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elfy-elf-imagines · 1 year ago

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To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves.

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family.

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips.

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move.

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself.

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine.

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries.

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white.

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see.

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--”

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil.

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance.

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them.

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves.

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to.

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask.

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast.

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited.

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them.

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves.

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream.

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you.

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests.

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded.

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.”

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore.

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence.

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there.

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak.

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate.

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you.

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s.

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.”

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real.

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened.

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.”

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined.

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden.

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

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kyri45 · 6 months ago

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ISAT Sky:Cotl!AU Part 1: The Dock

AKA: How I think a possible sequel could be stroctured, using Sky: Cotl as a base for this AU)

SO! We know that Something happened after Siffrin almost destroyed the world. Something broke in a way, by the presence of Red. And also by the fact that the Daydreaming one can remember more clearly about their sister (they remember her appearance and that she had a bag, all things that are more visual than the abstrac fact that she liked to sing, etc… all this while she didn’t struggle to remember)

So the island is so forgotten, you can barely see it anymore (you CAN, briefly, see it by the end of the game)

… but that doesn’t mean is not there physically, right? Wouldn’t that mean you could theoretically still go there? It would probably kill someone from the amount of headace they would have probably. But something happened, and remembering some of the stuff isn’t as painful anymore.

The story could begin with the gang going to Bambouche, maybe to go see Bonnie’s village. The are rumors about people starting to see the island again, But it seems clouds and fog are in the way most of the time. Siffrin could finally start talking slowly to their family about what he could remember from his home.

This could lead them to try and physically go there to the Island by boat (Shiffrin used to have one, and could properly use it even at a young age, so they maybe they know the basics of navigation?) If you can see the island from Bamb0uche it means it can’t be more than a day on a boat away.

What they land on is something similar to the Isle of Dawn, and as they explore, Siffrin unintentionally activates one of the first murals of the game. (I’m using Sky's old beginning for this, not the one after the Aviary update).

“All are given breath by starlight…” “The first of us lived in the joy that we would one day return to the stars”

The murals could be written in Siffrin language, and being that Siffrin DOES have Memory of Memories even after the loops ended, he CAN read without pain his language again.

As they venture further, they explore the only things left which are the boats and the remaining dock.

The Spirits

The spirits could be either actual people who are in an unconscious state from being part of the Wish or reflections of them (almost like the Sadness is the equivalent of becoming lightless in Sky) and their memories can help you remember how to say specific words in your language that will help you later unlock doors or simply slowly breaking the Wish.

Winged Lights as Wish/Star levels

As for all the stuff about winged lights, I would like for Siffrin to gain his first “star” here, but in any case, I don’t think they would be able to fight until the end. But each “star” or “winged light” could be used as a way to gain more Wish Craft or XP in a way.

In any case, the Family could reach the main entrance of the Kingdom (the Temple of Dawn), and more star-based riddles are solved to enter the temple. A vision of the future gives them a flash of the Wish and lowers their HP aggressively, but then, they see one constellation and Siffrin realize that he can finally recognize it. The first constellation he can recognize after years...

A short note about the colors

The first hints of the history of The Country could lead them to see specks of one of the colors.

Now, my main theory about colors is that whoever made the Wish for the country to disappear could have made it in a way phrased so that they also took its “Light” away, and being colors a variance of light refracted, that could have caused them from being taken away.

(also because I like how in Sky the following mural says “But then the sky went dark, and our kingdom shattered”)

What it would be REALLY cool to see in a sequel, is how shades of colors are slowly coming back the more you uncover about The Country (kind of like Gris in a way)

From darkness, one color at a time, they could light up the memory of the Country again!

And that’s all for part one! If you like where this is going, please let me know!

#kyri45 #isat sky cotl au #isat sky au #isat siffrin #in stars and time

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transbianmuffin · 9 days ago

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Memories pt. 5

cw basically a queer cuddle puddle with lots of drugs

If you enjoy shoegaze and heavy synths I highly suggest to have in background "Lower your eyelids to die with the sun" by M83 while reading this. It was my main soundtrack when I wrote this fic and I think that it would enhance the overall experience :3

********

"Sinea! Welcome, long time no see!"

"Xarsei, thanks for having us even with such short notice."

"And losing the opportunity to finally see Chloratea's first pet in many years? Seven hundred? Eight hundred? Roots, nobody, NOBODY would want to miss that."

"I- I'm n-"

"She's not my pet. Xarsei, she's my ward."

