

“Any other points that concerned you?” Tilith said, sipping once more from her glass.  

“The last item that struck me as odd was the absence of the prince for our talks.”

“You heard Kucvulan; the prince was on the front lines directing the war.” Jaldel’s rebuke was swift as it was to the point. 

This time it was Tilith to voice her concerns. “This did strike me as odd. What knowledge we Hive have of the prince.”

“Why do you say this?” the Brumark spoke, his attitude suddenly now more interested in the discussion. 

“I entered the Hive subspace and connected with the Hive directly and learned all information we had regarding the prince.” Tilith began, he talons slowly clacking against the decking. “We know that the prince is brash, direct, unimaginative, and hopelessly narcissistic. He is of the kind that would not have missed a chance to show himself off to members of other species.”

“I agree.” Morgan said, much to the surprise of Jaldel. “But all of this leads to a far more dangerous question than the ones we have been contemplating on.”

“And what would that be?” 

“If the Tugundan’s are not capable of such deception, than there is some unseen force here guiding them in the ways of subtly and misdirection.”  Morgan cupped his hands and rested his chin on them as he stared out the window. “And if there is such a force aiding them in this war, we must wonder if they are far more dangerous than the Tugundan war machine.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kucvulan watched the shuttle retreat back above the clouds before returning to the command bunker. He waited until the doors slammed shut behind him before removing a compact communication device and activating it. 

“Everything was done per your request. The delegation is none the wiser.” 

A small image began flickering into place and a man cloaked midnight black coat appeared before Kucvulan. 

“Did it?” the shadowy man remarked. 

Kucvulan was confused for a moment. “Yes, we did exactly as you said and performed the roles assigned to us.” 

The man in the image looked frustrated and shook his head. “You did not. You improvised and put the entire plan in jeopardy!” 

“I-” Kucvulan began before the man continued in a far angrier tone. 

“You were to wait until the first shells hit the ground before ushering the delegation inside but instead did so before the fact! Do you think they are stupid?!” 

Kucvulan remained silent as the man continued to vent his anger. 

“You were aware of how events would play out but instead of keeping that knowledge to yourself you blatantly shared crucial information to them without even being asked for it! It is not a misdirection if you loudly announce “Look here, don’t look over there!” you half wit imbecile!”  

Had it been anyone else speaking to Kucvulan he would have removed their arms from their body and beat them to death with it for such insults. Yet this man had earned the respect of the royal family and his words were theirs. He could not disobey. 

“Forgive me, Yuri. I am not accustomed to such acts of... deceit.”

Yuri pinched his brow and took a long slow breath as if he was explaining his anger to a child. After some time he opened his eyes once more and glared at Kucvulan. 

“Do not endanger this war when we are so close to winning it. We do not need the Cosmic Federation’s intervention just as we have regained the initiative.” 

Kucvulan nodded. “What are your orders now?” 

“I am sending you further instructions for you and your men for events in the coming weeks while negotiations continue. Follow them to the letter. No deviations, no improvisations, no off the top remarks. Just. Follow. The. Instructions.”

With that the communication was disconnected and Kucvulan was left a mix of duty and rage. 

Leave it to humans to make things complicated, he thought as he went to get the new orders.

[salcreus]

What is creation but the rebirth of destruction?

Hermitcraft S8 AU where the world is an unrulable beast, and the sun betrayed the moon. Chapter 1: Existence

…

…

…

And then light. And then shapes, and colours, and textures, and the rhythm of the melodies embracing you, holding you tight. And then grass that prickles you, rain kissing you hello, And then two beings that contemplated one another, as much as one can manage when you don’t have eyes, nor awareness, nor even a heart. Those hadn’t been invented yet, after all. One existed. The other existed back. If they had mouths, they would have smiled at each other.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The city bloomed with chattering and laughter. If you paid enough thought into it, you could hear the business conversations of wandering travellers that stood near the popular fruit market of the town, full with all sorts of wooden stands and their respective owners, some with the most glamorous of covers and others more akin to glorified shoe boxes. The plaza’s floor that hosted said market was adorned with black and white stone tiles, organized to create the most intricate of patterns, there to be marveled by the odd one that would come to visit this town. Though, at the end of the day, it always became a mere background to the busy lives of the people that lived here. A fountain of a fair decent size served as the marker of the middle of said plaza, made up of sculpted nymphs without names nor story. Not that all things need a story, after all- Sometimes, existing is enough of a gift as it is. You could spot a couple sitting on top of one of the borders, spitting sweet nothings to each other as they threw a golden nugget into the crystalline waters.

There were of course other places to sit, a bit further away from the masses, paired with holm oaks that had yet to fully grow, but provided enough of a shade as it were. You can tell that whoever built this place didn’t fully think about how much space the roots would need, as any stone tiles that once were neatly in place, have now popped out into a contorted mess of waves and twists. At least the trees didn’t seem to mind all that much, as long as they got enough food. Surrounding the tiled space, were buildings of lively colours, most akin to the pombaline architecture, with the off hand neo gothic style building. How they were able to make the two work together was something that you’d ponder about later, though it is quite the lively sight to behold. Clothes hung from some of the parapets, going as far as to have rope that connected them one by one, so that they could have more space to dry them all out. At night, the windows framed with metal would glow faintly of warmth and sun, maybe even let escape a chuckle or two, but for now, the bright blue sky reigned high, and thus, the windows stayed open, a curtain peeking out from time to time.

Back into the plaza, a crowd of kids, which don’t seem to look older than 13, gather around a man like a pack of hungry dogs looking at prey, which would be a scary comparison in any other scenario- Fortunately for him, they are merciful creatures, as merciful as one can be when they are filled with undying curiosity. As for said man, nothing special popped out from his stature, except for a ruby embedded into the left upper pocket of his long brown overcoat, a stone that was only ever heard of from legends of the past. It was always warm to the touch, and it smelled faintly of burnt charcoal. Surrounding it was a small embroidery design made out of gold threads, carefully crafted but not too overbearing, letting the precious gem be the star of the show. The kids couldn’t care less about it, though, focusing on their incessant chattering of questions and inquiries. Chorus of wonder, the creativity of children is a curious, yet wonderful thing. “Alright, alright, alright, one at a time! I’m only one guy, after all. Take your turns, and I promise I’ll get to you.” He finally exclaims, with no drop of malice in his tone, though it still earned a few grumbles as an answer. Their chattering dropped to a few murmurs between each other, each child trying to figure out their own words, until a small, yet fierce little girl, with hair coloured gold waved her arm in the air, taking the pause in the conversation to ask the Master a very simple query. “What are Virtues?” And thus, the crowd began to echo it like parrots that had learned a new sentence.

“Well- How do I put this in simple terms-” Pausing, he scrunched his nose instinctively, searching his pockets for any sort of object that could aid him, soon landing on a small leather pouch that contained some redstone he kept in case of need. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do the job. “-So, you know when you want candy really badly, and you keep asking your mom for it? Or you go gather things to make some? You can be so focused on that idea, that your work pays off, and you gain a Virtue! The- uh. Virtue of making candy, we’ll go with that! I mean, you don’t necessarily need to gain a virtue to be really good at making candy, but it can be like… An unlockable option, or even a gift from the gods if you really work hard for it.” The mention of the word “gods” earns a few gasps from the fairly sized gathering of kids, and the man could already tell that they would bug their parents about this story of his later. He even almost felt bad, but then again, it was fairly hilarious to imagine what sort of shenanigans they would get up to. “So you now have this Virtue! But where is it exactly, you might ask- which I know you will- It’s stored inside each one of you.” And on cue, he perks up the pouch mentioned earlier, dangling it near the middle of his chest. “Stored, in a little container, that is kept safe and sound, only accessible to you and you alone. The most common name is Vessel, but I’ve heard other terms being thrown around, like Heart, or Capsule? The world hasn’t decided on that one quite yet, I guess.” “Jeez, that’s gross-” Another kid perked up from the crowd, this time one with hair of ash and dust, freckled cheeks hosting a daring smile that only children can manage to pull off. “Do you have one?”

“First off, mister, it isn’t that gross. I mean, it’s not like you have bits and bobs jangling on your insides. Think of it as a manifestation, transformation, uh… Water, turning into ice! Yeah, we’ll go with that!” With that remark out of the way, and an amused chuckle following it (he was very proud of that analogy! A shame that the kids’ unimpressed looks outed their disagreement with the quality of said analogy.) he puts the tiny bag back where it belongs, clasping his hands together right after, in a way a teacher would when speaking to a class. “Second off, I assume that you mean to ask if I hold a Virtue or not, since the container I talked about earlier is something that all beings have- It just happens to be empty most of the time, because it has no Virtues to hold. Again, again, doesn’t mean that you are uncool, or not- hip. Just that it’s not being used to store things. Ah, the answer to the Virtue thing is no, by the way.”

Silence. For mere seconds, silence of contemplation, assimilating every complicated word they were just taught in a short amount of time, holding onto that curiosity for dear life, because what else is dear but existence and creation, right? After that, murmurs, whispers, tiny words passed by and onto tiny people, tiny ideas, tiny questions. Big questions following soon after, big words, screaming hearts, ideas, doubts, love. Back into the dance of dog and prey. Laughter, not coming from the children, nor the man, but yes from the passersby of the plaza, marvelled at the show being performed. It’s not often that one single person was able to gather such a big crowd, after all! That honour was usually reserved for when the Deities paid a visit, which, although rare, was always a wonder to behold. “Impulse!” The shout from far ahead made the Master jerk his head towards it, soon spotting a splotch of brown and yellow waving at him, and, in return, he chuckled lightly, much to the displeasure of the children surrounding him. “I’m sorry kids, but it seems I have to go now. Whenever I pass by here again, I’ll get to all your questions, I won’t forget about it!” And, even though they played stubborn, they kindly let him through, going back into their incessant chattering of gods and Virtues, as if the man had never been there to begin with. Said man, Impulse, took the opportunity given to him, sparing one last nod and smile as he hurriedly stepped through the tiled floors of the plaza, towards the person calling him. As he got closer, he could spot some smoke, followed by the protests of a half beaten up wagon, its engines rumbling hungrily for action. Near it, was another man, dressed in the same sort of overcoat Impulse bore, though with a pair of mechanical looking glasses held on top of his head, the lenses pairing perfectly with the ruby he also carried. “So, you got everything you had to do here settled, Tango?” One redstoner chirped. “Almost, I just need to take care of some jimagathings, but they don’t have the stock for those ready just yet. Missing out on slime over from the swamp production in the eastern village, they said.” The other redstoner replied. “Well well well, what about you, big guy? Being the folk’s entertainment once again?” With that, he took the opportunity to elbow Impulse, as one does when you want to sweetly mock a dear friend about the silliest of endeavours. “Oh you know how kids are- They haven’t reached that age where schools go more in depth about how it all works, so fancy words like that must look like monsters to them. I’m just their brave dragon slayer, here to help with their adventures.” Now THAT earned a laugh from his audience, one that radiated of effervescent blaze powder, and one could only be glad that there were no carriages of TNT nor brews around these parts. “More like recruiting peeps for Etho to shove his contraptions onto! What a valiant hero you are! If you keep it up, all the children in this town are going to go around crazy about superpowers and gods.” After his remark, Tango took the chance to do one last check on the shulker boxes his old beloved machinery was carrying, making sure it was all loaded in the right sections, before getting into the wagon, proudly taking the driver’s seat. The leather cushions protested at the weight, but luckily it was drowned by the sounds of pipes hitting each other every so often. Soon after, a lightheartedly peeved Impulse followed right along, taking a few steps to reach the free seat near his friend. The interior of the wagon was predominantly a mess of paper and machinery, the spruce wood only being revealed by the occasional forgiving gap in between the clutter, but even so, it was almost a second home at this point. Each scratch and mark that had been left throughout the years contained a story embedded in it, and neither of them would have it any other way. The stories this machine could spill if it had a mouth... “Hey, teaching people redstone never hurt anybody! Too much, that is- Sides, who knows? Maybe someday they

will be so noble that they get invited over to Hermitcraft.”

Tango let out a scornful laugh at the remark, not giving himself the work of sparing a glance to his friend. Instead, he seemed more preoccupied with checking the settings and levels of the contraption, making sure it was all ready to get fired. Only when he was sure he had everything prepared is when he thought about replying to Impulse. “Tsk, what a silly name for a playground made to please Deities of all things, don’tcha think?” To that, he received a simple shrug from the “co-pilot”. “Not our business to decide what gets named what. Sides, it’s a peaceful place, that’s enough for me. Want to keep on chatting, or are you ready to go, princess?” “Please save the princess nicknames for Bdubs or I’m kicking you off the wagon.” “Then better get at it, dude! We have a long way to go until we get to the next stop.” “You’re insufferable.” A thought crossed Tango’s mind, briefly associating his words with someone more akin to Cleo or Hypno, the official manufacturers of sarcastical witty callbacks laid upon the Masters, when they were both wasted, crackling at 3 am, as they kept on trying to make the simplest of circuits come into life, or when they caused havoc upon someone’s land with their newest gadgets. But his sentence had a different taste, one of whiskey and companionship, playful bantering that they both knew the recipe of, or at least he hoped they both did. With that brief moment aside, he finally gave in, blaring the horns of the machinery, as the cogs began twisting into motion, fully waking up the beast of metal that they called a wagon. It released soft puffs of steam every so often, hardened wheels beginning to roll at their perfected pace, as Tango drove along the streets of Abella.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

There’s going to be a part three to benefits right? Like I don’t think I can live without knowing the end of the story.

