#fox and forge

[meljaymicrofics]

✦ PROMPTS ⸻ JULY 2024!

Here are the prompts for the month of July. Feel free to switch any of the days with the alternate prompts. We are looking forward to seeing you in the tag on July 1st!

Interested in participating? Please review our FAQ post, HERE.

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[blackkatmagic]

For the clone character meme, Fox of course!!! If you've already got him, Tup?

“Have you seen Thorn?” Fox asks, annoyed. A missing senator is normally nothing to call in off-duty troopers over, but Padawan Skywalker is making himself a headache, and Fox is tired of it. Thorn can at least pretend to be polite. Fox can't be bothered, especially to uppity, snarly padawans who give him a headache.

“No, sir,” Hound answers, a step behind Fox with Grizzer at the ready. There's no trail to find, though; Amidala's scent runs up to the start of the port and then disappears. “He’s not answering his comm.”

Fox growls under his breath, because Thorn knows they're not ever supposed to be out of contact. Even being off-duty is a polite fiction to make some of the bleeding hearts in the Senate feel better about running almost a billion men into the ground without pay or the most basic consideration, and Fox is going to get the biggest karking earful about some of his men not being on the case. Particularly since Skywalker managed to get Palpatine’s ear somehow. That’s giving Fox a headache, too.

“Keep trying to reach him,” he orders. Thorn’s the most familiar with Amidala, given his work as her guard on diplomatic missions, and Thire and Stone are both off-planet, so the Guard needs all its commanders working. His comm chimes insistently, and he gives it a dark look, sends back an affirmative, and pulls his helmet back on. “Take the lower platforms, see if you can pick anything up. I'm going to brief the Chancellor.”

“Sir,” Hound answers sharply, and Fox veers off, stalking down the busy corridor. He’s annoyed enough that even watching senators scatter out of the path of his murder-walk isn't satisfying, though, and he mutters a curse under his breath, keying the lift open and stepping in, then turning to level a killing glare at the aide who’s just trying to sidle in.

Immediately, the aide finds something better to be doing, veering off like that was her plan all along, and Fox rolls his eyes. Cowards, all of them. It would be funny if Fox didn’t want to drop-kick every person in this building down a mineshaft.

Something cream and white and gold catches his eyes just before the doors slide shut, and Fox shoves a hand out automatically, something in his chest turning over.

Well. Maybe not every person. That’s a little extreme.

“Commander,” the captain of the Temple Guard says, perfectly polite, tone as warm as ever as he ducks into the lift, careful not to crowd Fox despite his size. “Going to see the Chancellor?”

If Feemor is being sent to see Palpatine as well, it probably means Knight Kenobi bent some ears too, Fox thinks, maybe a little grumpy about it. Not about seeing Feemor, but—a padawan shouldn’t be able to stir up this much of a fuss. If Skywalker was a cadet, he’d get shunted off to sanitation for making so much noise.

“Yeah. About Amidala, right?” he says gruffly, and waves the door shut before anyone else can intrude. His chances to actually get any time alone with Feemor are all like this, stolen moments between crises, and Fox is entirely willing to tweak the rules a little to make the most of them.

If he’d known Feemor was here, he’d have picked a slower lift, too.

Feemor nods, tipping his head to watch the floor numbers rise, and Fox takes the chance to study the way golden hair curls around his throat, slides out from under the white hood like a temptation. “Senator Amidala has always been a friend to the Jedi,” he says, and Fox can hear the smile in his voice. “Whatever I can do to help, I will.”

It’s hardly nothing, having a Jedi Master here to help, and Fox grunts in satisfaction, only partly at the idea of Feemor sticking around for a few hours or a few days. It’s probably wrong to hope that they don’t find Amidala too quickly, but—well. Fox doesn’t give a monkey-rat’s bald ass about a senator, even a relatively decent one. He’s stuck on Coruscant, and they're the sole reason.

“Good,” is all he says, trying to hide his pleasure, since it’s probably not appropriate right now. “If you're willing to come with me to the undercity, I want to check the levels below the Senate Building—”

A jarring, shuddering wrench jolts the whole lift, so sudden and sharp that Fox is thrown right off his feet. He slams bodily into Feemor, feels Feemor hit the wall even as one arm snaps up to hold Fox steady, and feels the sudden, wrenching drop right in his bones. The lift plummets, and Fox snarls, grabs for the waist-height bar but misses as they hit something that spins the lift to one side. The impact hits an instant later, hard enough that Fox’s vision goes black for an instant, and he hears Feemor cry out as metal gives way—

They spill out onto cold metal decking, reeking of rust, and Fox rolls right to his feet, blasters in hand, up and aimed and ready. Feemor is behind him, on the ground and not getting up, and the air is dark and humid and reeks of wet metal in a way the Senate Building never does. Far below it, that probably means, and Fox triggers his helmet lights, then stills in surprise, eyes narrowing.

A clone is sitting in front of an old pile of scrap metal, slumped back against a beam, and it takes Fox a long, long second to recognize Colt, stripped of Rancor’s intricately painted armor, with a pile of something bright and sleek and metallic beside him.

Weapons, Fox realizes belatedly. Colt has a pile of weapons Fox has never seen before next to him, and he’s smeared with ash, arms scattered with slick, shiny burns, his face slack with exhaustion. His eyes are closed, and for an instant Fox almost thinks he’s dead.

Then, with a sound of concern, Feemor is past Fox, limping slightly but quick on his feet. He crouches down next to Colt, raising a hand—

Colt catches it, almost too fast to see, and opens his eyes.

In the darkness, reflecting in Fox’s helmet lights, they shine like forge-fire, an unsettling, unearthly glow.

“Commander?” Feemor asks, quiet, gentle even as Fox’s unease rises, full of teeth. “Are you all right?”

Colt looks right at him, then shifts his gaze, eyes tracking straight to Fox. Then, with a groan and a heave, he shoves to his feet, dragging something up out of the pile with him as he takes a few unsteady steps forward.

“This one’s yours,” he says, and shoves it right into Fox’s hand, so that Fox has to fumble, drop his blaster and catch warm metal before it can clatter down to the floor.

“Colt, what the hell?” he asks, deeply suspicious, because if Rancor Battalion’s top commander is having a mental break—

And then, like a flash of mercury, liquid and hot, something slides off the handle of the axe, drips down his fingers and over his wrist beneath his armor, and Fox wrenches back with a sound of alarm, scrambling to get his gauntlet off, to get whatever is on him away from his skin—

Like molten metal, something iridescent and shimmering settles into his skin, and Fox scrapes with his nails but can't get it off, swears at Colt as he backs away. “I'm going to karking murder you,” he snaps. “Colt, wake the hell up!”

“It’s tradition,” Colt says, like that’s an argument, and it sounds raw, like he’s been breathing in smoke, or maybe like he’s been screaming. “There's—there's a lightsaber crystal I need to find. I rebuilt the hilt, but I can't find it.”

Lightsaber. Something cold fractures in Fox’s chest, and he jerks around, looking for Feemor—

A figure in the shadows. A Mandalorian in rust-red armor, a golden faceplate on his helmet, already reaching. Fox shouts, but Feemor isn't moving, and Fox lunges, swings—

The axe Colt forged cuts right through the Mandalorian like he’s a ghost, and Feemor crumples to his knees, a keening, desperate sound breaking from his throat as he claws at his mask. Something shimmers around him, something rises, and just for an instant Fox can see a man in tattered Jedi robes, more rip than cloth, with brown hair and brown eyes and a black mark seared between his brows. His body is imposed over Feemor's like a hazy afterimage, and he’s reaching for the Mandalorian, expression hard to see but desperate, and the Mandalorian reaches back, seizes him even as he tears his helmet away to reveal grey skin and yellow eyes, simian features. Cups his face—Feemor's face—and kisses him—

Fox tackles Feemor out of the way, right over the edge of the platform without hesitation. One arm tight around Feemor’s chest, the other still clutching Colt's axe, he tumbles down, down, down into darkness, fury biting hot in his veins.

In the whirling darkness of their fall, Fox catches a glimpse of another figure in armor, watching as they near. Red-gold armor this time, bright as copper, wearing a woven cloak with long tassels and a conical helmet, a familiar battleaxe in hand. It’s the twin of the one Fox is holding, and he jerks as they tumble straight towards the Mandalorian—

Fall through him, and Fox feels the sudden crackle of power, as bright and vicious as lightning, eating its way down to his bones. Maybe he screams, or maybe he passes out, or maybe he burns, all the way down with Feemor caught up in his arms and a god in his head, settling in like coming home.

[l0verei]

Silly!

Honestly I’m so excited to see the new chapters come out! Of course, people do need breaks every now and then and can perhaps be really busy! And I wanted to draw this as a small practice on drawing in a different style!

(Forged Faith au by @swagginmun)

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: The Fluffiest Inside Joke

"Doctor Orders"

Asra and Meleia share a lot of inside jokes. They practically have their own language at this point. 

But one of their favorite running gags, which all their friends have started to pick up on as well, is Doctor Forge. 

Meleia’s familiar, Forge the fennec fox, adores both his human and Asra.

But he has an oddly endearing friendship with Julian as well. 

Julian absolutely spoils the little guy, and Forge loves to trot around after him whenever Julian visits the shop. 

One day, when Meleia was doing inventory after a particularly busy day and was clearly not awake, Julian told her to rest. Said it was “doctor’s orders.”  