"Sure, sure she is. Now little one, you look amazing by the way, would you want to go with the others? Me and Sinea have some catching up to do."

"..."

"You can go, Deena. I'll be here, whenever you need me just look in my direction and I'll come immediately."

"Ok... thank you."

"Not your pet, eh?"

"I'm working on it. She wants to be, that's clear as the morning summer sunlight, but I want her to beg on her knees to be taken by me."

"Dirt Sinea, you truly want to break her."

"No, not at all. She's already mine. She only needs to realize it."

"She is cute, though."

"She is the cutest creature in the universe."

[Floret 1] "Oh my oh my oh here she iiiis~"

[Floret 2] "You look gorgeous sweetie~"

[Floret 3] "This dress in a-ma-zing. I want to make out with you."

"W- well I-"

god she's on me, her tongue tastes like sweet lavander I'm making out with this cute girl I just met and my head is already starting to feel dizzy

[Floret 1] "Awww~ you two are sooo cute."

"A- ah- sorry I was saying, hi I'm Deena! I'm Sinea's..."

[Floret 2] "First floret!"

"...ward."

[Floret 1] "Oh a ward! That's cute! But but but we need to introduce us! I'm Kyle Graemina, first floret!"

[Floret 2] "I'm Hipatia Sinens, fourth floret!"

[Floret 3] "And I'm Maddi Sinens, first floret and Hipatia's connivent. I want to make out with you again."

[Kyle] "Maddi, give Deena a break. Sorry, her mistress always fills her up with Class D and Class J before doing this gatherings."

[Maddi] "Hipatiaaaaa~"

[Hipatia] "Yes, sweetie?"

[Maddi] "Come here~"

"So, Kyle, are you happy?"

[Kyle] "What? Sure I'm happy. We're all happy! Our Affinis provide us with everything we need. We don't have a care in the world besides being cute."

"I guess so."

[Kyle] "Are YOU happy?"

"I wasn't happy for a long time."

[Kyle] "And now?"

"I am now."

[Kyle] "Here, smell this lily. My mommy gave it to me for you."

this smells so nice...oh that dizziness again, I can't stand on on my own feet Kyle is so cute I want to play with Hipatia hair I want to melt between Maddi's arms

[Kyle] "Come Deena, let's join the others."

this fluffy cushion is soo good on my skin Maddi embraces me while Hipatia starts kissing my neck.

Her kisses burn my skin with pleasure every time her lips leave that little bit of saliva my nerves send blissful pulses to my brain which in return makes my body shivering with anticipation for the next one

Maddi plays with my hair while Kyle kisses sloppily her free hand

I never felt so good in my whole life

Her fingers running through my locks make my scalp go numb while Hipatias kisses keep getting closer and closer to my mouth until we kiss

Colours starts to blend together as I close my eyes and I feel my anxiety, my fears, my trust issues my imposter syndrome my sense of inadequacy the hate I have for my past comrades myinsecuritiesmydysphoriamydysmorphiamyrage

gone

all gone

far away

far away million light years away left behind dying like the stars in a system too old to be remembered

there's only bliss

there's love

I kiss Hipatia

She then kisses Maddi

Kyle and I feel each other skin, each other limbs, each other sweet sweat

my nails pierce Maddi's skin while she moans gently begging for more

there's peace

there's kindness

there's joy

a sharp pain followed immediately by pleasure fills my limbic system as Maddi's canines make their way in the side of my neck eradicating any thoughts for a couple of seconds that feel like centuries

I don't want to go back to Jupiter

I want Maddi, I want Hipatia, I want Kyle

I don't want be to be an Independent Terran

I want to be a pet

I want to be Sinea's tulip

My body is numb with overstimulation my mind is composed of millions of figments made of pure pleasure

I-

"Little one?"

"..."

"It's time to go, you all collapsed. We are taking you to bed."

"C-can..."

tell her tell her that you want to be her pet tell her now

"Sure you can sleep with them tonight, if only you could look at the three you. You are so cute all melted one against the other."

"Sinea~"

"Sleep, my dearest, tomorrow we will talk."

"That went well."

"A lily filled with Class D, a pretty strong strain of A and enough N to denying any climax despite almost reaching it. Wasn't I the cruel one, Xarsei?"

"Oh come on, what's the fuss? You don't really care, or maybe?"

"Watch your mouth."

"Maybe you are upset because I drugged your poor pet, ehm ward, without you knowing it."

"Do it again without my permission, Xersei, and I'll punch you so hard in the face you'll leak sap for a month."

"Duly noted, Sinea~"

********

#floretposting #hdg #human domestication guide #affini

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redgoldsparks · 8 months ago

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March Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 4 by Ryoko Kui

I'm reading these books so fast I can barely remember which parts of the plot happened in which volume but know that I am still having a great time!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 5 by Ryoko Kui

Oh, this story has taken a darker turn, and also just introduced a whole bunch more characters. Will I be able to keep track of them all? I hope so!

Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb, read by Anne Flosnik

Unfortunately, this is definitely the weakest Robin Hobb book I've read so far. I was expecting to like it less than the glorious, 5-star previous trilogy, but I actually think I'm going to skip the rest of the Rain Wild Chronicles and read summaries online to get to the next Fitz books. This book follows five main POV characters. This works fairly well for the first half, when the characters are all in different physical locations. However once all of the characters meet up, we start getting the same scene from multiple different POVs, which feels extremely repetitive. Also, almost EVERY SCENE includes a flashback, often a lengthy flashback, sometimes to something that happened only the previous day and could have been told as present-moment action. This writing choice baffled me. It's something I can't remember struggling with in any of Hobb's previous books, but by the end it was driving me up a wall. The book also moved very slowly; the stakes feel lower, and the character far less emotionally true than in the two Fitz trilogies. Disappointing, but I will keep moving forward towards the next part of the series I want to read.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 6 by Ryoko Kui

Damn, a lot of characters get murdered in this volume! Good thing almost everyone who dies in the dungeon can be revived. Also, very excited to finally meet the cat ninja I've been seeing fan art of since before I even started the series :3

Delicious in Dungeon vol 7 by Ryoko Kui

I am still completely caught up in this series. I love the glimpse of Senshi's past revealed in this volume, and the lore of the dungeon that is still being revealed. There was a line in here about how the dungeon leaves you alone if you don't ask much of it, but that if you have strong desires it throws even more obstacles into your way. Our heroes have such big goals right now, but they're marching ahead regardless!

School Trip by Jerry Craft

A satisfying new installment in the New Kid series from funny, talented, charming Jerry Craft! I appreciated how this volume started to complicate some of the students who had been left a bit one-dimensional in previous books. Several people stood up to and called out a bully; new friendships were built; and Jordan Banks left Paris even more inspired than ever to follow his dreams of becoming an artist. This series has a lot of jokes, but also a lot of heart!

A Frog in Fall (and Later On) by Linnea Sterte

Minor frog is less than a year old, and is dismayed when winter begins to steal all of the light and warmth from his world. Instead of bunking down safely with his mentor to wait for spring, he sets out on a journey with two vagabond toads passing by on a quest to make it all the way to the tropics. They tramp through the Japanese countryside, encountering tree spirits, new friends, dangers, and views the likes of which minor frog had never even imagined. This is a gorgeous book; every page worth pouring over, an economy of line and detail building a beautiful and mysterious world of talking animals and miniature packaged foods. Made me want to draw.

Dark Rise by CS Pacat read by Christian Coulson

In 1820s London, orphaned Will tries to earn enough as a dockworker to survive- and evade the killers pursuing him. Violet dresses in her half-brother's clothes and sneaks onto a ship in the Thames to watch a man be branded with his master's mark. Katherine excitedly anticipates her engagement to one of London's richest and most mysterious lords; his gallantry nearly makes up for the fact that he's twice her age. And in the bowels of one of that lord's ships, James tortures a man for information. All of these characters are 16 or 17 years old, but all of them are tangled in an ancient conflict between the Light and the Dark which stretches back into an age of magic before history. This is CS Pacat's YA fantasy debut, and it contains a lot of tropes very familiar to both YA and high fantasy- there are shades of both Tolkien and Rowling in this. Its fast-paced and action-packed, but especially in the first third of the story, the characters all felt fairly thin. None of them have quirks, hobbies, career hopes, relationships outside of immediate family, school, or work; or much more than a brief sketch of past. It took until the mid-way point for what I consider Pacat's major strengths as a writer to emerge: intense, homoerotic interpersonal sparring between characters operating under major power imbalances. Every scene in which the seductive, manipulative, powerful evil gay faced off against the good boy chosen one crackled with energy. Unfortunately, there were only four of these scenes in the whole book. It ends on a cliff-hanger, because of course it does, with a tempting set up for book two; but that doesn't entirely excuse the fact that the first 50% felt like set up. I will definitely keep reading, but long-time Pacat fans should take note that this is toned down version of what I expected based on Captive Prince.

Feeding Ghosts by Tessa Hulls (re-read before event)

What an accomplishment! I savored every page of Feeding Ghosts, absolutely floored by the labor and courage that went into the writing of this book. The inking is gorgeous, the history is clear, digestible, and devastating. This book threads the line between honesty and compassion in a way that I appreciate so much in any memoir, but especially one dealing with family. Hulls lays out the story of three generations of women starting with her grandmother, Sun Yi, a Shanghai journalist who faced intense persecution during the rise of Communism in China, who penned a popular and scandalous memoir and then suffered a mental breakdown. This left her only daughter, Rose, a student at an elite boarding school with no parental figures and no other family to lean on. Eventually Rose earned a scholarship to an American university and in the end moved her mother into her California home. Sun Yi haunted that home during the author's own childhood. The unexamined trauma and codependency of Sun Yi and Rose drove the author to the extreme edges of the Earth, seeking freedom from their ghosts. But in the end, she stopped running from her family history and turned, instead, to face it. Shelve this book with Maus, Fun Home, Persepolis and The Best We Could Do. Re-read it for a second time and got even more out of it on a second pass.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 8 by Ryoko Kui

Laios and company realize that their encounter with changling mushroom rings had more consequences than they'd realized- its the body swap episode! This visual humor is contrasted against increasing dangers from both above and below, as nastier monsters and political machinations begin to close in on our heroic adventuring party. I'm now over halfway through this series and almost feel like I should start reading it more slowly to savor it, but I'll probably just keep devouring it instead.

Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang and Leuyen Pham

High school senior Val grew up knowing her family was unlucky in love; for generations, relationships in her family have ended in heartbreak. Her childhood love of Valentines Day ends with a shocking family revelation and what feels like the beginning of a curse. Then her Vietnamese grandmother sweeps her off to a Lunar New Year celebration in downtown Oakland and a pair of cute lion dancer boys catch her eye. Could one of them break the spell on her heart? This story offers a classic and satisfying rom-com, with Val torn between an outgoing, rich, but flaky boy and a broody, shy, loyal one. The story takes several kdrama style twists and includes ghosts, saints, red envelopes, confessions, fights, reunions, tears, and kisses. For a comic, its wordy; the pages are dense with small panels and thick with dialogue, but also illustrated with such warm, humor, and realism. I really liked that the story included as much of Val's relationship with her family and best friend as romance. And the lion dancing scenes practically leap off the page with color and energy!

Witch Hat Atelier vol 10 by Kamome Shirahama

This series remains as visually stunning as ever but I'm struggling with how every single book expands the cast. There are so many characters now that I don't care about that much, and have trouble remembering from volume to volume. I wish the story line would stick more closely to Coco, her classmates, and their main mentors!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 9 by Ryoko Kui

Oh the stories are all converging! The savior at the bottom of the dungeon is probably a demon! Ituzumi saves the day! I am still having a great time reading this series.

A Dowry of Blood by ST Gibson read by Abby Craden

A short, very queer, very poly retelling of Dracula focusing on his coven of enthralled lovers. I liked the way the book breezed through history, as the dysfunctional little family moved from one major European city to the next, with snatched moments of glittering joy interwoven with violence and plague. The story is fairly simple, and has a happier ending than I expected, or honestly think the characters deserved.

City of Dragons by Robin Hobb

I DNFed the previous book in this series and just read a summary online before skipping ahead to this one. I think that was a very good choice for me. This third one was more engaging and a bit more action packed, with some cool discoveries about the city of Kelsingra and the nature of Elderlings. But the Rain Wild Chronicles as a whole do not stand up to the quality of the Farseer books. There are so many POV characters that a few of them get only two or three scenes in this whole book. I don't feel that I deeply know any of these characters; while at the same time watching Hobb pair them off at an extraordinary rate- in the last book five sets of characters got together and in this book an additional two couples are developing feelings for each other. Between this and a kidnapping, a birth, a murder, and a lot of blackmail, this series feels like a soap opera.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 10 by Ryoko Kui

Almost two TPKs in this volume, yikes!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 11 by Ryoko Kui

You know shit's getting serious when the character who has been the series main villain up until now is partially devoured by a different, worse villain. Exciting changes coming to this dungeon under it's new lord and master!

Squad by Maggie Tokuda-Hall and Lisa Sterle

When Becca gets invited to sit with the popular girl clique at her new high school, she's thrilled. But the friendship turns bloody and complicated when she learns that her new friends are actually werewolves who need to kill and feed on a human once a month. If she joins them, