#guardians and commanders are way cooler though

[ethn11winter24]

Native American Caricatures in Sports

by Melissa Thomas

Sports need mascots.  Apparently.  A team name is rarely enough; the team needs a face, an easily marketable object that won’t change as frequently as the players.  It’s usually associated with the team name, of course, and this is fairly easy when you have teams named after animals – the Cardinals, the Diamondbacks, the Hornets (hi).  But what about when you have a team… named after a group of people?

Throughout the decades of organized sports, names and mascots have come and gone.  Teams move, get renamed, or even get dissolved.  And yet, through all of that, team names like the Washington Redskins and the Cleveland Indians survived for years amidst controversy and urging for their removal.  Both of these names have been successfully changed, but only in the last few years – the teams retired their appropriative logos in 2019, with official name changes occurring at the start of each team’s 2022 season.  The use of Native American caricatures as team names and mascots is not new, nor is it over.

In 1968, the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) began its push to abolish these mascots as appropriation of Native American culture and negative stereotyping.  At this point, the Cleveland Indians had been using their name for fifty-three years – it would be another fifty-four before that change would finally come.  The NCAI had multiple other attempts in the intervening years, including resolutions in 1993 and 2005.  In 2005, the American Psychological Association (APA; yes, as in the citation style) called for the immediate retirement of all Native American caricature mascots across all American sports – from the high school level to the professional – as well as other non-sports organizations.  The APA declared that research had shown the negative effects of the use of these mascots on both people of indigenous descent and those not of indigenous descent, coloring their perspective on Native Americans and their culture.

All of these efforts have led to incomplete successes across the United States.  The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) officially banned the use of Native American caricature in college-level sports in 2005, with the support of the NCAI.  The only teams who remain are those with special permission from the NCAI and their ‘namesake’ tribes.  The Washington Redskins finally removed their name and logo in 2019, being known simply as the ‘Washington Football Team’ until their new name of the Washington Commanders was introduced in 2022.  Similarly, the Cleveland Indians discontinued their use of their old mascot, ‘Chief Wahoo’ (yeesh), in 2019, with an official name change to the Cleveland Guardians occurring in 2022.

These changes have not been without their pushbacks, and not every team with Native American name origins has jumped on board.  The Cleveland Guardians received a ton of public backlash for their proposed name change, despite a general outpouring of support from their actual fans – the new name was actually chosen by popular vote, with zero Native American stereotypes or connections.  The Atlanta Braves, on the other hand, have largely refused to change their name (being a reference to ‘Indian braves’ or warriors) or their tomahawk branding.  The Braves do, however, regularly work with their closest tribe, the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, who support them – though, most people stand with the official stance of the NCAI, that, at the very least, the ‘tomahawk chop’ chant needs to go.

This is still happening. This is still a process. But putting all of this in the public eye is, frankly, the only way this is going to get changed.

Sources:

“APA Resolution Recommending the Immediate Retirement of American Indian Mascots, Symbols, Images, and Personalities by Schools, Colleges, Universities, Athletic Teams, and Organizations.” APA.org. apa.org/pi/oema/resources/indian-mascots

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne, and Dina Gilio-Whitaker. “All the Real Indians Died off”: And 20 Other Myths about Native Americans. Beacon Press, 2016.

Fryberg, Stephanie A., et al. “Of Warrior Chiefs and Indian Princesses: The Psychological Consequences of American Indian Mascots.” Psychology Press, 2008. https://doi.org/10.1080/01973530802375003 (http://www.indianmascots.com/fryberg--web-psychological_.pdf)

[autumnslance]

Prompt #28: Vainglory

((Revised on Ao3))

She wasn’t at all what Jullus had expected.

He hadn’t even realized that’s who she was, when she was sent as a hostage by the Eorzeans. Just a quiet, unassuming woman, a mercenary by her lack of uniform but obvious weaponry and demeanor; it wasn’t hard to catch the quiet confidence and competence.

And she had been a more than worthy guardian on the way back to Tertium; her skills with her slim blade were dazzling on display. She had always given a few ticks to gauge the creatures that attacked them, he noticed, gray eyes sweeping over the mutated forms before clouding in resignation to strike, swift and clean, ending their suffering.

It wasn’t until returning to the station that Jullus realized who she was. When Lord Quintus’s eyes widened slightly and he had stiffened, and then named her.

Aeryn Striker. The Champion of Eorzea. The Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo. The Savior of the Savages. The Warrior of Light.

She had simply stood between the twins, hands loosely clasped before her, face impassive as she met the Legatus’s gaze. Her expression had grown cooler and more stoney as he spoke, and Jullus was certain she bit the inside of her lip at least once, but she said nothing.

She was given free rein of the camp, but so long as they had the collared twins, she wouldn’t go far. The oddest part was how she had frowned at the special treatment the Legatus granted in not putting a collar on her, knowing she could best any of his men.

“I wouldn’t have hurt them,” she said quietly to Jullus as they left the command car. “We came voluntarily.”

Oddly, he believed her.

Jullus watched a former soldier of the doomed XIVth recognize her and spit invectives. Aeryn merely listened to the rant, her expression one of remembered pain and sadness. When she turned away, her eyes reminded him of rain clouds preparing to shed their burden. But she took a deep breath and moved on to the next person, asking who they were, if there was anything they needed, how could she help.

She was gathering information, he was certain. And yet…

“What do you think of her?” Lord Quintus asked, when Jullus reported, both to tell his commander of the prisoners’ activities, and of their offer.

He had not yet answered Jullus on the Eorzeans’ claim to give them ceruleum and supplies for the ill, the injured, the starving civilians and soldiers in Tertium. Instead, Lord Quintus leaned against a wall and watched out a window.

“She…is not what I expected, from the stories,” Jullus said. “I have seen her fight, and she is very good, but not…”

“A cackling blood soaked butcher cutting through enemies like paper?”

“N-no, sir. And there are some here who recognize her, from various campaigns, but…She does not lord her victories over them. She seems…sorry, if anything.”

“A show of modesty, perhaps,” Lord Quintus said. “She could kill every man and woman here with little thought. But then, they had said she killed Gaius van Baelsar—though he turned out to be alive, and a traitor now as well. Perhaps something she did to him in that battle; she is a mage of renown. Keep a careful eye, Jullus.”

“Yessir.”

He expected Lord Quintus to deny the Eorzeans’ offer, and to order him to seek out ceruleum in the city, though they both knew there was little left.

Jullus took Aeryn and the twins to search. It was fruitless and frustrating and damned cold.

He didn’t expect the women to jump into the freezing, brackish water of the pond, though.

Before she did, Aeryn passed him a few items; seeds, medicine…and a teddy bear. “What’s this?”

“There’s a sick little girl; her father asked me to try to find food for her while out here,” Aeryn said. “Found a few other things, too, that hopefully will make her feel better.”

He looked down at the toy she had found. It was rumpled and dirty, but still soft; a little cleaning would make it suitable for a sick child. He stared at it as Aeryn and Alisaie rummaged in the water, until Aeryn found the hatch and the container of ceruleum.

They cheered as if it were a great victory, even as they teased one another like sisters would, their friendly rivalry continuing. Alphinaud had to scold them to get the bloody hells out of the water already before they froze.

They were simply…normal people, all of them, these Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and their champion. Aeryn—teeth chattering, fingers a tad blue, took her collection of found items back from Jullus as Alphinaud fussed over his sister, who was using magic to start the fire.

“Thank you,” Aeryn said to him through her shivering. She smiled. “Her father will be glad to know you helped, I think.”

“I only held it—”

“Sometimes, that’s enough,” she said. Alisaie called to her, and Aeryn turned to warm herself at the now-roaring fire.

Jullus looked down at the ceruleum canister in his hand, exchanged for the teddy bear.

Not what he had expected from these people at all.

[star-wars-writing]

Return of a legacy - Chapter 3

As Alaenna and Mace Windu, flanked by the loyal cohort of clone troopers, made their approach to the Jedi Temple, the air seemed to thicken with unspoken history. 

The Temple itself, a behemoth of ancient design, rose defiantly against the Coruscant skyline, its spires like fingers stretching towards the firmament, attempting to touch the very essence of the Force.

The city's relentless energy subsided here, giving way to a profound silence that reverberated with the echoes of millennia. The Temple's walls, steeped in the light of dawn, shimmered with a golden hue, each stone a silent guardian of the peace within. The air was alive, not with the sounds of the city, but with the quiet hum of the Force, a sacred chorus felt only by those attuned to its call.

Alaenna's steps were hesitant, the weight of her destiny heavy upon her shoulders. Her gaze traveled up the impossibly high columns, each one carved with the intricate histories of the Jedi who had come before her. The grandeur of the Temple was not just in its architecture, but in the weight of the legacy it carried—a legacy she was about to inherit.

Beside her, Mace Windu's presence was as commanding as the Temple itself. His voice broke the silence, steady and reassuring. "Remember, the Temple stands not just as our home but as a symbol of our service to the galaxy. Let it ground you."

Alaenna nodded, her throat tight with the enormity of the moment. "I feel as though I am stepping into a dream—or perhaps from one," she confessed, her voice a mere whisper against the grandeur that enveloped them.

The clone troopers, their armor a stark contrast to the Temple's ancient stones, moved with disciplined purpose, a silent guard to the unfolding prophecy. Their helmets hid their expressions, but their postures spoke of respect and a keen awareness of the gravity of their charge's introduction to the Jedi Council.

Commander Ponds, leading the escort, glanced back at Alaenna, his voice gruff but not unkind. "This place... it changes you. You'll see." 

His words, though cryptic, carried the weight of experience.

As they crossed the threshold, the interior of the Temple opened before them, a vast expanse of wisdom and tradition. 

The air here was cooler, infused with the scent of ancient texts and the soft, pervasive glow of holocrons. The buzz of distant conversations filled the space, a tapestry of lessons imparted and knowledge sought.

Padawans paused in their training to stare, their eyes wide with curiosity and an unspoken question: Was she the one from the visions, the harbinger of change? Their masters, cloaked in the dignity of their rank, regarded her with a more practiced subtlety, yet she felt the intensity of their scrutiny as if it were a physical touch.

Mace led her through the halls, a path he had walked countless times, each step a measure in the rhythm of the Force. "The Council awaits," he said, his voice betraying none of his thoughts. "They will see in you what I have seen. Be honest, be open, and let the Force guide your words."

Alaenna drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the meeting that would decide her fate. The Council Chamber's doors loomed before her, the gateway to her future. With a glance at Mace, she stepped forward, ready to face the Council and, in doing so, embrace her destiny within the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple.

Alaenna stood before the ornate doors of the Council Chamber, her fingers tracing the ancient grooves etched into the wood—symbols of the Force in its myriad forms. The doors were a boundary between her old life and the destiny that murmured through her veins. The clamor of the Temple's activity hushed as if in reverence to the moment she faced.

She turned to Mace Windu, her guide in this labyrinth of future and past. 

“Master Windu,” she began, her voice a blend of trepidation and resolve, 

“what lies beyond—is it the future I've seen in my dreams?”

He regarded her with a gaze that held the depth of space itself. 

“The future is a shifting tapestry, woven by our choices,” Mace replied. “Trust in the Force, Alaenna. It flows through you as strongly as any Jedi I have known.”

The voice within, her ethereal compass, stilled to a whisper that brushed against the edges of her consciousness, offering no guidance, only the certainty of its presence. She felt the weight of countless gazes upon her—the curious, the doubtful, the hopeful—all converging on this fulcrum of her fate.

The doors parted, a silent herald of her entrance, revealing the semicircle of the Jedi Council. The chamber was a sanctum of serenity, the air thick with the residue of deliberations that had shaped the galaxy. The Council members, stewards of peace, regarded her arrival with an array of expressions—some like open books of encouragement, others as inscrutable as the void

**** 

Whilst Alaenna had stood in front of the council there was something more going on. In the heart of the Jedi Temple, the Council Chamber thrummed with an unspoken anticipation. The high, arched windows cast long, ethereal shadows across the ancient stone, bathing the room in a solemn, almost mystical light. At the center, a young woman stood, her presence a quiet storm of potential and mystery.

Alaenna's eyes, wide with a mix of reverence and nervousness, flicked across the faces of the Jedi Council. The weight of their gazes, heavy with curiosity and scrutiny, pressed upon her, yet she held herself with an innate grace, a stoic calm belying her inner turmoil.

Plo Koon, his mask hiding any outward reaction, felt a deep, resonating connection with the girl. As his gaze settled on Alaenna, a flicker of recognition sparked within him. This was the one from his vision, the one the Force had whispered about in silent echoes through the corridors of his mind. There was a sense of destiny entwined with her very essence, a feeling so profound it resonated in his very core.

Beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi's usually composed demeanor was laced with a subtle intrigue. His keen eyes, honed by years of discernment, studied Alaenna with an intensity born of deep contemplation. In his mind's eye, the vision he had experienced – a vision of a figure cloaked in light, a harbinger of change – overlaid perfectly with the girl before him. It was a realization that stirred a rare uncertainty in him, a sense of monumental purpose that was both exhilarating and daunting.

Alaenna, acutely aware of their stares, felt an inexplicable pull towards the two Jedi Masters. It was as if invisible threads of the Force were weaving a connection between them, a bond that transcended mere physical presence. She could feel their thoughts brushing against the edges of her consciousness, like leaves caught in a gentle stream.

Mace Windu, his expression inscrutable, observed the silent interplay. He sensed the unspoken communication, the ethereal dance of emotions and realizations occurring before him. His mind, always calculating, recognized the significance of this moment – the convergence of prophecy, destiny, and choice.

The air in the chamber seemed to thrum with an unseen energy as each member of the Council reflected on the gravity of the situation. The Force swirled around Alaenna, a tangible presence that whispered of great trials and greater triumphs.

In this sacred hall, where so many fates had been decided, Alaenna stood at the precipice of her journey, a journey that would intertwine with those of Plo Koon, Obi-Wan, and Mace Windu. A journey that would shape the very fabric of the galaxy.

Their thoughts, though unspoken, resonated with a singular clarity – they were witnessing the dawn of a new era, one that this young woman, Alaenna, would play a pivotal role in forging. The weight of history, the hope of the future, all rested in the balance, teetering on the edge of the unknown.

As the Council meeting concluded, there was much to be done, many challenges to face, but in this moment, they had glimpsed the future. And in that future, Alaenna shone like a beacon, a guiding light amidst the shadows of uncertainty.

Whilst the council meeting went on, Alaenna, her figure small and solitary, sat cross-legged on the cool, smooth floor outside the Jedi Council chambers. The vastness of the Temple loomed around her, its grandeur and ancient wisdom echoing through the silent halls. She felt adrift in a sea of history and expectation, a single leaf caught in a current much larger than herself.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, her gaze fixed on the ornate door of the Council chamber, awaiting Mace Windu's return. The only familiar face in a sea of strangers, he was her anchor in this bewildering new world. The clone troopers, her temporary companions on the journey here, had departed, leaving her in this place of intimidating serenity.

Alaenna's mind churned with thoughts and emotions, a whirlwind of uncertainty and wonder. The pull she had felt towards the two other Jedi in the chamber, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi, lingered in her consciousness, an unexplained yet undeniable force connection. Who were they? Why did the Force draw her to them? Questions danced like shadows at the edge of her understanding.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to center herself. The Force around her was a living, breathing entity, its whispers both comforting and confounding. It was like a melody she could almost grasp, a song sung just beyond the edge of hearing. 

In the stillness, she sought clarity, reaching out with her feelings to touch the invisible threads that bound her to this place, to these people.

In the quietude of her reflection, the Force seemed to respond, its voice a gentle caress against the turmoil of her thoughts. It was a reassurance, a subtle guidance, coaxing her to trust in the path laid before her. She didn't have to prove herself; she simply had to be, to exist in harmony with this ancient energy that coursed through her.

Meanwhile, unseen by Alaenna, a few curious Padawans and Jedi Knights passed by, casting surreptitious glances towards the newcomer. Whispers of her unique arrival and the Council's interest in her had already begun to circulate. To them, she was an enigma, a puzzle that piqued their curiosity and speculation.

Inside the Council chamber, the Jedi Masters continued their deliberation. Mace Windu, his thoughts occasionally drifting to the young woman waiting outside, knew the weight of responsibility that rested upon their shoulders. They were not just training a potential Jedi; they were shaping a destiny that could alter the course of the galaxy.

As Alaenna sat there, enveloped in the embrace of the Force, she felt a budding sense of belonging. This was where she was meant to be, where her story would unfold. The answers she sought may not have been clear, but she felt a growing confidence that, in time, all would be revealed.

The sound of the chamber doors opening gently roused her from her meditation. She looked up to see Mace Windu emerging, his expression a blend of solemnity and kindness. 

Mace Windu stepped out into the corridor, his eyes immediately finding Alaenna. She looked up at him, a mix of apprehension and hope in her eyes. The grandeur of the Jedi Temple seemed to shrink around her, focusing all attention on this pivotal moment.

Before Mace could speak, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi approached, their strides purposeful yet measured. Alaenna watched as the three Jedi Masters convened, a trinity of wisdom and power.

She could feel the weight of their discussion, even if their words were lost to her.

Plo Koon, his voice modulated through his mask, spoke first. "Master Windu, we must discuss the vision – the one that led us to her." His gesture towards Alaenna was subtle yet filled with significance. The Force around him seemed to hum with a quiet intensity.

Obi-Wan, his expression thoughtful, added, "The Force has been insistent in its message. We are to guide her, to be not just her teachers but her protectors." There was a solemnity in his voice, a recognition of the duty that the Force had entrusted to them.

Mace regarded them both, his deep-set eyes reflecting the gravity of their task. "I have felt it too," he admitted. "The Force is unusually clear in its intentions. She is not just another Padawan. Her presence here is the will of the Force."

Alaenna, observing from a distance, felt a surge of emotion. The connection she had sensed earlier with these two Jedi – it was real, a thread woven by the Force itself. She could almost hear the echoes of their conversation, the resonance of their shared destiny.

The Council had expressed a desire to understand her, to observe and evaluate. But the Force had already spoken, its voice unequivocal. These three Jedi were to be her mentors, her guides on the path she was to walk.

As Plo Koon and Obi-Wan spoke with Mace, their conversation was observed by others. Jedi of various ranks paused in their tasks, their curiosity piqued. The arrival of a new and unique Padawan, especially one surrounded by such mystery and significance, was a rare event.

Mace turned towards Alaenna, motioning for her to join them. 

As she stood and approached, a sense of destiny enveloped her. This was more than a mere meeting; it was the beginning of something monumental, a turning point in the tapestry of the Force.

Plo Koon and Obi-Wan regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and respect. In her, they saw a reflection of their own journey, a reminder of the ever-unfolding mysteries of the Force.

"The Council wishes to take time to know you, Alaenna," Mace began, his voice firm yet kind. "But we three feel the Force's insistence. We are to be your masters, to guide you in ways that perhaps even the Council does not yet understand."

Alaenna nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The honor and responsibility were overwhelming, yet she felt a deep-seated readiness.

In the grandeur of the Jedi Temple, silence often spoke louder than words. As Alaenna and her three Jedi Masters – Mace Windu, Plo Koon, and Obi-Wan Kenobi – traversed the intricate hallways towards a more secluded spot, their journey was marked by a profound quietude. This silence was not awkward or heavy, but filled with a tacit understanding, an unspoken communion that resonated deeply within each of them.

Alaenna, walking alongside these legendary figures, felt a surreal sense of displacement. Just moments before, she had been a stranger in this vast temple, an unknown entity amidst the sea of history and tradition. Now, she walked with those who would become her mentors, her guides in this new and mystifying world of the Jedi.

The air around them seemed to thrum with the Force's approval, its energy a tangible presence that enveloped the group in an unseen embrace. Alaenna could sense the subtle currents of the Force, its ebb and flow echoing the rhythm of her own heartbeat. There was a harmony in their steps, a synchrony that transcended physical movement and ventured into the realm of the spiritual.

As they moved through the Temple's less frequented corridors, they passed ancient murals and statues, silent sentinels of the Jedi Order's storied past. These artifacts whispered tales of valor and sacrifice, of knowledge and enlightenment. 

To Alaenna, each step felt like a journey through time, each turn a page in a book yet to be written.

The Jedi Masters, each lost in their own thoughts, shared a collective sense of responsibility and anticipation. 

Mace Windu's mind was a fortress of contemplation, considering the implications of their unofficial tutelage. 

Plo Koon, with his deep connection to the Force, felt the rightness of their path, a certainty that they were acting in accordance with the universe's greater design.

Obi-Wan Kenobi's thoughts were introspective, reflecting on the potential and challenges that lay within their new pupil.

Finally, they arrived at their destination – a secluded garden known only to a few within the Temple. This hidden oasis, nestled away from the eyes and ears of the rest, was a sanctuary of peace and reflection. The air was cooler here, the light softer, filtered through the leaves of towering trees that stood as age-old guardians.

In this isolated haven, the group came to a halt, their journey of silence reaching its end. The garden, with its gentle sounds of nature and soothing ambiance, offered the perfect backdrop for contemplation and connection. Here, away from the formalities and expectations of the Council, they could begin to understand each other, to forge the bonds that would define their shared journey.

Alaenna took a deep breath, the scents of blooming flowers and ancient wood filling her senses. She felt a deep sense of peace, a connection to the world around her that was both new and as old as time. The Force flowed through her, a whispering wind that promised guidance and wisdom.

The Jedi Masters stood with her, their presence a comforting assurance. They were her protectors, her teachers, but in this moment, they were also her companions on a path that was yet to unfold. The Council's approval was a formality; in the eyes of the Force, their bond was already formed, a union of destinies intertwined by the will of the cosmos.

Alaenna sat cross-legged, her posture an embodiment of openness and attentiveness, as she faced the three Jedi Masters. Mace Windu, Plo Koon, and Obi-Wan Kenobi positioned themselves in a semi-circle opposite her, their expressions a harmonious blend of curiosity and solemnity. The air around them was ripe with a sense of profound anticipation, as if the garden itself was holding its breath, awaiting the revelations to come.

Obi-Wan, his face a mirror of gentle encouragement, initiated the dialogue. "Alaenna, would you share with us the beginnings of this journey on Elysiar?"

Her voice, soft yet unwavering, began to weave the tapestry of her life. "On Elysiar, in the orphanage, I was always an outsider," she said, her eyes momentarily distant as she revisited memories long past. "There were no parents to claim me, no family history to define me. Just a series of endless questions and a feeling of being perpetually lost."

Mace Windu, his stoic face reflecting a deep internal processing, nodded slowly. He understood the weight of uncertainty, having been brought to the Jedi Order at a very young age himself, stripped of a conventional upbringing. "That sense of isolation," he pondered aloud, "it can be a powerful catalyst for self-discovery."

Plo Koon's voice, resonant even through his mask, carried a tone of empathy. "And these dreams you speak of, they were a part of this discovery?" he inquired, recalling his own experiences with the Force's mysterious ways during his early years at the Temple.

Alaenna met his gaze, a flicker of kinship in her eyes. "Yes, Master Plo. They were more than dreams. Visions, perhaps. Glimpses of places I'd never seen, echoes of voices I'd never heard. They set me apart from the others, made me realize there was a world beyond that I was somehow part of."

Obi-Wan leaned forward slightly, his eyes reflecting a compassionate understanding. His own upbringing under Qui-Gon Jinn had taught him the value of listening to the Force's whispers, no matter how perplexing they might seem. "These visions, they were a guiding light for you, albeit an unclear one," he mused.

"Yes, exactly," Alaenna responded, a sense of relief in her tone at being understood. "They were like a beacon, calling me to a destiny I didn't understand but felt compelled to follow."

The Jedi Masters listened, each absorbing her words, relating them to their own experiences of growth and discovery within the Order. Mace Windu's early years had been marked by a strict adherence to the Jedi Code, Plo Koon had always been keenly aware of the Force's guiding hand, and Obi-Wan had learned the importance of balance between emotion and duty.

"As a youngling, I too felt the pull of the unknown, the lure of a destiny beyond the visible," Mace shared, his voice a deep rumble of shared experience. "It is a path all Jedi walk in one form or another."

Plo Koon added, "The Force speaks to us in many ways. Your visions are a unique expression of this communication."

Alaenna absorbed their words, a growing sense of belonging enveloping her. Here, in this secluded garden, with these wise beings who had experienced their own journeys of discovery and acceptance, she felt a newfound kinship. 

In the hushed serenity of the garden, Plo Koon's presence was like a calm, steady beacon. His masked face, though impassive, did not conceal the warmth and empathy that radiated from him. As Alaenna recounted her experiences, she felt drawn into a sense of safety and openness under his gentle guidance.

"Alaenna," Plo Koon began, his voice modulated yet infused with a gentle curiosity, "when these visions come to you, are they merely disorienting, or do they also bring a sense of understanding, a connection to something greater?"

She clasped her hands together, her fingers intertwining as she searched her memories. "They often startle me, appearing unexpectedly," she explained, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and uncertainty. 

"But over time, they've become a part of who I am, guiding me, showing me fragments of something larger than myself."

Mace Windu, observing intently, added his perspective. 

"Visions can be a gift and a challenge," he said thoughtfully. "In the Order, we've seen visions guide but also lead astray. How do you perceive these visions? As an active participant, or an observer?"

"I've felt both," Alaenna admitted, her brow furrowing. 

"Sometimes I'm witnessing events, other times, it's as if I'm living them. It's a delicate balance, discerning the line between the two."

Mace Windu nodded, recalling the Jedi Order's complex history with visions. "Your understanding of these visions is crucial. We aim not to suppress them but to help you navigate and understand their place in your connection with the Force."

The conversation within the garden, a sanctuary of whispering leaves and soft sunlight, deepened as the Jedi Masters and Alaenna delved further into the nature of her visions.

Obi-Wan, his blue eyes reflecting a thoughtful depth, leaned in slightly. "Alaenna, in these visions, do you ever encounter symbols or messages that recur? Sometimes the Force communicates in patterns that might hold significance."

Alaenna paused, considering his question. Her eyes momentarily gazed into the distance, sifting through the myriad images and sensations of her visions. "Yes, there are symbols. Circles entwined, a tree with sprawling roots, and sometimes, a voice calling from afar. I struggle to understand their meaning, but they feel important, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved."

Plo Koon's response was contemplative, his voice steady. "Such symbols are often the Force's way of speaking to us. The tree could represent growth, connection, the very essence of life. And circles... they often symbolize unity, infinity, the cycle of life and the Force."

Mace Windu's demeanor remained analytical yet open. 

"Understanding these symbols could be key to interpreting your visions. They might be guiding you towards a deeper understanding of the Force, or your role within it."

Alaenna listened, her mind racing with the possibilities that their interpretations opened. She felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation at the prospect of unraveling these mysteries.

"The voice you mentioned," Obi-Wan inquired gently, 

"does it feel familiar to you? Or is it a presence you're yet to understand?"

"It's elusive, like a memory I can't quite grasp," Alaenna responded, her voice laced with intrigue. "But it's comforting, almost like a call to something I'm destined for."

The three Jedi Masters exchanged thoughtful looks. Alaenna's visions, rich in symbolism and emotion, were more than mere dreams; they were a conduit to the deeper whispers of the Force.

Plo Koon, breaking the brief silence, offered reassurance. "These visions are a part of your journey, Alaenna. They're a gift, albeit one that comes with challenges. Our role is to guide you in understanding them, to help you listen to what the Force is trying to tell you."

Alaenna felt a profound sense of gratitude and connection to her mentors. Their willingness to explore her unique experiences with the Force, to help her decipher its cryptic messages, gave her a newfound sense of purpose and belonging.

As the conversation meandered through the intricacies of Alaenna’s visions, the fading light of the day lent a soft glow to the garden. The atmosphere, rich with the exchange of ideas and interpretations, was both exhilarating and exhausting for Alaenna. Each question from the Jedi Masters unveiled layers of her experiences, compelling her to delve deeper into her own understanding of the Force.

In the midst of discussing a particularly vivid vision, Alaenna couldn't stifle a yawn that escaped her lips. It had been a day of overwhelming change and revelation, and the toll was evident in her weary expression.

Mace Windu, ever perceptive, noticed her fatigue immediately. His stern exterior softened momentarily. "Alaenna, you must be exhausted," he remarked with a touch of concern. "We have delved deep into your visions, but we must also remember the needs of the body and mind for rest."

Alaenna, slightly embarrassed by her involuntary display of tiredness, nodded in agreement. "I apologize, Masters. It's been a long day, and I'm not even sure where I'll be staying."

Mace Windu offered a reassuring smile, a rare break from his usual solemn demeanor. "You need not worry about that. I have arranged for you to stay in a spare room within my quarters. It's secure, and considering the unique nature of your arrival and training, it seems prudent to keep you close rather than with the initiates."

Alaenna's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Thank you, Master Windu. I appreciate your thoughtfulness," she said, her voice imbued with a sense of relief.

Obi-Wan chimed in with a gentle chuckle. "You'll find that Master Windu is always two steps ahead in planning. Rest well, Alaenna. Tomorrow is another day, and we have much to explore and learn together."

Plo Koon, his tone warm and fatherly, added, "Rest is as important as training in understanding the Force. It gives us time to reflect and rejuvenate. We shall continue our discussions after you've had some rest."

As they rose from their seats, Alaenna felt a profound sense of care and belonging envelop her. The thoughtfulness of her masters, particularly Mace Windu, in ensuring her comfort and safety, was a new and welcome experience. It contrasted starkly with the uncertainty and loneliness of her previous life.

Walking back to the quarters with Mace Windu, the corridors of the Jedi Temple seemed less daunting than they had before. Her mind was still abuzz with the day's revelations, but a sense of peace had begun to settle within her. She was no longer a solitary wanderer on an unknown path; she was part of something greater, a journey intertwined with the destinies of those who were now not just her mentors but her protectors and guides.

As she settled into the spare room in Mace Windu's quarters, a simple yet comfortable space, Alaenna felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Lying down, she closed her eyes, the conversations of the day echoing in her mind. She drifted into sleep, not with visions, but with a comforting darkness that promised rest and renewal for the days to come.

*****

In the vibrant ambiance of Club 79, a favorite haunt for the Republic's clone troopers, Ponds reunited with his former batch: Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Bly, and their younger brother-in-arms, Rex. The club's atmosphere was abuzz with energy, the air rich with the camaraderie that only those who share the bond of battle could understand. Neon lights danced across their armor, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the group as they gathered around a table, a temporary respite from the relentless tides of war.

The mood was jovial, yet when Ponds began to recount the tale of their unexpected detour and the discovery of Alaenna, a hush fell over the group. "She's unlike anyone I've ever seen," Ponds started, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and respect. "Beautiful, yes, but there's something more about her, something... otherworldly."

Cody, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "What makes her so special?" he asked, his tone indicating both curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

Ponds, undeterred, continued. "When we landed on that planet, it was like the Force itself was pulling Windu to her. She's got this connection to the Force, sees visions, things beyond our understanding."

Wolffe, intrigued, leaned forward. "Visions, you say? What kind of visions?"

Ponds nodded, recalling the conversation he had with Alaenna. "Visions of the past, maybe the future. She struggles with them, trying to understand what they mean. She mentioned something about a time of peace across the universe, something grand and profound."

Rex, the youngest of the group, listened intently, his expression thoughtful. "Sounds like she's got a heavy burden," he remarked, his voice laced with empathy.

Bly chimed in, his interest evident. "And Windu? How does he fit into all this?"

Ponds shrugged slightly. "He's drawn to her, feels a connection through the Force. He believes she's important, maybe even key to something bigger than any of us can imagine."

Fox, usually more reserved, added his thoughts. "If Windu's involved, it must be serious. The Force works in mysterious ways, and if she's connected to it like that, who knows what role she could play in this war."

As the conversation unfolded, the initial light-heartedness gave way to a deeper, more reflective mood. The story of Alaenna, as told by Ponds, painted a picture of a woman caught between worlds, her connection to the Force a beacon that drew the attention of one of the most powerful Jedi Masters.

The clones, each battle-hardened and accustomed to the black-and-white realities of war, found themselves pondering the shades of gray that Alaenna represented. In her story, they saw not just the tale of a mysterious woman but a reminder of the vast and often unexplored mysteries of the Force and the universe they were a part of.

As the night progressed, laughter and banter resumed, but the seed of curiosity planted by Ponds' tale continued to linger in their minds. In the midst of their brotherhood, amidst the clinking of glasses and the drone of club music, they had been given a glimpse into a mystery that extended far beyond the confines of their familiar world, a reminder that the galaxy held wonders and enigmas yet to be unraveled.

But the minds of Wolffe, Cody, Rex, Fox, and Bly were elsewhere, each lost in their own thoughts, grappling with the story Ponds had shared.

Wolffe, a leader known for his pragmatic approach, found himself unusually intrigued by the tale of Alaenna. Her visions, her connection to something as enigmatic as the Force, stirred a sense of curiosity in him that went beyond mere fascination. He wondered about the implications of such abilities in the war they were fighting. 'Could she change the course of this conflict?' he pondered, his gaze unfocused, lost in the maze of possibilities.

Cody, sitting with an air of contemplative leadership, was equally thoughtful. Known for his tactical mind, he weighed the strategic importance of a Force-sensitive individual like Alaenna. 'Could she be a valuable asset, or a potential risk?' he mused. Cody's training under General Kenobi had taught him the unpredictability of the Force, and Alaenna's mysterious abilities only added layers to that complexity.

Rex, the youngest and often the most empathetic of the group, felt a different kind of concern. His thoughts went to the personal toll these visions might take on Alaenna. 'What burden must she bear?' he wondered, his expression somber. Rex understood, perhaps more than the others, the weight of carrying a secret, a responsibility that set one apart from their brothers.

Fox, typically reserved and introspective, considered the security implications. His role as the leader of the Coruscant Guard had attuned him to the nuances of protecting key figures. 'How do we ensure her safety, especially with such unknown factors at play?' he thought, his mind already running through various scenarios and strategies.

Bly, meanwhile, was more focused on the human aspect of Alaenna's story. 'What kind of person is she, beneath the mystery and the visions?' he pondered. As someone who often observed before acting, Bly was interested in understanding Alaenna not just as a Force-sensitive individual but as a person. Her impact on General Windu, a Jedi known for his stoicism, had not gone unnoticed by him.

As the night wore on and the conversations drifted to other topics, the thoughts of Wolffe, Cody, Rex, Fox, and Bly remained partially anchored on the story of Alaenna. Each, in his own way, recognized that her arrival marked a shift, a ripple in the fabric of their war-torn galaxy. Her story, a blend of mystery and potential, had opened a door to questions and possibilities that resonated with their own roles in the unfolding saga of the Clone Wars.

*****

Alaenna awoke to the muted light of dawn filtering through the window of the spare room in Mace Windu’s quarters within the Jedi Temple. For a moment, as she lay in bed, the unfamiliar surroundings gave her pause—a gentle yet stark reminder of the new reality she was now a part of. The room was simple, almost spartan, but it carried a sense of tranquility that was new to her.

Lying there, her mind began to drift through the events of the past two weeks, a whirlwind of change and revelation. The conversation with Mace Windu, Plo Koon, and Obi-Wan Kenobi from the previous day resonated within her, their words echoing in the quiet of the morning.

She remembered how Mace Windu’s deep voice had filled the space around them in the garden, his words a blend of wisdom and caution. "Understanding these visions is crucial," he had said, emphasizing the need to approach her gifts with both openness and care.

Plo Koon’s gentleness and understanding had been a comfort. "Your experiences with these visions are unique, yet they connect you to the wider experiences of the Force," he had reminded her, his voice modulated yet imbued with warmth.

And then there was Obi-Wan, whose thoughtful demeanor and insightful questions had helped her to see her visions in a new light. "Do you ever encounter symbols or messages that recur?" he had asked, encouraging her to delve deeper into the meanings behind her experiences.

As she reflected, Alaenna felt a mix of emotions. There was a sense of awe at the path unfolding before her, intertwined with a deep-seated uncertainty about what her visions meant and how they would shape her destiny. The weight of the unknown pressed upon her, yet there was also an underlying current of excitement, a feeling of being connected to something far greater than herself.

Alaenna sat up in bed, taking a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts. She felt a profound sense of responsibility, not just to understand her visions but to use them in a way that would contribute to the greater good. The Jedi Masters had shown her a path of guidance and learning, and she was determined to follow it, to uncover the truths hidden in the cryptic language of the Force.

As she rose from the bed, the first rays of sunlight streaming through the window seemed to cast a golden glow across the room. It was a new day, a new beginning in her journey with the Jedi. With each passing moment, the sense of being part of something larger, something deeply meaningful, grew within her.

Alaenna dressed quietly, her mind still reflecting on the conversations and the lessons to come. 

Stepping out of her room, Alaenna's senses were immediately greeted by the comforting aromas of breakfast. In the kitchen, Mace Windu stood, his attention momentarily absorbed by something on his datapad. The scene was unexpectedly domestic, a stark contrast to the solemnity and intensity of the Jedi Master she had witnessed in the Council chamber and during their discussions.

Mace looked up as she entered, his usually impassive expression softening slightly. "Good morning, Alaenna," he greeted, setting aside his datapad. The kitchen, like the rest of his quarters, was functional yet welcoming, a reflection of the purposeful life he led.

"Good morning, Master Windu," Alaenna replied, her voice still carrying a trace of wonder at her new surroundings. She took a seat at the small table where breakfast was laid out. The spread was simple but nourishing, befitting the Jedi's austere lifestyle.

As they began to eat, Mace Windu's demeanor was more relaxed than Alaenna had seen before, a side of him that was seldom revealed in the formal settings of the Temple. "How are you settling in? Did you sleep well?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Alaenna paused, a spoonful of food halfway to her mouth. "I did, thank you. It's a lot to take in, but I'm grateful to be here, to learn and understand more about the Force... and about myself." She took a bite, the flavors of the simple meal grounding her in the moment.

Mace Windu nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he listened. "It's a significant adjustment, stepping into this world. The path of a Jedi is not an easy one, but it is fulfilling. You're not alone in this journey."

Alaenna smiled faintly, comforted by his words. "I appreciate your guidance, Master Windu. Last night, I thought a lot about our conversation in the garden. About my visions, the dreams, the voice... It's a puzzle, but I'm ready to uncover it."

Mace took a sip of his tea, his eyes meeting hers. "Your visions are a unique connection to the Force. We'll explore them together, carefully. Understanding them is part of understanding your path as a Jedi."

As the early morning light bathed the kitchen in a warm glow, Alaenna and Mace Windu sat across from each other, their breakfast conversation unfolding amidst the tranquil ambiance.

Mace, with a reflective tone, began to outline the structure of life within the Temple. "Our days here start with meditation, Alaenna. It's essential for centering oneself in the Force, for finding balance."

Alaenna, her curiosity piqued, leaned in slightly. "Meditation... I've always found my mind to be restless. How does one find calm in the midst of so many thoughts?"

Mace's eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of understanding. "It's a practice, a journey to stillness. In time, you'll learn to quiet the mind, to listen to the deeper currents of the Force."

The conversation shifted to the physical aspects of Jedi training. "Physical discipline is as important as mental discipline," Mace continued. "Lightsaber training, combat exercises – they're not just about skill, but also about understanding the flow of the Force, of using it to guide your movements."

Alaenna nodded, a mix of anticipation and nervousness in her eyes. "I've never held a lightsaber before. The idea is both exciting and a little daunting."

Mace offered a reassuring smile, a rare softening of his usual stern demeanor. "Every Jedi remembers the first time they ignited a lightsaber. It's a significant moment. You'll be guided every step of the way."

As they delved into the educational aspects of Jedi life, Alaenna's mind buzzed with questions. "What sort of subjects does one study as a Jedi? I assume it's more than just combat training."

Mace's response was filled with a deep respect for the Order's teachings. "Our studies are vast and varied. History, diplomacy, philosophy, science – knowledge is a cornerstone of our way of life. A Jedi must be as wise as they are skilled in the Force."

Alaenna absorbed his words, her expression a blend of eagerness and contemplation. The prospect of such comprehensive learning was both thrilling and overwhelming.

As they finished their breakfast, the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to cast a hopeful radiance over the room. Alaenna stood, her posture reflecting a newfound determination.

"Thank you, Master Windu," she said, her voice tinged with gratitude and resolve. "I'm ready to learn, to grow into this path I've chosen."

Mace rose as well, his gaze upon Alaenna both evaluative and encouraging. "The path of the Jedi is one of constant learning and growth. I have no doubt you'll rise to meet the challenges it presents."

After breakfast, as the morning light spilled across the room in golden waves, Mace Windu stood up, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Alaenna, I think it would be beneficial for us to join Masters Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi for a joint meditation session. It will be a good introduction to how we harmonize our individual connections to the Force."

Alaenna felt a flutter of nervous excitement at the suggestion. The thought of meditating alongside such esteemed Jedi Masters was both an honor and somewhat intimidating. "I would appreciate that, Master Windu," she replied, her voice steady but her hands betraying a slight tremble.

Mace observed her reaction, a gentle understanding in his eyes. "Meditation is a foundational practice for us. It's where we clear our minds, listen to the Force, and seek inner balance. It’s a time of reflection and peace."

As they walked through the corridors of the Jedi Temple towards the meditation chambers, Alaenna's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The grandeur of the Temple, with its towering columns and serene statues, filled her with a sense of awe. 

The weight of history and tradition that permeated these halls was palpable.

Upon reaching the meditation chamber, they were greeted by Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi. The room was bathed in a soft, ambient light, the atmosphere imbued with a palpable sense of tranquility. Plo Koon’s masked face turned towards them, his body language open and welcoming. Obi-Wan, with his calm and composed demeanor, offered Alaenna a gentle smile.

"Welcome, Alaenna," Obi-Wan said warmly. "Meditation is an essential part of our day. It helps us connect with the Force and with each other."

Plo Koon's voice, modulated and deep, added, "In meditation, we find clarity and serenity. It's a space where we can lay down our burdens and listen to the whispers of the Force."

They all settled into a circle, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The room's energy seemed to shift, becoming more focused and serene. Alaenna, taking her place among the Masters, felt a surge of gratitude mixed with apprehension.

As they closed their eyes and the meditation began, the room fell into a profound silence. Alaenna tried to steady her breathing, to still the racing thoughts in her mind. She felt the presence of the Masters around her, their calmness a guiding force.

Mace's voice, soft yet clear, broke the silence. "Let your thoughts flow like water, Alaenna. Acknowledge them, but do not hold onto them. Let them go, and focus on your breath, on the here and now."

In the hallowed meditation chamber, a sanctuary of stillness and peace, Alaenna found herself surrounded by the gentle presence of the Jedi Masters. As they all settled into a circle and closed their eyes, a profound silence enveloped the room, broken only by Mace Windu's guiding words.

"Let your thoughts flow like water, Alaenna. Acknowledge them, but do not hold onto them."

Alaenna attempted to follow his instruction, but her mind felt like a tempestuous sea rather than a tranquil river. Thoughts, doubts, and anxieties churned within her, refusing to be stilled. The more she tried to quiet them, the louder they seemed to become. A wave of frustration washed over her; meditation, it seemed, was a battle she wasn't prepared for.

Plo Koon's modulated voice added another layer of guidance, "Feel the Force around you, Alaenna. Let it anchor you in the present."

She tried to focus, to sense the Force as she had been taught, but it felt elusive, just beyond her reach. Her heart raced, and her breaths came in short, uneven gasps.

Sensing her struggle, Obi-Wan's voice reached out to her with a calm reassurance. "It's natural to find this challenging at first, Alaenna. Meditation is a skill that develops over time. Be patient with yourself."

Alaenna opened her eyes for a moment, stealing a glance at her mentors. They sat in serene repose, their faces the very image of peace and balance. In contrast, she felt like a leaf caught in a storm, unable to find her grounding.

Closing her eyes again, she took a deep breath, trying to heed Obi-Wan's words. 'Be patient,' she reminded herself. Slowly, she began to focus on her breathing, each inhale and exhale a point of concentration.

Mace Windu, aware of her struggle, offered a final piece of advice. "Embrace the present, Alaenna. Meditation is not about perfection, but about awareness. Be aware of your thoughts, your feelings, and let them pass without judgment."

Gradually, Alaenna felt a subtle shift within her. The raging thoughts began to lose their power, dissipating like mist under the morning sun. She felt a gentle warmth, a sense of the Force's presence, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

As the meditation session came to a close, and they all opened their eyes, Alaenna felt a mixture of relief and accomplishment. Though she had struggled, she had also persevered. The understanding and patience of her mentors had been a guiding light, showing her that this path was as much about learning and growth as it was about mastery.

The Jedi Masters observed her with a quiet respect. They had witnessed the first steps of her journey into meditation, a journey that would be filled with challenges but also with profound growth and understanding. They knew that in time, Alaenna would find her way, her connection to the Force growing stronger with each passing day.

[greyshut]

Gobot figure toybox

#GOBOT FIGURE TOYBOX PLUS#

It feels like something you would have to cover up with a scratch n’ sniff sticker of a pickle to avoid a call to your parents. For some reason though I imagine teachers having a problem with your pencil pouch boldly displaying the word “KILL” on it. Granted it didn’t actually change into the jet, but it was still way more fun than walking up to the crank handle sharpener bolted above a trashcan in the classroom. Kids were always looking for a way to bring toys to school and what better way than a pencil sharpener in the shape of a transforming robot jet. I wonder if he would hang out with Fearless Photog from the Masters of the Universe create a character contest? "Film-Bot" would have been a hit for me at playtime. My solution as a child would definitely have been to build a robot body out of Construx and then rubber band this camera to the top as a head. But maybe they were banking on children being excited to have, “A real camera just like mommy’s and daddy’s”. While it may have been fun to take some pictures of your GoBots toys assembled on the floor of your bedroom, it’s kind of a letdown. It’s just a camera with some stickers on it. Unlike the previous item, this licensed GoBots camera does not transform into a “Mighty Robot”. Likely stored in a humid garage for years, this machine has melted gumballs in the bottom, yuck! The only poor production choice I feel is selling the thing with the gumballs pre-loaded.

#GOBOT FIGURE TOYBOX PLUS#

The other plus was that if a kid’s fascination with GoBots faded as they got older, they could easily leave the dispenser in jet mode while playing “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins on their stereo and live that Top Gun life. Not only were you getting a gumball dispenser, but a bank and a toy all in one! The idea of bringing one home always appealed to me, but I was usually imagining one of the standard red metal and glass globe models on a stand. I don’t know about you, but nothing was cooler to my 4 year old self than gumball machines. So today, let’s look back at some of the non-robot products that carried the GoBots name in our local drug stores. Tonka seemingly did everything right with GoBots, releasing toys at multiple price points, with Hanna-Barbera to create stories and characters, even licensing plenty of tie-in merchandise not directly related to the toy line. The truth is, Leader-1 and the GoBotronians debuted weeks before the Transformers in toy aisles and on TV. But despite the common misconception, GoBots was not a mere imitator, simply hopping on the Transformers bandwagon to cash in. From box art, to robot design, cartoon adaptation and catch phrases (Robots In Disguise/More Than Meets The Eye), Optimus Prime’s Cybertronian cohorts were just cooler. Return to GoBotronĬourageous subsequently became a key part of the Guardians' arsenal, helping fight threats including Ultra Zod, Sentinel and Puzzler.Let’s face it, GoBots never had the staying power of their fellow transforming robot vehicle competitors The Transformers. The mighty robot soon trounced the Renegade forces, liberating GoBotron. In order to combat Roguestar he commanded Leader-1, Turbo, Scooter and Small Foot to link their Power Suits to his spaceship, forming the Power Warrior Courageous. The Power Suits and the Command Jet were devised by the Last Engineer for the Guardians to help retake GoBotron from the Renegade alliance of Cy-Kill and the Master Renegade. Courageous toy box Grungy toy box Challenge of the GoBots cartoon They don't have a long search before finding Grungy, piloted by Cy-Kill and four of his henchman and the two Power Warriors lock in battle. With Leader-1 commanding four top Guardians from the chest, Courageous hunted for Renegades.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

*knocks on ur kitchen window* hi do you have ocs :0

I have two main sets of OCs: the Star Wars ones, and the kiddos from The Last, my Inkling Challenge project (that I really need to work on... 😬) so, I shall split this up and give you some introductions!!!

Ember Squadron (Star Wars AU):

ok so first of all, Greer, Joph, and Jacen are all canon characters that I just wanted to play with lol, so: Greer is a former racing pilot turned Leia's head of senatorial staff turned one of the first members of the Resistance. Joph is another pilot and an absolute cinnamon roll who has a crush on Greer (and is also kinda a fanboy of her racing career shsjdndjs) and inserts himself into the Resistance during the same events that spark it — the events of the novel Bloodline by Claudia Gray. Jacen is the son of Hera and Kanan (RIP Kanan) from Rebels and I just wanted to have him around bc he and Joph would be Bros(TM). @fortes-fortuna-iogurtum and I have talked about this a bit lol

now onto the actual OCs!!! there are... not many of them

Tina, who is my imagined kid for if Ezra and Sabine (from Rebels) were to get married — she's the squadron's mechanic and a decent pilot in her own right, with Jedi training and a mild-mannered but spunky personality and is also really good at close combat, like hand-to-hand or lightsaber fights

Ri'an is a somewhat jaded Chiss boy (@ladythespera i have a Chiss OC 👀) who can and will ramble about any of his hyperfixations areas of expertise, which include histories and folklore of various planets as well as a lot of the math necessary for fighter pilots. he takes a while to come out of his shell and is generally pretty prickly, but he bonds with Joph pretty quickly

annnnnd Luca (who may get a name change at some point but also idk) is a Mirialan with a bubbly personality and probably a bit too much energy and need to "win" — she's never met a dare she wouldn't take and can be challenging and combative towards the others (esp. Jacen, who she sees as "the golden boy" of the group because his whole family are Rebellion heroes) but she's also a friendly person

I haven't actually.... *written* anything with these guys, but I do want to someday. I just need to figure out how to give Ri'an a full Chiss name (i don't even know if the apostrophe in his shortened name is technically proper SHDJDJDKSKS I need to check Wookiepedia) now.....

The Last (my original fiction story):

ok fair warning, this is a LARGE ENSEMBLE CAST because it's based on an RP/collaborative writing thing i was a part of at one point

Tara, who is blatantly based on me but WAY cooler shdjdndsj. she's a computer prodigy and the daughter of one of the people who originally found The Last (the like... dubiously magical artifact the story is centered around) — her parents were killed when she was young, though, but they left her (not *just* her, but-) advice, a safe house, and the Last itself.

Topaz is the second in command of their "team" of Last guardians and has known Tara since they were kids. their parents knew each other too, bc Topaz' were also involved with the first generation of people protecting the Last and were killed on the same trip/mission. Topaz is pretty mild-mannered, can be serious, but also does Not take good enough care of himself

Willow is the ACTUAL leader of their team, because she met Tara and Topaz when they were like?? 11 or 12 or something idk, their ages aren't all the same. anyway, she pestered them enough and was trustworthy enough to find out about the Last and she's far more inclined to a leadership, so...yeah. Willow is very petite but bold and can be brash and abrasive, but she really does care about her friends and their mission.

Amberly, the youngest member of the squad; idk how she joined them but she's like a little sister. she's pretty optimistic and is quiet, but not necessarily *shy*, if you get my drift (hehe.... drift 😏)

LARRY MY BELOVED!!!! Larry is an absolute sweetie, a bit of a goofball and very comfortable in his role as the "comic relief" of the group. he's also a mechanic, and is really really good at being a friend to whoever needs one. also, he's a great cook

Zach, who shows up a couple (planned) chapters into the story, is someone Willow met who has a family history with the Last too — most of these kiddos do. his parents were a doctor and an FBI agent, and Zach is following in his dad's footsteps to become a doctor. he's pretty academic and can be uncertain and his loyalties are a bit divided, but because of his history he has a fierce determination to protect the Last.

INTERMISSION BC THERE'S SO MANY KIDS (hopefully I can juggle them all in my writing sjdkdjsksjsk)

Violet is the leader of the OTHER team, who tend to be at odds with Willow's group. she's fairly solemn but can be snarky, and was raised with a very firm direction toward protecting the Last, but from a more... militaristic? I guess? angle than any of the others

Mason, Violet's second in command. he's really just some dude. he's a nice guy and doesn't particularly like being at odds with Willow's team, and is actually fairly friendly toward them tbh. he kinda balances out how hard Violet can be and is the voice of common sense

Promise is Violet's younger sister, but she didn't get the same upbringing before their mom died, and Violet has always tried to protect her from it even when clinging to it herself. Promise is pretty quick and curious but also very sweet and loyal to her sister.

Chance, who's also sorta just some guy??? there's a lot of Guys in this story lol. Chance is a big sweetie, the most recent addition to Vi's team; he and Mason get along pretty well and he also likes the other team. he's loyal enough to Violet that she trusts him, but he's not always totally sure about her attitude lol

and... unless I'm forgetting somebody, that's all of them!!! they're all very very fun characters and dynamics to write — I'm always open for asks talking about any of them (👀 ask me about ships 👀) if you want!!!

I'm working on the next segment of the story and hopefully I can post it soon, so at some point maybe I'll take prompts with my OCs

[essaysbyciara]

Old Habits Die Hard | Part Nine: Stuck In My Ways

SYNOPSIS | PART ONE: DAYS BEFORE | PART TWO: JUST BE GOOD TO ME | PART THREE: RECOGNIZE THE BUTTERFLIES | PART FOUR: DOWN THE STAIRS AND TO YOUR LEFT| PART FIVE: JUST KNOW | PART SIX: JUST & RIGHTEOUS | PART SEVEN: BACKSEAT | PART EIGHT: WEAK IN THE KNEES

Warnings: Language, lightweight mentions of sexual situations, mention of marijuana use

The penultimate chapter of Old Habits Die Hard! Whew, this has been a long one but we’re down to the final two parts of a story that kicked my ass lol. Taglist is STILL OPEN for the finale if you want to get in while it’s hot! Love you all, you beautiful people. 

STUCK IN MY WAYS

“Aye, yo shor- how long you in the city?”

Maleek’s -- or Leek -- introduction last summer was a scary one. Standing outside of papi’s, draped under Dave’s arm,  Dave and his crew stopped their conversations as a midnight blue Caprice classic creeped up to the edge of the corner. Everyone, including Dave, grew on guard, their demeanors ceasing to exist at the drop of a hat because a never-before-seen whip with barely-legal tinted windows came to a complete stop. As the passenger’s side window dropped, Dave whispered to you to go inside of the store to grab him something to eat, his favorite: turkey hoagie, everything on it. You could hear the growl in his undertone as if it was an order. You obliged out of a fright only to hear laughter mere seconds later once Leek’s solid body came bouncing out of the sunroof to one of his latest tracks.

Leek was the neighborhood rapper. He spent thirty minutes or so showing his videos on YouTube the one night you were in the studio with him and his crew. He was dope, you couldn’t lie. Built like a linebacker, Leek’s full ahki beard and super tatted-up upper body was a bad one. You caught yourself fantasizing about how bad Leek could really be but quickly remember that Dave got to you first. Thank God.

“Only for today, Leek. I’m heading back down tonight.”

“Damn. Dope of you to come up for your mans.”

You’d small talk Leek except he’s cutting into your homework of trying to figure out your getaway from this party to wherever Dave wanted to take you. Dave still lingered upstairs as you bobbed and weaved through the party to find Yahya. You were hoping that in the time it would take for you to get through Dave’s extended-extended family, you could come up with an excuse to get away for a few hours.

You could fake a  run to the beauty supply store for some braiding hair but the stores back home were good and hood enough to find the yaki you needed. You promised to take Yahya to papi’s for that hoagie, so no store run could be in order. Your entire family is at Pardi’s house so no “run up to my cousins house right quick” would work. You keep thinking of what to say as Dave rips another message through your DMs. It’s an address and an agreement to meet in thirty minutes.

“Oh, Dave? Yeah. I’m happy he’s home.”

“Who else you think I was talking about? Y’all still down, right?”

Leek’s inquiry throws you off guard. You knew he had a lightweight crush on you -- Dave once joked that he could see Leek’s mouth hit the floor when you walked into the studio that night -- but now the boldness to ask your status in this moment is taking you back to a DM from Leek that you deleted but never told Dave about.

“Dave and I? We’re cool. We ain’t down like we were but we’re cool. My fiance’ helped Dave with his case. That’s why I’m here.”

Leek notices the blinding engagement ring you ignored up until this moment and suddenly, so do you. It’s the first time in hours that you remembered your  man at home and like Chante’ Moore said, “he’s been good…” to you. Your conscience hurries you to dead your quest to find quiet time with Dave. You wouldn’t be on your best behavior; there would be no guarantees that Dave would stand on the right side of history. Upstairs, for that brief moment, your lips touched Dave’s neck and almost caught a bite. Dave used to love that move, digging deeper into you as you almost broke skin so he could commence to breaking your back. You fell into his body by mistake but his hands knew what they were doing. Tracing your stripes down to the seam of your panties was intentional. You pooled at the idea of him taking them off.

You aren’t naive. You wanted Dave and he wanted you. The moment was beyond brief yet beyond impactful. Leek’s unforeseen act as an impromptu guardian angel stops you from making the worst mistake of your life.

“Ahh, congrats ma!” Leek reluctantly goes in for a brotherly-esque hug. You give him a church hug in return, that side hug catching Yahya’s attention as he exits the backyard area to  look for you. He grabs your wrist as you release Leek from your innocent clutches.

“Excuse me, brotha ... [Y/N], you ready to go?” You quickly nod your head up and down in the direction of your forever. Leek didn’t like the way your man cut into his moment but he hastily concedes after you tap your hand on his chest and send your well wishes.

“We still heading over to that hoagie spot, right?” Yahya tapping his stomach as he grabs the car keys from his left pocket.  “I’m dying. And Ms. Gwen’s food looked smackin’. Took me a lot to not go in, baby girl…”

“You could’ve ate. We’ll be up here again.”

“Nah, nah. The way you were talking about this damn sandwich. I want a hit.”  

Dave’s message feels like an afterthought as you jump into the passenger seat. Your meetup was only twenty minutes away but you broke the spell of Dave and tried to forget.  A light tap on the passenger side window wakes you up.

“Y’all leaving already?! Damn.” Uncle Trace daps Yahya through the car window, a mix of weed and Polo Red wafting past your nose.

“Yeah, Unc…” Yahya’s salutation makes your heart smile. “...we gotta get back to homebase.”

“Aight, king. Get my niece home safe. Love you, [Y/N].”

As you direct Yahya to the cornerstone named papi’s, you couldn’t help but  stare at the way he commanded the streets. The potholes that got the best of him the last time he came here are no match for him today. He’s even driving with one hand, something he never did before -- or that you never peeped. His level of comfort on the side of town that you also call home is reminding you right before your eyes that you’re the luckiest girl in the world. All from calling your Uncle Trace by a pet name.

You find a spot close to papi’s and walk in with enough time. Yahya commands for you to order for him and you obey: turkey hoagie, everything on it. You order a chicken cheesesteak, wrapping your arms around Yahya’s waist as you both small talk about the week ahead. You weren’t letting go for anything in this world. Yahya briefly lets go to grab two Tahitian Treats out of the cooler. His big hands grab the drinks, hoagies and you up to the counter.

“Let me get two vanilla dutches, please.”

“Yah- what you doing?  You don’t smoke.”

“I usually don’t. Don’t mean I haven’t. I’m tryna finish this weekend out right. We still celebrating.”

“That’s fine but who the hell you get the weed from?”

“Unc.”

Unbeknownst to you, that dap between included an eighth of silver haze.

“Oh, this is it. You ain’t coming around my family anymore. Nope.”

“I’m Jerri’s favorite. You can’t do that…”

Dave doesn’t know what to do. It’s been some time since your message and you haven’t sent an “OK” or any signal of your arrival. He paces down the steps and out the door, running into Trace talking on the steps to Dave’s uncle, Clifford.  He tries ignoring them both but Trace isn’t having it.

“Yo, you leaving your own party, man?”

“My bad, Trace. I gotta make a run up Olney real quick for something. I’ll be back though…” Dave’s last words trail in the air as he walks down the street toward papi’s. Somehow Trace’s old self catches up to him.

“Bruh, slow down. You just got home…” Somehow Trace’s reminder does indeed slow Dave down. He’s been moving too fast since you agreed to meet up with him. He can’t keep up with his mind.

Dave didn’t know what to do when you sent that message. He felt a semblance of guilt for touching your spot, for letting your body fall into his, for staring at you as if he wasn’t going to see you again. For all the thoughts he had as you both sat in the same room where he’d coax the devil out of your body night after night. He was willing to risk it all only if you wanted it. Your message answered his prayer.

“Yeah, Trace. I know. I just gotta get out the house for a second too…”

“Oh, no doubt. They think that once you out, you wanna see the world. You just want the world to know you good, that’s it.” Trace’s wisdom plummets Dave.

It’s been his truth since he got home from jail. He didn’t want to be surrounded by the people who didn’t check on him or his mother; the people who ignored Pardi’s angered Facebook posts about Dave’s situation. People who donated to the bail fund out of guilt, not out of care. The only people who cared to know his fate  were his mother, Pardi, Trace, Yahya and you, even if you never reached out. He knew you to be the catalyst to his freedom even if you at one time secretly fought it.

You walked up those steps to his old room to see if he was okay. You knew that large crowds made him skittish. Something within you broke the rules to see if he needed a safe space to be. That summer, you were that. Dave unleashed his heart out to you in ways that even his mother would never see. Despite what seemed different about you, you weren’t afraid of his story. He felt close to you, letting you into a world that you didn’t know but could feel.

Dave wanted one more chance to feel you. Yahya be damned.

Watching Yahya yell  salutations to him and Trace from his car window as he drives by gut checks Dave. And makes him wonder if you’re with him. That would deviate from the plan that you created and Dave was on his way to fulfill.

“This is the best shit I’ve ever had, [Y/N]. You weren’t lyin’. Bruh…” Yahya delightfully wipes the last of the mayonnaise from the side of his mouth.

“Told you!”

“They should cater the wedding. I’m not playing.”

The unseasonably warm evening meets you and Yahya as you stare across at Camden’s waterfront. The pier is popping with families enjoying the last bits of early winter before the clocks strike back and school gets into a full swing. It’s a bit of calm before you two hit I-95 back to what sadly isn’t Chocolate City anymore. Yahya caresses your right knee as you stare over the Delaware. You were beyond ready to get home. Your future husband breaks your gaze. “I meant to ask you. Who was bruh all hugged up on you in the house?”

“Heh. Why?”

“You were church huggin’ him to death but he wasn’t getting a clue at all.”

“Oh that was Maleek, a friend of Dave. No big deal.” You play off Yahya’s somewhat jealous disposition even as it humors you. You rather him ask about Leek than Dave.  “Let me find out you jealous? Look at you.”

“Nah. I just know mad dudes are on you. I trust you though.” Up until an hour ago, he didn’t have a reason to do that.

“Dave was too, to be real.” You decide to break down all of the walls. The case was over. You think you’re over Dave. Yahya is minutes into a food coma.

“Well yeah, Jerri told me. Some teenager stuff. I saw those pictures. I’d be chasing you down the hallway too.”

“Boy, please. But no -- remember I told you about that lobbyist dude I dated who damn near ghosted me before we went to the Bahamas? I ended up coming up here for those weeks and Dave and I messed. Nothing serious.”

“You sure? Dude was eyefucking you real crazy at Jerri’s house last Summer.”

“Hold up? You saw that?!” What you thought you hid from Yahya, he saw in plain sight.

“Everybody could, damn.  Heh. It’s all good though. So was I.”

You joust your fingers into Yahya’s side causing him to fall into laughter. Four words suddenly send you into an orgasmic-level of relaxation. Yahya didn’t seem to care. Once you ride off the orgasmic high, you feel insanely stupid. One conversation lessened the guilt of a relationship that lasted two weeks but imprinted onto you for what felt like forever. A moment of repentance overdue coaxes witty banter out of Yahya, not the dissolution of a relationship. It shouldn’t have been this easy.

That’s how u feel?

Your walk back to the car is broken up by a message from Dave. Your lack of a response to his earlier texts told him that you were in the car that Yahya yelled his love from. Your broken promise to break up a happy home slowly breaks Dave’s heart even though he knew better than to break the rules.

You don’t know what to say in response, turning your phone on silent not to alert Yahya’s attention. There’s nothing for you to say. Dave does all the talking for you.

Yo. I’m not some snake ass nigga. I wasnt doin anything with you that you didnt want

You came lookin for me.

I can’t be friends with you?

You wake up to see Dave’s last message sent hours ago. Before you walk into your front door and out of Dave’s life forever, you send your final goodbye.

I don’t think it’s best. I’m sorry.

Taglist: @harleycativy @twistedcharismaaa @dorkskinneded @need-my-fics @ghostfacekill-monger @writerbee-ffs @chaneajoyyy @amyhennessyhouse @blackburnbook​

[jacensolodjo]

I... honestly don’t know if I got into Shane’s mindset properly here but whatever. And I never feel like I fully grasp Jack but. Look. I wrote a Thing with them ok?? I tried lmao *Tony Stark I think I did okay.gif*

------------------------------------------

Jack had said she wanted at least 10 minutes of solo fight time. So Shane had no choice but to wait on the hill in prone, sniper rifle at the ready. She doubted she would actually fire a shot before Charging down the hill towards Jack. Patience was not at all Shepard’s strong suit and everyone knew it. Especially Jack. Shane was starting to wonder if Jack was teasing her, testing her. 

And showing off. She was showing off. They both did, they both cajoled each other into higher and higher kill counts. If they were going to kill something, let it be Cerberus fuckheads, had been the logic from the get go.

Shane watched, half-disbelieving, as Jack literally ripped the spine out of a Nemesis. As the other biotic was turning to look at the hill, Shane quickly pulled the trigger. Jack flinched, just a little, as the bolt slammed through a heavily armored Centurion that had been barely a foot away, right at the brain stem. Guess I gotta tell Anderson disconnecting the computer still works, Shane thought. 

“So your way was cleaner,” Jack shrugged as she spoke over the comms. 

“I’m hurt y’think that’s why I did it,” Shane remarked back, rolling her eyes even though there was no way Jack could see it. 

Shane really wasn’t the sniper of the crew. She could do it, but she hated it. And her original classification had always meant her CQC was top notch. And had only grown after Project Lazarus and finally getting the go-ahead to be called ‘Vanguard’ rather than ‘Adept’. 

“Yeah well, still got another minute solo,” Jack said dismissively before turning to walk back into the fray. She had lured a good number of them out of the building but Shane was sure there were quite a few waiting for them inside still. 

Shane tapped the side of her helmet, swapping frequencies. On her last mission she had managed to snag the frequency codes that most of the lower-level Cerberus troops used. It was far easier to eavesdrop on them that way than trying to get EDI to hack into their system. And at the moment, she didn’t even have the Normandy nearby. The two biotics had taken a simple shuttle to this simple planet for a simple kill Cerberus mission. 

“We need backup! Repeat: backup! Subject Zero and Commander Shepard are here!” a frantic voice was screaming. A little late, Shane mused, but she didn’t much care if they got backup or not. It would just put her on more even footing with the scoring. 

“No backup, you are ordered to evacuate. If you stay there you will be signing your own death warrant. Do not engage Subject Zero or Commander Shepard,” a calmer, cooler voice replied. Shane wracked her brain. trying to pin down where or if she had heard the voice before. 

“But we need backup to cover the escape! We’ve lost a quarter of our defenses already! Our troops are saying they haven’t even seen Shepard enter the fray yet!”

“Then enjoy dying.”

“Banes, you can’t--”

Banes?!?! That was it.

“Armistan, I’m a little offended. Why shouldn’t I have some fun on y’company’s dime?” Shane broke in, unable to stop herself even knowing it meant they’d realize she had their frequency and everything else. 

“Commander Shepard, this is not the first time you’ve interrupted my work,” Banes said coolly. 

“An’ the first time I did wasn’t the first time y’Cerberus fucks sicced a Thresher Maw on me.”

“Ah, so you did learn about Akuze. A shame that memorial didn’t turn out like it should have...” 

“Fuck you!” Shane instantly felt her biotics activate around her. “I’m going t’ fucking rip your head off your fucking body y’piece of scheiße!”

“Now, now no need to get nasty,” Banes chided, still cool as a damn cucumber. Why the hell were Cerberus men always like this? Always knowing exactly how to just make her even more mad!?

“Once I’m done here, you’ll see how fuckin’ nasty I can really be,” Shane growled, standing up. She surveyed the area in front of her. Jack had gone inside. Damn. She had gotten distracted yelling at Banes. Holding back a sigh, Shane instead Charged down the hill and past the carnage Jack was responsible for.

“I look forward to it. Troopers, change to frequency gamma. This has been a wonderful chat, Commander Shepard, but I’m afraid it ends now.” 

“I’m not done with you!” she didn’t care if the frequencies had already changed. She’d get him eventually. He had to know that. 

“You are for now,” Banes said before a very soft click. Shane growled again but then turned the frequency back to the one she shared with Jack.

“Where the fuck are you?” Shane demanded, a lot harsher than she meant. She was still riled by her conversation with Banes. Dammit. She thought of apologizing but knew Jack would likely just wave it off. 

“I could say the same damn thing, bitch! What, were you daydreaming out there?” at least Shane could count on Jack not much caring if Shane was a little curt. 

“I eavesdropped on them. They’re trying to evacuate instead of holding the area,” Shane explained, running at her max speed while following the trail that she knew would lead to Jack.

“Uh huh. You did way more than eavesdrop,” Jack said. Shane honestly didn’t know why she thought she could ever fool Jack. Jack knew what Shane was going to do before Shane even thought it. 

“You would too if you heard fucking Banes on the line using your number,” Shane returned before finally sprinting around a corner to find the meat of the action once more. 

“My nu-- oh, fuck that! That’s hardly--” but Jack stopped speaking to instead fling two Guardians at a wall, smashing them into pulp within their armor. 

“Hardly worth gettin’ pissy over?” Shane asked mildly, Charging right past Jack to fire off a short burst from her stolen Mattock into a line of troopers. 

“Well, kinda, yeah. But... thanks,” Jack admitted, before flinging a Phantom into the air. Shane smiled to herself before peppering the Phantom full of holes as it rotated in mid-air. 

In all honesty, Shane was glad to hear Jack wasn’t reacting as badly to ‘Subject Zero’. She was healing. But that wasn’t going to make Shane suddenly shrug about the use of the moniker. Especially from Cerberus. 

“Also, it was kinda half-selfish anyway. Banes was responsible for what happened to Kahoku’s men. He sicced a fuckin’ thresher on me when I went to look for the missing troops,” Shane continued, seeing no point in pretending it was all selfless caring of Jack’s ‘feelings’ 

“Ah, damn. S’e’here?” Jack asked as the pair finally reconnected to storm down a hallway. Jack had heard the tale of woe many times when it came to Akuze, but the Kahoku mission was new. Though Jack never really cared about learning new things about Shane, in that she didn’t actually go asking, it was only natural to learn more at ‘surprising’ times. They couldn’t possibly talk about each other’s 20+ years of life in the galaxy and still have time to kill some Cerberus fucks. It wasn’t hidden history, just history they hadn’t brought up yet. The reason they worked out so well is they had no expectations of such. Their histories had to come up organically, not after playing 20 questions. They bonded because their trauma was shared, the same people had caused them both a lot of pain and torment. In different ways, sure, but still the same people.

“Nah, I dunno where he is but he definitely isn’t here. The way he said things it seemed like he was already on a ship away from here,” Shane admitted. It was a disappointment but it would be rectified. 

“Well, you and I both know there’s no Cerberus fuck in the galaxy who can hide from us for very long. You wanna go after him, you know I’m fucking there,” Jack said, not even sounding out of breath yet. Shane had to admire her resilience. 

“Yeah, I know. Let’s finish up here then we’ll worry about Banes,” Shane said, offering a slight smile at the other biotic. Jack smirked back then as one they literally leaped into the next battle. 

[shabre-legacy]

Aacha Lesana’s story

Takes place 2bby on the outer rim planet of Cassar

Aacha Lesana -Daughter of Jedi Knight Kyiari Lesana and Clone Commander Drift, Twi’lek, 22, Rebel recruiter/spy/self-training Jedi, Guardian, lvl 1

Aacha finally got one of her imperial contacts prepared to defect and arranged to meet him on a backwater planet that doesn’t have much. Unfortunately, she spent most of her credits evading oddly targeted imperials to get there and she hadn’t heard a thing, 

She gets a message from a visiting “merchant” looking to hire guards for a trip to trade with the local villages. A merchant that she is familiar with as he is also a rebel spy. They haven’t worked together before, but they’ve seen each other. 

She agrees to the job along with a makeshift droid and a chiss mechanic named shait. Their first task involves getting a protocol droid that is supposed to have the local natives language programmed into it. However, the mechanic who was supposed to have the droid was missing and his shop ransacked and the droid gone as well. This is concerning since Aacha doesn’t know exactly what the contacts mission is or what the mechanic was told. But she isn’t willing to allow a rebel operation to be compromised. So when she finds someone who knows what’s going on, she is vague but intimidating in telling him that the mechanic was involved in things bigger then he knew and that it could bring off world trouble for everyone if the man doesn’t tell her where they went. The mechanic turned out to owe debts to a gang. When confronted, the party was able to get the droid, but not the mechanic. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the good of the rebellion and thus the good of the galaxy, even for a self-training wanna be Jedi. They find that not only does this refurbished droid think that it’s brand new, but it’s also an imperial model that believes it’s still serving the empire and addresses Aacha as an imperial officer. It makes her incredibly uncomfortable. But needs must. 

After meeting up with their new employer, the party heads into the swamp towards the village of the native people that the merchant is trading with. On the way there her companions noticed that for a wealthy merchant, he didn’t bring a speeder or mount of any kind and he didn’t bring any wares with him. And they become suspicious while Aacha becomes more certain that this is a rebel operation rather then something to hold his cover or personal benefit. 

During this time, there is a small fight and Shait ends up needing healing. Aacha is still sus and doesn’t want them to know that she can use the Force so she asks SQ to take the protocol droid and make sure the area is safe. She isn’t overly concerned about Wo. He knows who she is, so he probably already knows, either way, he’s distracted. So she asks Shait to close his eyes and then uses the Force to heal him. 

After reaching the village, they are welcomed and spend time resting while Wo negotiates. In the evening there is a party because these people apparently value hospitality. During this feast. Our poor makeshift droid SQ gets turned into a jungle gym by the village children. He is uncomfortable with this, but doesn’t want to hurt the children, but also doesn’t speak the language. So in an effort to help since none of the party speaks the language, Aacha turns to a universal one. She pulls out her lute and starts playing some traditional rylothian music. This not only draws the attention of the children, but the rest of the village and after a few minutes they bring out their own instruments. It takes a moment, but Aacha quickly picks up on their rhythms and begins harmonizing her lute with their own songs.

While that is going on Shait was struggling to explain the concept of ice and cold to the villagers as being Chiss, he was really struggling with the heat and humidity of this jungle planet. The language barrier and the foreign concept creating obstacles in him getting cold water, eventually he manages slightly cooler water from a shallow water pit which he accepts as as good as it’s going to get before discussing some of Wo’s strange and suspicious behavior with SQ. 

At this point Aacha is kind of the unofficial party leader and viewed as the one who knows secrets and what’s going on due to her comments to the gangster they confronted while trying to find the protocol droid in the first place. Eventually though, the party winds down and after being informed of the success of Wo’s negotiations and that he wishes to return to the village in the morning, he returns to the village leaders tent for more fine-tuning of their deal. Shait and SQ share their concerns with Aacha, who acknowledges them, but tries to reassure them, saying she knows him by reputation, they have mutual friends. They aren’t particularly reassured but head to sleep anyways. 

Aacha does not. Aacha stays up and waits for Wo to leave the tent after the rest of the village heads to bed. When he does, she catches his eye and walks to the edge of the village for more privacy. And masks her behavior as stargazing. While looking at the stars, she notices a ship that looks a lot like a Corvette above the planet. But with no telescope, or macrobinoculars, she has no way of identifying it further. Wo catches up with her and they are finally able to talk without strangers hearing. She asks if he’s gotten any forwarded messages from her recruit, or any messages from rebel command at all. He is in the same boat as her, having not heard anything in a long enough time that it has become concerning. She asks about the imperial droid finding it odd. He remarks that it was acquired during a recent operation that she had heard of. She jokes about being referred to as an imp officer. Which they both agree is unsettling. She comments about the corvette, upon which he pulls out a set of macrobinoculars and looks at the ship a moment before commenting that it shouldn’t be here. Upon further inquiry, he acknowledges that he knows the ship, however before he can say more, the village leader and protocol droid leave the tent and he asks her to gather the others as there are some important matters to discuss. 

When they are brought together, Wo explains that he will pay extra if they help to secure this deal further. One of the native peoples temples has become poisoned. They can’t explain the specifics further then that, not seeming to understand what exactly has happened or why, only that they can’t go there any more. Wo doesn’t know what’s wrong, but does have reports of a ship possibly crashing in the area, so suspects that might have something to do with it.  The party for varying reasons agrees and they rest through the night before setting off in the morning. 

The journey through the swamp is easy, but upon reaching the temple, they are attacked by flying lamprey type creatures. Aacha finds them easy to deflect, but Shait and SQ take damage and then are almost killed when they trigger a rock trap. While SQ seems capable, reattaching his own arm and fixing his own damaged wiring, Shait is not in good shape. So when SQ steps away to retrieve the key they need to investigate further into the temple in search of the source of leaking starship engines that Shait had smelled earlier, Aacha once again requests Shait close his eyes as she brought her ‘healing supplies’. After healing him again, Shait asks where he can buy some of her ‘superbacta’. She informs him it’s not something he can buy. When he expresses concerns, she reassures him that there is no risk of addiction, he simply can’t buy her ‘supplies’ as no market in the galaxy carries them. After they get the doors open, they realize that they were in fact correct. The ‘poisoning’ was indeed a radiation leak of some kind. Inside the room were 3 villagers, or they had been. They’d been here at least a month and were horribly mutated and covered in tumors. Shait and SQ have taken to following Aacha’s lead through here and proceeding a bit more cautiously and with more of a plan. Aacha for all the horrible things she has done, and is willing to do for the rebellion, is also a softie and trying to be a good jedi now that she’s decided to do that. She tells them she thinks she can soothe at least one of them and if one stays calm, maybe the others won’t attack. They let her enter first. And taking a risk in front of them, she uses the Force to soothe the mind of one of the creatures, assuring them that they are peaceful and they are friends. The creature approaches quickly but not threatening and stops in front of her. She can’t leave them in pain like they are, so she reaches out and attempts to neutralize the radiation poisoning. She successfully does so, unfortunately, the sudden reversal of the mutations and the tumors falling off causes some new pain and the creature wails, turning the other two hostile. 

Aacha is able to make it over to a second creature and heal that one as well, with the same result. The radiation damage is healed, the villager wails and falls unconscious. But she is still new to this and doesn’t yet have the training to tap into her full power, she isn’t strong enough to save the third and it violently attacks the party and they are forced to kill them. 

Afterwards, they notice a large sinkhole in the room, Shait goes to investigate it while Aacha and SQ move the villagers she was able to save outside the room and further from whatever the source of radiation is so they are out of danger and out of the way and can rest and start healing more. 

Shait determines that the sinkhole leads down into a crashed ship of some kind that must have crashed into the swamp and pushed through the soft mud until it slid under the temple and came to a stop causing the sinkhole and poisoning the temple. So they tie off a rope and SQ and Shait who know things about tech drop the 30 feet down into the ship while Aacha remains up top to pull them out and keep an eye of the villagers. 

Those two quickly find the leak and seal it and restore enough power to set a cleaning system to run, clearing the radiation from this area and making it safe for a few hundred years if the ship is left alone (longer if someone does their job and removes the ship as soon as they’re told where it crashed. 

After they returned, they head back to the village and as soon as the villagers see them returning with two of their lost members, they rush forward carrying the still unconscious villagers into a healing tent of some kind while the party goes to talk to Wo. Wo is thrilled that the temple is cleared of poison and that they brought back villagers that were thought to be dead. It makes them look good, and reliable and most importantly trustworthy, which makes his negotiations easier for the future. The party is the best mercs he’s ever hired and well worth the money. They are getting along well with him. Then their gaze is drawn up towards to sky where a massive ship has just dropped out of hyperspace. Wo grabs out a set of macrobinoculars, takes one look and hands them over to Aacha, grabbing out a second set. 

It’s an imperial star destroyer. It approaches and began firing on the corvette seen earlier. This causes Aacha to launch into a string of curses because as she tells the party ”the karking imps are here. We got trouble incoming, fuckingshit” The Corvette begins moving ejects all of its cargo and jumps to hyperspace. Aacha notices that among the cargo is a single escape pod. The star destroyer drops a small transport shuttle and jumps to hyperspace as well. The transport begins heading to the only port on the planet while Wo, Aacha and Shait try to map a rough trajectory of where the pod is going to land. Wo turns to the party and tells them that he no longer wants to be escorted back to the town. Instead, he’ll pay triple for an escort to the pod. This is where SQ says that he believes that they are part of some kind of rebellion and Shait gets concerned about that. Wo reiterates that the pay is triple if he gets to the pod. And takes off running into the jungle, determined to get to the escape pod before the imperials and Aacha is right next to him, yelling at SQ (the party’s scout and best at navigating the swamp) to catch up, they’re moving. 

[inventors-fair]

Mechanical Commentary: All across the spectrum

People went pretty far with this one, honestly. There were a lot of overlapping mechanics and ideas that were related, but across the board, there was a mix of flavor and pure gameplay that came together in an interesting way. 

I think that if I had to give advice for doing this contest again, I would encourage everyone to keep it SIMPLE in their card submission choices. What is the best example of your mechanic, not your card? What’s the best choice for how this mechanic can work and be grokable? Contests like this aren’t about showing off the coolest thing or the most radical notion. No, they’re about proof of concept, presenting that concept, and creating clarity above all else. Unless we’re asking for a contest in which you make a confusing card, clarity is pivotal in all things.

@cas-420 — Flayed Alive

This card by itself is very good, probably an uncommon but very good. My main concern with the mechanic is that it can either only exist on reactive instants OR be in a set where life loss is a key concept. That’s what I’m not a fan of. Losing life during your own turn doesn’t come naturally to Magic. Some mechanics require support and certain environments, like, say, modular, or constellation, but “having artifact creatures” and “playing enchantment cards” are things that more or less happen in the game already. So, I would consider this a cool one-off card, but Agonize as a mechanic feels too narrow.

@dabudder​ — Drownyard Crawler

This is the reason why Ikoria introduced ability counters, besides being a design experiment. Memory issues with this card are crazy hard. If you have multiple copies of the same creature, and one of them is viral, how do you know? Swap places like magic cups, and it becomes impossible. Conceptually and flavorfully, this ability is fine. I won’t call it reinventing the wheel, but I don’t dislike it. There are a couple wording issues. I would change “to a creature” to “to another creature,” and I would have it say “Creatures with viral have skulk and “Whenever this creature deals combat damage to a player, draw a card.”” in quotes. I like how this makes combat more complex.

@dancepatternalpha​ — Arkelas, Ruler of the Lost

I don’t really understand what ephemeral’s place as a mechanic is, but I think I’m seeing the set you’re trying to build around. I imagine there are a few cards that would also interact with exile? And as the game went on, the more cards exiled created more powerful effects? I can see it. Ephemeral doesn’t make me tingle with excitement, but I can’t be harsh with it. I think I understand where you’re coming from, and I feel that a common or uncommon submission might have been more favorable.

@deafeningsandwichpeach​ — Bursting Beetle

FEWER, NOT LESS. Ahem. Sorry, that was harsh. But there are a couple wording issues. “Swarm X (When this creature enters the battlefield, if you control fewer creatures than each opponent, create three tapped 1/1 green Insect creature tokens.)” Fewer words, easier to grok. Not a bad mechanic. Feels reactive, though, less of a choice and more of a “I’m gonna hold onto this card because it’s a little useless otherwise.” It’s worth tweaking, though. I love token mechanics. Maybe this card could have been five or six mana.

@demimonde-semigoddess​ — Blood Remora

Ey, a fishy! Ooh, an evil fishy. An evil fishy with one big issue: if it deals combat damage to an opponent and there are no other targets, it has to target itself. And that’s my main issue. “Whenever this creature deals combat damage to an opponent, you may attach it to target creature that player controls. It can’t attack or block as long as it’s attached this way” could work? Might have a couple memory issues, but that’s not a major issue. You can just move cards around. It’s not a bad mechanic, but it’s a little hard to parse at first glance.

@dimestoretajic​ — Strike From Above

So, this is the conflict between “simple” and “exciting.” Everything about this card is more or less exactly understandable. But the name, the mechanic name, and the flavor text don’t feel as inspired as they should be. I don’t get a sense of quality from them. It’s an intangible aspect, and I’m sorry because I know that sounds like a real jerk way of putting this, but: for future cards, consider the world, the story, and what the card would look like once you open it up. I don’t get a sense of MTG from this card yet. Instead, it feels like a concept. That’s fine for personal reasons, but as a submission, I’m not excited. Airstrike itself I wouldn’t keyword as a mechanic. This card would be better without that aspect.

@emmypupcake — Aftermarket Additions

 Great name, great flavor text, great ability name... Super limiting. The as-fan of artifact creatures in this theoretical set would have to be hella huge, like Mirrodin-block big, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe you could batch it into “charge, haste or +1/+1 counter”s so it could interact with noncreature artifacts? Wait, this also works for vehicles. Man, this is probably a cooler mechanic than I thought originally. Call it a B- for relying on a specific sub-category of cards. A+ for badass bikers.

@fractured-infinity​ — Thunder Hammer

This mechanic was real close to being a runner-up. Quickdraw would need a bit of flash interaction to really make it worthwhile, though, and a strong equipment/aura theme as well. Could it work with auras? Would it make sense, or are you going for a wild-west-ish theme? Kind of? The card itself is good limited fodder and equipment tribal goodstuff for commander, I suppose. Not a fan of the name or flavor text personally, but it’s simple enough to make sense. Green and “thunder” don’t always go together, y’know. In my opinion. Which is not always a good one.

@ghost31415926535 — Storm Fleet Rapscallion

Plunder: a fine mechanic. I like the artifact synergy. Now, let’s go over the wording issues.

You forgot a card type in your submission. That’s a big one.

“When” should be capitalized.

“Treasure” should be capitalized.

“Tap” should have just been a symbol T followed by a comma. Was this what you meant? It wasn’t entirely clear.

There should be a period and an end-quote at the end before the paren.

@gollumni​ — Nayan Cataloguers

I kept reading this as “cartographers.” My fault, not yours. Anyway. So, I can see this is based off explore. Honestly, it doesn’t really...feel as good? Partially because it’s similar in both mechanic AND flavor, and partially because you’re forced to put the card on the bottom of your library. I would also have it say “Reveal the top card of your library. If that card’s converted mana cost is greater than this card’s, put it into your hand.” I think that groks? 

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ — Dragons’ Secrets

I would not have made this spell modal. Honestly, I would have picked a simpler submission in general, but I don’t dislike this card. It feels a little cheap and it’s an insane storm enabler. What if the modes were together for both of them, and the mana echoes did the same? DM me if that doesn’t make sense. In general, mana echoes isn’t a bad ability. This card is wordy and cluttered. I like how you went for “converted mana cost.” Makes sense, good in limited, I think.

@ignorantturtlegaming​ — Underground Network

Too much. I would much rather you have submitted just a common Wurm with burrow and some flavor text instead of this card, and even then, I’m not a fan of burrow as a mechanic. Why the alternate cost, plus the counters, plus the upkeep, plus the status effect? It’s all grokable individually but together it’s too much to keep track of for one mechanic. And what does “during each player’s end step” mean? Can you do it at instant-speed? Should it be a trigger? Why is it each player’s end step instead of just yours? There are a lot of questions this card raises that I don’t think it answers satisfactorily. 

@juggernaut-is-a-metalhead — Embercoil Serpent

So out of the two cards you submitted, I felt that this one was the best designed. There are a couple questions I have. One, should mono-red be able to have this? Yes, I know it’s hybrid, but if a mono-red deck could play it, would it? It’s a pretty powerful ability, a la Scrying Sheets. Two, I assume that the number after Dig refers to the number of untapped lands you have to sacrifice, and I think that it’s pretty cool in the late game, but why not just have it be “you may cast this spell from your graveyard by sacrificing an untapped land in addition to its other costs” instead of a number? I feel it could have worked better that way. Also, Udon is adorable!

@kavinika​ — Iron Guardian

That’s a cool character asset. They should put that in a game! So, I would have made this a keyword action ability word instead of a keyword ability, personally. Like, “Craft — You may pay (4) and sacrifice an artifact and a basic land rather than pay this spell’s mana cost.” Would that have made the last ability weird? I don’t know, I don’t think so, but. Wait, no, it wouldn’t have, they had clash things in Lorwyn that worked the same way. Not a bad concept. Pretty flavorful for artifact creatures and other artifacts. 

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Wanderwood Warden

I love alliterative names. I don’t love angels without flying, but that’s a “me” issue. So, for this card, I like obscure, but I don’t like the darkness counters. I think that the face-down stuff works well on its own. And I would change “obscured cards” to “face-down exiled cards” so it could work with other cards from Magic’s past. I do like the gist of your flavor text, and I like this card and I like obscure. I wouldn’t call this one a stellar example, and I would have submitted a more straightforward card, but that’s just me being pedantic. Speaking of pedantic, “its owner’s,” not “it’s.”

@misterstingyjack​ — Time Mage’s Teachings

I’m going to be pedantic again, yay. My issue with this card for this contest is that, well, it’s not a new mechanic. Technically, everything on this card could exist within Magic’s rules text as-is and wouldn’t add anything new to the rules. We were looking for a new NAMED mechanic. I thought that was evident, but I suppose not. This card’s great, so keep it around for that, but it technically is not eligible. Personally, I would have also made it uncommon for limited purposes.

@nicolbolas96​ — Gitaxian Surgeon

Combining Phyrexian mana, permanent control, AND infect onto a single card, two of which exist within the same mechanic? Let’s take a step back. Phyresis, besides already existing as a card, is a cool concept to bring to the table. As a mechanic, permanent control of any creature, including your own, turning it into a 5/5 with infect, is bonkers. If this existed with any number, then 1) it would be useless half the time considering it has to target things with specific mana costs and 2) it would be busted beyond belief. I think that this card would be fine with the exile cost as a singular card. I don’t think Phyresis is a mechanic worth exploring for the time being.

@nine-effing-hells​ — Phlogiston Burst

Good on you for making me look up a word I didn’t know! This card is... Definitely uncommon, that’s for sure. But hm. I don’t DISLIKE Overchannel. So, in theory, you can exile three random cards and two red cards to cast it for free? Okay, maybe it’s common, forget my previous rambling. It’s an interesting take on Delve that isn’t broken, and this one was pretty close to being a runner-up. I worry about free stuff, but the hand isn’t an infinite resource. It’s probably fine. I’ll give this card and mechanic kudos. A rare one might break a format, but remains to be seen, y’know?

@nvijork​ — Grenzo, Fist of the Queen

I love the fact that you did your own art for this! So, locks are interesting. They’re a little bit of a non-issue in the late game, but I’d have to really play with them to see just how frustrating they are. I think there’s plenty of room for exploration and I think that this card (which IMO should be rare) is a...fine example? Not blowing my socks off, and you could have shown an example of something that happened when you had multiple locks or that triggers based on locks or something. Keep this mechanic around. I like it. Bad news: in the story, Marchesa actually fired Grenzo. So is this an alternate universe, or do I have to get out my Story Correction Rod of Spanking?

@partytimesdeluxe​ — Stringplayer

Like kavinika’s crafting, this is a mechanic that definitely needed to be a keyword action ability word. “Crescendo — Whenever a creature enters the battlefield under your control, if it has the greatest power among creatures you control, gain control of target creature.” The mechanic is probably fine, I’d love to see it played in limited, and the potential play with multiple crescendo triggers would be so much fun. Not bad, but the wording on this specific card as presented could use work.

@real-aspen-hours​ — Drag Away // Umbral Kidnapper

If your MSE is acting up, feel free to message me on Discord or Tumblr and tell me so we can help you out. So, my main concern with this card is that I’m not sure if you’re submitting abduction counters as your new mechanic, or if you’re submitting Twist as your new mechanic; I’m going with Twist. It’s not bad! Someone’s going to correct me, but I think that in this instance you would use “return” instead of “put.” Again, correct me if I’m wrong. I think that it’s a cool way to turn instants and sorceries into permanents. I won’t call it the most flavorful or mind-blowing mechanic in the world, but I like it. I don’t see why you can’t put the exile clause on the flip side instead of on Twist where it won’t really be remembered. Also, the second side should have “those spells” — see Haldan, Avid Arcanist.

@reaperfromtheabyss​ — Dark Reprise

I think it should be “This spell costs” instead of the name, but aside from that and a period at the end of the sentence, it’s fine enough. There really isn’t much to say about this card. It’s a fine example and I like how the name creates flavor without flavor text. The mechanic and card don’t excite me enough to give it a place, but I mean, this is probably the safest example you could have gone for, and you know what, I can respect it.

@shandylamb​ — Fidi, Alluring Lamia

I love the uncommon legend, heh. As a mechanic, I don’t really like siphon. I don’t like how there’s a number attached instead of just “exile it and gain 2 life.” And I don’t like how it’s only cards from a graveyard. Why can’t you siphon cards from player’s hands and libraries and the battlefield as well? It would be so cool to, like, have powerful cards that suck away hidden power and turn the world into your vampyric victims. Instead, there’s...this. It gave me inspiration, but I wouldn’t call this one a slam-dunk.

@teaxch​ — Vyne Rowe Vagrant

You know, this mechanic is making me think of Adamant, except...different. And I’m leaning a little more towards Adamant, although I can see this card’s properties. The problem that comes up is that this card doesn’t feel tailored to a limited environment, nor does it feel tailored to Commander. Dedicated feels like a mechanic based solely around constructed environments, and I don’t know if I like that? It’s a build-around-me card without the big payoff. As a card, and as a concept, again, I don’t...dislike anything about it. But the mechanical feel is off. It’s not something that I feel like I’m attaining or that I’m synergizing with. I’m not sure exactly how to explain myself here, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope that the contrast is enough to make some sense.

@tmstage​ — Precise Pikeman

Handsome feller. Lol, and he fells indeed. I think this should be a replacement effect, like, “If this would deal damage to a creature with toughness 6 or greater, it deals double that damage instead.” I’m gonna side with your own personal feelings as you submitted this one. It’s not a fantastic mechanic, because it’s just so crazy limiting in what it requires to work. I think that as a single card without Tankbuster it would be fine.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path​ — Grand Annex of Elesh Norn // Elesh Norn, Voice of New Phyrexia

Technically, and I say this being a giant ass, this isn’t a new ‘mechanic.’ It’s a new card type and it would add things to the comprehensive rules, but it’s not a mechanic. Doesn’t matter, it’s worth commenting on anyway. I don’t hate it! Every part of this card by itself is pretty cool. I personally don’t like how it only requires one creature to attack, and I don’t like how the vault abilities aren’t static like a changing enchantment could be. Y’know? It feels like a saga more than it does an artifact. Again, this card is cool and would be great in a custom cube, but I would make some changes before adding vaults to a set.

~

Thank you all for your entries! New contest tomorrow. Spooky. Or not.

[starfirette]

Every Which Way : Chapter Four

The Way To Freedom

➡️a/n: there is nothing for me to say besides this story is literally my heart and soul ATM 

➡️ prev chapters found on masterlist

➡️ Included original characters: Wendi Q’ohl + Ryder Vizsla

➡️ Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader  | mild violence | arranged marriage | love triangle kinda | slow burn romance | angst to fluff | strangers to lovers | word count:4. 971

➡️ JOIN THE TAGLIST | VIEW SCHEDULE | >>NEXT CHAPTER!<<

Din rushed you through the tunnel, ushering you through as he kept watch of the alleyway. 

When Din followed after you stopped him by grabbing his hand. “You killed those people for me,” you say sternly. “Right?” 

“Y/n,” Din hazards. “This isn’t a conversation we are going to have.” 

You tugged him back, trying to hold him as tightly as he could hold onto you. He easily detached from your grip; it reminds you how feeble you really are without him, and of how strong he is. Staring through the darkness with a crinkled frown, you said, “I don’t understand you.”

“Why do you care?” Din snapped.

You smashed your lips closed . Why did you care? 

The common reaction would be to care about your savior, yes? No matter what Din is to you, you care about him so much that you can hardly breathe. It’s a painful matter to even contemplate. The words mumbled in your throat as you spit out a response before he could walk away from you. 

“Because I care about you,” you said. Your voice echoed around the tunnel. Din’s figure ruffled to a stop. “I do, Din,” you said a bit louder. “I care about you a lot. You’ve been the only thought on my mind all this week. And I think you might care about me, too.”

Ragged breaths that passed his modulator kept you on your toes. The heart that beat painfully in your chest became absolutely shattered when Din did finally speak. 

“You’re wrong,” he says. “I don’t care about you, and you don’t care about me.”

The silence that passed between you struck you in the face like a sharp slap from Emelea’s hand. Composing yourself, wiping your tears and such, took some time, and Din seemed to wait for you. Your boots stepped over the rocks that littered the tunnel’s floor as you walked around Din and made way for the covert. At least in the darkness Din could not see the tears that streamed down your face like the water in the showers. 

You were wrong; of course you were. You don’t know anything about feelings, you’ve never had the opportunity to understand them. Perhaps you’d mistaken care for something different. You’d misinterpreted Din’s lingering touches and glances your way. It all meant nothing. 

With a heavy heart you raced to the furnace, in a hurry to return your weapons and find solace in your bedroom. 

“Y/n!” Wendi exclaimed. She left her spot by Gold as she ran to you. “Where the hell did you go?!” 

“Din found me,” you mumbled with your chin tucked against your chest. Staring at her glittering shinplates eased the tears on your eyes. 

“What were you thinking letting her go alone?” Din demanded Wendi. “She could have gotten killed.” 

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Wendi snipped with a dismissive tone in her voice. “Clearly she’s just fine––”

“They sent their people after her,” Din interjected. “If I hadn’t been there, or if Paz and Ryder were too late, then she’d be back in their hands.” 

The anger that seeped out of his voice prompted you to look up. Though Din isn’t that tall, he easily towered over Wendi, and his mask did nothing to hide the anger that simmered beneath it. “I don’t care what your personal problem with her is,” Din continued to chew her out. “You are under a creed and she is protected by that creed. If she had gotten killed or taken, I would hold you responsible.” 

Even under the pressure of Din’s angry voice, Wendi still managed to get out a snark. “Yeah, you would.”

“Can you both just stop it?” you interjected. “I’m just fine.”

“See, Djarren? Your girlfriend is just fine,” Wendi repeated. “Paz and Ryder came back with the guardian. They said Y/n can easily hold her own. They also said you killed the rest. Don’t gripe to me about your personal problems. If you want Y/n kept under lock and key, then don’t leave again.”

Din’s arm stretched above Wendi and hammered down. The screech of her metal cuffs that stopped the blow echoed in your ears. They clamored in a quick brawl that was cut short by Gold’s booming voice. “Control yourselves,” she commanded. “You’re embarrassing yourselves in front of Y/n and me both. I expect to see you both in the gathering hall immediately.”

The two Mandalorians sent each other brief looks, no doubt snarling under their helmets. Din stormed out first, his cape fluttering behind him with a sharp gust of wind. 

Wendi crossed her arms as she looked you up and down. “I don’t think you have any idea how much of a hassle you are,” Wendi says before she leaves. 

You collapse into the chair, your palm gripping your achey chest. By now you could feel how sore your muscles are. You look up to Gold who waited patiently, looking at nothing as she thought. 

“Are Paz and Ryder alright?” you finally asked. 

“They’re fine,” Gold assures you. “They both said you fought confidently. I’m proud.” 

You mustered half of a smile. You stood up to stretch your legs. 

You wanted to talk about Din and what he said and what he did and how everytime he touched you your skin seemed to burn, but you know you can’t without running the risk of further embarrassment. You reached for your blaster, using your thumb to undo the holster strap. You passed it to Gold. She looked at it with a slight tilt of her golden helmet before shaking her head. “It’s yours, now. All of it.” 

While there weren’t many weapons you’d been given, they all weighed heavy on your lower body. The feeling of the besbev against your thigh felt unnatrual, but if Gold would not accept it, you knew you must keep it; if not to keep yourself safe, then to at least help the others during a situation like today. 

“I don’t want to go to the meeting,” you said blandly.

“Noted,” Gold says. “You must know what it will be about.”

“Me?” you ventured a guess.

“Wendi is right about one thing,” Gold says, “and it is that you are a great deal of ‘hassle’. The interrogation with the court guardian is being taken care of. We expect him to let us all know how you may stay among the covert without breaking any laws or waging war.” 

“If he doesn’t?” you asked. 

Gold’s hands curled into fists under her thick, leather gloves. “Then we wage war,” she said plainly.

You retreated to your room after that. You don’t have the energy to sit around and listen to a bunch of Mandalorians talk about how much of a nuisance you are. If you’d known upon your capture that you’d be such a bother, you would have asked Din to go on his way. 

It’s not anything that builds up self esteem. Wendi clearly hates your guts. 

How could you blame her? You are a threat to her home and her family. You’d probably feel similarly if the roles were reversed.

You used a wet cloth to wipe the dirt and sweat of your neck and face, knowing you’d have to wait until the morning to use the showers. You know that as you change into sleep linens there is a riot about getting rid of you just down the hallway. 

You understand what Din had meant, now. He doesn’t really care about you like you thought. He brought you to the covert, fought for you to stay, and now he has to see it through. He’s quite devoted to his mandate. In his own Mandalorian way, he’s a gentleman. At least he keeps his word. 

He did make it clear you’d be safe with him. 

It hurts knowing he probably regrets his choice as much as you do.

The next morning you woke with one burning thought. 

You dressed and raced to the furnace in your tunic and pants. The only weapon in your belt was the flute that dug against your thigh as you jogged down the hallway.

You’ve become used to the stares by now. You wonder what the status of last night’s meeting had been, but as for right now, you have one question that must be answered. 

“What is your name?” You gasped out. 

Gold looked up at the intrusion. Her arm had been hammering away at a white hot blade. 

Gold’s helmet tips down to her work, then back to you. Her modulator hisses as she breathes. Her hesitation was silent and nearly unreadable but you’d grown used to the Mandalorian mannerisms, enough so that you could begin to read their emotions. 

“You can’t tell me,” you concluded. 

Gold tilts her helmet thoughtfully. “Your intelligence continues to throw me off guard,” she notes. She cast down her hammer, the strike ringing in your ears as it shaped the blade she was working on dutifully. “Unlike any other Mandalorian in this covert my title is one that has been passed down from my parents. Certain titles are as sacred as one’s face.”

“So only your immediate family can know,” you guessed.

“The creed has certain rules that apply to certain people,” Gold explained as she holds the white hot sword up, examining its edges before dunking it into a cooler. You flinch as the steam erupts from the cooler. Gold seems so unfazed by the process that frightens you. You’d never seen the process of weapon making before. It hadn’t crossed your mind during servitude that weaponry could be a trade. Your eyes follow the sword in Gold’s hands as she places it on a table of ice. “What do you know of it?”

“Of what?” You asked. 

The visor of her helmet seeps into your eyes. “Of the Creed.”

You fidget in your seat. “Only what Din has told me,” you explain. “Your faces are meant only for family.”

“And do you know why?” Gold asked. 

“I don’t.”

“Long ago, on Mandalore, the people abided by a code of fealty and a strict creed of honor. Mandalorians were once known to be the fiercest warriors across all the galaxy. To maintain clan safety, every Mandalorian warrior was sworn to bear their face to no one but their own family. Through blood or marriage could one only see a Mandalorian face. Beyond the immediate clan, no living being could see the face of a sworn warrior. Marriage between Mandalorians was frequent. The people of the Creed are not bound to species or race. The Creed may apply to or protect anyone that swears by it. Marriage is the first cornerstone of our tradition. Jedi forbid themselves to love for they fear it will bring anguish, and from that, anger. Jedi fear anger. Mandalorians embrace it. We see that love can be the difference between life or death. 

To keep younglings, wives, and husbands safe, the Creed instated the helmet law. We bear them to protect our clans. It means to keep identity secret to outsiders. This was a time of peace. Our people were united under the Way. 

The Jedi were our natural enemy. To fend them off a member of a strong clan, who had been familiar with the ways of the Jedi order, laid siege on their temples with a weapon of his own epic creation. It is known today as a Darksabre, the one and only. It was created by Tarr Vizsla and my direct ancestors. 

Vizsla became the Mand’alor. The leader of Mandalore, similar to what you know to be a King or Queen. Vizsla’s clan descended into fame following Vizsla’s feats. There were many conflicts with many people, not only the Jedi, that Vizsla had managed to defuse. Though his death was followed by a rupturing civil war. 

The Jedi took possession of the Darksabre. No Armorer has ever been able to recreate Vizsla’s vision.The loss of the Sabre, however, is not what brought on the war. The people became divided after Vizsla’s death. Many sought pacifism as a way to cease outer conflicts. The Way became disrespected. The Creed became a secondary curriculum for the foundlings and younglings. When the Jedi came, many were unprepared. The children that should have learnt the art of war, of the weapon, and of love, knew only a Way of cowardice. The land was scorched and salted by the Jedi most people hold so high. The plains of wheat and grass became a field of ash. Those who wanted to survive fled the planet, while others remained on Mandalore and rebuilt the cities. Those who fled went in hiding, out of fear of the Jedi. 

Pacifism took over the ranks, and the most peaceful of them all became the Mand’alor. And meanwhile, the cruel descendant of Tarr Vizsla began to attack the Creed more and more. 

The Way has been deserted on Mandalore, but it has lived on through coverts, such as this. There are others like us. Others are waiting to seize our place as protectors as they hide on distant planets like lakebats.”

“And is that why we stay hidden?” You asked. “Because of the Jedi?”

Gold weighed stones of steel in her hands. They scrape over the edges of the newly bred sword, sparks flying as the edges build a razor tip. 

“There are more threats than the Jedi,” she mutters, voice pitched darker than you’d ever heard. “War rages throughout the galaxy as we speak. Mandalorians have abandoned their dignity and fall in league with the Imperial  scum.”

You shudder. Imperial scum. You know of such people. You’d unknowingly worked for many. 

Clearing your scratchy throat, your blurt out, “Why? Why would the “pacifist” Mandalorians work for such horrible people?”

“Not all Mandalorians or black and white,” Gold explains. “This has happened in the past. The descendant of Tarr Vizsla had worked with an Imperial Sith Lord. He had intentionally waged territorism on his planet, even abandoning his child. It is more common that you might expect, Y/n.” 

You gnaw on your lip, skin tearing onto your tongue in dry flakes. You rub your finger over your chapped lips. The idea forms in your head, an answer to the question you’d been aching to figure out. “A group of rogue Mandalorians are harboring a fugitive from an Imperial planet,” you concluded. “They don’t just want me, do they? They’re weeding out the old fashioned Mandalorians. It’s an all-win situation.”