And Forge immediately adopted the phrase. 

Now whenever anyone needs a break, or when they’re hungry, or if anything else mildly inconvenient happens, Forge urges them to rest with a little call of: Doctor orders! 

His way of speaking is a lot like Faust’s, so that’s really all he can actually say.

But it just so happens to be super adorable. 

Now Asra and Meleia have started using “doctor orders” themselves. Asra has a habit of saying it at almost the same time as Forge, or making Forge say it with him, to “gang up” on Meleia. 

She has to go to bed when her two favorite foxes both say it’s “doctor orders” 

(Forge always gets some extra treats if it actually works and Meleia gets some sleep) 

[watchyourbuck]

Eddie Diaz is a little shit LMAOOAAOAOAO he’s like “No he ain’t forgiving you actually haha” in 5x04 while Buck’s sitting there just puppy eyes, slouching, on the verge of tears AJSKSKSKAK eddie cannot take him seriously wjdjdjsnnsnsksksksskskksksks it’s ridiculous they’re ridiculous guys

[musewrangler]

“I trust you are getting whatever you need?” I asked. I felt suddenly insecure. These men had been subject to horrors I could not imagine and here was the privileged aristocrat in their midst with no precise idea of what they could really use. What might be helpful to them after the darkness they had survived.

The one with the eyepatch grunted a bit and folded his arms across a broad chest. “Depending on what you mean by ‘need’,” he growled, “I would say I need to get lost years of my life back. But yes, Your Highness, we have what we require at the moment.”

“No need to be rude to a lady, Wolffe,” said the first man chidingly.”She didn’t do this to us.”

“I hope it has been explained,” I said, keeping my gaze unflinchingly on Wolffe, “that you are slaves no longer. That we intend to aid you to reach wherever you wish once we return to Naboo.”

“It was,” said the last man curtly. His hair was curlier than the other two and he was perhaps an inch shorter. A little grey flecked his temples, though he did not appear older than the others to my eye.

“Good,” I answered a little awkwardly. “I ah…I wondered what you might be able to tell me about how you came to be in the hands of slavers. You are Mandalorian, correct?”

[foxboyclit]

my beautiful wife

[bugpysforge]

Alakazam spends a lot of time studying magic in his tower and eventually discovers a means to acquire powerful sorcery. With a single glance, he now has access to a person's whole existence.

Race: Enfield Class: Sorcerer Subclass: Aberrant Mind Origin Location: Nacrene Library Alignment: Neutral Evil

View the pokedex of all dungeon pokemon on the Bugpy's Forge website.

[meljaymicrofics]

✦ PROMPTS ⸻ SEPTEMBER 2024!

Here are the prompts for the month of September. Feel free to switch any of the days with one another. We are looking forward to seeing you in the tag on September 1st!

Interested in participating? Check out the FAQ under the cut!

How does Meljay Microfics work?

We’ll release a monthly prompt list to inspire you! Each microfic must feature Mel Medarda & Jayce Talis from Arcane. Meljay can be platonic friends, lovers, enemies, or whatever dynamic you are inclined to write them in. The microfic must be Meljay-centric to be featured on this blog.

How long can the microfics be?

We invite you to write a work of fiction with a wordcount under 1k. Therefore, your work should be a standalone, meant to be read without having to read a larger work so that readers can enjoy it to the fullest.

What should the fic be about? 

Whatever you want! Canon or AU, crack or general use the prompt however you see fit. Any genre is accepted! You can combine prompts, if you’d like. How you use the prompt is up to your interpretation! Let your muse move you.

You don’t have to write for every prompt of the month. There’s no pressure here, no commitment. This is just for fun. 

There are no stipulations on ratings, just be sure to add appropriate tags & content warnings to the top of post. If there is NSFW or sensitive topics in your piece, be sure to place it under a read more.

How do I get my work featured?

If you participate, we’d love to see your work! Tag us @meljaymicrofics & tag your work with #meljaymicrofics, and we’ll reblog your fic! Be sure to include the prompt word you were inspired by within the post!

There’s also an AO3 COLLECTION that you can post your microfics to if interested.

Can I submit a prompt?

Yes! Feel free to send it in, and we’ll include it in the next month’s list if we can.

Do you allow AI works?

AI works are prohibited and will not be reblogged onto the blog or accepted within the collection. We value your creativity here.

What if I have a question/suggestion.

Feel free to drop an ask!

[rousedwhisperingdawn]

"For some reason"

[tsunade136]

I went back to Forges du Saint Maurice again with a friend and the first thing I spot once were out of the car was a FOX!

It was walking around the park looking for something to eat I'm guessing.

Ran into him again while making our way to the Devil's Fountain.

[xemylixa]

That Bit from Metal Gear 2 in heroforge bc i cant draw

(cue Tears by Kukeiha Club)

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: The Burden of Secrets Whispered in Sleep

The prompts "What Nobody Else Knows" and "Sleepy Mumblings" merged together in my head to bring you 740 words of both a lore dump for Apprentice Meleia and some Asra angst.

________________________________

It’s no secret that Meleia talks in her sleep. It doesn’t happen every night, but it’s something that Asra has always listened for, even before Meleia began her second chance at life.

Some nights, her little mumblings are adorable. The non-sequiturs are always amusing, and Meleia’s completely-asleep voice is one of the cutest things Asra has ever heard. He loves telling her about everything she said the next day, and they both love having a good laugh over it… even if Meleia still playfully denies that she ever sang a little nonsense song about noodles in her sleep.

But some nights are much, much harder.

Ever since he first discovered Meleia’s amnesia, and the consequences of the deal that brought her back, Asra has been all too aware that he knows more about Meleia than he could safely share. Now that the Devil is defeated and they can truly start a new life together—the life both of them have wanted for so achingly long—he wants nothing more than to share everything with her. But sometimes, her sleep talk tells him things that he doesn’t even know if he can ask about.

Meleia never told him about the place she used to call home before she moved to Vesuvia. Her life before staying in her Aunt’s shop doesn’t seem to be that happy of a story, whatever it may have been. So Asra never pried. But some nights, he almost wishes he had more answers.

Some nights, as she did so often when she first woke up, Meleia speaks in a language Asra doesn’t recognize. Early on he learned the general feeling of a few words—particularly the difference between peaceful mumbles and genuine, nightmare-stricken cries for help. But there are some things, too many things, that he still doesn’t understand.

One word pops up fairly often in Meleia’s dreams: a name. A name that doesn’t seem to belong to a family member. As secretive about her past as she was, Meleia had mentioned her parents before, and Asra knew her aunt (though there were many reasons Meleia didn’t like to talk about her). But this name didn’t match any of the ones Asra knew.

The name always haunted him, even as it slipped from Meleia’s thoughts when she woke up.

Things got a bit easier once Meleia bonded with Forge and the little fox’s dreamwalking abilities manifested. Forge has seen echoes of memories that still linger in Meleia’s dreams, even if she doesn’t recall them in the waking world. And Forge has shared some of those images with Asra.

They’ve seen gorgeous beaches with pristine waves… somewhere very far from Vesuvia.

They’ve seen hidden caverns with pools much like the cave in the forest that Asra took Meleia to, but somehow different in every way.

They’ve seen a tall building, almost shaped like a flower, with walls that shine like crystals.

And, eventually, Forge found the source of the name that Meleia has mumbled in her sleep. It’s the name of an old friend… but not a human.

A fairy.

Wherever Meleia is from, there are fairies there. Many of them. And one fairy in particular might still be waiting for Meleia to come home.

And Asra has no idea how to tell Meleia about that.

He wants to. Someday. When it’s safe enough. And it seems like that day might be getting closer and closer. Meleia is starting to remember things on her own… but whenever she wakes up, all of it simply vanishes from her mind.

For now, Asra has to believe that it might be best to let her dream a little bit longer before doing anything drastic. Maybe the knowledge that she left a friend behind somewhere far away, somewhere they don’t know how to reach, will hurt her more than help her.

Forge hasn’t said anything about it to Meleia yet. So for now, Asra’s keeping this knowledge close to his chest.

He’s kept so many other secrets. All to keep her safe. What’s one more?

And someday, someday, he’ll let it all out. And they’ll find her old home. They’ll find her friend again. Together. As a family. Asra, Faust, Meleia, and Forge, off on a daring, mysterious adventure.

That’s the promise that Asra whispers to her while she’s still deeply asleep, when he knows she can never truly hear him.

It’s a promise that Asra is determined to make a reality.

[geekcavepodcast]

Apocalypse will See Who Should Take His Place in "X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse"

Apocalypse is holding a tournament to see who is best fit to take his place in Steve Foxe and Netho Diaz's X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse.

The Krakoan Age saw Apocalypse transform from super villain to mutant leader. He is now returning to Arakko to "steer his former homeland towards a new destiny." But who, then, will fulfill his role on Earth, especially with the fall of Krakoa? To choose, Apocalypse will hold a tournament of sorts for 12 mutants - Armageddon Girl, Cable, Cypher, Emma Frost, Exodus, Forge, Gorgon, Mirage, Mr. Sinister, Penance, Rictor, and Laura Kinney Wolverine. The trials will "test the heart, body, mind, and soul" of these possible successors. (Marvel Comics)

X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #1 (of 4), featuring a cover by Dotun Akande, goes on sale on June 5, 2024.

(Image via Marvel Comics - Dotun Akande's Cover of X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #1)