Conclusions? - C. Hood

Final part of the ‘Benefits?’ Series.

I had planned to release this when my hiatus ended but I have made y’all wait too long, and I was far too excited. This is my fav set of fics that I have done and I’m so glad that people liked them!

I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading, you have my love.

Xoxo - Cas

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Against her better judgement, Y/N had listened to Youngblood as an album on repeat for weeks after it dropped. The songs were powerful, perfect even. She had relished in the sound of their voices, the way they worked their instruments perfectly. She longed for her friends every time she listened, and the pain became addictive. Yet, she found comfort in ‘Moving Along’.

Things had been extra tense since her conversation with Calum. Another week had passed, and they were in another state, the men jumping around on stage, singing their hearts out, putting on a show for all of the people who came to see them.

But... Calum wasn’t himself. He shied away from the flashes of the camera. He still sounded perfect in all of the songs, yet he was dejected. Turned in on himself almost. Shy, hurt.

Per the fans requests, she snapped many shots of Calum, adding them to the plethora of shots of the other guys. She was paid to take photos, after all. She may as well earn her money, even if she struggled to look at Calum without feeling hot tears burn at her eyes.

Moving Along started and she smiled slightly. She especially enjoyed the song, moving her feet to the high energy chorus, ignoring the sting the lyrics left in her heart.

What she didn’t expect, was to turn to take another shot of Calum, and have his eyes staring straight at her.

His verse came, and he tore his eyes away from her faster than expected, and her photo turned blurry.

“Is it bad that I’m hoping that you’re broken? Is it bad that I’m wishing you’re so broken?” His voice broke, crackling as the words danced off of his tongue.

It was subtle, not noticeable to those who didn’t know Calum. Who didn’t know his little quirks, the little aspects of his being that alluded the general public. Y/N knew.

From her position at the front of the stage, she could even see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and the way he rubbed his face on his shoulder, disguising it as an adjustment of his ear piece.

It was the second last song of their set, the collaboration with the Chainsmokers being their last, and then Calum would be off stage.

Watching Calum sing the lyrics struck a chord inside of her. The first verse was full of such anger, but as it progressed, Luke’s verse portrayed sadness. Regret. Everything Calum had been trying to tell her the other day.

The feelings were overwhelming. She was furious. She knew that there was another song for Calum to write, having heard many parts of the other songs the guys were working on, but the pieces worked themselves together in her mind.

She had her speculations, but chose to divert her thought pattern. Every time she cast her eyes on him, she felt a ache in her stomach.

For so long, she had near constant emotion flooding her eyes. She couldn’t disregard her anger.

The songs moved quickly, and she climbed on stage to get photos of the group performance to close the pre-show. Andy had already agreed to take the pics for the Chainsmokers, knowing the tenseness of the past week for her. Y/N was looking forward to escaping to her hotel room and mulling over her thoughts.

For 5 days she had been contemplating whether or not she should stay on the tour. She had savings, enough to rent an apartment in another state. She could find photography work elsewhere.

But, she also couldn’t stand to be away from Calum again. There was a sense of hopefulness existing between them. She was far too scared to grace the topic again, and history had told her enough that Calum wouldn’t attempt to converse with her about it again, but still - she had hope that she would work up the courage to move past her anger and the sadness of her broken heart.

She was looking for a new excuse to forgive him every day, and she found them. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. To tell him that she was sorry for leaving.

She couldn’t bring herself to apologise, when he pushed her away.

She worked up the courage and booked a flight. It was a week away. They had no concerts scheduled for the next two weeks, taking a small break in between states.

She had only told Andy, Alex and Drew about her news so far, knowing they would be the most relaxed. Her relationship with Drew had been near non-existent. She had been using him, but when Calum came back into her life, she could barely be in Drew’s arms without comparing them to Calum.

It was cruel of her to do so, so she made the shift to simply friends. Neither of them missed the benefits connection all too much, and their relationship was already friendly enough.

The days moved along faster than expected until she was three day’s out from leaving.

She had planned to break the news to everybody the next day, but she found that the hardest part was already done when a knock sounded on her door.

Calum was bleary eyed. It had been rare for him to be seen without blood vessels visible in his sclera, and he looked no less worse for wear now as he stood at her door.

She stood in shock when the opening revealed his figure. He looked heartbroken, the same as he did in Ashton’s hotel room a few weeks back.

She fought with herself not to embrace him.

“D’you mind if I come in?” His voice was small, making her heart feel smaller.

Her voice wouldn’t work, instead she moved her body aside to make way for his large frame. He was shrunken. His shoulders sagged slightly, his hands clasped together. A clear sign of his nervousness, to Y/N.

She could often read him like a book, and she could see that he was hurting.

She had been looking for a resolution before she left, and she couldn’t help but think that this could be it. Her stomach was vibrating from the force of butterfly wings, and she watched Calum sit carefully on the edge of her bed.

She watched how his eyes fell over the bed, settling on a familiar green blanket. He had gifted it to her a few years back, knowing she hated to use hotel linen. She adored the soft fabric, taking it everywhere when she was in unfamiliar dwellings.

She forced her eyes away from him, clearing her throat to kick her voice box into the right gear.

“What do you need-“

“You’re leaving.” He said, more of a statement than a question. Her eyes grew in size slightly. She had planned to tell them all the next day, so she couldn’t understand how he had come upon the information. “Andy is a big mouth. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. You should see how he acts when he has content that he can share. He’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas.”

He refused to meet her eyes.

“I was planning to tell you all tomorrow. My planes booked for a few days time.” She hadn’t realised that she had folded her arms, her right hand rubbing along her left elbow. “I didn’t want to leave without telling anybody. Without telling you...”

“Like you did last time?” The words were intended to be venomous, but the sniff that followed told her exactly how he was feelings.

However, her anger still flared, “You know why I did what I did.”

He nodded softly, pawing at his eyes gently, turning his head to look out the window of her room. The sun was setting, the horizon mesmerizing.

“When you first left, I was so angry.” His hands were wringing together again. “I started to hate you. I wanted you to be as broken as I was - as I am. But then...” he blinked, a tear slipping down his face as the light of golden hour washed over his sun kissed skin. “Then I wanted you back. I would get drunk, I would sit there with my phone in my hand and want to call you. I wanted to apologize every day that you were gone, but, I didn’t deserve you. Hell, I still don’t deserve you. I’m the one who said those horrible things to you.”

She stepped closer, watching the way his eyes locked on the scenery outside of her window. The picture in front of her was reminiscent of the night in Ashton’s room, except this time Calum is the one who can’t bear to look at her, for fear of breaking.

“I wanted to talk to you before I left.” She spoke honestly, brushing hair away from her eyes. No matter how hard she fought herself, she wouldn’t look away. Who knew when she would see him again, and she was falling in love with the lines of his face all over again. “I wanted to tell you why I was leaving, but... I don’t know, I was scared of telling you why I can’t stay, and finish discussing what we did that night. I couldn’t start the conversation. I guess I am now, because I can’t keep fighting with myself anymore.”

His brows furrowed, his head slowly turning towards her. “What do you mean, Y/N? What conversation?”

Surprising herself, Y/N felt the butterflies disperse. The man in front of her was Calum. Her Calum. Her best friend for years, the man who knew her inside and out. The man who broke her heart, and who pushed her away.

The pain she felt couldn’t be amplified any more. She knew she could live without Calum, but she also knew that every day would be a new kind of pain. She had decided in that moment that she couldn’t make their situation any worse than it was.

“I mean, I love you, Calum. I love you so much that being around you hurts me.” There were no tears, and her eyes were locked on his. The way his face contorted in pain, and the droplets that’s fell down his round cheeks broke her heart, but she couldn’t let her facade fall. She needed to get this out before she left. “What you said the other night, about loving me - I have wanted nothing more than to hear that for so long. But when I finally told you, you rejected me. You did more than that - you made fun of me.”

He was on his feet, face red, eyes bloodshot. “If I could take back every word I said that day, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was cracking again, she could feel the emotion dripping from him. “Nothing hurts more than when you’re not around. Everyday since we met up again, I wake up and hope that I can do right by you but I know I can never take back what I did. The things I said to you... I hate what I did. I hate that I destroyed something so perfect. Somebody so perfect.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes once again. She wanted to fight it. She didn’t want to spend another night crying over Calum, but the tears weren’t for Calum. They were for the loss she felt. The way she sobbed at night when she wanted nothing more than his presence.

“Don’t, Cal.” She cleared her throat, stepped back. She was retreating in on herself. “Being here, with everyone, it hurts. I spent so long looking for you in somebody else, and now that you’re here, I can barely focus. Every day is like an old wound being reopened. I hear the words you said to me, remember how much it hurt. I just- I can’t be around it anymore,” her voice was a bit higher than a whisper. Neither of them dared to look at the other any longer.

“Moving Along is about you, Y/N,” He sobbed.

It was agony to see him so broken.

He had taken steps towards her and refused to pull her eyes from his face. She wanted to check for any semblance of a lie in his facade. She could read him like a book, and she needed to know his intentions before she chose her next words.

“I have loved you for as long as I have known you, Y/N. I love the way you know nothing about Star Wars, how you’re not afraid to speak your mind. I love you so much that I write countless songs about you. I cant even fucking sleep without thinking of you before. I can’t do anything without remembering the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you fucking do any little thing,” he sobbed again, breathing between his words. “I would do anything, if it means I could have you back in my arms. I would give up all I had, just to see you smile at me again, to tell me that you love me too.”

He walked up to her, hands on either side of her face, forehead against hers. Their heaving breath mixed together, and Y/N fought to keep her cries in.

“Please, Calum,” he felt her tears fall onto his hands. “You can’t want this.”

“I would give up everything, I would leave the band, the public eye, the fans for you. Y/N I would do anything you asked, just to prove to you how much I need you.” He opened his eyes, gauging her reaction. She had pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

She knew it was a horrible decision, but she kept the thought in her mind that she couldn’t make things worse and she pressed her lips against his.

Their tears fell still, the kiss soft and sad. Calum held her face as if he would slip away if not for the feeling if her skin. Her fingers clung onto his shirt so tightly, afraid that he would push her away again.

He pulled away first, eyes still closed. “If you want to leave, then I don’t want to stand in your way. I just need you to know that I have loved you for so long, Y/N, and I will love you for the rest of my life. Nobody will ever mean as much to me as you do, even if you’re not with me.”

It was as if all of the pieces fell into place. She knew what she wanted, and she knew that they had the time to do it. Once again she reminded herself, what could go wrong?

“Come with me.” She stated, more than asked.

“Sweetheart, I can’t-“

“I’m going back home. There’s just over a week until the next show. Come with me, spend some time, just us. If things go well... I’ll one back.”

“And if they don’t? What happens if we can’t get back to us?” He looked hopeful but the fear was hiding deep beneath his chocolate eyes. “I can’t lose you again, Y/N.”

She offered a small smile, raising her smaller hands to wipe the tears still on his cheeks. “Then I guess we will have to make things go well.”

~~~~~

Despite the comfort they shared in her hotel room, the first few days in L.A. were odd. Tense, but Y/N had never felt more at ease than she did in Calum’s house, her spirits hopeful and a smile on his face whenever his eyes fell on her.

By the fifth day, they were dreading returning to the tour. Y/N had decided that she would go back. They had already booked their flights to Chicago, their next stop.

For now, Y/N sat on Calum’s lounge, her eyes glued to the television as she finally allowed herself to watch Star Wars. They were on the third prequel, and Y/N was fighting back tears as she watched Anakin surrender to the dark side.

Calum was laying on his back, his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his gaze focused on her face.

He was following the curve of his nose, the slight swell of her lips as she unconsciously poured at the television. She was mesmerizing.

He couldn’t bring his eyes off of her. He knew that she was going back to the tour with him, but the thought of losing her again was terrifying. She was his oxygen, and he had spent almost a year struggling to breathe.

“If you keep starting at me, I’ll poke you in the eye. This movie is actually decent, stop distracting me.” She grumbled, pouting further when Obi-Wan and Anakin we’re battling.

“I can’t help it. I’ve missed you,” he said without thinking. The past few days had been about honestly, rekindling and catching up. He saw no reason to hold the truth back now.

His words elicited a smile from her, a slight blush peppering her cheeks. “Suck a dick, hood.”

He snorted, “But that’s your job.”

Her fingers were running through his hair absentmindedly; her heart beating fast. This was Calum. Her Calum. The same Calum that knew her inside and out, yet, he still made her nervous.

The last year has been a rollercoaster, but now, she loved him, and he knew, and he loved her as well. He was free from his fear, knowing that nobody else could amount to the woman that Y/N is.

“I love you,” she whispered, casting her eyes down on him. Her smile was small, adorable and it forced a grin to split across Calum’s face.

“I love you,” he answered. He pulled her hand from his head, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “What do you say to getting some Mexican food and binge watching Friday the 13th with your favourite guy tonight?”

She deadpanned, blinking at the tv screen. “How can I do that? Ashton isn’t in L.A.”

“Fine, no Mexican food for you,” Calum huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms in protest.

Y/N pouted, latching onto him like a koala and peppering kisses onto his cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry! I need Mexican food!”

It was safe to say, Y/n got Mexican food that night.

Friends with benefits relationships are always the most dangerous. It is so easy to develop feelings, sharing such an intimate part of yourself with a person, both as a friend and a lover.

Sometimes things are rocky; but other times, the benefits outweigh the negatives.

Tag list: @starshonerose @mantlereid @another-lonely-heart @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @poetnstuff @snookiebrookie @oyesmendes

[the-werdna]

Title: Robcina Week Day 5 - Day of Devotion

Description: Lucina wanted to make the perfect gift for Robin to celebrate the first Day of Devotion they'd spend as a couple. Making homemade chocolates seemed like the perfect idea. With a recipe and ingredients in hand, she set about making this plan a reality. After all, it didn't seem like it would be that hard.

Words: 2118

Lucina coughed, waving her hands frantically to blow away the smoke spewing from the pot she had been slaving over for most of the day. The acrid fumes reached her nostrils, confirming without a doubt it had been another failure.

Why? Why did it burn this time?  Lucina wondered, gazing into the pot at the burned mess that was the chocolates she had been attempting to melt. I thought I followed the recipe exactly, but I can't even get past the first step…

She sighed, feeling like failure once more for the dozenth time that day.

Today was the Day of Devotion, a holiday celebrated throughout all of the Outrealms in honor of love. In particular it was a day for couples to show their appreciation for each other, often through gifts of flowers and chocolate. That later which was why Lucina had found herself in the camp's kitchen the entire morning, desperately trying to turn the ingredients she'd bought into chocolates fit to be a gift for the man she loved above all else.

Maybe I should just purchase some instead. I am certain that is what most everyone has done, she considered, but quickly abandoned the idea. This was the first Day of Devotion she and Robin would share together, so she wanted it to be special. What better way, then, was there to make it special than to gift something she'd made herself?

At that moment she heard the rustle of canvas as the tent flap was yanks open, hurried footsteps announcing the arrival of a newcomer into the kitchen. She didn't even have to turn to see who before the excited voice called out, one she could not help but recognize.

"What smells good but also burny?" chimed Morgan, skipping past her and around the counter to stand at the opposite side.

"Morgan, I was-" Lucina started to tell her daughter. Her words faltered however when Morgan stuck her whole hand into the pot, shoveling the still molten, blackened chocolate into her mouth,

"Just as I thought! Chocolate! And lots of burned bits! Also, ow! Hot" Morgan quickly lapped up the remaining chocolate from her fingers as it started to burn her, only to then start panting like a dog. Evidently, her efforts only managed to start burning the inside of her mouth.

"Holfff ommff" she slurred, rushing over to a nearby bucket of water. Before Lucina could stop her, the girl tipped it up to her mouth, dumping most of it's contents over herself even as she drank down several large, loud gulps.

"Um, Morgan? Are you…" Lucina tried to ask, her words failing her at the bewildering display.

"Ahhh," Morgan sighed contentedly, tossing the now empty bucket aside. "Much better." she grinned, seemingly taking no notice of the fact is was soaking wet from head to toe at this point,

"I…" Lucina could only stare and blink, finding herself at a loss for how she should respond to her daughter. Not that it was an unusual occurrence. Morgan's oddity had become a fact she was well used to by this point, even if each new manner that oddness manifested would, without fail, catch her off guard.

"Anyways, what's the occasion? Making chocolate for 'Dee Oh Dee' Day to give to father?" Morgan asked.

This statement more than confused Lucina, causing her to stare and arch an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what is this 'Dee Oh Dee' you speak… oh, right" Lucina blushed, embarrassed to only then get what her daughter was saying. She had been referring to the holiday by the acronym of it's name.

But wait, wouldn't that mean she called it "Day of Devotion Day", Lucina wondered. She thought to ask, but thought better of it. Best to just answer her daughter's question rather than delve down what would certainly be a rabbit hole of an entirely different sort.

Better not to consider much how her daughter's mind worked.

"Yes, I had hoped to… But as you can see I have not had much success," Lucina admitted, hanging her head sadly. "I can't even manage to melt the chocolate without burning it beyond salvage. I fear if I don't remedy the mistake soon, I will have nothing to show for my efforts."

"Hmmmmm," Morgan returned to the stove, rubbing her chin vigorously as she stared intently at the pot. "Well, for starters you should fill the pot with water instead. Then you put the chocolate in a smaller pot or ceramic bowl and place that over top. That way the steam heats it up more slowly, and you can easily remove the bowl whenever it gets too hot," Morgan said, abruptly spinning to look face her with an expression of extreme pride.

Again Lucina could only stare, this time in astonishment. "Morgan, since when did you know so much about cooking? This is the first time I've heard you speak as such on this matter."

"Oh, that! I've been having Noire teach me how to bake! It's actually really fun!" Morgan answered, weaving her hands behind her head and grinning proudly. "Plus with that newfound power, I can make dessert for myself whenever I want! I'm now unstoppable!"

Lucina's mood has begun to lift at the start of Morgan's explanation, only to abruptly plummet at the last part, replaced by a flat, stern look only a mother could give. "Morgan… you're not allowed to only eat sweets. You still have to eat your vegetables."

"Nuh uh, I'm unstoppable now, remember!" Morgan argued. "Fear me! I have become death, baker and devourer of cake!"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you will," Lucina warned, crossing her arms. "Give me one reason why I should let you?" And why must I even have this discussion? Gods, Morgan… can you at least try to act your age on occasion? she thought to herself

"Because if you don't then I won't help you make those chocolates for father in time!" Morgan countered sticking out her tongue. "I mean, if we got started now we could get them finished in no time!"

"Wait… you really believe there is still time?" Lucina asked, an ember of hope returning to her.

"Of course. I'll show you what to do! Trust me, it's easy once you know how!" Morgan said, hopping up and down excitedly. Without waiting for an answer she began sprinting around the kitchen, snatching up vessels and utensils for them to use.

"Alright, alright, I see you are quite committed then," Lucina said, unable to help herself but laugh at her daughter's enthusiasm. Certainly, her energy could do wonder to lift the spirits of those around her, especially in times like this. "However, we will still need to have a talk about your eating habits when we are done."

"Awwww, for real?!" Morgan complained.

. . . . .

"Alright, there he is" Morgan hissed, far too loudly to be a whisper. Lucina felt her daughter give her a shove from behind, causing her to stagger and nearly trip.

"Morgan!" she whispered back, making no move to approach her husband. From behind the row of tents they could see Robin making his way down the dusty road as he returned to camp from the nearby town, a bag held in one hand.

Lucina righted herself, clutching the wrapped box containing the chocolates she and Morgan had made, carefully not to drop or otherwise harm them. To do so now, after all their hard work would be the truest of shames.

"Go! Go! Kiss! Kiss! Go! Go!" Morgan urged, giving her another shove.

"Morgan, please. You do not need to-" Lucina started to argue.

"No time! He's here! I'll be rooting for you!" Morgan gave a final shove, this time even more forceful than before, pushing Lucina straight out into the open…

… and nearly crashing head first into her husband. There was a yelp of surprise and for an instant Lucina was certain she'd trip. But an arm shot out, gripping her hand even as she grabbed onto his shoulder, managing to remain on her feet.

"Lucina?" Robin asked, helping her right herself. "I'd say this is a surprise, but that would be cliché… if truthful, at least in this manner," he laughed, stepping back.

"Yes, I'm… I'm so sorry if I startled you, Robin. It was not my intention, but… well… Morgan…" she shot a glance back to Morgan, who wasn't as well hidden as she likely imagined she was behind the tents. For one thing the messy mop of her blue hair was just barely visible as she peeked over the top to peer back at them.

"Ah, right. That certainly explains things," Robin said, following her gaze to notice their daughter as well. His attention then turned to the box Lucina was holding. It certainly was hard to miss, wrapping in shiny blue paper and tied in a large red bow. "I take it that it's for me?" he asked.

"Oh, um… yes!" Lucina said, flustered as she gave a bow of her head and offered the box to him.

Taking it gingerly, Robin unwrapped the bow, opening up the container to reveal the chocolates she and Morgan had spent so much time crafting.

"I made them myself… well, with some help from Morgan in the end. I spent the entire morning in the effort. So I hope… I hope they are pleasing enough," she explained as Robin looked into the box. Truth be told Lucina was very proud how they turned out, nearly perfectly round and uniform in size, but each decorated with white chocolate in the pattern of a different flower.

"Honestly, Lucina, you really didn't need to go through so much effort merely for my sake. I would have been happy with anything. I don't quite believe I am deserving of this," Robin told her, his gold-brown eyes shimmering ever so slightly as he gazed back at her. It was a testament to just how touched he was by the gift.

Then he took out one of the chocolates and plopped it into his mouth, smiling as he chewed. "They're really good, Lucina. Better than anything I could have made… though I suppose that's a poor compliment considering that's not a particularly high bar," he added, chuckling at his own reputation for possessing truly dismal cooking ability.

"I'm glad you liked them," Lucina said. She fidgeted with her sleeve, tugging on it and looking around fervently. There were too many people around, Morgan included, to make her feel comfortable to show the more open gestures of affection she so desperately wished to partake in.

"Oh, I almost forgot. It's not something I made myself, but I got you these," Robin said, reaching into the bag he was holding. It was beaucette of flowers: red and pink roses mixed with the white flowers of the same type Robin had given her on the day he had confessed his feelings for her.

"Sorry that it's nothing elaborate, but I wanted to get you something all the same. I am afraid when compared to your gift, my own has come up short…" he said guiltily.

"No, it's quite alright. They are lovely, Robin," Lucina assured him Taking the flowers in hand she hesitated a moment, again reminded about how public the place they were in was. No, that was no excuse. She could find the courage for one kiss.

Sucking in a deep breath Lucina stepped forward, pressing her lips into his. His mouth tasted sweet from the chocolate. Then she pulled away, blushing. "Thank you. For thinking of me."

"Heh, and you as well," Robin replied. He chuckled nervously, trying to hide his own embarrassment. "But is this really the place for this. We're out in the open.

Lucina inclined her head, conceding to this point. "Shall we go then? To somewhere a certain someone won't be watching us?" Lucina asked, eyes glancing back to where Morgan was failing to remain hidden. "You know, for perhaps an, um… repeat performance of that kiss," Lucina blushed at this

Robin smiled at this, catching her meaning even if he blushed even more fiercely, torn between joy and embarrassment. "Ah… erm, right. Of course," he hooked his arm around here's the two of them turning to face the camp and the direction of their tend. "Let's go then."

With that, arm in arm, they started into camp… for about three steps before Robin abruptly yanked both of them back. The ground before them caved in, revealing a ten-foot deep pit that had laid hidden but a moment before.

"Nice try, kiddo!" Robin called out to Morgan's hiding place.

"Awwwwwww," groaned Morgan, her disappointment at her trap failing truly unmeasurable.

[themanicmagician]

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.  

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You  really  shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They’d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 9)

Summary: It's time to end this...

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Swordfighting, a wee bit of blood, swearing, total exhaustion

Word Count: 2,738

Read on AO3: here

There was no obvious way to cross. Roman stopped with his toes nearly brushing the surface of the water. “JADIS!” he called across the distance. “Usurper! I, Prince Roman, do hereby challenge you!”

For the briefest instant, a paper-white face appeared in one of the high windows of the castle, displaying a subtle but unmistakable expression of pure disdain before its owner moved out of view again.

Roman was crestfallen, but Virgil moved up alongside him, saying “Pfft, rude.”

“I would have thought she'd be thrilled to take out her vengeance on me.”

“I'm sure she is...but she wants to do it on her terms. Why answer an open challenge when she can wait a while and then ambush you when you least expect it?”

“Well, she's getting an open challenge whether she wants one or not. I just have to figure out how I'm getting to her.”

Logan tossed a pebble out into the water. It made a very satisfying plunk, with rows of even ripples. “The water is at least a few feet deep. I recommend against swimming or wading—immersion in liquid that supports a large quantity of floating ice is almost certain to cause hypothermia.”

“Maybe we can somehow get the ice chunks to line up and form a bridge...?” Roman suggested, but he didn't sound confident.

“Can't you just make a bridge? Or a boat or something?” said Patton. “Now that you're back to being the Creativity we know and love?”

Roman made an exhalation that was halfway to being a sob and said, in a voice with a hairline crack, “I suppose it can't hurt to try...”

He closed his eyes, cupped one hand beside the other as though sheltering a tiny flame, and focused all his power on making something, anything, that would enable them to cross the water. Please...I'll accept anything...a raft...a rope...come on, please!...

He couldn't even say who or what he was begging, but whatever it was...it answered. Roman knew his attempt had worked—more or less—when he heard Patton snicker behind him. He opened his eyes and turned around.

Roman hadn't known what to expect, but he definitely had not expected a buff-colored mushroom the size of a dinner table for eight, with Logan examining it curiously and Remus poking the spongy substance and giggling. Roman blinked at it several times before the irony hit him, at which point he abruptly doubled over with guffaws, bracing his hands on his knees in order to keep from falling over.

“Roman? You...good?” asked Virgil.

“I finally made a mushroom!” Roman wheezed. “After all that angst back there...”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” said Logan.

“I'll tell you guys later,” Roman said, straightening up and rubbing fresh tears from his eyes. “For now...” He unsheathed his sword and severed the mushroom's cap from its stalk almost effortlessly. It landed at the water's edge, floating high. “All aboard who's coming aboard!”

They all fit easily enough, though they had to crowd together to keep their feet from getting wet. Roman took up a perch at the side of the mushroom facing the bank, braced his boot against the earth, and shoved, casting them off. Their peculiar vessel spun gently as it drifted toward the White Witch's castle. Now and again an ice chunk would approach, and whoever was closest to it would kick it away, altering both the spin and the drift in little ways. It took several minutes before the mushroom grounded itself in the far side of the lake.

The portcullis was closed, its iron lattice too tight to admit anything larger than a loaf of bread. But Roman was unfazed. He had made a mushroom. He whipped his sword through the air a few times, and a man-sized section of the bars simply collapsed. He led the other Sides through the courtyard—now empty of statues, as though Aslan's spring had freed the petrified creatures without his direct involvement—and down the corridor to the White Witch's throne room.

They were expected.

Jadis sat enthroned, flanked along the dais by the captains and lieutenants of her armies, a fair sampling of the horror monsters Roman had brought to the Stone Table only that very morning. Many of them carried spears, axes, and clubs. Maugrim paced along the floor in front of the dais in an oddly catlike fashion, his eyes never leaving the party as they entered.

“And here he is!” the Witch declared as though Roman had been the topic of conversation in the room. “I knew you would not be long in returning to me, Prince Roman. And you've brought your fellows with you! Tribute, perhaps? They will look lovely in the courtyard.”

Roman marched to the middle of the hall and leveled an accusing finger at her, eliciting gasps from the assembled creatures. “Usurper! Pretender to the throne of Narnia! Why do you still sit there? You have lost—Aslan has returned, your endless winter has given way to spring, and I...” He swallowed. “...I have purged myself of your malign influence.”

“An influence you welcomed,” Jadis said smoothly. There was the faintest hitch of breath behind him, and her smile broadened. “Why, Roman. Did you not tell them how you came to be the White Warlock?”

“Not yet,” Roman said, trying to sound casual about it. “Don't change the subject. The jig is up, Jadis, and you will quit this castle, take your followers, and leave Narnia forever.”

“Or?” she prompted. Her voice was like a shower of slender icicles pattering down from a shaken branch.

“Or face me in single combat. Me, Jadis. The one who stole your power, stole your very being, into myself, when you were on the brink of victory. Duel me for the right to say what will become of you and your armies.”

Something unprecedented happened.

Jadis laughed.

It was nothing hearty or prolonged, just a quick scoffing exhalation, but it was a laugh. “Or perhaps I shall simply ignore your demand, kill you all, and carry on as I have. Aslan's return means nothing with no candidates to place on the thrones of Cair Paravel.”

“You may find that difficult,” Roman said through gritted teeth, “if I drop the scenario right now and all this vanishes.”

“Oh shit, he's going meta!” Remus stage-whispered.

“Watch your language!” Patton scolded.

“Is that an extreme measure?” Logan asked.

“Are you kidding, Five-Eyes? It's the last resort for a creative type! He's talking about scrapping the story before he gets to the ending!”

“Bollocks!” shouted one of the lieutenants, a goblin-esque creature. “If he has that kind of power, why even offer a duel?”

“My reasons are my own,” said Roman. “The point, Jadis, is that you are being offered a chance. You're a proud woman, but suicidally proud? I don't think so.”

All Narnia held its breath as the Witch considered. After a moment that seemed longer than it was, she rose to her feet. “I accept. We shall duel here, and at once. It begins as soon as I descend to the floor.” She began to walk down the steps of the dais, directly toward Roman.

“Weapons only! No magic from either of us!” Roman said hastily.

“Agreed,” said the Witch with the confidence of someone who is stronger and has longer reach than their opponent. She drew her long stone knife from the sash at her waist.

“No one is to interfere!” Roman added, fighting the urge to back away.

“Agreed.”

Jadis's foot hit the floor, and she charged.

Roman launched into motion himself, and met the charge.

That first blow, stone blade meeting steel, threw up a shower of sparks too bright to look at. The Witch pressed Roman until his boots skidded on the frozen floor, and only by reacting immediately, breaking the blade lock and flinging himself to the side, did he avoid being stabbed then and there.

He rolled onto his back—and she was on him, forcing him to block again, one hand grasping the hilt of his sword, the other awkwardly pincering the blunt edge of the blade. He managed to get his knee up and threw her off, over his head, while ruthless physics sent him slipping in the opposite direction. He scrambled to rise and got as far as a sitting position just in time to see the Witch roll, turning her tumble into a graceful slide, one leg bent under her and the other extended off to the side, her arms counterbalancing.

Elapsed time of the duel so far: perhaps six seconds.

Lewis really undersold her, Roman found himself thinking lightheadedly.

And now the spectators were finding their voices. The prince's spirits lifted when he first heard Patton crow “You can do it, Roman!”...but in the next instant, it was drowned out by the gibbering howls of the Witch's followers from every side of the room. That was all he was able to register before she came at him again, her knife lashing the air in a pattern almost too complex for him to follow.

Almost...Somehow, he managed to parry every strike and even offer a few ripostes. The very end of the sequence gave him an opening to lunge and swipe—she dodged the blow handily, but his sword sheared off a lock of her coal-colored hair. She shrieked with rage.

“Yeah! Shave her bald!” Remus cackled.

“Not helping!” Roman barked.

But it hadn't really hurt either. The prince was getting the hang of fighting on the slick surface; his footing became surer, his movements more confident, his strikes more forceful. The Witch was taller and stronger and had the home-field advantage, but Roman had the superior weapon—two feet of folded steel compared to eight inches of carved stone—and with his insecurities about the arena ironed out, it began to make a real difference. She could lunge at him with inhuman speed and grace, but if he brought up his blade in time, she had to pull her blow lest the knife break on the sword's edge...and that instant of hesitation would give him an opening. The tide of battle turned, and Jadis began to be driven back within her own throne room. The shouts of alarm from her followers were nearly deafening.

(It was at this point that Maugrim, who was nothing if not loyal, began to slink around behind the rows of spectators, looking for a chance to rush to his queen's aid. He thought he found one and tensed to make his move—only to find himself physically stopped by an arc of steel wrapped around his neck exactly as though he were a wayward sheep. He turned to snarl at the interloper and was greeted by a slit-pupilled eye as frightening as any in the White Witch's armies.

“None of that, naughty puppy,” Janus said in silken tones. “No interference, remember? I'm sure your mistress would much rather you strive to keep her honor intact.”

Maugrim's hackles went up and he prepared to overpower Janus through sheer bulk and muscle, but then...)

A gasp went up from Jadis's followers, followed by an immediate hush that blanketed the entire hall. Roman had disarmed her, sending the stone knife tumbling end-over-end across the chamber. She desperately ducked his sword and scrambled to retrieve her weapon, but it struck the wall point-on, digging deep into the frozen surface and sending out cracks that spread rapidly until a section of ice the size of a mattress was sheared off. It barely missed her as it crashed to the floor and shattered, the impact throwing her off her feet.

She looked up into the tip of a blade. “Yield,” Roman said coolly. “You are defeated.”

“You mean to let me live?” Jadis said with a bitter smile. “You know I would not do you the same courtesy.”

Roman winced almost imperceptibly. “I have caused enough death in Narnia. Yield...quit this land forever, and take your creatures with you.” When he got no response, he thrust his sword at her face, drawing a single drop of blood from her chalk-colored cheek.

“I-I yield,” she said, wide-eyed.

Roman half-turned to address the room, keeping his sword trained on his downed opponent. “You have all witnessed her surrender!” he declared. “This regime is at an end!”

One of the monsters raised a keening wail, an acknowledgment of defeat, and was soon joined by others. Those who bore weapons threw them down, and a few made florid obeisances in Roman's direction.

For the first time in days—since he had first begun to feel that he was being steered toward the role of Edmund—Roman felt the tension begin to bleed out of his shoulders. With the wails of the Witch's followers blending into a sort of white noise in his head, he let his eyes slide closed and his sword arm droop, and took a moment just to breathe—

“Roman! Look out!”

—and his eyes snapped back open just in time to see Jadis springing at him with her wand raised (where had she gotten it from?) and there was no time, no time to do anything but drop his sword and bring up his hands to grab—

There was a flash of light, as bright as lightning at the same distance, and a horrible cracking, crunching sound. When it subsided, Roman and the White Witch stood perfectly still, holding her golden wand aloft between them, her face frozen in a snarl of fury, his in understated alarm that hadn't had time to gel...neither one blinking.

Utter silence reigned in the throne room for a long moment. When sound returned, it was in the form of a whimper. “Both of them...both...” Patton muttered, before he broke the stillness and ran up to the twin statues. He lifted a hesitant, trembling hand to touch Roman's shoulder...

Roman blinked, and sighed, and his posture sagged...not stone after all. He let go of the wand as if prying his fingers free of some powerful glue, and as Patton seized one of his hands in a desperately relieved gesture and the other Sides jogged over to the two of them, his knees began to buckle in slow motion. He wound up in a sprawled kneeling position, his legs bent out to the sides, gazing up at the petrified form of his enemy. Her marble complexion was now literal, her hair sculpted waves of obsidian, her lips a scarlet flaw in the surface of the stone, parted to show more white marble behind.

“I did it...” he said in a tiny voice.

“You did do it!” Patton agreed. “Roman, you were amazing!”

“Indeed, I never realized before just how adroit you are at swordsmanship. Well done,” Logan added.

“I defeated the White Warlock...” Roman continued.

“You mean the White Witch,” said Virgil.

“Yes...her too.” Roman closed his eyes again. He was exhausted. “It's time to go home,” he whispered, or maybe just thought. A proper denouement would have been nice, but his energy well had finally run dry. The throne room slowly faded to white around them.

“Uh...” Virgil observed.

“S'all right,” Roman murmured. “Remus, can you...”

“Brilliant idea, giving Remus an open-ended question,” Janus remarked dryly. Curiously enough, however, the other Creative Side was already drawing lines in mid-air in a hurried fashion. Color and texture filled them in, making the image of a miniature door, about half the size of a normal one.

“Whoops, drew it too far away,” said Remus. “Well, come on, it's not going to pound itself until it bursts open!” He set out at a brisk walk.

Virgil and Patton helped Roman to his feet, one arm over each of their shoulders, and more-or-less carried him the short walk to the door.

“Remus, while we have your attention,” said Logan, begging a rather important question, “I have a more defined question for you. Specifically: five eyes?”

“Yep!” Remus replied, arriving at the door and rapping on it in an uneven pattern that had to be a code of some kind. “The two in your eyesockets, your glasses, and the one on the end of your—”

Fortunately, the door opened before he could end the sentence.

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 33 - Midway

The Typhoon had been zipping all over the pacific throughout the US-Chinese war. This was possible because the ship had cloaking technology and could fly. But a large portion of the US navy was still relegated to the eastern half of the ocean, unable to move west due to Chinese forces.

However, with recent US gains, the offensive had started. Naval forces were now planning a significant strike back against the Chinese Navy and Air Force at the island of Midway.

A US armada, including the Typhoon, aircraft carriers, and numerous smaller escort vessels, was already making haste to meet with an equally sized Chinese fleet.

"I expected more airships," Laval said from the bridge of the Typhoon while JayJay sat nearby and filed her claws. "But we're the only one here."

"Airships are still an experimental technology, Laval," Toothdee noted, sitting in the captain's chair and piloting the ship. "Aquatic vessels are still the mainstay for the world's nations."

"Oh great, your telling me our home and HQ is an experimental vessel?"

"Don't worry, Laval, it's perfectly safe."

"Say, have you guys seen Fabienne?" JayJay asked.

"Oh, the reporter. She's probably filming something." Laval said, "I just hope she stays safe when the fighting breaks out."

"She's worked as a war correspondent before," Toothdee said. "She told me she was getting some shots of the ships from one of the outside decks. Speaking of which...."

The Heroes commander turned the radio on again.

"Fabienne, do you read? Are you alright?"

The snow leopard had set up some recording equipment on one of the outside platforms on the Typhoon's exterior. The ocean breeze blew through her fur, and the beautiful blue sea and sky were visible all around her.

"Do you read?"

The reporter's ears perked up, and she grabbed the radio she had been given since her first day on the Heroes ship.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm ok. Just about to film a quick shot of the fleet."

"Ok, finish up quickly and get back inside."

"Will do."

The snow leopard turned off the radio and took one last look to make sure her tripod-mounted camera was lined up properly before clicking the record button. Afterward, she quickly tested the audio and the microphone on her collar and stood in position. She was a meter from the camera, off to the side. Enough so that the device could see the fleet of US warships in the background, along with the reporter. She was careful not to step too close to the edge of the platform. Because while there was a railing, she did not want to risk falling overboard.

"Hello, this is Fabienne Growley, coming to you from aboard the Typhoon in the pacific. US naval forces are moving to secure the region around Midway island. They are being led by Heroes, and their airship, the Typhoon. A Chinese fleet is in the area, hoping to defend their territory from the encroaching US forces. At this time, it is impossible to say what will occur during this battle, but this could be a turning point for the war in the Pacific."

The snow leopard moved over to the camera and stopped the recording before packing up all her equipment. As she entered back into the vessel, Fabienne contacted Toothdee on her radio.

"I'm heading back inside Toothdee. I'll get to my battle station."

"Ok, you'll be safe there."

"I guess she got her shot," Laval said as Toothdee disconnected the call.

"Let's check in with everyone else while we're at it. Our forces are spread out all around the area, so we should be able to cover the entire field of battle." She said, switching the channel on her radio. "Heroes, this is the Typhoon. What's your status?"

"This is captain Boehm. Eris and I are flying the deadly skies."

The 2 young pilots zipped through the air above the fleet in their jets. Eris was flying her blue and white eagle interceptor, one that she had modified to her specifications.

Alex flew a custom F-35, one of the standard jets of the US Air Force.

"Nice flying," Eris said, the pair of jets turning and circling the US fleet.

"Thanks, your pretty good yourself. But your reputation precedes you." Alex said, looking at the tally marks on the jet's hull.

"I like your plane's color scheme," Eris said, drawing attention to the aircraft's metallic exterior, which was dark gray in color. A few shiny red, white and blue lines ran along the wings and near the cockpit as a patriotic gesture.

"Thanks! Lately, I've been wondering if I should paint it with some other pattern or color scheme. But that's not the only thing that's different about this plane. It's been modified with upgrades including stronger weapons and armor."

"Alright, you two, don't you keep your heads in the clouds for too long," Toothdee said, be forcing changing the channel on her radio. "Kion, Jasiri, what's your status."

"Kion here. I'm just taking a look at the cannon on this destroyer. This thing looks like it will pack a serious punch."

The lion touched and inspected the barrel of a forward-mounted turret on a US destroyer. Jasiri was nearby, leaning against a railing and enjoying the sea breeze.

"I'm here as well, Toothdee, just enjoying the calm before the storm."

"Alright, keep your heads on the swivel. Your job is to provide support to other US forces. That's why your stationed where you are. Toothdee out. Nick, Judy, you two better not be making out or something."

"Hey!" Judy said, jumping up from where she was lying on the beach.

"Unfortunately, no." Nick said, "we're just sitting here, relaxing- I mean, guarding, this wonderful- I mean, important beach on the midway island."

"Well, you two better stay on guard, lest the Chinese land on Midway, and it's an atoll, Nick."

"Don't worry, no matter what it is, we'll keep it safe."

Judy was still blushing a bit from embarrassment as Toothdee switched the radio channel over to someone else.

"Well, carrots, that was a rude interruption to our make-out session."

"Haida, Retsuko, are you there?" Toothdee said.

"Oh hey, Toothdee," Retsuko said. She was standing in the cargo bay on the Typhoon, stocked with equipment and whose walls were made of hardened metal. "Haida's in the bathroom, but we're right here on the ship, ready to help however we can."

"Glad to hear it. I know your job isn't the flashiest, your not racing into combat, but your job is no less important. It's because of you two that we get our supplies, and all the paperwork gets sorted."

Retsuko blushed and smiled to herself. Her last job didn't appreciate her at all, so it was nice to hear that she mattered.

"Thank you, you don't know how much that means to me. Oh, and that reminds me...."

The red panda clambered on top of a large crate. It was a crate designed for lion-sized mammals, so it was difficult to scale, but Retsuko managed. She compared the label on the container to the writing on a notepad in her hand.

"....we should be fully stocked. We've got plenty of ammo. I checked twice."

The red panda jumped down from the crate and brushed some dust from the blue pants of her uniform. It wasn't required by regulation, but it made her feel a lot more formal when working, which helped her focus.

"Again, thank you." Toothdee said, "always know that you're a part of the team."

The Heroes leader switched the radio channel for the last time and spoke again.

"Jack and Skye, do you read?"

"We hear you, Toothdee."

The fox and bunny couple were in a small rubber-hulled military boat, speeding through the waves. Skye maneuvered the rubber craft around warships and larger vessels. At the same time, Jack stood ready at the boat's mounted minigun, which was a bit large for a rabbit, but he was up to the task of operating it.

"We're ready and waiting," Jack said, holding on tight as the boat hit a wave.

"Lovely day for a battle," Skye said.

"Keep your heads on the swivel. I'm glad we have the support of 2 ZIA agents during this engagement."

Toothdee turned off the radio and returned her focus to the Typhoon's controls.

"Why do you think the Chinese are even here anyway? We keep stopping their assaults."

"I can only speculate, but they probably just can't stop fighting. China has to demonstrate its strength and that it is the world's foremost superpower. Basically, the Chinese need to prove that they, and their way of thinking, are right. Not to mention victory would put them in a very favorable position on the world stage."

The radio came to life again as the voice of a US sailor came through.

"Enemy vessels spotted!"

On the horizon, black shapes appeared and started to grow closer and closer. Chinese warships of the People's Liberation Army Navy. Accompanying them were planes of the Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force.

"LAVAL! JAYJAY! BATTLE STATIONS!" Toothdee said, prompting the lion and wolf to hop into their weapon positions as armored panels slid up to cover the Typhoon's bridge window.

There was a brief respite of calm, yet the tension was palpable as the two fleets drew closer and closer before entering weapon range.

Missiles and cannons opened fire, projectiles cutting through the sky and either splashing into the sea or impacting enemy warships.

JayJay, Laval, and Toothdee operated the Typhoon and its weapons systems, sending a flurry of shots towards enemy ships and planes. A dark black PLAAF fighter jet that looked heavily modified was leading the charge. Still, it weaved and launched flares to avoid incoming fire.

"that lead aircraft is giving off a unique signature on our sensor equipment," Toothdee noted.

The pair of gunners targeted a formation of hostile bombers with missiles and machine gunfire. Shots were tearing through the wings and into the fuselage while missiles filled the planes with shrapnel. The large airplanes either crashed into the ocean or exploded violently in a massive fireball.

"You know, this is cool and all, but somehow I'd rather be on the ground fighting," JayJay said.

"I get that," Laval said. "We all have our preferred style of combat."

"Agreed." Toothdee said, "It's just sometimes someone has to be around to operate the ship and its weapons. Thankfully you guys are trained for that."

The Typhoon then moved to engage a Chinese destroyer, battering the side of the vessel with cannon shots.

Explosions ripped through the metal of the ship, with the hull starting to fracture and break. After a few moments of sustained bombardment, the boat sank beneath the waves with a loud gurgling noise.

The Typhoon then focused its weapons on a group of smaller watercraft, with PLAN soldiers on the sides of the vessel, firing machine guns missile launchers.

"Damnit, they keep moving too fast!" Laval said, the small vessels zipping at high speed around the typhoon and opening fire.

However, despite this, the Typhoon eventually was able to appropriately target the smaller craft and shred them with weapons fire.

One escort vessel was torn apart with machine guns. While another was utterly obliterated by large cannon shells.

"We're really mopping the floor with them Heroes, but that's going to be a problem," Toothdee said, looking straight ahead towards a hostile aircraft carrier that was launching fighters. "We're going to need some support for that."

The Heroes leader looked out the port side of the ship and saw a US destroyer nearby and quickly radioed for backup.

"Destroyer, USS Gridley, this is the Typhoon. We're heading towards that Chinese carrier and would appreciate the support."

"Affirmative Typhoon, moving to support."

Along with a few other escort vessels and aircraft, the pair of warships made haste towards the PLAN aircraft carrier, accompanied by escort craft.

The vessels closed in on each other, and once the Typhoon was close enough, it opened fire on the carrier with its weapons. The Gridley followed suit, both ships pummeling the carrier with weapons as the escort vessels of both sides battled it out.

The Gridley and Typhoon pulled close, able to wreak massive damage at this close range. Shells ripped through the vessel's hull, and missiles pummeled the bridge.

Kion was operating a mounted machine gun on the outside deck of the Gridley and was spraying the aircraft carrier deck with machine gunfire. Shots tore through equipment, aircraft, and personnel.

"RELOAD!" the lion yelled.

Jasiri was ready to support him, quickly removing the empty magazine and inserting a fresh one, allowing Kion to resume firing. Chinese troops on the carrier deck fired back but were swiftly eliminated.

"Hell yeah!" Kion said, triumphantly raising his fist in the air.

The pair of ships pulled away from the carrier, which was billowing smoke and listing heavily. While the Typhoon moved off to find another target, the Gridley made haste towards an enemy destroyer moving away from the battle zone, having sustained heavy damage.

This hostile ship had been marked as a high-value target, a destroyer that was equipped with a wide range of advanced electronic sensors and weapons. These were used for area denial and electronic warfare operations, along with communications support. Its advanced capabilities were making it a thorn in the side of the American fleet.

"I'm guessing that's our next target," Jasiri said, pointing towards the damaged ship.

Kion laughed, "ha, easy prey."

But the Chinese destroyer was not alone. It was covered by a squadron of planes that moved in to engage the approaching US destroyer. The unit included the jet black PLAAF aircraft that had led the charge earlier. This elite plane was faster and more maneuverable than the others, and its weapons were likely more powerful as well.

The warship's guns opened fire on the incoming aircraft, and even Kion tried engaging them with his mounted machine gun. But the lion and Jasiri needed to duck as explosions went off nearby, missiles hitting and crippling the ship's gun systems.

One fighter was destroyed, and it crashed into the sea nearby with a massive splash. As the jets came around and prepared to make another attack on the destroyer, friendly aircraft arrived and chased the Chinese jets off.

But the Gridley had been left worse for wear, smoke billowing from damaged areas, and alarms blaring all over the ship.

"We better go see what the situation is," Kion said before he and Jasiri entered the warship and moved to the bridge.

The captain of the vessel, a mountain lion, was looking over a computer screen and talking with two other sailors.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kion asked, and the Mountain lion looked up.

"Our weapon systems have been hit. We can't return fire with our main guns. But that enemy vessel we were going after is still active. Its own guns and engines have been knocked out. However, it still has its electronic warfare capabilities."

"So it's been disabled..." Jasiri said, "...but not destroyed."

"Correct. Its systems are wreaking havoc with our own sensors." He pointed to the computer screen, which was partly frozen and full of error messages. "It still poses a serious threat."

"Hmm, then we still need to destroy it. Pull up alongside the vessel, and ready the marines and sailors."

"What? What are you going to do?"

"Something they definitely won't be expecting."

Kion, followed by Jasiri, headed down to the ship's main deck, where friendly troops were preparing themselves. A fox marine opened a weapon container and handed out rifles to other troopers before tossing one to a sailor some distance away.

The two Heroes stood in front of an assembled group of troops ready to receive orders.

The US Navy vessel pulled alongside the Chinese ship as enemy troops swarmed the deck of the hostile craft.

"Follow me!" Kion yelled, raising his sword and roaring, prompting US marines and sailors to raise their weapons and let our battle cries.

Blade in hand, Kion charged towards the PLAN vessel, leaping off the deck of the American ship and landing on the enemy destroyer, cutting down a Chinese sailor as he landed.

The marines and sailors were shocked at what had just transpired. This was a pirate tactic from the age of sail. But with no better options available, the marines followed the lion, jumping onto the deck of the enemy vessel and gunning down hostile sailors.

"Forward!" The young warrior said, sprinting down the length of the ship, cutting down more enemies and deflecting their bullets with his sword.

Jasiri and US troopers were close behind, providing support with gunfire. Some marines even broke out zipline launchers and grappling hooks, using them to board the hostile vessel.

The US troops continued down the deck of the Chinese warship, engaging hostiles and putting them down as they moved. Kion sliced down an enemy trooper that had taken up positions next to a series of different-sized doors. At the same time, Jasiri unloaded her pistols on another enemy standing a few meters away.

The team moved to the series of different-sized doors and prepared to enter. Still, before they could, the doors opened, and enemy personnel of many distinct species came out with their paws or hands raised.

US troops kept their weapons leveled and ordered the PLAN troops down to the ground. But the Chinese wouldn't respond, and they all remained clustered in one big group.

Suddenly one of the enemy sailors, a female panda, yelled out in English.

"imperialist warmongers!"

Two of the surrendered troopers pulled the pins on grenades they had concealed and tossed them at the US sailors.

Jasiri and Kion reacted quickly. Kion swung his sword and hit one of the flying grenades, knocking it into the sea. The other grenade bounced to the deck, and Jasiri bravely kicked it into the water, where both explosives went off with small splashes.

The American troops and Heroes opened fire, gunning down the Chinese sailors, lest they make another attempt at fighting back with more concealed weapons. Kion even cut down one of the sailors who was starting to pull a knife.

"Damnit, what a shame," Jasiri said as the enemy troops dropped to the deck.

"They did it to themselves," Kion said.

"Yeah, your right."

Before the US sailors and marines could move inside the vessel, a small rubber boat passed close by the ship, and the Chinese gunner on board opened fire with the mounted weapon. Two marines and a sailor were taken out as the boat pulled away from the massive warship.

Kion cursed and took cover before Jack came through on the radio.

"We've got you, Kion."

Jack and Skye raced by in their boat, the fox keeping hot on the heels of the PLAN boat. Jack aimed the minigun and fired, bullets ripping through the enemy sailors. The enemy boat stopped, its operators dead, with Jack and Skye racing by, rounding a friendly warship and heading towards Midway Atoll.

"More Chinese!" Jack said, and Skye maneuvered towards a pair of hostile sailors on jet skis, armed with pistols. The sailors opened fire with their weapons, forcing the fox to duck in cover. Jack was able to engage the jet skis, taking them down.

Another jet ski with two troopers on it appeared. The second soldier on board opened fire with an assault rifle. However, he was also quickly eliminated.

"Look! Over there!" Skye said, pointing to a group of watercraft, including landing vehicles, heading towards Midway Atoll.

"Get us over there," Jack said, readying himself. At the same time, Skye maneuvered the boat into a formation of US watercraft and helicopters. Even two troopers were piloting small personal hovercraft.

The US boats and aircraft closed the distance to the hostile vessels, and once it was within firing range, Jack opened upon them with the minigun. A hail of lead took down another jet-ski and another rubber boat.

Suddenly the jet black Chinese fighter dived down towards the US watercraft, launching missiles. The missiles took down a US helicopter, sending it crashing into the sea. Another barrage of rockets destroyed a US patrol boat.

"Whoa! Ok, watch out for that!" Jack said.

Skye pulled alongside a slightly larger enemy escort craft. Jack opened fire as the gunners on board the boat returned fire. The ZIA agent took down one of the gunners, then focused fire on the vessel's hull and bridge.

The vessel soon started to smoke before it stopped moving, dead in the water.

"Landing craft!" Jack said, noticing a group of marine lizard vehicles getting closer and closer to Midway island. These were identical to the vehicles that had deployed troops during the first assault on Zootopia.

Skye pulled alongside one of the vehicles. Jack fired into the troop compartment, killing many of the Chinese soldiers being transported inside the vessel. Jack then focused his fire on the control area of the boat, hoping to kill the driver or destroy the control system.

After filling part of the vehicle with bullets, the landing craft lost control and crashed into another landing craft. Both vessels flipped over, leaving Chinese soldiers treading in the water around the wreckage.

But more landing craft had reached Midway island, and the hostile troopers onboard disembarked and charged towards the American soldiers who were set up in defensive positions in trenches. Nick and Judy were also in place, behind a rocky outcropping. The pair of ZPD officers felt a bit out of their element in the island environment. It was not urban at all, unlike the city of Zootopia, their usual stomping grounds. But they were still determined to give the battle they're all.

"South blade incoming!" An American soldier yelled before being gunned down by the fast and dark black PLAAF fighter jet that was strafing the beach to support advancing troops.

"South blade?" Judy asked as defending troops returned fire.

Nick radioed his human friend, firing arrows at the incoming enemies. "Hey Alex, would you-"

"Give me one sec, Nick."

The human-focused on a Chinese aircraft he was flying towards, flak in the air all around him. He took the shot, a missile streaking through the sky and impacting the ship's bridge, obliterating the glass windows and the mammals on the bridge, before the captain pulled his jet back up into the sky.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

"Would you happen to know about enemy soldiers called 'South Blade'?"

"South Blade? Those are special forces soldiers capable of air, land, and sea operations. Akin to US navy seals. Eris and I will move to provide you with air support."

"Ok, better switch to something a little more powerful," Nick said, drawing a death arrow from his quiver. He fired a hail of arrows, downing three PLA troopers in quick succession.

Judy used a standard-issue ZPD pistol, supported by a tranquilizer pistol that could down even the largest mammals.

A human commander joined the two ZPD officers behind their rocky outcropping and surveyed the situation on the beach. Two more marine lizard landing craft were incoming, bringing more troops to the battle.

"Demolitions team! Get up here now!" The commander yelled.

A pair of armadillos, who were fantastic with explosives due to their natural armor, ran towards the human commander with rocket launchers. Then the team each got down on one knee and aimed their weapons.

"Fire!"

The rocket launchers fired, their projectiles streaking towards the two incoming Chinese landing craft and hitting them. The vehicles exploded in a bright orange flash and a shower of metal.

"Nice shot," Nick said. "I wish I could do that."

"You should get some arrows with explosives on them," Judy said.

Before Nick could respond, a barrage of gunfire struck nearby.

A PLA bear soldier, armed with heavy armor and an LMG, moved towards Nick and Judy, opening fire with his weapon. Simultaneously, an otter diving team with SMGs moved out of the waves and onto the shore, joining their bear ally in engaging US forces.

"Yeah... I really wish I had some explosive arrows right now!" Nick said as everyone behind the rocky outcropping took cover.

"We've got you!" Eris said over the radio as the roar of jet engines filled the sky.

Eris's eagle interceptor came in low over the beach, opening fire with its front-mounted chi blasters. Bolts of energy peppered the hostile forces on the beach, neutralizing many of the enemy soldiers.

Alex's jet followed behind, strafing the beach with machine gunfire. The planes turned around for another pass on the beach.

The bear heavy weapons soldier angrily turned his LMG towards the sky. Still, he was obliterated by missiles from the American jets.

Explosions tore through Chinese soldiers on the ground, reducing their landing craft to burning husks.

Nick, Judy, and US troops cheered and watched the jets fly above.

"Thanks for the save, guys," Judy said as the jets headed back out to sea.

"Eris, prepare to target remaining Chinese naval vessels," Alex said, pulling alongside his eagle companion.

"Way ahead of you, literally!" Eris said, engaging her afterburners and pulling forward. Captain Boehm laughed and throttled up to chase after her. The aircraft returned to the battle zone, where the United States and China continued to engage. But the scales had been tipped, with the US looking more likely to come out on top.

"Let's target that escort vessel." The captain said, prompting both jets to nosedive towards a PLAN ship. The aircraft fired hails of machine-gun bullets and chi blasts, ripping through the Chinese vessel.

Smoke and fire erupted from the ship as the aircraft pulled around for another attack run.

"Missiles away!" Eris said, the pair of jets firing missiles, streaking low above the water before impacting the hostile escort ship with a massive explosion.

The vessel started to list and soon sank beneath the waves, leaving behind only debris and stranded crew.

"We've got incoming!" Eris said, noticing a group of PLAFF bomber planes moving towards a US aircraft carrier, escorted by some fighter jets.

"This is Hero leader." Captain Boehm said into his radio. "Requesting immediate fighter reinforcements. Hostile bomber squadron moving towards the friendly carrier."

The voice of an airmammal came through the radio.

"Affirmative Hero leader, fighter squadron moving to assist. ETA 2 minutes out."

"It's going to take some time for them to get here, Eris."

"Well then, let's give them something to shoot at!"

The pair of pilots gunned their engines and made haste towards the enemy bomber formation. Pouncing on the enemy aircraft, Eris scored a critical hit on one of the bombers, causing it to lose control and crash into a Chinese fighter nearby.

Alex fired a salvo of missiles that took down one enemy aircraft and heavily damaged another. The escort craft reacted and began to engage the American planes. Bullets whizzed by Eris, the eagle having to fly erratically to avoid them.

An enemy jet fired a missile at Alex, who deployed flares to interfere with the weapon's heat-seeking capability.

The engaging aircraft danced across the sky, turning and maneuvering with immense speed and agility, pushing the machines and their pilots to the limit. Whenever a hostile plane was in their sights, the pilots opened fire with machine guns or missiles.

Eris and Alex gained the upper hand, not sustaining much damage while dishing out plenty of damage to PLAAF planes. But the bombers continued to near the American aircraft carrier.

"Eris, you keep the fighters distracted. I'll go after the bombers!"

"You got it, Alex!" The young warrior said, looping around in her aircraft, getting behind a Chinese jet, and reducing it to scrap metal.

Captain Boehm pulled behind one of the enemy bombers, unloading into it with machine guns and rockets. Flames and smoke came from the plane, which began to rapidly lose altitude.

"Fighter support arrived!" Said a voice through the radio as more US aircraft entered the battlefield, engaging the remaining bombers and fighters.  

The Heroes captain cheered and pulled around to rejoin Eris. The eagle had taken down two Chinese aircraft, but a third plane had gotten behind her and opened fire with its machine guns. Eris flew erratically and tried to shake off her pursuer, but to no avail.

"He's on me!" Eris said.

"I'm on him!" Alex responded, pulling behind the attacking jet.

The captain pressed a button on the control stick, firing the jet's machine guns. Bullets tore through the enemy aircraft, and it dove towards the sea, the pilot ejecting.

"Whew, I owe you one, Alex."

"No problem, don't mention it."

Suddenly, a high-speed jet zoomed by, the object only looking like a black blur as it passed by.

"Ok, that's something new," Eris said.

"It's not showing up on my radar as friendly." Alex said, "Assume it's hostile."

The pair pursued the aircraft into a cloud, with the other American fighters capable of finishing off the remaining Chinese planes.

Alex and Eris passed through the cloud, obscuring their view. In that brief moment of blindness, the enemy struck.

Gunfire suddenly struck both American aircraft, forcing the two pilots to move erratically to throw off the enemy. As the planes swerved, they exited the cloud, and pursuing them were 3 Chinese fighters. There were 2 standard fighters, but also a dark black and extremely customized aircraft leading the charge.

The 2 fighters went after Eris, while the head plane went straight for Alex, a voice coming through the radio.

"Hello, hero leader."

Captain Boehm recognized the voice as his own. It was his dark counterpart.

"You! Guess that explains the unique jet."

"I could say the same of you."

"Eris, where are you?"

"I've got some jets on me! Might be able to handle them, though." Eris said, dodging the incoming fire.

Alex also had to dodge and roll to avoid his counterpart's machine gunfire. The captain pulled around and opened up with machine-gun fire of his own, forcing his adversary to go on the defensive.

The aircraft flew circles around each other, both pilots trying to get the other jet in their sights. When the enemy plane was in the gun-sights, the attacker opened up with machine guns or missiles, forcing the pilot to roll or deploy flares.

As he turned his plane, Captain Boehm's vision went hazy as he felt himself about to blackout due to the immense G-forces, prompting him to slow down.

"Not a bad plane." Dark Alex said. "Engines and weapons on par with my own."

"Well, let's see who's jet is better!" The heroes captain said, firing a barrage of missiles. But the dark counterpart rolled his plane and avoided the projectiles, returning fire with machine guns.

"All US fighter craft in the vicinity!" Came a voice through the radio. "We have another enemy bomber squadron incoming!"

"Shit! Someone get on those bombers!" Alex said into the radio, knowing that those aircraft were headed for a US carrier, a ship with thousands of crew. But in this brief moment where he was focusing on the communications, Dark Alex made his move, hitting the Heroes Captain with a barrage of bullets.

"Your care. Your drive to put others before yourself... it is a weakness." The counterpart said. "It holds you back from what you need to do to achieve true strength. You'll always feel yourself chained to others. I learned that lesson long ago and heeded it."

"So that's it, you just think I'm weak?"

"Yes. You are nothing. Both you and your nation are weak and hopelessly lost. It is time for a new power to rise, which is why both you and the United States must die. So new warriors may take your place."

"Oh, so I'm just a target for you to take down and prove yourself? So you can prove your strength and establish your place in the world?"

"This is nothing more than natural selection in the wild. The strong creature devouring the weak one."

"Last time I checked, Heroes took down more of you and your band than you have done to us."

"And you shall pay dearly for it!"

Dark Alex fired a salvo of missiles. With Captain Boehm's craft already damaged, the missiles struck. The Heroes leader felt his plane shake violently as the deafening sound of an explosion and rupturing metal rang through his ears.

The captain hit the eject button, the canopy breaking away, and the seat blasting out of the damaged aircraft.

As the parachute unfolded, the captain looked around for his counterpart's aircraft. He didn't see anything, so Alex turned his attention to where he was going to land.

Below him was a PLAN aircraft carrier and an American destroyer, both heavily damaged and sitting dead in the water over a dozen meters apart. But in the water between the 2 warships was an assortment of debris. Crates of supplies had fallen off the ships, floating in the water. A variety of random scrap and wreckage littered the area. Made of all sorts of materials and even smaller vehicles that had been wrecked. A Chinese fighter floated in the water nearby, having slid off the deck of the carrier. A damaged US patrol boat sat partially sunk in the water, listing hard to the side.

The captain braced himself as he touched down in the sea, unclipping himself from his ejector seat. The Hero leader started to look around, looking up towards the US destroyer and noticing something on it. A Chinese helicopter had crashed into the vessel. Now it was sitting precariously on the deck of the ship, hanging over the water.

As the captain continued to try and get his bearings, he heard a roaring engine growing closer and closer. Looking up, the captain saw his counterpart's jet incoming, prompting Boehm to quickly swim into a large cargo container partially floating in the sea.

Dark Alex's jet engaged hover mode and started to inspect the area, searching for any sign of captain Boehm.

The captain, however, was cursing under his breath and watching the hostile plane. His plane had been destroyed, and he only had a pistol and knife to defend himself with. But this could be a valuable chance to take out his dark counterpart.

First, the captain used his knife to cut up some cargo inside the container that had been covered in a dark blue cloth. The human draped the dark cloth over his head, which would help camouflage him. Spotting the damaged patrol boat nearby, the captain waited till the hostile jet had turned away before diving into the waves and swimming as fast as possible towards the patrol boat.

Reaching the boat, Alex scrambled inside and examined the weapon controls. The main gun was still operational, and the captain immediately targeted his counterpart's jet.

The weapon fired at the unsuspecting jet, shots slamming into the plane's armor and dealing significant damage. As Alex dove back into the water, the enemy jet turned around and took aim.

Dark Alex's jet fired a missile at the wrecked patrol boat, obliterating it. Shards of debris rained down into the water near captain Boehm as he swam his way through the area.

Although damaged, the jet continued to search the area, forcing Boehm to dive underwater when he couldn't get out of the jet's view fast enough. If he came to the surface at the wrong time, the plane would shred him with its weapons. But stay underwater too long, and the captain would drown. All the while, Dark Alex scanned the water and debris for his counterpart. He could not lose. He had a customized jet, while his enemy was simply flailing around in the water. Nothing more perfectly represented the discontinuity between the pair of warriors. One was weak, and the other was strong.

Coming up to the surface out of view of the enemy plane, captain Boehm spotted another cargo container nearby floating in the water. This container was marked with symbols identifying the contents as explosives.

The young warrior made his way over to the container, hiding behind debris and diving beneath the waves when he had to keep out of sight of his counterpart's view.

Once he reached the container, he opened it up, finding explosive material and detonation equipment. Boehm quickly armed some of the explosives, setting up a timer. Once everything was ready, it was time to get his counterpart's attention.

"HEY, OVER HERE!" Alex said, waving his hands and trying to get noticed. The deception worked, and once the jet turned towards him, the captain dove back beneath the waves as the jet fired its machine guns. The bullets missed the young warrior and hit the damaged aircraft carrier as Alex swam as fast as he could underwater.

Once at a safe distance, the human came to the surface and gasped for air, the constant diving taking a toll. Meanwhile, the hostile jet advanced towards the location where Alex had been, searching for the captain. But then the container of explosives detonated, a massive fireball engulfing Dark Alex's jet. The aircraft nearly lost control, spinning and turning before its pilot could regain control.

As the jet turned towards him again, captain Boehm retreated into the US destroyer. Swimming through a hole that had been blown in the side of the ship by weapons fire. However, the enemy jet must have seen something because it moved closer to investigate.

Swimming around inside the ship, the captain realized he was in some sort of control room. There was equipment for controlling electrical systems, engines, and the ship's ballast tanks. Alex suddenly realized something and immediately swam over to the machinery that controlled the ship's ballast tanks, taking care to avoid any exposed electrical equipment. He listened closely and looked towards the hole in the side of the destroyer. His counterpart was still there. With that, Alex activated the pumps, filling the ballast tanks along one side of the ship with water while removing water from the tanks on the other side of the vessel.

The ship slowly listed more to the side. Eventually, the Chinese helicopter hanging from the destroyer fell off the side of the vessel, hitting Dark Alex's jet as it splashed into the water. The hostile plane was heavily damaged, smoke emitting from its engines. Its villainous pilot was filled with rage. How could his top-of-the-line aircraft be bested by his inferior counterpart, and what could be found amongst wreckage. He angrily fired at the damaged US destroyer but could only get a few shots off before the weapon system stopped working due to the damage. Dark Alex turned his aircraft back towards the sky. With no other offensive measures, he started to limp back towards a still active Chinese aircraft carrier.

Hearing the sounds of aircraft engines fade, captain Boehm emerged from the destroyer, catching a glimpse of his counterpart's black jet flying into the distance. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself. With nothing more than wreckage, the Heroes leader defeated his dark double, who had been piloting an elite aircraft. But his pride suddenly turned to concern as he heard another aircraft approaching. He spun around, wondering how he was going to defeat this second enemy plane. But he breathed a sigh of relief once he saw that it was Eris's dark blue eagle interceptor. The eagle pilot put the aircraft in hover mode and opened the cockpit, flapping her wings and flying over to the human in the water.

"So, how'd your big fancy jet work out?" Eris laughed, hovering just above her friend.

"Just get me out of here," Alex said, reaching his arms up towards the eagle.

Eris flew around behind the human and grabbed him under the arms, rapidly flapping her wings to lift him out of the sea.

"Your all wet!" Eris said, "water is heavy!"

Despite the weight of the water, Eris was able to pick up the human and deposit him into the passenger's seat behind the pilot's chair in the cockpit of her interceptor.

"Try not to get water all over me or my controls." The eagle said, sitting back down, closing the canopy, and flying off back up into the sky.

"Get me back to the Typhoon. I need to get back out there." the captain said.

"Get back out there? Look around you."

The captain looked out the cockpit window at the area around Midway. Wreckage was strewn everywhere as ships sank beneath the waves. But there was a lot more wreckage from PLAN vessels than US naval vessels. The Chinese had suffered a massive defeat, stopped dead in their tracks by the US navy, marines, and air force.

"What about that second squadron of bombers?"

"Don't worry, Alex, I dealt with them. They're nothing but wreckage now."

Eris flew low and slow over Midway island, and the pair could see the smoldering wreckage of PLAAF bombers and fighter planes. They also spotted Nick and Judy capturing some Chinese soldiers, with backup from American troops. Jack and Skye had parked their boat nearby and were helping to oversee the operation.

Eris then turned towards the Chinese vessel Kion and Jasiri had helped capture. The interceptor did a victory lap around the ship as US forces on the deck raised their fists and cheered, including the two Heroes aboard the vessel.

The eagle pilot then moved towards the US fleet, steaming past the wreckage of burning enemy vessels and collecting stranded sailors. At the head of the armada was the Typhoon, the crown jewel of the US fleet. The captain could barely believe it.

"Wow….Looks like we won." He said.

"Heh, you can say that again."

Some Chinese naval vessels and jets had managed to flee. But most of their fleet had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. US ships cut through the waves while American aircraft streaked through the sky. No PLAN forces were left to hold the line. Midway belonged to the United States.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (1)

Chapter 1: Vengeful Vader | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: I’ve had this idea since April, I’ve already made the outline and everything. But back then I was afraid that it might not be well-received for silly reasons borne from my overthinking. Until an Anon sent this prompt a few weeks or so after I’ve made the original outline. Turns out, I just needed that little push… so, a big thank you to Anon for adding up to the plot and allowing me to finally use my precious OC for this story! ^w^

I wanted to show this to you guys, I just couldn’t wait ^^ : @berenilion​​ @wrongplaces​​ @stellar-trinity​​ @queen-destenie​​ @peterwandaparker​​ @calgasm​​ @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms​​ @sweeetteaa​​ @calsponchoemporium​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @superwarsofthrones​​ @fallenjedii​​ @droidrights​ @cal-jestis​

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidne Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

Darth Vader barely contained the sea overflowing and flooding into the broken glass that the wretched Jedi boy created. While this was no stretch for himself and his abilities, the sight of the boy and the adult woman swimming away to safety while he holds back a wall of water greatly vexed him.

That frustration evolved into anger, Darth Vader literally cut through the tunnel of water using the Force. The water gave way like servants to a king, he had both hands outstretched to the sides, the ripples swirled unnaturally to follow the whim of the Force under Vader’s manipulation. He marched through the corridor and finally reached the end with the door, seawater sloshed and gave for the dark lord.

The door whizzed open, but not a single drop of the sea entered—only Darth Vader. He can now finally rest his arms. The ocean raged in the other side of the door, the bubbling seawater muffled through the blast door. The Sith lord hurried his way to what little remained of the turbolift. He was safe inside that cylinder, away from drowning; he set the elevator to bring him to the highest level, the upper hangars were his destination.

“Commander,” Vader called through the commlink available in the turbolift’s terminal.

“Lord Vader?” the commander acknowledged.

“Have my ship ready in the hangar,”

“Yes, Lord Vader, I’ll personally send you the hangar coordinates,”

Silence on Vader’s end until the transmission cut. Seconds after the call, a tone chirped on the screen of the terminal. A string of text comprised of a single letter and three numbers flashed white against the black screen.

C-848.

Darth Vader knows the location. He remained poised and erect in his posture as he stood at the center of the lift, arms crossed together, head slightly hung low—in this kind of position, he often found himself meditating involuntarily. Although, he preferred his own chambers. The elevator rumbled, the lights flickered for a brief second, and the doors hissed open.

He stepped out of the platform, proceeded along the corridors of the uppermost levels of the fortress. Keeping the hangar coordinates in mind, he knew where a path leads in this place, after all, it was modeled and referenced after his own fortress back in Mustafar. He found the same commander standing by the entrance door of hangar C-848.

“Welcome, Lord Vader. We have your ship prepped, fully-fueled, and calibrated for travel.”

“Very good, Commander. See to it that the damaged areas below sea level are repaired before this whole building collapses.”

The dark lord did not stop his tracks for the niceties. He continued striding across the hangar towards a shuttle; its sleek, ivory body gleamed and stood out against the black, tiled floor of the hangar—emphasizing the symbolism of its elite status and the regal sophistication of its design.

The officer followed his master, but within a safe distance behind him while still in Vader’s earshot. He dared to lean forward, as if hoping to get a reaction from this lumbering machine of a man.

“But, sir, the fortress’s foundation is impregnable! Three to five maintenance units can easily rectify the critical areas and restore the integrity of the building.”

“I do not have the fool’s faith as you do when it comes to infrastructures, Commander. You either do as I say or go down into the bottom of the ocean with the rest of this tower!” Vade rebuked, his strides becoming wider, indicating his impatience and growing annoyance on the commander.

When the officer realized that he has raised his voice against Darth Vader—even for just a pitch higher—he softened up, withdrawing to retain his distance, and felt his stomach sank. Quickly, he thought of a way to ease the lord’s mind or shift his attention somewhere else; he overthought so much that the vein on his temple throbbed—both in self-imposed sheer pressure and fear of what Darth Vader might do to him for speaking back.

“Has the Emperor been reported of this whole ordeal?” he stammered.

Not wishing any more elaborations in this banter, he uses this simple line to leave little to no room for arguments, “Leave all of that to me.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The commander got the hint that there should be no more words further said, he dismissed himself to the command center of the hangar, praying for himself to melt and dissolve into the floor for that exchange, wishing that the last few lines he had traded with the dark lord had never happened.

Darth Vader continued to march through the hangar. His cape billowed with every step, flanked by rows upon rows of Stormtroopers—with militantly straight backs and hands cradling their blasters in an unwavering steadiness—on both of his sides. A pair of crimson-robed guards stood by the entry ramp of the shuttle; hydraulic steam wafted about the vibrant red fabric of their capes while awaiting their master, they didn’t move a single muscle until Darth Vader has fully set foot into the shuttle. They were the last one to board the ship as they flanked behind the Sith lord.

The pilot asked the destination, Vader simply replied with the coordinates of the planet he wishes. Without question, the pilot enters the combination of letters and numbers into the computer, the ship’s system quickly registered the data. He relayed the coordinates to Darth Vader’s command ship, to be immediately done upon his boarding.

“Setting course for Modala.” The pilot announced.

By rote, the pilot connected his speakers to the hangar’s bridge and underwent the standard procedure and protocols—as everybody in any Imperial establishment does: he recites the monotonous, robotic pattern of sentences that he relays to the command center—in return, an operations officer verifies and authorizes the take-off of the shuttle.

The ship was finally allowed to leave the hangar. The sooner they get out of the building, the better, thought Vader—sinking into the sea floor with black fortress debris wasn’t exactly part of his itinerary in this planet. In a bird’s-eye view, the tower looked fine; it shrank in size as the shuttle gained altitude, for a brief second, sheets of clouds obscured Vader’s view of the deep black space. The ship finally pored through Nur’s stratosphere; the tiny ivory speck that is the Imperial shuttle zipped towards one of the bigger ships—the Star Destroyers.

“This is shuttle Revenant, with Darth Vader requesting boarding into command ship Paradox,” the pilot announced casually through the microphone of the cockpit dashboard.

A muffled voice crackled through the speakers, “Request permitted, shuttle Revenant. Proceed to boarding hatch. Welcome, Lord Vader.”

The shuttle hovered itself into an open hatch in the underbelly of the bigger ship. Tractor beams braced the small vessel on both sides and drew it further into the command ship’s interior. A slight quake in the Revenant signaled that they have successfully boarded the Paradox. A tunnel walkway connected the exit ramp into the wide hallway floor of the command ship, Darth Vader saw himself out of the Revenant—flanked by the crimson Royal Guards—and made his way to the bridge, where the operators have already charted a course to Modala and punched it when Vader set foot into the ship.

At the center of the bridge, in front of a window of a full view, stood Vader gazing back at the cluster of Nur—its planet as well as its moons. The sight of the fortress long gone, the dark lord turned his attention to the vacuum of nothingness as black as the heavy armor that cages him.

[tamoria]

Prologue

The moon hung high above me, smiling as I tug my long woollen bratt tighter around me to banish the chill. Not long past high night. The stars dance mischievously between the clouds, teasing and playing as they do in the early spring. I count to five in my head and pull myself up to check what I had been left. My boots tossed haphazardly beside an old stump with two long dowels

leaning against it and the two bowls I had molded last night sitting atop it. I had shaped the bowls in a rush after forgetting about them in my preparations and cooked them quickly in the fire. Between the two bowls, on a long leaf lies a small crystal shard from the sea to the west, it is shy and quiet. Even in the shadow light it glows, bright and beautiful. I dare not touch it for fear of my dirt-streaked hands smudging or tarnishing it. It seems embarrassed by this. The slender stone cutting knife to the otherside of the bowls is less bright, in fact it is almost cruel as it glares at me, convinced I will not succeed before dawn breaks and we will all be here again another year. I go over the order in my head, “fire, tea, rain, wind, sleep.” I will not forget this time as I did under the same spring moon once before.

I turn a full circle, slowly, squinting through the dark to see anything else that does not belong. I don’t know this glade, so we must be far from home. The trees here - tall and wide, know not my name and I know not theirs. They are strong, sweet pine. Less familiar to me than the great oaks. The small woven pouch I was looking for catches my eye. It is nested in the ivy at the base of a large tree that towers over us. I place a hand on the trunk and thank it quietly before carefully detangling the pouch from it’s sleeping spot. My fingers find the lump of knot and pick it apart, pulling the rough strands of twine through each other. I upturn the pouch and count the small smooth pebbles as they tumble out. They are all luminous white and shining in the swaying shadows. I count them again - it is unlike Tadg to make mistakes and six pebbles is clearly a mistake. Surely I’m just tired, maybe the light is playing with me. Once more I count, as I place them back in their pouch.

“One for the Sea,

Two for the Sun,

One for the Sky,

The last for Falling.”

There, in the middle of my hand, the sixth pebble sits lost. I hold it against my palm with two fingers as I organise myself, tying the small pouch to my belt by the dangling twine and gathering the cutting knife.

I make my way around the circle of the glade, collecting small clippings of plants, leaves and delicate flowers. Turning into the centre at the end of a full loop and placing them on the stump. Then again around the perimeter of the glade, each time moving a couple of steps further from the middle of the clearing. I continue this until the stump is covered with small offerings and then walk one final loop, this time laying my hand on a stone, tree or bush every few paces and speaking words of protection and containment to mark my perimeter.

This time last year I was halfway to finished, believing I had the know;edge I needed to make things up as I went along. I was so used to the praise Tadg gave my work that I had forgotten the inherent order that makes these things safe, and in some ways, possible at all. I had been impulsive, I had riffed and played with the way and was sorely reprimanded for it. Leading to me being back in a glade late at night, trying to prove myself. This time, however, I will not be so arrogant as to assume my breath and my hands and my voice are no more than vessels. I will be gentle and reverend this time.

With a small fire kindled, I gather a handful of pine needles and crush them in my hands before placing them in the second of my bowls, the first already full to the brim with water from the small stream on the edge of the glade. Once boiled I split the water and pine needles equally between the two bowls and allow the tea to brew. All the while singing The Song of Danu under my breath. I drink the sweet pine tea quickly, glad for the comforting warmth of it and place the bowl on top of the other to form a spherical shape. Around this, a small altar, the long spindly sticks covered in leaves lean against the bowl to form a frame, flower crowns of various sizes and shapes surround them, and intricately designed patterns made up of small leaves spread out and away from the structure.

I allow the quiet of the night to seep in and fill all the gaps, I breathe with the trees and the ancestors as I speak my dedication to Danu and her children. I rest then, finding the moss bed I had woken in only hours before and once again pulling my bratt closely around me.

When I wake the second time a thin line of orange graces the horizon and the sky above has paled from deep inky blue to a lighter ceruleum.

The clearing shines with the life of a new day, all my small offerings from the night before now covered in a thin layer of dew. I do not have long this morning so I check on things quickly. My altar to danu still stands and after a small amount of tweaking , the leaves on the spindle sticks and the small flowers - wilted now, are back to their former glory, fresh in the morning light. I peek through the pyramid structure to see my bowls and find them just as they should be, collapsed into each other and locked in embrace. My work won’t be so hard this morning, I think with a flutter and a small smile.

My sitting circle is formed, four of my pebbles laid, two by my each knee as I sit cross-legged on two behind me, where my head and shoulders would rest if I were lying down. I start, feeling my breath move me first, once my mind is clear, I begin to feel myself lift away and hold amongst the trees above me. I tie the long strands of wind around my fingers and push the clouds around until I am happy with the dark grey cloud that sits directly above. A small amount of encouragement is all that is needed to coax the rain down. It is - a first, a light drizzle, unsure if falling is the right thing to do. It mists my face and the young leaves around me. I laugh at it’s caution and turn my face up to it, welcoming the cool droplets. This merely encourages the rain to gain confidence and before long I am dancing amongst the points of the young spruce and the rain is falling with abandon - free and delighted. The relief washes over me and I hear the faint rolling of thunder far in the distance. I have done well, I think, Tadg will be proud and I will soon have my own title as Master Druid. I allow the rain to continue a few minutes longer, reveling in my success before I call it to cease and feel the forest floor beneath my heavy boots once more.

Immediately I go to tweak my altar, making sure it is still worthy of the great Mother Goddess’ approval. I feel my stomach pang with hunger and for the first time, remember how long it’s been since I last ate. It has been at least four days - it was before my time in the dark caves, though not long before. When I am satisfied that the altar is again the proud and beautiful thing I made the night before, I continue my work.

Again I lower myself into myself into the sitting circle and try to leave behind thoughts of dinner and the cold and my title. This time I bring the breeze to me, plucking strands from the air. I gather a dozen and then walk around the clearing, tying them loosely to a twig here and there, small stones, leaves and tufts of grass. I return to the middle and with arms outstretched at my sides I turn slowly, sending the wisps tearing from their tetherings and spinning around the clearing. The wind darts around trees, dipping under low branches and prancing along the stream. My fingers reach out then to play with the breeze, pulling and twisting it. I tangle it up in my hands and watch it unfurl itself as it dances around wildly.

It starts to pick up speed, pulling other wisps in as it speeds around. Safe enough, the barrier of containment around the clearing can hold much more than a strong breeze. It is just growing faster than I expected. As I think this, I begin to get worried, repeating it again to convince myself. It dances around me, whipping my thick bratt and leaving me goose bumped and shivering. I turn quickly, throwing my hands out as the wind takes my altar in its wake, leaves scatter, wheeling through the air. All around, there are branches falling from high in the trees, crashing loudly on the soft forest floor. Once more I lower myself in the sitting circle, close my eyes and desperately beg my mind to clear. I need to catch the wind before it escapes. Building always and nearing the teachta mountains.

I focus on the perimeter, fighting hard to hold it steady. There are at least three villages between here and the sea, where the wind can blow itself out. There is no explanation for this small wisp becoming so powerful. It has been years since I last lost control of anything. I try to put my doubts aside, knowing the only way I can smother the storm is to empty my mind. I pray for strength.

Snap.

I hear the perimeter break loudly and refuse to open my eyes, knowing that will make it real. If I open my eyes I will have destroyed at least three villages, probably more. So I sit, heart thumping, with my eyes tightly shut. It is quiet before I open them, jumping when I see Tadg standing there, all bone, hunched and withering - more so than last time I saw him somehow. “Lets go,” he says, glancing behind.

Over his hunched shoulders I see the downed trees, the three men acting as Tadg’s guards - wind beaten and dishevelled, and the sparking in the air. The containment wall is fully disintegrated. Tangled strips of it lie where they fell, still marking a circle, inside of which is damaged but standing. Beyond, the forest is not far from flattened. I gaze in shock, trying to understand.

“You have sat here long enough Feada. Lets go. Now.” His words are firm and so are his bony fingers digging into my arm as he pulls me up.

I try to explain, or maybe just defend myself, “It sped up so quickly! It was only a minute or two before it was too strong to control. I don’t under-”

Tadg interrupts me, voice calm and smooth, “they have come.”

The simple statement feels like a hand around my throat. I stop asking questions and instead give him a knowing and concerned look as I pass his shoulder and walk to the men behind, my breath trapping.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Anything can be our pet.

The shuttle gently glided down from the sky and rolled across the runway at the spaceport, the heat from reentry still fresh on its hull giving it a near mirage appearance to the waiting ground crew that were rushing over.  The coolant trucks pulled up one by one and the ground crew attached their hoses to them and began spraying down the shuttle as the disembarking tunnel attached itself to the side hatch.  A few moments later the hatch opened and the passengers of the shuttle began piling out. A large Draxic male, a lizard man like species, crouched down through the tiny door frame and entered the tunnel followed by a spry human female. Some of the other passengers hurriedly stepped aside as the Draxic stomped past while the female followed behind embarrassingly smiling and apologizing. She quickly walked up to the Draxic and kicked him in the leg. “What was that for?” He spoke, his lizard eyes narrowing down at her pouting face. “You shouldn’t be pushing past people.”  He tilted his head to the side. “Then they should move out of the way faster. They haven’t been crammed into a seat half their size for the twenty solar hours” As if to emphasize his point he rose to his full height and extended his legs, the sound of creaking bones resounding through the tunnel.  The human crossed her arms and continued pouting. “It’s still very rude.” The Draxic looked at her for a moment longer before grunting and continuing along his way.  She no doubt thought that he was agreeing with her, but in reality the mixture of smells emerging from the world, the cooling shuttle behind them, the various mechanical machines around him, and even the other humans on the plane was beginning to make the Draxic sick. He wished for nothing more than to get to his friends home were hopefully the smells would diminish. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  The world was known as Typhon Socundus, an ocean world whose entire landmass could be summed up as less than the country formerly known as the “People’s Republic of China”.  The largest of the islands held the spaceport that the duo had exited on, while the rest was scattered around the planet forming smaller islands and island chains   Because of the reduced landmass the planet’s population had been kept considerably smaller than other galactic worlds. Some had tried to create floating cities that glided across the waters in an attempt to increase the population, but that en-devour had ended rather shortly for reasons which seem obvious now to those who call the world home.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Draxic gripped the side of the boat tightly as his friend steered the small “dingy” towards her families island. The sea was calm in every direction and the sky was as crystal blue as the ocean water themselves.  When the Draxic had heard that his friend owned an entirely island he was impressed as the land rights of the world were highly sought after. The land was given to her family several generations ago she said because since the time of her great grandfather her family had provided a “crucial” service to the planet’s government. What that service was exactly she had refused to tell him, saying seeing it would be far better.  So caught up in remembering how he had been roped into taking his vacation with her he nearly failed to notice the boat slowing to a near complete stop.  “Why have we stopped?”  he asked his friend as she turned around from the steering wheel and opened a nearby crate that he had been resting his feet on.  “This is part of what I wanted to show you.” she said while digging through the crate before pulling out a small package. She turned to unwrap it and though the Draxic could not see the package he could smell the mixing stenches of meat . “Besides, if I didn’t do this they’d probably wouldn’t let us pass.” Before he could inquire as to what that meant she chucked the contents of the package far out into the water.  The contents hit the water and sunk beneath the calm waves. “What was-” the Draxic begun but stopped himself when he felt something. His keen senses felt something from far away sending ripples through the water and nudging the boat. He stepped to the side of the boat and began scanning the horizon.  He felt the ripple again but this time was able to judge the direction and gazed across the water. Far off in the distance, as far as his eyes could clearly make out detail, he saw the water begin to slowly become wavy. Starting small, the waves quickly grew in intensity until the waves were radiating outwards.  “What did you do?” he spoke as he turned to his friend. She was leaning over the side of the boat and tapping the water with her right hand in a rhythmic pattern.  “If you didn’t see it with your own eyes I doubt you’d have believed me.” She continued tapping the water, unfazed by the growing disturbance of the water. “All I’ll say now, is don’t do anything. Just stand and watch, they don’t like new comers.”  A gout of water shot up into the sky where the Draxic had been focusing on. Emerging from the water loomed a massive form, a shadow that cut through the clear blue sky like an obelisk of darkness. The shadow dove back beneath the waves before he could get a clearer view but whatever it was was now speeding straight for them.  “By the seven suns! What is that!”  Whatever it was dove beneath the waves again and was hidden from his sight. He quickly stepped to the side of the boat and began peering into the waters below, but he could not pierce through the murky gloom of the water. ‘There you are silly boy, come to mama.”  At the words from his friend the Draxic turned and saw her laying her hand and head against what appeared to be a living wall of flesh and scale. An eye easily twice her size looked at her and the Draxic and he could sense the creature was that of a race of predators.  His eyes calmly looked over from left to right and saw that he was in fact looking at the head of a massive Wave Serpent, a creature rumored to grow for eternity so long as it feeds and strong enough to crush the hull of a space vessel as if it was made of paper.  The head of the beast slowly rose higher out of the water until the Draxic saw the mouth was wide open showing row upon row of teeth three times his size glistening in the sun light. He was left speechless as he came to realize that this must be his end and that he would be reunited with his ancestors in the eternal fields of war.  While he was transfixed with his imminent demise his friend picked up several more packages and chucked them into the gaping maw. The creatures mouth clamped down with a thunderous boom that knocked the Draxic off his feet. The boat bumped against the scales of the beast and his friend continued to stroke the scales and talk lovingly to the Serpent before it retreated beneath the water once more.  With the creatures passing she resumed her post at the helm of the ship and fired up the engine once more.  “First time seeing one up close?”  Her words seemed distant as the Draxic began to regain his composure.  “What......just happened?” was all the formerly proud warrior alien could say.  “My family raises Wave Serpents for the world.” She said as she steered the boat onwards. “That one was “Charlie” and I’ve had him since he was just an egg. He likes to showoff to strangers.”  “What do you mean by “raises” them?”  “When my granddad was young he came upon a Wave Serpent egg that washed up upon the shore. Since they grow up to be the size of spaceships he didn’t think the egg that was the size of a football was the same beast. He cared for the egg night and day until it finally hatched, he then cared for the little serpent every day. They developed such a close bond that it actually understood what he was saying to it which became mighty helpful when it grew to the size of a cruise liner.”  She steered the boat around an outcropping of strange rocks, but as the Draxic looked closer he saw that they were in fact spines of several slumbering Wave Serpents that were resting on coral reefs just below the surface.  Some he saw opened their eyes as the tiny boat passed their massive forms while others even raised their heads like cats finding something interesting before returning to their sleep.  “Eventually that little one grew so large it became the queen of her species on the planet. She returned to the island my granddad had raised her and laid her own eggs there. So several generations of the creatures grew up under the stewardship of my family.”  “But what does this have to do with the planet’s government?”  “Well, once the people in power learned that there was someone out in the back country that could tame the beasts that were sinking their cargo haulers they attempted to pay him to teach others. He refused to teach anyone outside the family, but agreed he’d start teaching the serpents not to attack ships if they give him ownership of the entire island.”  The Draxic looked stunned for a moment. “He blackmailed a planet’s government for a island?”  “My granddad was a nice man, but he was also a clever devil when it suited him.” she chuckled.  The Draxic pondered how she seemed perfectly fine around some of the galaxies deadliest creatures and even treated them like pets when something else struck him.  “What did you feed that beas-” “Charlie.” she corrected him.  “Yes; what did you feed “charlie”?”  “I gave him a mix of beef and chocolate. It was his favorite treat growing up and even though he’s so big now his taste buds can still taste anything that touches them, regardless of how big or small it is.”  The Draxic slumped back into the boat and watched as they neared the island she spoke of. Several serpents were strewn out across the island basking in the sun while several more circled it in the surrounding waters, nipping at each other to get closer.  He felt as if his vacation was about to become far more exciting than his lizardman heart would be able to handle.