Gold’s helmet inclined, almost seeming exhausted. “Very much so.” 

You look down at the cuffs on your forearms. They’d been crafted for you as a form of protection, but it wasn’t just your protection. Letting you be repossessed by Aniri would jeopardize Din Djarren, a Mandalorian who knows about the Nevarro covert. 

“What was the final word?” you asked. “Will you buy me?” 

Gold doesn’t respond for a long minute. She returns the sharpening stones to her case, but then moves to a larger locker. Stacks on stacks of metals shine at you.She selects a few bars, doing the mental calculations as she weighs them in her gloved hands. 

You cannot imagine how sweaty she must be, under the golden helmet, the cape made of fur, and the leather apron over all of her armor. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, nearly ever. Her mind is constantly running, processing things you couldn’t comprehend. If she’s one of the “old” Mandalorians, you cannot imagine why any Jedi would want to wage war with them. Gold alone is a threat to villains. You’d seen Din in action, and even Wendi seems viscous. 

“A proper course of action will be made,” Gold says as she sets the metal bars into her bubbling foundry. They fold into the strobes of heat and sizzle as they come undone like threads. “That is,” Gold said suddenly. “—if you trust me.” 

Rendered puzzled, you rubbed your hands over your thighs. “What do you mean by that?” You drawl, quiet and uncertain while Gold stirs the metal in with a heavy poacher. 

“I mean just what I say,” Gold says insistently, looking into her cauldron as she spoke. “I must hear you say that you trust me.” 

You didn’t have to think that long about your answer. “I trust you.”

“And Wendi?” 

You frowned. “As much as I dislike her, I trust her,” you admit. 

“And Paz, what of him?”

You chewed on the thought for a second. “He’s kind to me,” you say. “I do trust him very much. He’s my friend.”

Gold chuckled, the sound low in her modulator. “I am crafting what will be used to keep you and our covert safe. If you so wish to stay and watch the tedious procedure, I don’t have objections. It’s not exciting.” 

You took that as Gold’s way of asking you to leave. You tried to ask for a clear answer but she ignored you, choosing to slave away over the boiling hot metals. 

What would happen to you? You don’t know anyone else well enough to ask, except for maybe Paz. You ran to the washrooms to shower. The empty showers steamed up, the water striking the smooth floor with pitter-pattering little sounds. 

You scrubbed your head with soap as fast as you could do it. Being trapped in an answerless state isn’t fun, and you wouldn’t wish it on even Wendi. The anxiety that bubbled up inside your throat got washed down the drain. 

Rinsing the bitter taste of vomit from your mouth, you told yourself everything would be alright so long as you trusted Gold and Paz and the rest of the covert.

Din would probably deliver whatever coins or disks Gold is crafting to Emelea in person. Maybe Emelea would accept the offer. Maybe. 

You can only rely on that “maybe” to keep your stomach from churning. The thought of ruining the covert is painful.

You linger around the tunnel for a few minutes more, half hoping you’d bump into Din. You know well that he’s out doing his own work, but you cannot help yourself from hoping. The thought of Din stayed with you as you shuffled into the common room. A few Mandalorians lingered here, Paz being one of them. He noticed you linger on the edges like a wallflower, and he went out of his way to invite you to his table. His basket for snacks was filled. “Going on a trip?” You asked, nodding your head to look at his food. You fold your hands behind your back. 

“Something like that,” he says. 

His usually booming voice is quiet; soft, almost. 

He shuffled through his basket and under a few rolls of cheese was a worn novel. The title said Prudential Policies: A History And Study Of Mandalore. “Another book for your collection?” You asked, feigning a teasing glance after Paz had read the title to you.

Paz chuckled. “I have my own novels to consume tonight. This is for you.”

“Me?” You repeat. 

“If you’re to stay with us then you should know the Way. I couldn’t leave you drowning, could I?” 

You could hear the grin in Paz’s voice and it eased the weight in your chest. You hold the book to your chest. “I value your thoughtfulness more than you know. Thank you.” 

Paz nodded his heavy helmet, leaving it at an incline for a second’s time. You noticed Mandalorians often did this. It seemed like a bow, but not exactly as respectful. From what you’ve gathered, the gesture is to convey gratitude or kindness. 

You ventured to nod your head as well. 

“Can I ask you something?” you say before Paz can escape you. He took the basket in his hand. “Anything.”

“What was the ruling last night? What did the court guardian say?” 

Paz didn’t answer you right away, which led you to believe the worst. “Please tell me,” you plead. “I don’t think I could take bad news from anyone else.” 

Paz flexed his fingers around the handle of the basket, a delicate sigh passing his mask. “There’s a law that requires us to send a certain amount of money,” he finally answered. 

“Purchase?” you repeated. “Is that really all?” 

“There are other details that aren’t for us to be concerned with,” Paz says comfortingly. “It’s all going to be taken care of.” 

You nodded, chewing on your lip as you relished in the words. There wouldn’t be any reason for the court guardian to lie, especially when in captivity. The guardian wouldn’t lie. 

Neither would Paz.

You will be safe.

“Y/n?” Paz says. “Are you alright?” 

You quickly nod, clutching the book to your heart. “I’m much better now. Thank you.” 

“I’m glad to have eased your mind. If you need anything, I’ll be in my room––reading, of course. You can join me if you feel bored later on.”

“I cannot imagine bothering you that way,” you proclaim. “Your free time is the only time you can keep your helmet off. I wouldn’t want to intrude on that.”

Paz made a thoughtful sound, as if he hadn’t been expecting such an answer. “I’ve never known anyone who accepts the Way so easily. Beyond the covert, that is,” he added. “Most people want to know everything. The reason we do it, the exceptions to the rules.” 

“Are there exceptions?” You ask. “To the rules?”

“Well, sure. You could see my face if you were my child, my sister, or my wife,” Paz explained. “The helmets aren’t meant to be a punishment,” he adds. “It makes it all the more special when our family sees our bare face. It’s about love and companionship.”

Your face felt all flushed and warm down to your neck. You looked away, gripping the book like an anchor. “You know, you’re awfully poetic for someone so…”

“So scary looking?” Paz guessed.

“For someone so fierce,” you corrected. After all, his armor announced his heroism by itself. When Paz speaks, hairs on your neck stand straight. He’s a commanding presence to say the least. You wouldn’t have pegged him to be as kind and welcoming as he is. Especially surprising about him are the books he usually holds in the common room. He lounges and reads silently, not bullying even Din, who you’ve noticed always seems to clash with Paz. 

As time relented on, you became more anxious. You’d sifted through your new novel, struggling to read every word. Paz’s methods of sounding out the letters proved more difficult to do when alone. Every syllable frustrated you and eventually you tossed the book aside. By page five you’d had a massive headache. 

Even more bothersome was the nagging question of what Gold would be doing by now. What would become of you? 

You leaned back in the creaky chair, shutting your eyes as you tried to massage your headache away. 

After some time doing this a gentle rapping came at the door. You lurched to your feet. You rushed to the door, hoping to see Gold or Paz beyond it with your ticket to freedom. Only neither of them were there. 

Din was there, and you were very surprised, unable to contain the small drop of your jaw. You’d figured he wouldn’t come to see you until the very last moment—until it was time to say goodbye. 

“Hello,” you said quietly. You straighten your shoulders, consciously trying to appear confident as you inwardly feared what Din would say. 

“If you’re here to further reject me,” you sniff, “you should just leave. I don’t want to be humiliated more than I have been.” 

“May I come in?” Din murmured. 

“Why?” You sniped. You’d never imagined being so vicious would feel so horrible. Although, when you are sarcastic to Wendi you feel sort of satisfied. Now, you feel sick to know that it’s Din you’re actively trying to hurt. 

“Please,” Din begged. 

You stifle a sigh, but agree, standing aside to allow Din entry. 

Among the small room he seemed so huge, especially in his shining armor. You quickly tidy around, dusting off the cushioned chair and gesturing for him to take a seat. 

“Y/n,” he said. “It’s alright.”

You purse your lips. “Compulsory, I suppose,” you mutter. “I doubt I’ll ever outgrow those ways.”

“That’s why I worry, you know,” Din says. His words, though strained, seemed to tumble out of his mouth clumsily. “I worry that you’ll spend your life living as if you owe it to anyone but yourself. I worry that you’ll find yourself with someone that takes advantage of your kindness.” 

“You mean my obedience,” you correct. Even you heard the venom coating your words. You hadn’t meant to say such a thing, nor with such a tone. 

Din visibly struggled as he stuttered a couple words. He took a breath, composing himself before he strode to stand right before you. You would have been able to smell him if he hadn’t been wearing his armor. 

You looked away, focusing on a spot on the floor. You swallowed a bitter plug, unable to meet his gaze through the mask. You could feel his eyes on you, helmet or no helmet. 

“We’ve figured out a plan,” Din says gruffly. “To keep you safe.”

“I know,” you say, forcing yourself out of his invisible pull. You sit on your mattress, crossing your ankles and looking up at him. “When will the money be delivered?” 

Din hesitates, clenching his hands at his side. “There won’t be any money involved,” he says. “It’s-it’s not what you think.”

You lifted an eyebrow. Your heart got caught in your throat when Din cautiously sat beside you. “The Armorer has already arranged for a contract. It’s the only way to keep you from being repossessed by a loophole law.”

Paz had lied. Paz lied. You won’t be fine, you realized, you won’t be safe at all.

“What is the only way?” You demand, starting to feel dreadfully nervous. 

Din clenched his hands in his lap. “If you married me.”

Breathing suddenly became impossible. Muscles seized, chest tight, you stared at Din through glassy eyes. The notion was laughable, even almost impossible, and you felt like the punchline of a joke. 

“I’m not marrying you,” you finally say. 

Din lurched to his feet. “What, would you rather marry Wendi? Or Paz?” 

“At least Paz hasn’t been completely rude to me!” You shot back. “Paz makes a point to talk to me, and to—well, and to make me feel welcome!” 

“I haven’t made you feel welcome?” Din asked, voice low and hoarse. “I fought for you to stay, even when half the covert thought it was a bad idea. I fought for you. I saved you.”

Tears lined your vision. “You are also the one that told me you don’t care about me,” you shouted. “I’ve had enough time to conclude that you should have left me. If I had known how regrettable you would be, then I would have let Emelea kill me.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Din hissed. At this point, you have also launched to your feet, standing on your toes to make yourself taller. “Why not?” You fired. “Is it not true? You told me you don’t care about me. Now you want me to marry you? You’re right. I would rather marry Paz. At least he pretends to be my friend.” 

“Don’t say that,” Din demandingly repeated. “I said what I said to keep myself at bay. To keep my own feelings from being hurt. And yes, it was rude, yes, it was cruel, and yes, I am sorry.”

“So is that your way of saying that I’m tolerable enough to be your wife? You would marry me just to soothe your own guilt for being a complete—”

You cut off, not because you didn’t want to call him a name, but because you didn’t know of any names to call him. Fuming, you crossed your arms across your chest. “For being a complete nerf herder!” You finally shouted. 

“I’m not offering out of guilt, Y/n,” Din exclaimed, becoming exasperated. “I’m offering because I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You’re lying,” you spit. “I’m not a thing you get to stick your cock into at the first chance. I’ve finally gotten my freedom and I won’t sign it away to a man who doesn’t even love me.” 

“But what if I did?” Din shouts. He’s never been so loud before. It’s alarming, but not frightening. He sounds, for once, desperate. “What if I’m falling in love with you every day?”

“Again, a lie,” you sputter. As much as your heart wanted to believe it, you can’t help but remember each time Din has pushed you away. 

“It’s not a lie,” Din sighed. He approached you, putting the palms of his warm hands over either side of your jaw. He raised your chin, forcing you to look into the gaze of his helmet. “I might not be in love, but I feel myself falling that way, each and every day I look at you. It’s painful. It hurts so bad. I pushed you away to spare myself any pain. The Armorer arranged a marriage contract and rings, but she had intended for you to marry Paz. When I heard, I knew I couldn’t let it happen. I kept hearing in my mind what you’d confessed; knowing you had those feelings for me I didn’t want Paz to be anywhere near you.” 

Tears dribbled down your cheeks. You lifted your hands to touch the metal over his face. “You’re such a liar,” you said again in a short sob. 

“I know,” Din murmured. His thumb brushed over your lower lip. “I’m sorry. Will you marry me?”

Through tears, you nodded.

>>next

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hero

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rated: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: Scott, Bee, Henry, OC Scout leader

They say you should never meet your heroes. Failure to comply may result in getting tongue-tied, or a failure of the brain to mouth filter. Post-episode tag for 3.24 "Firebreak"

Rescue Scout Leader Neil had his heart in his mouth from the moment he heard that Bee and Henry had ended up trapped in the huge forest fire threatening their village right up until the moment Thunderbirds One and Two landed by the firefighters clearing away their equipment and the two children were lowered from the green giant's access hatch.

A Rescue Scout is calm was fantastic when you were the one in trouble, but it did little to help agitated guardians when the danger was nowhere near you, but threatening to kill two of your charges. Bee, he had no doubt, had kept her head admirably. Mature for her age and quick thinking, Neil had her pegged for a future Falcon one day. Henry, on the other hand, was eager and enthusiastic, but discouraged easily and had yet to progress past Buzzard. Neil hoped he would progress as he got older – what leader didn't hope for their troop members to reach the highest levels – but for now his youth worked against him. The boy would have panicked.

Except, neither child looked remotely shaken by their near-death experience. Bee was smiling warmly as she thanked the men in blue, shaking the hands of the three that had disembarked with her, while Henry seemed to be almost bouncing on his feet. The yellow-sashed man ruffled his hair, clearly amused, and he beamed. Neil had heard stories – who hadn't, and the Rescue Scouts as a whole held International Rescue in the highest regard, considering all the members honorary Falcons of the highest calibre – but to see the reassuring nature of the men in person was something else entirely.

A fourth man appeared, dropping down from Thunderbird One, and Neil watched in amazement as he barely crossed half the distance between the two craft before Henry was jumping at him, clutching him around the shoulders tightly and babbling something Neil couldn't hear from where he was. The grey-sashed man laughed, catching him and continuing to walk heedless of the additional weight before putting him down beside Bee, who instead of reaching out for a grateful handshake as she had with the others, extended both her arms in a demand for a hug of her own. It was given, before Fire Chief Carter interrupted them to talk.

They say you should never meet your heroes. Neil's stomach fluttered as though filled with butterflies as the grey-sashed man broke away from the conversation and began to head towards him, one hand resting easily on Henry's shoulder and keeping pace easily with Bee's hoverchair. The commander of International Rescue – who else could the man be, piloting the flagship of the fleet as he did – definitely ranked right up there amongst the greatest of his heroes, and he was walking right towards him.

"It's Neil, right?" the man said, stopping directly in front of him, Henry still plastered to his side and gazing up at him in total adoration. Neil could relate as his voice promptly vanished and all he could manage was an awkward nod. "The name's Scott, it's good to meet you." A hand – the one not on Henry's shoulder – extended towards him and he blinked at it for a moment before common sense returned and he clasped it in one of his own. The fingers, bare past the cut off of the gloves, were warm.

"Likewise," he managed awkwardly. "Thank you for saving them." Scott chuckled, and he was struck by the realisation that they couldn't be that far apart in age. He'd always thought the members of International Rescue were older.

"They hardly needed me," he said as he pulled his hand back and rested it on Bee's shoulder. "You've got a good pair of kids here. The Rescue Scouts are lucky to have them." It sounded like the sort of line regurgitated all the time to worried guardians to reassure and distract them from the severity of what had just happened, except Scott managed to sound like he truly believed it as he smiled down at both children.

"Scott taught us the triple fisherman knot!" Henry burst out suddenly, apropos of nothing, fishing around in his pockets to withdraw a piece of thick string. "Look!" Caught off guard, and a little disbelieving that in the space of a few short hours, including being at the centre of an inferno, Henry had managed to learn one of the more complicated knots in the handbook, Neil watched the familiar over-under. "Ta-dah!"

One perfect triple fisherman knot sat in the palm of his hands, and Neil couldn't help but stare at Scott, his opinion of the man skyrocketing even higher, if that possible. The man chuckled a little awkwardly.

"Scott was a Rescue Scout, too," Bee interjected before Neil could think of a verbal response. "He was a Falcon."

"You were?" Neil blurted before his brain caught up with his mouth. "I mean, er, well, the organisation considers you honorary Falcons, but I never thought that you might actually have been one of us," he gabbled.

"Honorary Falcons?" Scott sounded amused and Neil just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "The others'll like that. They never made it that far. Alan's still a Kite, and Gordon never made it past Squid."

Squid?

"Hey, squid are way cooler than your birds of prey!" a yell came from the trio still with the firefighters. Neil managed to glance around Scott – a difficult feat, the man was tall and had a commanding presence – to identify the most likely culprit as the yellow-sashed one. Yellow. Thunderbird Four. The aquanaut.

"Ignore him," Scott said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I'll leave these two in your hands then, Neil," he continued, gently nudging Henry forwards and breaking into a fond smile as the boy gripped onto his arm. "I've got to go now, Henry." Neil watched as he crouched down to the boy's height and gently extracted his arm before ruffling Henry's hair lightly. "You did really good today; keep it up and you'll make Falcon." Henry nodded jerkily, breaking into a big smile, and Scott stood up unimpeded. "You, too, Bee," he said, before turning to Neil, whose mouth immediately went dry again.

"Thank you," he managed, swallowing awkwardly. "For saving them."

"It's what we do," Scott shrugged. "I'm glad we could." He turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Neil's mouth lurched ahead of his brain again, talking without permission. "Why don't you visit the troop some time? The kids would love to meet you!"

Scott had stopped at his initial shout and was looking back at him over his shoulder. For the first time in the encounter, he'd stopped smiling and instead wore something more akin to a frown. He looked tired.

"We-"

"-would love to!" a new voice broke in, and Neil blinked at the tank of a man who had snuck up on them without his notice. A green baldric proclaimed him as the pilot of Thunderbird Two.

"It'd be awesome," the final member said, coming up on Scott's other side. "I haven't been to a meeting since I became a member of International Rescue. Oh man, did you say I could be a Falcon?"

"Honorary Falcon, bird-brain," the aquanaut corrected. "But aren't you still a Kite? How many levels below Falcon is that?"

"Not my fault I have to do all my badges remotely," the red-sashed man pouted, although Neil was quickly realising that he was still a teenager – and still a Rescue Scout! He wondered if the boy's troop realised they had an actual member of International Rescue amongst them. Almost certainly not – that was news that wouldn't be kept quiet across the network for long.

"Guys-" Scott started. "You know we can't-"

"What Scott is trying to say," the largest man said, cutting him off – Neil was starting to wonder if his initial assumption that Scott was the commander was accurate – "is that we have some other commitments at the moment, but once those are settled we'd love to try and work something out."

"Really?" Henry and Bee both asked, the boy bouncing on the soles of his feet while Bee clutched at her badge sash.

Scott's shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath before fully turning to face them again. While not as big as earlier, his smile had returned.

"No promises," he warned. "We're very busy. But I don't see why we can't try."

"Yes!" the children exclaimed, punching the air in delight. Neil watched Scott's smile grow a little more at the sight.

"Well, we need to be off now," the man said, and offered his hand to Neil again. Awestruck all over again, Neil accepted it. "See you again sometime."

With friendly waves, the four of them turned away again and headed back towards Fire Chief Carter, and their Thunderbirds.

"Aren't they amazing?" Henry asked as they watched the two craft take off a minute later. "He said his Dad taught him the triple fisherman knot. Do you think he could bring him along, too?"

"That's up to him and his Dad," Neil said, reaching out and putting his own hands on their shoulders to steer them away as the Thunderbirds vanished into the distance. "Let's get back to base. Everyone's been worried about you two."

"We were fine," Bee said, before a somewhat sly grin formed on her face. "Your face is red, though. You looked like a tomato the entire time Scott was here."

Neil spluttered.

"I did not!"

[readyplayerhobi]

Storm Bringer | 01

; Drakken Rider!Taehyung x Drakken Rider!Reader

; Genre: Fantasy, fluff, future smut

; Warnings: Violence

; Word Count: 5.8k

; Synopsis: Drakken riders are the pride of Falrayne and you take pride in your place as a protector of your homeland. But what happens when you meet a drakken rider you never expected from another nation?

; A/N: I split this in two so there will be a second part. I felt this was a good place to end this part but who knows! Please let me know what you think by commenting, reblogging or sending an ask! I’m not sure if it’s actually like...good because it’s more world building stuff than usual and yeah.

-

The autumn night is quiet around you, the air calm and still as you watch out over the wall towards the dark forest that looms hundreds of metres away. A cool wind, pleasant after the unusually warm day, blows through the tall trees that have stood careful watch for centuries.

It’s so loud that you can hear the rustling of the leaves even from here on the tall, stone wall that has surrounded and protected the ancient city and castle of Drakanis for over five centuries. The sky itself is clear without a hint of cloud to block your vision, the pale face of the moon shining brightly while far off stars twinkle softly against the vast expanse of nothing.

Leaning over the edge of the grey, worn stone, you peer down at the inky blackness of the still water of the moat that surrounds the whole city. From this direction, the only thing visible is the moon kissed gentle meadow that butts up to the wild Rikara forest. In the daytime, you would be able to see the white capped peaks of the Ikana mountains far off in the distance.

Still, despite how calm the night seems, you shake your limbs slowly while rolling your head to stretch out the muscles. You’re tense tonight, and you don’t know why. Nothing has happened on the boundaries of Drakanis for over a moon now, and you’re worried that it means something is going to happen.

A calm before the storm.

Running your fingers over your arm, you try to comfort yourself quietly. The space in front of you is quiet, but the city of Drakanis is alight with folk enjoying their evening. Most don’t even remember that people like you exist, which is good you suppose.

It means that you’re doing your job well.

The flickering flames of the nearby torch sat in a sconce on the wall of the watchtower lights up the walkway upon which you stand, causing your armour to glint in the gentle light.

Due to your status, your armour is far more flexible and forgiving than that of the foot soldiers. Fine black titanitus ring mail protects your chest and stomach, sitting on top of supple and well worn black leather under which a soft cotton shirt helps to provide warmth while also preventing chafing. The same leather makes up your trousers while knee high boots adorn your feet and calves.

Your armour is light and fast. In comparison, the normal armour of a foot soldier is a full suit of mail, heavy and cumbersome. Titanitus was far too rare and expensive to waste on a whole army of what were often deemed expendable soldiers in war. But drakken riders were a different species altogether.

You needed to be fast and quick on your feet, able to slash and hack with the razor sharp titanitus daggers that were sheathed at your hips. Years upon years of training meant that the bow and quiver of arrows at your back could be drawn and fired quickly.

But the most important reason is because of the colourful tattoo that wraps around your left arm like a mother’s embrace. Everyone knows what that tattoo is; what it means. Every drakken rider has one, each different and unique but all taking pride of place on their arm.

For it is not a tattoo at all, but your drakken. To most onlookers, it was just a pretty picture inked into your skin that never moved. But it wasn’t.

Drakken were living creatures; creatures of great size and power, ferocious and fierce. A rider’s drakken appeared when they turned ten, slithering up their arm before settling in for the rest of the rider’s life. The only way they lost their drakken was through death. 

The rider’s death, that is, for drakken themselves are immortal.

And that is because drakken are a physical manifestation of their rider’s soul, allowing them to wield their inner power in a physical form for their own protection. Upon the rider’s death their soul was released and reborn, and ten years later their drakken would return once more. 

For millennia, drakken riders have formed an integral part of the defence of the kingdom of Falrayne. Drakanis itself was named after the legendary creatures as it is rumoured that the land this city sits upon was the first time riders discovered drakken. They were now common in every kingdom of course, but it was well known that the drakken riders of Falrayne are amongst the best.

Or maybe that was just your patriotism talking, given that you were a member of the Falrani Royal Guardians. This year had seen you assigned to protecting the walls from any potential danger, which usually meant it was a pretty boring job in reality.

The only real action border guards got were the occasional brave raiders who sought to pillage the outer buildings of the city. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the closer to the centre of Drakanis one got, and therefore the castle, the richer the land and its occupants. This far out, only soldiers and the poor made their living.

Which meant raiders either had a good time, or a very bad time.

But they've been silent lately. Commander Min, the leader of your regiment, was convinced that it was a sign that the ranger force he had put together in recent years was finally working. Park Jimin, a close friend of yours, was a ranger and their jobs were to scout out the land surrounding Drakanis and sabotage any raider camps they came across.

You weren’t so sure though.

“Quiet tonight.” A soft voice speaks out, causing you to spin around on alert immediately. Jungkook is lucky, you think to yourself as you pause just before the razor edge of your dagger slices into his soft, vulnerable throat. He simply stands there though, dark brow raised over his crimson eyes and not a hint of fear on him.

“I could’ve killed you.” You mutter to yourself, lowering the knife before sheathing it once again. The older man snorts, rolling his eyes before leaning against the rough wall and peering out at the dense darkness of the forest.

“That would mean you’ve had poor training. The very fact I snuck up on you is bad enough.” Sneering at him, you gesture rudely to him before turning back to the expanse of land beyond. Jungkook could be nice and sweet when he wanted to be, but he was just as often a stuck up asshole. Jimin was convinced it was because his drakken spoke fire, but that just usually meant they were volatile or exceptionally passionate about their interests like Commander Min.

No, the fire drakken rider shared more personality traits with the cooler ice drakken’s. Or maybe he was just an asshole sometimes, who knows? He was a competent rider though, so you would never bitch too much about him.

And he was truly sweet sometimes. It made it easier to forgive his grumpy moments.

“I acknowledge my failings there. I was...distracted. It is quiet. And I don’t like it.” You mumble to yourself, resting an elbow against the rounded top and scanning carefully. Jungkook doesn’t respond for a moment before sighing.

“I agree. I don’t believe Commander Min’s words, as much as it pains me to go against him. The ranger’s have been operating for years now and yet the raiders don’t seem to care. They just reorganise easily and come back. No...something’s going on. Inferno isn’t happy either, he’s...antsy. Especially with the delegation from Ixilos here. This is prime time to raid, our attention is split and most of our riders aren’t even here right now.” Concern laces his voice and you find yourself nodding without even realising.

“My drakken shares your concerns.” King Seokjin from the neighbouring kingdom of Ixilos had arrived yesterday for the month long trade negotiations with Queen Siyeon and he had brought his own regiment of soldiers with three accompanying drakken riders. It meant that Drakanis was focused on the protection of the foreign royal and so a skeleton crew had been left on the city walls.

Particularly given how quiet it had been lately. But that was a mistake, you could just tell.

“Has Hoseok seen anythin-” You’re cut off from asking your question, wondering if your fellow rider on the other side of Drakanis has seen anything. Jungkook moves between everyone to get reports and pass on information, but the sound of a horn blaring from the forest gets both of your attention immediately.

“That’s a ranger.” Jungkook states, the sound of the horn long and loud. It blares for a few seconds before fading away and the both of you stand, tense as you watch a flock of birds rise from the trees in surprise.

One horn for a warning.

Second horn for help.

Nothing sounds afterwards, and you both look at each other warily. Were you both right? Was there going to be an attack and a ranger in the forest had found something? Neither of you moved as you hadn’t been called to help so far; your defence would potentially only be needed here on the wall.

“Maybe they just found some-” A second horn wails into the night, the sound long and low before rising to a high pitch at the end. Someone calling for help from the riders. Someone who’s life is on the line.

“Go. Now. I’ll find someone to help you, both of us can’t leave this part undefended.” Jungkook hand presses against the small of your back, pushing you towards the edge of the wall. Your weapons clank as you climb onto the flat expanse of stone and stand steadily for a moment.

The dark water stirs below as a fish jumps upwards, landing back with a soft plop and the wind whispers as it caresses your face, the slight force of it causing your body to shift as you rebalance yourself. Looking down at Jungkook, you nod firmly.

“I’m sure you’ll see when we find them. Be fast about it.” His head tilts towards you before a hand presses to the flesh of his left arm, chin bowing down.

“Ride fast and true.” The words are said to every drakken rider when they depart on a mission. They were also the words spoken to those who were dying; the culture of drakken riders believing that the drakken transported their souls to their next bodies. A rider never stopped riding, even if they didn’t know it.

You don’t respond to him verbally, simply bowing your head back before stepping off the edge of the wall. For a few seconds there is simply nothing as you free fall past the ancient walls, eyeing the water that fast approaches with a measured eye.

The imposing walls of Drakanis are twenty metres high from the ground up, but it takes only seconds to reach the bottom.

Only mere metres before the bottom, your arm burns violently for a second before the air crackles and shimmers with heat and electricity. A blinding flash erupts and lights the area surrounding you until you would swear it was daylight once more and not the middle of the night.

Solid flesh fills the gap between your thighs and your hands automatically move to rest on the strategically placed horns on your drakken’s neck. Feet slide against the rigid scales that form almost a stirrup to keep you in place and the wind stops rushing against your face as you lower it behind her thick, muscled neck.

There’s a brief moment of stillness before great and powerful wings beat furiously and you begin to rise back up at a rapid pace. Water sprays violently into the air as you do so, bitterly cold where it touches your bare skin, but you’re both climbing back into the air quickly. Each smooth movement of your drakken’s wings takes you further from the castle, her body working like a finely tuned machine beneath you.

She feels strong and warm against the cool air surrounding you, her impenetrable scales rough beneath your fingers as you run your hand along her shoulder. Drakken are enormous beasts, and you make a tiny figure atop her.

Stormbringer came to you on your birthday in the midst of a giant electrical storm that had raged for days, wrapping her way around your wrist tightly as lightning had hit the ground furiously. She had whispered her name to you once settled and everyone had agreed that they had never heard a more apt name.

Her scales were black with a violet shimmer, the colour shifting between various shades of purple before lightening to a pale lilac on her stomach that mixed with silver. In the daylight she was beautiful, in the night time she was made a terrifying sight.

She was storm borne flesh, and you shivered with the power you felt within her.

A wingspan of ten metres and a wickedly long tail that was spiked every few inches, combined together beautifully with her glinting ebony talons and razor sharp pearl teeth to make her a formidable beast. It was easy to see why drakken riders most often chose to give themselves in service to their country, for power like that of your drakken would be wasted anywhere else.

“Fly fast Stormbringer, someone needs our help.” You whisper to her, the sound lost in the wind as it whips past your face but she hears anyway. A brief turn of her long head lets you see the amethyst of her eye, pupil slitted before she’s turning back and her wings beat faster to propel you along.

An ear splitting roar leaves her, chest vibrating as she calls out to let the ranger know that you’re coming. A moment later, a flaming arrow flies into the air from the road that bisects the forest in two and you both sweep down to it, wings billowing out wildly as she slows and descends.

Keen eyesight, enhanced by the drakken you ride, lets you see the familiar blonde hair of Jimin and you frown in confusion. Why wasn’t he using his own drakken? Frost Fang was more than capable of protecting him and yet he hadn’t called for him. And for that matter, why hadn’t Frost Fang come to his defence anyway?

A drakken did not need permission to save their rider.

But he was running...or stumbling more like. Falling over himself and wincing as his palms hit the stoney road before scrambling back up. It was then that you realised what was wrong. He was injured, enough to make him limp while running but not injured enough to not allow him to flee instead of fighting.

A ranger was all about stealth, and he evidently thought that he could get away without resorting to his drakken. He wasn’t trained like you were for full scale fighting against multiple enemies, they trained rangers more like assassin’s. One on one in the darkness of the night. 

As far as you knew, rangers mainly used their drakken to move from one place to the other and if they could avoid it, they simply didn’t use them. Jimin was close enough to Drakanis to know that he could simply call for help to take care of his problem and allow him to simply slip away into the night, retreating back home.

You were the muscle here, the deadly hammer to his silent arrow.

The horsemen cantering behind him out of the forest were giving chase, shouting loudly as he ran down the road as fast as he could to Drakanis. He just needed time to get away from them. A distraction. Or a way to eliminate them entirely.

Squeezing your thighs, you direct Stormbringer down. Her wings pull in tight to her body and she drops, your stomach flying as she descends like a comet to the ground before her wings flare open at the last second, creating a terrifying image as the moonlight catches her scales and they see her properly for the first time.

Almost immediately, the horses sense danger and scream in fear, rearing and bucking off their riders desperately before galloping as fast as they could away from the drakken. Some riders don’t even get the chance to land and simply hold on for dear life. 

The raiders were shouting to each other below you, their language foreign to your ears but you don’t need to speak it to know what they’re doing when they pull their weapons and aim them towards you.

“Stormbringer!” You shout over the beating of her wings and she responds immediately, chest expanding as the air around you snaps and crackles while your nose scents metallic on the breeze.

A veil of deadly electricity bursts forth from her menacing jaws, the bolts sizzling as they burst through the air before a boom erupts as it hits the ground. Some bolts are small and thin, arcing off into nothing but the main stream is thick and blindingly white, tinged in purple along the edges. It hits a man straight on and he doesn’t even get a chance to scream, his body burning up almost immediately from the sheer voltage running through him as she continues to attack.

A high pitched noise buzzes past your head and you turn quickly, noting the arrow flying past before turning back to note more have come flooding out of the trees. It’s like four raiding camps have all converged into one and you frown, noting the way their archers immediately take up position with a knee on the ground to steady themselves and arrows stuck in front of them like a strange fence for easy firing.

They could never kill Stormbringer, but they don’t have to kill her. They just have to kill you. No rider, no drakken. 

The voraciously loud crackle and sizzle of energy fizzles out as she pauses to inhale, giving the raiders who had managed to avoid the lightning discharge time to fan out in a more defensive position. It causes you to frown in confusion, wondering why on earth they were being far more bold and boisterous than normal.

The mere appearance of a drakken was usually enough to make them start running, too afraid of death or serious injury to want to take on one. Drakken were simply too big, too powerful and too invulnerable to take on without the backing of an army behind them. Taking you on like this was just...well it was suicide.

Behind you, the horn blares twice again and you twist on top of Stormbringer as you spot Jimin’s form still running far down the road. You were here already, why was he calling for more help? Why was he running so scared? With this many raiders, no one would have condemned him for fleeing on Frost Fang.

You’re so busy pondering over this bizarre situation and trying to avoid the arrows that fly towards you, most of them simply pinging harmlessly off Stormbringer’s scales with a metallic clang, that you don’t notice the air heating up rapidly. Your drakken’s electricity superheats the air anyway, and you figure that she’s just getting ready for another blast at the humans who are attacking her.

But then you realise the air is calm, the hair on your arms isn’t rising and the air doesn’t get that faintly metallic scent that occurs when Stormbringer attacks. She’s roaring for sure, obsidian claws that gleam purple swiping at those closest while her spiked tail flails and impales a man who had tried to sneak up behind.

“What the…” You whisper before cursing softly as one of the men who has just run out of the trees suddenly shimmers, the air around him causing everything to look funny for a moment. Like a mirage on the hot sand dunes of the Marakkian desert. “Oh shit.”

A bright flash of light takes up your vision, causing you to wince and cover your eyes while laying as low to Stormbringer’s neck as you can get. She screeches in displeasure at the sight before her. When you look up, you send a silent thanks to Jimin for carrying on blowing his horn.

Because you’ll need back up for sure.

A drakken on its own is more than capable of fighting hundreds of people, as long as their rider doesn’t get killed. But a one on one drakken fight? The odds aren’t so favourable then.

The roar that erupts out of the enemy drakken is deep, far deeper than your own, and it feels like it reverberates through your very soul. Goosebumps pimple all over your body at the sound and you cringe back on Stormbringer, your hesitance and sudden fear causing her to pause and shift back uncomfortably.

You’d never fought another drakken, not like this. Not in a real fight, where it could mean your death. Falrayne wasn’t at war with anyone, so drakken riders were relegated to simply routing out or preventing raiders. Glorified bodyguards.

But now you’re looking straight into the molten red eyes of an enemy drakken, his own black scales shimmering ruby red in the torch fires of the raiders surrounding him. His rider sits atop him, the dark leather of his armour almost invisible in the blackness of the night but you can imagine the smug look he’s likely wearing at your visible shock.

You need to kill him. That’s the only way you’re getting out of this fight alive, because if you run then they will continue on to Drakanis. Sure, he’d probably get run off by the other riders but probably not before these horrible excuses of people have commited mass murder and damage. They cared nothing for human life, only for what they could gain. Some were just outright murderers. 

No, you had to fight him. Even if it was to just hold them off and perhaps thin out the herd before backup could arrive. Stronger back up to take him on.

How you wished Jimin had stayed, but you knew he needed to warn them. And besides, his soulmate was back home. He had someone to get home to. You didn’t. You had Stormbringer, and that was it.

“Fuck. Okay big girl...we’ve gotta be careful. You focus on the other one and I’ll try and take some of these out.” Your words are low, but there was no need as you doubt anyone could hear over the hissing of the two drakken as they slowly paced from side to side, eyes firmly on the other.

In the blink of an eye, you have your bow over your shoulder and drawn with an arrow before you’re firing. The shrill sound of the woman as she falls to the ground, arrow lodged firmly in her throat as she bleeds out, causes chaos to erupt on the forest road.

The enemy drakken’s mouth begins to glow a dangerous red, melting to white, before a stream of staggeringly hot fire bursts past you, hitting Stormbringer’s wing and causing it to glow an odd violet for a moment before she screams in anger. You panic for a moment, wondering if perhaps another drakken can kill a drakken before you remember the stories of old. 

No drakken has ever died, only its rider. You certainly didn’t want to be the one to put that theory to the test though, so you simply prayed to the gods that it would still hold up. 

Your ears pop as the air sizzles and your drakken fires a returning shot, the bolt of lilac lightning sparking through the air and hitting the other squarely in the face. It shrieks before rearing up, huge wings spanning out until you can see the dark veins through the translucent skin that’s lit by the glow of electricity.

A raging inferno is slung straight back and you manage to fire off another arrow, killing another raider while ducking below a retaliatory one, before Stormbringer’s wings flare out. There’s a moment of fear as the superheated fire zooms towards you in a concentrated blast before you’re suddenly slammed down onto the titanitus hard scales beneath you as your drakken takes to the air in one harsh beat of her wings.

The backdraft causes those closest to her to fly backwards, thudding against the trees where they simply slide down into a messy heap. You’re not sure whether the force was enough to kill them, but they don’t get up so you class that as a win anyway.

Stars vanish rapidly as the dark sky soon becomes a painting of orange fire and white electricity, each powerful and deadly attack brightening the forest below you as the two drakken fight each other viciously. You cling on desperately as they exchange blows, watching the other as carefully as you can and indicating to Stormbringer when to turn to avoid an attack.

Sometimes she does it automatically, but other times you foresee a move before she does and it’s only thanks to your command that you both avoid the blazing inferno as it sizzles past you. It’s a dangerous game of cat and mouse that you’re both playing, only you’re both mice sat atop horrifyingly large cats.

“We need to get the rider.” You shout out. There’s no real need to talk to her, she’s part of you and understands your instincts probably better than you do. But it makes you feel like you’re actually doing something because for as impressive as it probably looks, this fight was practically all drakken and no rider.

If the other hadn’t been here, then she would have probably listened to you more for tactics in the fight. But this was a fight between two drakken and you let her take the lead because you had no idea how to fight another drakken. And you had no memories of fights centuries gone, but she evidently did. 

Which is why you have to hold back a scream as she swoops down suddenly, claws expanded before you both slam into the other drakken, the sound loud as your teeth jar together from the force of the impact. Large jaws with razor sharp teeth snap towards you, missing you by mere inches as you duck before stabbing wildly.

The only acknowledgement from the other drakken that you’d hit it with your dagger is a hiss of anger before the air superheats once more, causing you to yell at Stormbringer to let him go. Their fight was even fiercer up close as they clawed and snapped, but it would all be for nothing if you ended up being killed because of it.

Almost immediately she lets go, wings spreading out and catching an air current as she soars higher while the blast of flame flies wide from behind you. Turning, you note them give chase and wonder how you’re meant to do this. How you’re meant to win.

Getting Stormbringer to attack would be pointless as the electricity would just bounce of the drakken’s scales. And the other rider was too smart to let you both get above him in the vain hopes of knocking him off or grabbing him. 

A sudden sharp pain causes you to yelp, your hand immediately wrapping around your bicep as you look down in surprise at the cut flesh there. Glancing down, you note the arrows still being fired into the air from the raiders.

One of them got lucky apparently. Hissing, you grip Stormbringer tighter as you try to ignore the way your blood cools rapidly on your arm from the chilly wind and turn her, hoping to sweep around quickly and come up behind.

She’s not fast enough for it, you’re sure, but it would at least be a maneuver that will put you out of reach of the raiders. Breath misting in front of you as she turns, your thighs tighten around her as you hold on from the sharp angle she’s taking. The first thing a drakken rider learns is how to not fall off, and you’re certainly not going to lose this battle simply because you couldn’t keep your seat.

But then you stare dumbly at the other drakken as it shrieks in frustration and anger when a blast of solid ice hits it like a hammer, the substance shimmering in the moonlight where it ices over the drakken’s wings and solidifies rapidly. Its movements become sluggish and slow, wings stuttering as they try to work through the ice and its rider begins beating at the crystal with a sword in anger.

You don’t question it though and immediately swing Stormbringer into action, turning her and whispering for her to fly fast. The opposing drakken’s mouth begins to brighten, air shimmering once more as it superheats and you scream for Stormbringer to move faster as the ice glistens and starts to melt fast.

It’s not fast enough though and it only takes a second for your drakken’s talons to grasp the other rider fiercely, the sheer force of being grabbed at such speed either killing or knocking him out as the other drakken screams before disappearing in a flash of light, the only sign he’d even existed being the scent of burning he leaves in his wake.

Slowing down, you turn back towards the raiders before seeing another drakken flying along the forest path, great golden wings tinged in rose gleaming in the light of its flames as it burns everything in its path. Lyra, Commander Min’s wife, with her drakken Ember. The help Jimin was calling for.

Almost immediately the forest goes up in flames, ancient trees burning rapidly as the drakken fire incinerates everything in its path. But the wildfire is stopped when a burst of frozen ice comes from a second drakken, cooling everything down and preventing a natural disaster at Drakanis’ front door.

You don’t recognise this rider, causing you to squint at the one you presume had distracted the enemy for long enough for you to catch him. His drakken is snow white, scales shimmering prettily under the moonlight with the softest hint of ice blue seeping into the pale scales while aquamarine eyes watch the ground as he puts out the fire.

The rider wears armour of gold, pink and purple; the colours of Ixilos and you ponder why a rider of a foreign nation has come to your aid. Or why your Commander’s pregnant wife has come too.

Gliding down to Lyra where she waits, Ember hovering in the air with great, strong flaps of her wings, you call out a greeting. “Lyra! Thanks for coming, but why are you here? Where’s Jungkook or Commander Min?”

“There was another attack on the other side of Drakanis. They’ve gone to stop that so we came here. We’re the only riders combat trained who weren’t protecting the palace or already out on a mission.” She calls back, shouting over the sound of wind and wings while her blonde hair flies wildly.

“Who’s the Ixilos rider?” You shout, pointing towards the other drakken rider who is sweeping over the forest and putting out any stray flames. Lyra’s gaze follows him as well, her blonde hair almost white in the moon before looking back to you.

“Kim Taehyung, he’s one of the three riders from Ixilos. We had no one else with ice spare and we knew that we needed one when we saw the flames in the sky. We had no choice but to accept his help when he offered.” Her voice is almost lost as Stormbringer swoops down for a moment before rising beneath Ember once more.

You frown and nod before gesturing back towards the city. “Okay. Go back to Drakanis. We’ve got him and I don’t think there’s anything left of the raiding party. I don’t want you out any longer than necessary. You know what Commander Min will say.” 

“Commander Min will acknowledge that I did good. He doesn’t get to say anything else.” She smirks before nodding in return and turning Ember around, her long golden tail running along Stormbringer’s stomach and neck gently as they leave to make their way back to the glowing lights of Drakanis. That leaves you with the foreign rider, Taehyung, and you turn to talk to him, squeezing for your drakken to move forward.

Only she lets out a noise you’ve never heard before, half scream and half what you always call the drakken version of a laugh. Suddenly, you’re being jerked forward as she swoops down, the muscles beneath your thighs working hard to keep you in place from her speed.

You panic for a second that she’s attacking the rider and you’re about to call out to her when you realise the foreign drakken is also coming forward rapidly, happy chirps and rumbles leaving both their throats until they’re flying together, heads rubbing while they hover over the forest.

“What the…” The words freeze in your throat as you finally catch the eye of the rider, his glacial blue eyes bright even in the darkness. He’s handsome, beyond handsome. A straight, cut jawline leads to soft lips while strong brows frame his pretty eyes beneath dark hair. It’s almost like time freezes as you stare at him, allowing you to take in all these tiny signs in mere seconds, despite the darkness of the night.

You’d like to say that you had some physical sign that told you what had just happened; quickening breath, a stuttering heart, butterflies in your stomach. But you had nothing except confusion, mirrored in his own expression.

It’s only when the two drakken lock wings together, swirling in the sky before dropping swiftly while fully entwined that you understand. And you understand because they begin to sing. 

Melodious sounds rumble from their chests, dancing high and low between each other and harmonizing like a pair of singers who have practiced together for years. It’s beautiful, and it’s eerie because Stormbringer has never made such sweet, pleasing sounds. A drakken is renowned for its roar, its snarls and its growls.

But the song is more than your drakken, you know that as you close your eyes, feeling the wind rush past you as the two unlink and soar together side by side, the tips of their wings brushing ever so slightly as they fly. Your drakken is part of your soul, and your soul is singing in happiness.

Opening your eyes again, you ignore the dark canopy of trees that stretches out beneath you or the fast approaching light of Drakanis. Instead, you just look over to the man sitting atop his ice white drakken, gold armour glinting in the light of the moon. He does the same, scanning you over with this pale eyes of his before his lips quirk into the tiniest smile.

Stormbringer was singing because she’d found your soulmate.

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 11

The plot splits three-ways but only one way is really an option, to my bafflement.

I have to do a training montage because I’m somehow badly underleveled for this part of the game.

I just really want to beat up a Skeksis, anyone will do.

And Gurjin is the MVP but we all already knew that.

Based on nothing except wanting to see what best boy Kylan is up to, I'm going to tackle the Spriton branch of this branching narrative first.

So I go to the little glowy dot on the map over Sami Thicket annnnd Kylan tells me no, don't go there.

Kylan: "It will be difficult to convince the Spriton to join our cause. They have always been the clan most loyal to the Skeksis."

He tells me to avoid the main village and check villages on the outskirts. Why did you put a shiny dot on the main village at all then!

But what can you do.

Mission: Podling Rush - Spriton Village

"A Spriton village is in trouble. Something has driven the neighboring Podlings mad! Help hold off their attacks."

This better have some fantasy explanation because I'm going to get real pissed if I'm being tricked into breaking a strike or if these are just more Podlings that don't want to be bathed against their will.

Just real pissed.

LEVEL 33???! I don't even have anyone in the 20s yet! Whats the point of branching the plots if I'm going to be level-gated into a specified branch anyway?

Lets see the other Spriton mission...

Mission: Cause of Death - Suns-kissed Plains

"The heroes cross paths with a group of Spriton Gelfling who don't seem too friendly."

LVL 30!? These beefy gelfling better show up and join the resistance! They're way stronger than my guys and I've been actively trying to do a resistance this whole time!

Lets try this logic instead. Alyadon piped up first, about the Sifan. So the Sifan quest chains are probably more level appropriate for me.

So selecting The Sifan Coast and Alyadon exposits that the Sifan have been hard hit by the Darkening and the Skeksis tithes. The elders are loyal to the Skeksis but the rest of the Sifan are prime targets for recruitment. Heck yeah.

Alyadon has a lead on a missing scholar. If we find him, he could prove useful. And Kylan, having marched back from the Spriton realizing I'm not going to be there for a while, has a lead on a missing fishing vessel.

Okay, the two available Sifan missions are level 25. That's more around my level. But I'm going to check the Vapran missions really fast.

... The Vapran mission is level 20.

The game just really wants me to go here first. In fairness, its the only one of the three plot threads that's prominent in the show.

Sigh.

Okay.

Mission: The New All-Maudra - Road to Ha'rar

"The heroes return to Ha'rar and learn of a troublesome shift in power."

Lets go see what Seladon is up to.

I cannot imagine that this easily leads to uniting the Vapran clan with the age of resistance but lets see.

Party: Brea and Breg because they're Vapran so they have stake in whatever is about to happen. Hup because he wanted to be a Paladin before I forced him down a different career path. Annnnnnd Naia. Because I'm reading Shadows of the Dark Crystal and she's on her way to Ha'rar in the part I'm up to.

Oof, the level starts with my party surrounded by a lot of enemy units who all have the high ground. Not great.

Aw dangit, Seladon has issued an order for my arrest. Rude.

Annnnnd I died.

It just went super poorly. They start with seven guys to my four.

Hup died almost instantly.

Guess I'm going to try again. With Rian, Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan. Three beefy fighters and a Kylan.

Nope, still lost. Wound up with three of their guys left BECAUSE THEY START WITH THREE MORE GUYS THAN I HAVE

I REALLY don't want to have to grind at bar fights.

Trying again again with Naia, Rian, Kylan, and Deet. Two beefs, two heals.

And that time I died when they had four guys left =|

Lets try Hup, Naia, Rian, and Deet.

And four left again >=|

So I guess grinding for levels is what its going to have to be then.

Great. Fantastic.

Guess I'll go prove my mettle over and over and over and over and over and over.

---

Did one of the desert encounter proves my mettle. Levels up, woo.

Gurjin learned Pursue (take next turn faster when dealt attack damage), Kylan learned Healing Touch (presumably a stronger heal but you need to be adjacent), Naia learned Heroic Leap (jump to an area and deal AOE damage), and Rian learned Tempered Stone (attack up if hit by critical). I also got a Stone Slicer.

Did an encounter in the swamp. Levelled up Naia and Gurjin with no new moves. Leveled up Rian and learned Hold Position. Got a Javelin and a Soup Spoon. Bought Rian a new, cooler sword to make him feel better about the Dual Glaive being stuck behind all these quests that are too high level for me.

Back to the Podling Tavern.

Wukki leveled up. Woo. Also earned a Shimmering Scale. Giving it to Rian because he's the hero guy. Which means I'm putting the Hunter's Cloak on Naia which means she's rocking two bits of Skeksis garb.

Chamberlain's abandoned speedster encounter grinding mission.

Level ups all around! Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan level up and earn nothing. Rian levels up and learns Tangle Up.

Oops, leveled Rian two more levels in Stone Warden than I needed to. Time to switch him to Mender so he can get Bramble Sage so he can get Strategist. So all that cool gear I just gave him is going to Gurjin. Congrats Gurjin!

So I bought Rian the coolest Mender stuff I could afford. Back to the grind. Gotta get everyone AT LEAST 20.

Back to the desert. Levels up!

Rek'yr learned Aimed Shot, Boggi learned Express Aid (heal an ally after moving four tiles, cool), Hup learned Command (friendly beat takes it next turn immediately), and Breg learned Steal MP.

Back to the swamp. Gosh, I sure love this gameplay rut.

Levels up. Deet learned Guardian's Blessing (can put a rez status on someone), Brea learned Firemoss Bundle (AOE fireball), Hup unlocked Potion Master! But I think I'll try Cook instead. And I found a Sturdy Halberd. I'd put that on Naia but the Cooking Spit gives her some additional HP.

More swamp leveling. Woo, Kylan learned Convalesce. Rek'yr and Deet leveled without learning anything. I found a Potion Stirrer. That's going right on Hup.

Back to the desert. Leveled up Hup, Boggi, and Brea but no new abilities.

Back to the gobbles. Back to leveling up. Boggi learned Get 'Em!, Deet learned Aughra's Ire, Rek'yr learned Thra's Light, Alyadon leveled and learned nothing from it.

Thats been a lot of leveling so might as well see how the Road to Ha'rar will go. And then I'm going to bed because eesh.

---

Mission: The New All-Maudra - Road to Ha'rar

"The heroes return to Ha'rar and learn of a troublesome shift in power."

Deet, Gurjin, Naia, and Hup.

And this works out well. Switching Hup to Cook during my leveling frenzy gave him the ability to sling a mean spoon. A couple levels had Naia and Gurin dealing more damage. Deet died though. But she poisoned everyone before she did.

Hopefully I won't have to go on another leveling journey because it really feels like it slows things down.

Speaking of leveling. Naia learned Double Strike 2, Gurjin learned Taunt 2, Hup learned Tenderize (triple strike a Spiced enemy, yes Cooks spice enemies) and Bitter Recipe (attack a Spiced enemy to inflict Blind and Silence).

So the Vapra quest chain splits here. One to go and beat up the General. One to go free some political prisoners that Seladon imprisoned. But I'm sleep now.

---

I'm wake now.

Me complaining about grinding and the game poorly signposting what to do next doesn't make a good post. I'm still going to try to do all the Vapran missions.

And yet, I'm still going to do some grinding before that because Boggi, Brea, Rek'yr, Alyadon and especially Breg still need to hit 20.

You know, for all he's my lowest level guy, he was MVP in the cave encounter. Moving so much, stabbing so much.

Anyway, Brea leveled and learned nothing as did Breg. Alyadon learned Awaken (basically the raise spell).

Theres another swamp encounter that I'm actually really enjoying. Its against four Arathim devourers but you start on the hill and can kind of snipe at them as they move across the map from you. Breg and Rek'yr are getting good use out of Daring Strike and Aimed Strike because I had time to mark them. But I have to say that Daring Strike just is way too much setup. They have to be poisoned AND marked. It does decent damage but you need to devote three moves to it.

Rek'yr learns Form Up, Breg learns Steal Life (steals life, 35% of the damage done by the attack, this is going right on Breg).

Did the road to Ha'rar but as an encounter mission. Boggi leveled and didn't learn anything. Alyadon leveled and unlocked Adept and Bramble Sage. Also I picked up a Tuned Guitar! Hopefully Song-Tellers use instruments so I can give this to Kylan later.

Cave encounter. Breg leveled up, nothing learned. But I found a Sharpened Dirk! Thats going right on Breg.

Also, the encounter grinding actually net me some pearls so I splurged and got teeth or fur for everyone who didn't already have a trinket and got some better armor for Breg and Rek'yr.

Back to the swamp. Alyadon leveled and learned Aughra's Ire. Oh, right. I turned her into a Bramble Sage so I could get some Firemoss on her to replace the rock throw. But I'm switching her back to mender so I can work on getting the SUPER healing moves.

Now just Breg is still lvl 19. But I'll get him up. Back to the road. Woo. Levels ups. Rian leveled and learned nothing as did Rek'yr. Brea learned Firemoss 2 (firemoss' cooler older brother) and Breg learned Adrenaline.

And I can get back to the plot.

---

Mission: Citadel Sneak -- Citadel Tunnels

"The cruel Skeksis General is in Ha'rar, conscripting Vapran Gelfling. The hereos must sneak into the Citadel to stop him."

This sounds like its going to have a wacky success condition.

Bringing Rian (because I really want to get him through these Mender levels so I can get him to Strategist), Deet (because she's not gotten to do anything recently) and Boggi and Wukki because shouty dogs is definitely who you want to bring on a stealth mission.

Hm, potion bottles on the map that grant you haste if attacked. Neat.

Ok so win condition is to get all four heroes to the exit, nobody can die. I only see two venom spitter arathim on the map. There's probably going to be more jumping in to mess with me. The jerks.

Ok wow thats a lot of spawn-ins.

More and more arathim and even some nurlocs. Thankfully, you can hit a boulder to roll and block the nurlocs way. And even though I was hilariously unprepared, I got through first try. Thanks to the good ol' doggos.

Everyone leveled! Deet and Boggi learned nothing! Rian learned Convalesce and Wukki learned to Munch (attack a marked target 5 times with reduced accuracy)! He also knows Fuzzy Meteor, which is a delightful move name.

---

Mission: General Upheaval -- Citadel Barracks

“The heroes confront the General. They must drive him out of Ha’rar to free the Vapran Clan.”

That’s a great mission name. 10/10, TDC: AOR: T. Top-notch.

Just going to make a guess here, based on nothing. The General mission will get the Vapran to join the resistance. The Seladon mission chain will get her to join the party. Either way, I really want to kick the General's butt.

I see two Paladins, an Adept, and the General. There's some open doors so I just bet that more units will spawn in.

The General has 2000 HP. Has Crushing Blow (probably massive damage to Stunned enemy), Intimidate (inflicts Attack DOwn, Defense Down, and Silence to enemies adjacent to SkekVar when he, I dunno, flexes or something), and Prod (shove and stun). Hopefully he's less annoying than the Chamberlain but thats a low bar. Zing.

Party: Rian (hero), Naia and Gurjin (my good fighters), Brea (this is her home darnit), and Breg (oh right, he's a Vapra too? Huh)

General: "So the heretics have returned!"

Rian: "You aren't taking these Paladins anywhere, drainer!"

General: "Take? The Paladins come freely. They are loyal. Not like that mother of yours."

Geez, General. Low blow.

Brea: "Murderer! You'll pay for killing her!"

So things are going ok. Making some missteps. But when I kill one of the Paladins, another one appears. So, yes. This is another level with new spawns.

Hah, but you can use levers to close the doors so no new spawns can spawn and if you do, SkekVar complains, asking where his minions went.

Well, as usual with fighting Skeksis, it was a bloodbath. He killed all my dudes but Gurjin. He shouldn't have overlooked Gurjin.

Since everyone died nobody leveled but Gurjin and he didn't learn anything new. BUUUUT I did get the Royal Scepter and the General's Hand Axe. And Brea just unilaterally declared the Vapran were joining the Resistance. Seladon is All-Maudra of nothing, I suppose.

In fairness, in this game, there was already a Vapran resistance that Seladon had arrested. So she had already lost the unity of her people by the time I showed up.

The General's Hand Axe is a big boost over the Dredged Axe I had already equipped to Rek'yr. Comes with a lot more stats and a little more slowness. I wish axes didn't slow down turns so much. In any case, this is going right on Rek'yr.

Comes with a quote too, as special weapons sometimes do. "No such thing as an honest skeksis. SkekVar gets the closest, but that's no compliment" - Maudra Fara.

Nice dunk, Fara.

Royal Scepter is the Vapra Clan Staff. Did... did we steal this from Seladon? 30% chance to Wound, 20% MP gain on hit. Feels appropriate to give this to Brea. Or Seladon if I unlock her.

OH, its the iconic crescent moon with crystal shaped staff. Nice.

And since Deet is still using a simple club, I'll give her the Drenchen Legends.

So a frustrating pair of play sessions but I got some good loots in the end.

[paperficwriter]

The Boy and the Seawolf

A Mumarou story for @anonymousedward! In which Mumen (Rider) meets a certain protective sea spirit.

Dirty Paper warning for, well, tentacle sex. There it is. I said it. Cut is for length AND content.

“Stay to the public beaches, my little Mumen. We do not go to the cove.”

The small boy stands with his pail and shovel, staring at where he can see the land dip further in. The waves hit the cliffs surrounding it, but there’s an easy path they could take, either around and down or straight in on the shoreline, when the tide is out. He points this out, because he is a clever boy, and he loves to explore.

His grandmother smiles and strokes his messy brown hair back from the glasses that make his eyes look huge. One day the rest of his face will catch up but for now, his gaze is so painfully earnest that she can’t help but stoop down and kiss his forehead.

“This is not a matter of ‘can we,’ my child. This we ‘should not’ do.”

He wants to know why.

“Because that place belongs to the Seawolf.”

Patiently, the small boy tells his grandmother that wolves don’t live in the sea. He proceeds to explain all the places that wolves do live, until she laughs.

“This is a Seawolf, Mumen. A guardian beast of the ocean. They say that once he was fully a spirit, but when humans began to live near the water, he let the strongest man join with him, become one with him. Even today, it is considered very good fortune if you see one.”

The boy tugs her hand in reply. This only seems to make him more intent to go to the cove, if that is the case (which he still doubts, but…)

“No, Mumen. Now, he rules from there in seclusion. You’ll find no fish we can eat there. Only jellyfish, stingrays and occasionally sharks, all which he uses to deter passersby. Just like you.”

The boy shivers. Jellyfish. It’s the only thing that he is actually afraid of, when he visits her by the shore. Ever since one stung him when he was a toddler, sneaking up on him in the shallows and barely brushing him with its bright red body.

It’s easy enough to convince him to come to the main beach by the boardwalk after that, but he never forgets the cove. He always looks, craning his head around from his bicycle, hoping to catch a glimpse of something; fin, fluke, flipper, or maybe something else.

He doesn’t see anything.

And he doesn’t know that something is looking back at him.

---

“Okay, steady on, you can do this.”

Mumen rode his bike down the shoreline in the dark, the large, sloshing cooler balanced on his handlebars threatening to overturn at every bend. He had thought that if he waited to do this admittedly very silly thing until nightfall, maybe he could avoid getting caught, but tonight there were several clambakes happening on the beach that had attracted the attention of locals and tourists alike. Lights had been strung along the piers, and people were milling around, stargazing, drinking beers.

He had been invited but declined.

“Come on, Mumen! Something like this will cheer you up. Get you out of that house for a while,” his grandmother’s neighbor insisted.

That  house. He liked that house. He had always liked that house, the way it smelled like the ocean even when you had washed it all off, all the blankets and pillows the only things that had been kept smelling like floral laundry detergent, clean of the remnants due to regular washes. “No, thank you,” he replied with a friendly smile. “I still have some work to do.”

Maybe he was doing this errand for her too, now that he thought about it.

When he came up to the cove, he almost turned around. Not because he faintly recalled something that his grandmother had told him about a local cryptid of some kind that lived there, but because huge signs had been erected since he was a child. Dramatic bold lettering screamed at him about riptides and the fact that there were no lifeguards posted past this point, and there were icons of fins and crashing waves.

“Perfect,” he said to himself. All of that meant no one else would be there either.

He rode his bike as far as the boardwalk would take him, and then he dismounted, beginning to walk it into the cove. The temperature dropped significantly, and when he followed the sandy shore further in, along the cliff and into the enclosed area, he was most surprised by the silence of the area, a still quiet that made him feel like he was actually the first person here in a very long time.

Turning on the headlamp of his bike once he was out of sight only confirmed his suspicions. There wasn’t a single sign of another footprint in the sand.

“Okay. Let’s get you guys home.”

Mumen felt a little bad as he dragged the cooler into the shallows, the cold water lapping at his ankle and making him dance a little as he got used to it. He was sure that although the fishmonger was happy enough about all the money he gave him for the twenty-some lobsters, the fishermen and other customers wouldn’t be at all.

But what was he supposed to do? Walk past the tank at the market and leave them there?

He picked up the first one and so, so carefully removed the rubber bands from around its formidable claws. When he put it down he walked a small distance to the right, then did the same thing again. And again. And again. Sweat dripped down his face, and for a second he stopped to slap some of the cold water on his face, licking the salty drops from his lips. Now, his legs and arms were beginning to ache as he dragged the cooler, but dumping all the lobsters out didn’t seem right. What if they were territorial?

When he suddenly heard a substantial splash up ahead of him, Mumen froze. In the yellow light across the surface, cast by the moon and his headlamp, he couldn’t see anything in the inky depths, but he was still only in the water up to his calves. No, not even his calves. More like his upper ankles. So it wasn’t like anything could get at him. Right?

It wasn’t the first time Mumen was wrong, but never, ever this wrong. Never so wrong that he would have dreamt he might suddenly feel powerful limbs wrapping around his legs and pull them out from under him. Even though there was no way he would have seen them in the dark, he couldn’t see past the cloudy sand and water blinding him, rushing up his nose. His glasses...where were his glasses?! Was he going to drown?

And then...hands. Hoisting him up, pulling him from the water, pulling his whole body from the water until he could feel air on his feet.

“What are you doing here?” a cold voice asked.

Mumen tried to respond, or at least to start, but he choked, sputtering out water from his lungs and onto his chest. He tried to scrub at his eyes, to clear the salt out of them.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

“I’m sorry! I was...was…” Another mouthful of water from his burning throat. He had been taken by surprise, and he didn’t even realize he had breathed so much in…

“Taking things that don’t belong to you!” It sounded so angry, insistent, and he was shook a bit. Now, he could see clearer, and Mumen could make out a pale face, light hair - white? Silver? - and bared teeth.

“No! I was putting them back!” He held up his wrist, where he had been placing all the rubber bands. “See?!”

At that, he was dropped back into the water. It wasn’t much deeper here, so he winced when his butt hit the sandy bottom. His hand hit something sharp, and when he touched it, he could feel where the skin had torn. The salty sting confirmed he was bleeding, but when he stood up to try to get out of the water, there was still...something...around his legs. “Help! I’m stuck!”

“You just wait!” The voice was farther away now, back near the shallows, and Mumen could hear him muttering as he searched around and picked up one of the lobsters. Now, he could just see him - or his back at least - muscular and bright, reflecting the light like metal. He could only make him out from the waist up, though; he was clearly kneeling in the water…

When he turned his face back around, Mumen gasped softly. Was this what people meant when they talked about someone or something being terrifyingly beautiful? Because the man was definitely still angry, full of fury, but also...Mumen had never seen someone so gorgeous in his life. “Who are you?” he asked, and the...things...that were around his legs moved away. “I’m...my name is Mumen.”

“Garou,” the man replied, approaching him again. All of his hair was that bright silver, and Mumen wondered what it would look like dry. Maybe white? What color were his eyes? It wasn’t light enough to tell. “You’re not supposed to be here. Nobody is supposed to be here.”

“I...didn’t want to get caught on the beach.” Something rough brushed his thigh, and Mumen jumped. “What was that?!”

Garou said something quietly again, and this time Mumen thought it clear he was not talking to him. He did directly answer him with a grin that made him shudder. “I brought some of my brothers to handle you, if you gave me trouble.” A straight fin broke the surface, coming just close enough for Mumen to see striped patterns along the back of the large body.

“You were going to get a shark to eat me?!” Mumen was entering into a realm of hysterics, waving his hands. “Are you insane?!”

The other man chuckled and came closer, grabbing his hand from the air. “I love how the thought I could get a shark to attack you on command is somehow harder to believe than everything else happening. Including that I could will it not to eat you.” Mumen tried to tug his hand away. “Let me see.”

“It hurts.”

“Yes, it’s bleeding.” Garou said it like Mumen must be stupid. He stared down at his hand in the water, stroking his fingers over the cut. “I’m not doing this because it hurts. You’re making them uncomfortable.”

One of the sharks caused a splash as it came by, circling them. Yes, this was definitely several sharks, because this one was more reddish. And bigger. “Yeah, I know the feeling!”

“They won’t hurt you. I’ve told them not to.” Garou brought one of his own fingers to his lips and bit down until a drop of what Mumen assumed was blood began to seep from the spot. He had to assume, because it was a dark purple, like ink. Garou started to rub it into the wound.

“Ow! And ew! That’s...there are so many things wrong with this!” Things that included someone who could supposedly talk to sharks, and who looked human but certainly didn’t act like it, and who was now putting his mouth directly onto the cut, sucking at it, mingling their blood together.

A jolt of something rather lewd travelled down his body, and he stared at his thin lips until he asked, “Why did you come back here?”

Mumen blinked. Did he know him? Did they know each other? “What do you mean? How did you--”

“You used to come close to the cove, on that...thing you ride on.” Garou nodded at the bike. “It always looked like you were going to approach, but then you would go. Every year. And then...you stopped.”

“I…” Why was he blushing? Why did he feel so put on the spot. “I used to visit my grandmother. She lived at the house on the hill, overlooking the lighthouse.”

“Why did you come back here?” Garou was glaring at him, still rubbing insistently at the mark between mouthing it. It hurt less now, which also made it feel more scandalous when Garou licked it. “I like when humans leave. I like when there are less of you.”

“Yeah, well, it evens out, because she died, okay?”

As Garou’s fingers stilled, Mumen felt a little sick. It was the first time that he had come out and said that, to anyone. Most people here at the shore knew, so they would offer apologies. And anyone else, he would say that he had a family emergency. Why? Why not just say it? Clearly this was why.

“I’m sorry.” Mumen glanced up at Garou, at his face. It hadn’t exactly gotten softer, but he didn’t seem as angry, as seemingly put out by all this. “I haven’t been here long, so far as my people go, but...she always believed in us.”

“You knew her?”

“I had seen her. And heard the stories she told. She told you too, I know.”

Seawolf. It came back to him suddenly. “Even I couldn’t remember that...how do you?”

Garou let go of him. When Mumen took his hand out of the water, he could just see a pale pink line across a third of him palm, but other than that, there was no sign of the cut. “My memory is much better than yours,” he said, smirking.

“Hey, you there!”

Both of them looked up the shoreline when they heard the voices calling out from the sand. Flashlights were bouncing back and forth, held by a pair of what Mumen thought were probably cops. Before he could think to reply, Garou shot forward to the shallows, taking out the last few lobsters. “Help me with them!” he hissed in the dark, and they both scrambled to remove the rest of the rubber bands.

“Out of the water!” one of the two yelled, and there was a sound of sand being kicked as they ran closer. Garou reached down into the water and emerged with something small in his hand. He threw it, and the light on the bike shattered.

“Hey! That was mine! What are you--” Garou grabbed him up in his arms, and Mumen felt his cheeks going red yet again. His chest was so firm, so secure, but at his waist, it was very, very different. Like the flesh changed there...

“Take a deep breath.”

“What--” He barely got in even a small breath before they were under the water again. Suddenly, they weren’t simply floating but shooting through the current in the dark. It was so fast, so full of bubbles and rushing water that Mumen couldn’t even tell what direction they were going in. It reminded him of being in a slide at a water park.

<Hold onto me.>

He did. He did, even in spite of how he was pretty sure he was losing his mind, because Garou’s voice was in his mind. In fact, he was clawing at his torso now, because he needed to breathe. It had been only a few seconds probably, but his lungs were aching. Where was the surface?! Where were they?! How far...how deep...how...

<Mumen!>

It was too much. As the water invaded his nostrils, filling up his chest, everything around them went bright white with pain, then finally hazy and dark.

---

And then...he was waking up. Something was touching his mouth, pressing against it, and there wasn’t a good opportunity to really know what it was before what felt like a pint of water shot up his nose and mouth.

He opened his eyes though, and...Garou. He was hovering over him. It was lighter around them, shimmering like the inside of an aquarium. His eyes were gold. How would he ever have guessed?

Sitting up to cough, he said, “You saved me…”

“Technically I drowned you first, but...sure. Also, I think these belong to you.” Garou handed Mumen his glasses, and he breathed a sigh of relief. When he put them back on, Garou smiled a little, his eyes no longer as severe as they were in the surf, and Mumen had a chance to look around.

They were in a cave, now, like an underground shore. The ground was a mosaic of turquoise and sapphire stones, and the sand was the softest Mumen had ever felt. “Where are we?”

“Under the cove. I had to swim pretty far down to get to the cave. I'm glad you just breathed in a mouthful of water and didn't get all weird with the pressure.” He trailed off when he noticed Mumen staring below his waist. “What?”

From about an inch below his belly and down, Garou… wasn't human. He was deep, rich purple and black, slightly opalescent, and where there should have been legs were…

Tentacles. Eight of them. Long and spread out across the ground but powerful, not limp like he had seen octopi at the market when they were left on the ice to stay fresh. In fact, as he watched him there, Garou straightened and sort of sat on top of them.

Suddenly, he remembered the feeling of being held in the water, like something was surrounding his legs and…

“Oh my God.”

“I know, I’m a vision to behold. You may bask in my might.”

Then, Mumen noticed something more immediate to be concerned about. “Oh my God! I’m naked! What did you do with my clothes?!”

Garou made a light ‘tch’ and gestured at a large rock behind them where the clothes were spread across it. “Even I know that if humans sit around in soaked clothing they’ll get sick.” He said it like he was surprised Mumen hadn’t come to this very logical outcome as well.

Doing his best to cover himself, Mumen closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. Why was he taking this so easily? Why wasn’t he more afraid? Why did it seem like Garou wasn’t going to actually hurt him? What was --

“Stop thinking so hard.” Mumen opened his eyes and jerked when he saw Garou right in front of him. “And so loudly. Obviously you need a distraction from your grief, and I am grateful for the way you saved my people. What more do you need?”

“How did you know --” Garou was coming closer, and his tentacles were wrapping lazily around his legs. He didn’t pull away, only breathed a little harder as they moved up a bit, around his calves, leaving neat little round sucker marks behind them.

“We’re bound now. By blood.” He held up the tiny prick on his finger, then pointed at Mumen’s hand. “I could tell that you were truly a hero - well, the little ones told me that too - and it let me talk to you too. Should have maybe mentioned that before the whole trying-to-breathe-water situation.”

Mumen stared up into his gold eyes for a moment, then down at the tentacles. They had stopped just above his knees. “Can I...touch them?”

“No,” Garou said sarcastically, then rolled his eyes. “Of course you can.”

“You’re really sarcastic for a...spirit of the sea or whatever.”

“I’m part human, too. And I watch the humans, listen to them on their boats. You learn a lot when people can just say whatever they want.” One of the tentacles moved up, curling into Mumen’s palm. He wasn’t sure why, but Mumen thought it would be rough or scaly, but it was surprisingly soft, the purple flesh almost plush in a slick way. He immediately thought of putting his hands on rays in touch tanks as a child.

“You’re not gonna, like...lay eggs in me, are you?”

Garou blinked slowly, like this was honestly the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Mumen licked his lips. He wasn’t unaffected by the feeling of the soft arms surrounding him so close to his groin, no matter how nervous he still was. “And you’re not going to eat me afterward? Or!” he quickly added, “Feed me to sharks! Or anything else!”

Garou kissed him then, instead. He thought his mouth might taste like ocean water or the shore, but it just mingled with his, warm and wet and hot. He didn’t waste any time adding his tongue in, long and rubbing, touching his teeth, the top of his mouth, everywhere he could get to. Garou pulled him forward and laid him down on the ground.

When Mumen opened his eyes again, it looked like Garou was hovering over him. Mumen went to put his arms around him but quickly found that he couldn’t, his whole body covered with flexing, exploring tentacles. They squeezed his arms, his middle, and around his waist and legs, like he was something to take apart and put back together.

“Take a breath,” Garou laughed softly, his hands cupping his cheeks. “If I wanted to do something to you, I wouldn’t have protected you or brought you back here.”

“I’m not afraid.” It was only a half-lie, because what he meant was that he wasn’t as afraid as he was turned on. One of the tentacles moved to play with his nipple, and Mumen dropped his head back, moaning.

“Hmm, interesting…” The tips of two purple arms moved to flick and toy with his chest, and Mumen squirmed. He felt like some kind of animal caught in a trap, unable to escape, and under any other circumstance that would terrify him. But here? Now?

“Ahh!” Mumen glanced down to see one of the limbs wrap around his cock, rubbing it up and down. “Oh god, oh god…”

“How do humans handle having a tentacle so small and...not dextrous at all?” A tendril flicked under the curve of his head, and Mumen could swear he saw stars. When Garou licked his face, Mumen realized then how warm his cheeks had grown. “It’s just hard and-- oh!”

He came suddenly, spurting, the strange otherness of having a tentacle being what was squeezing him too arousing to actually hold back. White drops of fluid stood out against the dark of Garou’s lower body, and he smiled, licking his lips. “I can taste it, you know,” he shared, kissing him again, hard and deep, making a vibrating noise through it as he shifted, sitting Mumen up, arms over his head to stretch him.

“Where is your…?”

Garou slipped one of his tentacles past his lips and onto his tongue, sliding it in and out between his front teeth and the top of his throat. Mumen shuddered, letting out a muted, muffled moan against it. “See? I can use mine for many things. Yours, you either use it or…” Mumen sucked hard as Garou once again gave it a squeeze. “You just take what you get, huh?”

“Mmm…”

“I think you like that, though. Well, I kind of know you do.”

Mumen flushed at that. If he had had any idea that Garou taking care of his hand would lead to him having such a firm idea of his proclivities, he might have reconsidered letting him. But this was so good...so good…

Garou delved a bit deeper into his throat, and Mumen tried to relax. He squirmed in his hold, feeling the tentacles tighten and touch all over him, stroking even at places like his armpits, his navel, the small of his back...places Mumen never thought would make him light up with arousal and yet somehow managed to do so.

He nearly choked when a particularly curious tip found the line of nerves running from his hole to his cock. “Aha! That's an interesting spot...you reacted strongly to that…” Garou did it again, slower, dragging the textured flesh across his taint.

“Mm!!” Mumen's chest heaved, eyes watering slightly from the way Garou's cock was pressing now in his throat.

“I didn't realize how tight it would be in there,” Garou murmured, pressing his torso in close, his fingers touching either side of the line of his neck. Mumen could feel his digits around his tentacle cock, curious, interested...and it should have been frightening. It should have made him panic, but…

All he wanted was to make him come. To even them up so maybe - maybe - Garou would be more of a mess like he was.

But the moment he considered that, Garou looked at him, amusement in his gaze. Although his cheeks were rosy, a shudder running through him, he straightened a little. “Do you really want to challenge me in stamina, little human?”

Okay. Mumen could work with someone who took a challenge like that.

Although he did not have the use of his hands to add to it, Mumen set to the task of sucking on Garou with even more vigor. After all, he didn't taste fishy or odd; really it was the texture that was the oddest. Smooth and slightly slippery, the suckers at the end small enough that he could slip his tongue in a circle around them without getting them stuck.

“Mmm...fuck…” Garou's curses sounded alien, like he was trying them out for the first time. Bolder than a child but less confident than someone who had said such words for years. “Mumen…”

“Mmmph…” Tipping his head forward, he let more of Garou in his throat again, having gotten used to it.

“I...I...ah!” Garou came suddenly, and, sure, Mumen hadn't exactly been with many men (mostly having only experimented with his childhood friend Saitama when they went to the same University together) but this was not at all how it was before. Garou came not only forcefully but plentifully and although Mumen swallowed as much as he could, quite a bit of the fluid messily fell down his face and chest.

He coughed, and immediately Garou pulled back, and for a moment, though they remained around him, the tentacles felt more like...a full-bodied hug than the sexual adventure it had been only a moment before. Garou licked up the remaining mess, kissing Mumen again. “You are very, very good at that…” he said in a throaty voice that was more growl than purr.

“Thanks,” Mumen croaked, clearing his throat as much as he could. Then, he watched as Garou lifted his hands and cupped them in front of his face, water magically gathering there. It was the crispest, coolest drink that he had ever had. Or was it because it followed the strangest thing he had ever put in his mouth? He wasn’t sure.

Garou attacked him with his mouth again, a mouth that was human in all the right ways, with soft lips and just-sharp-enough teeth. He bit and pulled at Mumen’s bottom lip, and when Mumen gasped and opened his eyes - they were closed so much of the time, trying to surround himself in the surreal, carnal dance he was taking place in, letting his nerves and flesh do the looking - he saw those slits of gold: a little mischievous, intrigued, and full of lust.

“Fuck me,” Mumen pled. “Please fuck me...Garou…”

“Is that what you want, human? Already?” He panted the words, just far enough from contact with him to reply. Long nails rake down his sides, toy with his ass.

There’s that tentacle again, rubbing, pressing. It’s like he’s riding on it, and then -- “Ah!” He wasn’t sure how he could describe the sensation. It was sort of like a shock? A vibrating shiver? “What...what was that?”

“It’s how I feel where I am through the water. I send it out, it bounces back, I can see what’s even in the darkest depths.”

“E- ahh, echolocation?” Garou did it again, and he could feel it travel all the way up to the tip of him. He struggled a bit in Garou’s arms, but the seawolf seemed more than intent to have his way.

“Whatever you want to call it.” Garou was tonguing his chest in broad strokes, probably to lick up the thin, viscous spunk that had dripped there. “Your body tastes amazing, by the way...gods, I’ve had a lot of humans but…” Garou laughed when Mumen pouted behind his glasses. “I was just kidding!”

“Do you bring many here?” he asked, seriously, then added, not wanting to ruin the moment or make Garou back off. “Because...I couldn’t blame them. You’re beautiful and amazing and...and...I’ve never been with anyone like you.”

Garou seemed amused by his confession more than anything, his hands going down to grab his waist and pull him in, rubbing him against what would have been his crotch. Mumen moaned at the soft flesh against his hard, sensitive cock. “No, no I do not. Most people heed the warnings, you know. Read the signs. Stay away from beasts like me.”

“You’re - mm, right there, yes, please - you’re not a beast. You’re…” Mumen trailed off, because he didn’t actually know what to say, as much as he wanted to say something. So he didn’t say anything; instead, he pulled out of Garou’s limbs, a cacophony of suckers popping following the movement, and initiated his own kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and climbing more firmly into his lap. “You’re something I like, and that can’t be but so beastly.”

Smiling, Garou held him close, shaking his head as the tentacles that had been on his biceps and wrists took more to his legs, spreading them. “Something you like,” he purred in his ear. “I’ll take that.”

Mumen let out a deep, loud moan as Garou’s still-slick cock slipped into and around his hole. It wasn’t a definitive thrust to enter, but rather a feel, as though it were getting its bearings. It curled around and made that same, intense vibration, and Mumen sank his fingertips into Garou’s shoulders. “Oh God…”

“I like how warm you are inside,” he whispered, and another jolt made him clench. “It’s a challenge making room for myself...don’t worry, I won’t go too far.” He chuckled. “Just enough that you’ll like it.”

“Garou...fuck, Garou…” He nosed under his ear, sucking on the pale flesh there, the muscles. “Please...harder…”

He entered in more, still worming his way in, and just when Mumen thought he would stop, he hit the deepest end of him, nearly making him scream when he sent another wave into it.

“There...that’s what I want.” Garou pulled him back by the hair, devouring his face, sucking on his tongue in a way that made Mumen’s toes curl. When he did the same thrust and shock once more, he tried to bring his legs together with a whine. “Mumen…”

“I...I’m not going to be able to hold out!”

“I think you can.” Every time his canines scraped his chin, Mumen thought he might faint. “I want you to come with me. Don’t you?”

It was embarrassing how he whimpered. “Depends on how long you can go…” He gasped as the tentacles shifted for another angle that Garou pummeled vigorously, making it apparent that whether he said five minutes or five hours really wasn’t going to matter. “I-if I come, will you keep going?” he huffed out with each movement.

“Obviously!” Garou grinned, looking much more wolfish. His hair had started drying more, and it stuck up in two ‘ears.’ God, that was cute. He was so interesting…

Garou kept pumping, and when Mumen came again, it didn’t matter that it technically hadn’t been that long because he milked him with bump after bump on his prostate, twisting and making it throb. His orgasm made it so his whole body shook and jerked, dripping onto the blue stone floor.

He figured maybe that the way he went rigid would urge Garou with him, to join him.

It didn’t.

“Ooh…” Mumen moaned, suddenly so sensitive and aching that he got a little teary-eyed from it. “G-Garou...please…”

“Please?” Garou laughed. “Again?”

It was a bit like blacking out, then, because Garou picked up his pace, so fast and hard that the sounds of it echoed in the cave. The seawolf grabbed him up with his entire body, squeezing him, leaving circular bruises all over as he spilled out again, the hot mess leaking between and down his legs.

Mumen twitched, coming dry, and when it finally eased off like a fire being put out, he was in the water, being touched with such tenderness that he thought he might melt into it, float like seafoam that would fall apart once the moment ended. Garou’s voice was soft in his ear. “Okay?”

He opened up an eye and smirked. “We’re bonded, right? You tell me.”

Garou grinned and tugged him against his chest.

---

After that, there was only one person who could get him to leave the house, the one he moved into the next week.

And it wasn’t any of the neighbors.

[lizzylucky]

5. Gunpoint

WHUMPTOBER Day 5! (This was for yesterday and I am not gonna have time for today’s but oh well) Prompt - Gunpoint. Ready to have your hearts broken by moi?

Summary: Krel and Aja are outnumbered, facing FOUR bounty hunters! As they fight for their lives, Varvatos and Luug joining in to offer their help, someone is put up to a gun. A life is lost, and you may not be expecting it.

WARNINGS: Character death, whump, angst

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own 3Below, the Tales of Arcadia Universe, or any of its characters. The additional non-cannon characters and the story alone are mine.

~~~

They were surrounded. There were bounty hunters on every side, four of them. Aja and Krel stood with their backs touching, and Luug raced around their feet, growling as viciously as he could. He’d found them sooner than Varvatos had, who was nowhere to be found at the moment.

All at once, the bounty hunters lunged in at them.

“No!” Aja growled, being lifted from the ground by the throat. Krel was grabbed by two of his arms and yanked in the opposite direction in a wide circle.

“When will you give up?” Krel groaned, struggling to pull his arms free. He was thrown harshly downwards and held in place by a large and heavy boot. He wheezed as the air was pressed out of his lungs.

“We will give up,” said the one standing on Krel’s chest, “when your shattered cores have been exchanged for your bounty.”

The much taller bounty hunter holding Aja up looked at their other two comrades. “Go prepare their holding cells. I think we’re done here.” He gestured widely to the Akiridion siblings, both seemingly unable to fight back. Luug continued to bark at them all from a distance while the two hunters left the scene.

“No! We’re not going with you!” Aja choked out, kicking frantically at her captor. The hunter laughed, humoured. Aja was unable to reach him.

“Is that what you think? You seem not to be capable of going anywhere, at the moment.” 

The other hunter holding Krel down glanced over at his comrade and sniggered. Krel grinned and, in one smooth movement, activated his shield underneath the hunter’s boot and managed to get his own feet under it. He pushed up on the shield with all his strength and managed to knock the hunter backwards several steps.

“Ha!” Krel cheered, jumping back a few paces and holding his shield out in front of himself. Both bounty hunters seemed to be caught off guard, giving Aja her opportunity to do the same. She gave a determined cry and swung her legs forward hard enough to pull her entire body into a backflip, twisting out of the hunters grasp. She landed on her feet, coughing hoarsely, and activated her serrator’s blade. 

“Stop her!” the taller hunter bellowed, throwing out his sword to meet Aja’s blade as she swung at him. The other bounty hunter turned away from Krel and raced to aid the other in taking down Aja.

Krel lowered his shield and narrowed his eyes, almost offended. Was he really that low-level a threat to them? Shaking his head and taking advantage of the situation, he activated his blade also and raced up behind the shorter of the two hunters, quietly, and swung his blade hard. It barely scratched the hunter’s armour and bounced back.

“Oh, come on!” Krel yelled, entire body drooping with exasperated frustration. The hunter in question turned around curiously, apparently having felt nothing when Krel attacked, and laughed darkly at the expression on Krel’s face.

Krel chuckled nervously. “Ah… Hi…” The hunter lifted one of his oversized fists and brought it down frighteningly quickly in Krel’s direction. Krel let out a startled scream and turned tail to run from the hunter.

“Where will you go?” the hunter inquired loudly, voice having a raspy, wheezing, breathy quality to it that reminded Krel of wind blowing through an old wooden fence.

“You cannot outrun me boy!”

No, but I can try, Krel thought. He looked over his shoulder, grimacing when he realized the hunter was gaining him on speed. Before he looked back around to face forward he slammed into something and stumbled to the ground. He held his breath and looked up, then released it quickly, utterly relieved.

“Varvatos!” he exclaimed, standing up and greeting his guardian with a grin.

“Krel! Where is the Queen-In-Waiting?” Varvatos asked immediately, forgoing any greeting. Krel’s expression fell and his eyes filled with anxiety.

“She’s alone! We have to go help her!” With no further word, Krel grabbed Varvatos by the arm and yanked him in Aja’s direction, leading them off in a run. 

They had to come to an abrupt stop, however, when they met the bounty hunter Krel had been running from. The hunter rasped out a chuckle and spun his sword in his grasp for show.

“The indomitable Akiridion Commander, Varvatos Vex,” the hunter hissed with a grin. “I have waited long to face you.”

“It would give Varvatos great pleasure to best you in battle!” Varvatos declared, bending low and activating his serrator.

The hunter lunged forward and met Varvatos’ blade with his own.

“Krel! Go!” Varvatos cried out, grunting with effort while he fought the hunter.

Krel watched the two combat each other anxiously. “Varvatos-”

“GO!” Varvatos bellowed, giving Krel a ‘no arguments’ look. Krel swallowed thickly and nodded, turning around and sprinting back. Aja would need his help.

“Krel!” Aja cried out when she caught sight of him. The other two bounty hunters had returned, each significantly shorter than the two Krel and Aja had been facing. Aja was still blade-locked with the same hunter and beginning to falter while the other two stalked her slowly at the sides. They walked on all fours, contrary to the other two.

Krel glared determinedly at the one nearest him and ran forward with his blaster drawn. “Leave my sister alone!” he cried, firing at the hunter. The blast, miraculously, hit the hunter in the back and she let out an agonized cry. Krel smirked, holding his blaster out at the ready for a second shot.

The hunter spun around and lunged at him. Krel put up his shield and felt the hunter hit him, sending him to the ground. He grunted with the impact and blinked hard when his vision began to fuzz at the edges.

“That was an impressive hit, I’ll give you that,” said the bounty hunter, seething with anger. Her voice came out almost like a whisper or a whistle, high pitched and airy. “But you will not make another.”

Krel sat up and glared at her, jumping to his feet just in time to avoid a snap from the jaws of the hunter.

“What makes you so sure?” He fired his blaster again, this time the power of the shot pushing him backwards a ways.

The blast missed, flying way off to the right. “Oops,” Krel muttered. Somehow he imagined that going a lot better and sounding a lot cooler. The hunter’s shoulders shook with laughter, her laugh high and shrill. It sent a chill down Krel’s spine.

Krel opened his mouth to say something more but got caught on his breath when he heard Luug barking again, this time from much closer. He looked to his left and saw Luug racing up to the other quadrupedal hunter, leaping up and latching onto the hunter’s foot with his jaw. The hunter let out an enraged howl and stumbled backwards, giving Aja more room to fight off the taller hunter.

“Yeah!” Krel cheered. “Good boy, Luug!!” 

“My Royal, watch out!”

Krel was startled by Varvatos’ voice and spun around to see his guardian running up to him. His warning registered too late and Krel felt something heavy impact with his right side. He was thrown harshly to the ground, his head pounding and making him dizzy.

“Krel!” Aja cried out. Krel looked up at her just in time to see the bounty hunter take advantage of her distraction and lIft her by the throat once more. This time he yanked Aja’s serrator away from her and threw it away.

Varvatos gave a battle cry and raced in, leaping over Krel and throwing his blade in the female hunter’s direction. She leapt back, tail flicking back and forth behind her as though she were playing an amusing game.

“You have already failed!” she shrieked at him, leaping backwards every time Varvatos swung his blade.

“It is you who have failed!” Varvatos parried, leaping into the air and completing a full 360 degree turn before bringing the blunt end of his weapon down. He hit her hard in the head and she collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Alright!” Krel cheered. He sat up quickly and grimaced; his head was pounding painfully with every movement. Ignoring it, he stood up and faced the last two bounty hunters determinedly. One? One bounty hunter? He could have sworn there was another one-

Aja was collapsed on the ground, coughing and gasping desperately for air. She grasped at her throat and looked at Krel anxiously like she was trying to say something. Varvatos was using his shield to push back against the other quadrupedal hunter and followed Aja’s gaze. He gasped as soon as he saw what she did.

“No-!”

Krel felt something cold and metallic and hard press against the back of his head and froze in fear. His eyes widened in terror and he swallowed hard.

“The Akiridion Royals will be coming with us. If you allow them come, with no resistance, this one might live.”

Neither Aja nor Varvatos said anything. The other bounty hunter stopped pressing to get past Varvatos and chuckled lowly.

“You have sectons to give me your answer,” the hunter said impatiently, pressing the weapon into Krel’s head more harshly. Krel let out a yelp and gasped. He let out a whimper, terror coursing through his entire being. He tensed up and gave Aja a desperate look.

“Five,” the hunter said, glaring. “Four,” he continued, counting down. Aja lurched upright anxiously.

“Wait!” she cried. “Don’t hurt him! I’ll come!”

“Aja, no!” Krel shouted, leaning forward. He didn’t even want to imagine the kinds of things these terrible bounty hunters would do to her.

Aja stood up and strode in Krel’s direction confidently, looking down the whole way. 

“Aja! Do not!” Varvatos said loudly. He turned around and began to run in from the hunter’s left.

“Ah-!” The bounty hunter yelled, turning to face Varvatos and all but slamming the gun’s barrel into the back of Krel’s head. Aja gasped loudly and froze, and Krel squeezed his eyes shut as Varvatos came to a stop, kicking dirt up in his haste.

“I said with no resistance!” the hunter said irritatedly. The sound of a blaster gun charging could be heard and Krel’s insides lurched with terror.

“No!” Aja and Krel cried out at the same time, each horrified. Krel grit his teeth and braced for the pain to come.

A blaster fired.

Krel cried out and almost collapsed to the ground, then realized that there was no pain. Reluctantly, Krel opened his eyes, utterly confused. There was no longer any pressure at the back of his head. He glanced to his left and saw Varvatos, standing poised with his blaster aimed, breathing hard. The bounty hunter lay collapsed on the ground behind him.

“Krel!” Aja cried out in relief, nearly sobbing as she crashed into him for a hug. He squeezed her back and released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“My royals!” Varvatos cried, running to meet them. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, Varvatos,” Aja said, though she glanced over Krel as she said it. He didn’t look completely fine, but he wasn’t dead, and that was enough for Aja in the moment.

“Don’t think you’re in the clear yet,” said another voice. The three of them turned to face the last of the four bounty hunters. Though he stood on all fours before, he stood up now on his hind legs, boasting a height that rivalled even the first bounty hunter’s. He held a standard blaster, aimed in their direction, and a murderous rage in his posture.

“I care not for the bounty! You have taken my comrades from me, and for that you will pay!”

Krel swallowed nervously and glanced to Aja. She hadn’t picked up her serrator from before, so he handed her his wordlessy. She took it from him and activated its shield, moving to stand in front of her little brother. Varvatos followed suit.

Luug began barking again. Standing on the field between the Akiridions and the bounty hunter, he took off sprinting at the hunter and leapt up to attack the hunter and-

A blast was fired.

Luug fell to the ground.

“Luug!” Aja cried out.

“NO!” Krel cried. Everything in that moment froze and he and Aja were hyper aware of the way Luug whimpered and tried failingly to stand back up. Krel took in a staggering breath, feeling it catch in his throat. “Luug-”

Aja let out an enraged cry filled with pain. Even as her eyes watered, she ran forward with her blaster drawn. Varvatos followed behind her, looking angrier than Krel had ever seen him. Krel, realizing he had no weapon but thinking he had to do something, ran behind them. He slid to a stop, dirt clouding by his feet, and dropped down in front of Luug. 

Luug whined and gave Krel a questioning look. Krel choked on the lump in his throat at the way Luug seemed to be asking what was happening, and why did it hurt?

Luug tried to stand but his legs shook and he fell back to the dirt with a pained yelp. Krel could have sworn he felt a physical pain in his core as his beloved pet struggled. He leaned over and scooped Luug up tenderly in his arms. He glanced up and took in the battle before him. He registered nothing except that Aja and Varvatos appeared to be winning. Luug whimpered in his arms and he stood up, running out of range of the battle while tears built up in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Luug,” he said quietly, his voice shaking heavily. Looking down at Luug, he swallowed back a sob at the small creature’s exhausted expression.

An explosion rang behind him and he shut his eyes tight, too afraid to look and see what the outcome was. Luug made small, high pitched noises of pain and Krel felt his legs go weak. He collapsed to the ground and started crying.

He’s not going to make it.

He hugged Luug close to himself, trying so hard to keep his touch light and gentle that he was almost afraid he’d drop him.

“Krel!” 

That was Aja’s voice.

A moment later Aja came running up to Krel and dropped to her knees beside him.

“Is he okay? Is Luug okay?” she demanded, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning over to see.

Krel opened his mouth to answer her, but all that came out was another sob. His entire body heaved with every tear and he choked on the sounds he was trying to form into words before giving up entirely and breaking down.

“Here, let me see-”

“No!” Krel cried out, hugging Luug tighter and folding in on himself. “No, no, no- No-” He sobbed all the harder, unable to see through his tears as he felt Luug quivering in his arms. He couldn’t let go, he wouldn’t let go, Luug couldn’t go anywhere! Luug couldn’t die!

Aja seemed taken aback by his response and removed her hand from his shoulder. After looking at him for a second and realizing what was happening, she opted instead to lean forward and wrap her arms over both Luug and Krel, crying with them.

Abruptly, Krel realized that Luug had stopped moving.

“Luug?” he whispered hoarsely, pulling back from Aja and sniffling so he could look down. Luug was curled into a little ball in Krel’s grasp, his eyes closed. He made no sound or movement, and at nearly the same time that both Krel and Aja got a good look at him he began to fade. Any glow his body produced naturally was gone, and his form began to dissolve into the air.

“No-” Krel gasped, choking again. Aja put a hand to her mouth and let tears run down her cheeks silently.

“Luug,” she whispered despairingly.

Luug’s form completely disappeared and there was nothing left. No remnant of his body, no core. Nothing.

Krel wailed and collapsed forward into Aja’s arms. He grasped at her arms desperately, shaking heavily and crying harder than he’d ever done before, practically breaking Aja’s core in two while she mourned with him.

Luug was gone.

[whiskeyworen]

Aspect IV: Of Inspiration and Communication

Inside Vigil Keep, weeks before “Bound By Blood”

"Soldier Sonnya Danae; Package for you." The delivery person looked at his clipboard tiredly, before turning it around with a quill in hand for her. "Sign here please."

"I wasn't expecting any packages." Sonnya pointed out, scrawling her name in Asuran swirls on the line. It didn't matter that the form was written in Krytan; names are names. Besides, she'd seen people just scribble nonsense on the line before.

The delivery person shrugged slowly, and handed her a brown paper wrapped parcel. "I just deliver'm, miss."

As he turned to walk away, Sonnya retreated to her quarters, closing the door and locking it. She barely realized she'd done it; her attention was entirely on the mysterious package in her hand.

She sat down at her desk, placing the package on the table top, just...staring at it. Who could have sent it? There was an address on it from somewhere in Lion's Arch, but that might not mean anything; as long as you put an address from Lion's Arch, no one would bother looking it up. It might not even exist.

"Well, time to find out what's in this thing." Sonnya declared, and ripped the package open. Her eyebrow rose slightly as she pulled out the small, hand-sized comm device. It kind of looked like the standard Pact communicator that unit leaders and commanders had, but it was almost half the size.

The structure and layout were different as well. Instead of an On and Off button being the only keys, there was an entire set of number keys, some symbols she didn't recognize, and a few adjustment dials. Embedded into the top left corner appearred to be a micro-golemite eye. "....the hell?... why would a communicator need to see? Is it a golem or something?" She mumbled quietly, turning the device over in her hands. Satisfied there were no other secrets to it, she flicked the 'On' switch. She expected to hear one or another commander somewhere, talking to their companions; Pact comms were always open to anyone who had a comm, so the idea of private conversations was kind of an illusion.

Instead, there was silence. After a few seconds, the micro-golemite eye raised from its alcove, did a quick scan of everything in front of it (including Sonnya) and settled back into its groove. While the eye turned off, apparently the device finally activated. "Hello? Is this one Sonnya Danae I am speaking to?"

Sonnya waited for the no-doubt dozens of confused responses from others in the commnet, before realizing none were coming. So she hesitantly replied. "Uh, yes. This is Sonnya here. I received this comm unit in the mail?"

"Yes! Then it worked as I had planned! I am very pleased to make your acquaintance!" The voice on the comm was quite enthusiastic, but crystal clear. "I was unsure how to properly reach you, and this seemed most appropriate. I regret we cannot meet in person, but I am...on task in Elona at the moment."

Sonnya gave the comm an odd look. "Oh...kay?... Sorry, but I'm honestly surprised no one else has broken in to ask how I'm comming, or who you are? There's no way everyone turned their comms off."

"Oh, this comm is on a secure channel." The voice replied brightly. "Sadly, Pact comms are pretty basic. They are designed to be used as a single network, with everyone connected. I do not believe any research was ever done into solitary, private commlinks. At least, not until my Father suggested it and the rest of the crew figured it out. I helped of course."

"I'm...sorry, but I'm still really confused." She scratched her ear, placing the comm down on the table top. "So the comm is on its own, private line or something? The only people who can talk and hear are you and me?"

"Unless we cut someone into the signal, or they cut themselves in somehow, yes." There was a thoughtful pause in the line. "Of course, they would have to decrypt about a hundred and forty-four thousand lines of code to even FIND the signal. There's a lot of radio, ley, and Mist spectrum to work with. If we cut them in manually though, it would be a simple matter of dialing their number, provided we knew it, into the comm and then pressing the little button that looks like three dots connected by lines."

"I saw that, but didn't know what it was." Sonnya admitted, before shaking her head. "Wait wait. Okay. Hang on... WHY are we even talking? Why did you send a comm to me?"

"Oh! Right! I was so pleased with having made contact, that I placed the reason for it in the back of my memory!" Sonnya was pretty sure that the person on the other side of the comm was clapping their hands, though she couldn't hear the sound. "I wished to speak to you about the construction of your wonderful powered-armor suit, and your integration of technical devices into your biological structure!"

Her jaw dropped. No one knew, apart from the Warmaster, knew anything about her implants, or her suit. No one...except maybe Tenna. If Tenna even knew. "How... I mean, what makes you think I have anything like that? I don't know what you're talking about."

The person on the other end laughed pleasantly. "Oh please. There were recordings from all angles in the battle against that Shatterer. The Charr Legions were recording because they wanted to see the result of their new weapons. The Priory was recording for archives' sake, and the Order of Whispers and the Vigil were recording for references for future battles! Your little stunt might not be explainable to them, but I assure you, I understand exactly what was going on."

"You...have me at a disadvantage then." Sonnya frowned, crossing her arms. "My...implants won't work with anyone else. I only ever designed them to work with me."

"Oh do not worry about that. I am not interested in that. Not really." There was a smile in the voice. "I am planning something that requires... let us call it a very fine integration of biological and mechanical components. I wished to pick your brain, as it were, for ideas on how to smooth out some of the issues I have encountered in my simulations. Basically, I want you to double-check my ideas, and make sure I have not done something foolish or impossible."

"So, you don't want to steal my tech or anything like that? You just want to ask questions on how to improve your own? Your own tech that is similar to mine, but less refined?"

"Precisely."

"...Well, what did you have in mind then?"

***

Several hours later

"... so the circuitry integrates with the implants directly via surface-to-surface interface." Sonnya explained. "I can't give you the specifications of the implants themselves, but based on the ideas you've thrown at me, this should allow for a faster information rate and a tighter connection."

"I see! Thank you for the insight." The voice on the comm acknowledged. "I believe you're right. While I have no intention of using your implants, or trying to extrapolate them based on available information, I do believe I can manage to decrease reaction times by half at least, and muscle-load by a factor of five! I am sure if I work at it a little more, I can coax even more out. My investigation into magitech-neuromuscular modification is still rudimentary, but I'll soon have a few prototypes to test out."

"Glad to be of service." Sonnya smiled. She took a sip of beer from the bottle she'd gotten from her personal cooler. "Do you have any ideas on what you'll do with it all? I mean, you weren't looking to make a suit at all it seems. Or rather, the powered armor suit is almost a secondary item to whatever you're making."

"Publically, when it all is arranged, I will be setting up the sale of fully-working, personally customized prosethetics. The market will be for those individuals who, through birth or injury, are suffering from lack of limbs. I understand there's a similar market in Rata Sum, but it is small because everything is based off Golem-limb construction. Which, if you ask me, Golems are remarkably...brutish."

Sonnya shrugged. "True. But the refinements in magic circuits and power systems is making them more powerful and intelligent by the day. Shape doesn't really mean much, does it? Just look at that golem that kid in Dragon's Watch had. What was her name again?..."

"Taimi." The voice supplied reluctantly. "And yes, her Scruffy models are aesthetically pleasing, and very unique with their ability to be a conveyence AND a powered mecha suit, as well as a fully functioning autonomous golem...but they are still not the angle I am going for."

That brought a frown to the guardian's face. "I still don't know what you mean. The only other examples of golem-type things I know of are like, the Exalted, which AREN'T golems but kinda look like them, the Jade Constructs which are closer to Elementals in nature... and the Watchwork nightmares."

"Oh yes... the Watchworks. I know them well." The comm replied quietly and cryptically. "Very interesting designs, those."

"Scarlet was a maniac." Sonnya said flatly, frowning before draining her beer. "Her Watchwork creations made Steam creatures look tame by comparison. And we still have to wipe out infestations of THOSE in Lornar's Pass every year! They just keep making more of themselves!"

There was a pause, a silence over the comm. Then, "...Perhaps I should investigate how they replicate? If I can figure it out, it might come in handy for self-repairing prosthetics."

"Be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when a Steam Brain zaps you with lightning for coming too close." She laughed. She could still remember seeing Priory researchers bounding across the ice, backsides singed while an angry Steam Brain chased them, lightning arcing from its central eye, while the entire time it swore at them in machine-language. She assumed it was swearing of course. Wouldn't you, if some know-it-alls tried to shove a stick in your ear? Or whatever a Steam Brain has?

"Duly noted. Thank you again, Miss Sonnya."

"Well, it was my pleasure. It's not often I can talk shop with anyone." Sadly truer than Sonnya would like to admit; most soldiers in the Vigil were more concerned with using things rather than making things.

"....In that case, allow me to make you an offer." There was a nervous note in the voice's tone. Sonnya had the impression that, had someone been present, they would have been talking behind a cupped hand, afraid someone would hear. "In a week's time, my ship will dock in Lion's Arch at airdock 42 in the Aerodrome. If you show up, say, around noon, I will let you see the secret project I have been working on. The one that your information has come in quite handy in its completion."

A clandestine meeting at a secured, out-of-the-way airdock? Sonnya had flown on ships from the Aerodrome before, and remembered how it was laid out; Dock 42 was the furthest out, on the backside of the Aerodrome, facing Bloodtide Coast. It was so far out that merchants refused to park ships there because it would take so long and was so complicated to get things on board. Why would anyone willingly park there? "Uh, sure... A week from now, noon, Lion's Arch, Dock 42. Sure thing."

"Excellent. Perhaps when you see it, you will be able to offer a more hands-on, practical examination. You might see some things that need improvement from the prototype to a production model."

"Alright. Sounds fine to me!"

"Good, good. I must go now. Needs of the ship are building up on my task-list. I need to focus on that for a while."

Sonnya picked up the comm, surprised and a little worried. "Wait, before you sign-off or whatever... When I get to your ship, which ship am I actually looking for? And who should I tell them invited me?"

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, a smiling, almost devious tone to it. "... The ship is called the Forsaken Aspect. You just need to ask to see Alice."

A chuckle rolled from the comm. "I assure you, the person you meet at the dock will know exactly who you need to see, and why. Just trust me."

"Okay... Well, I will see you then... Alice?"

"See you then, Sonnya."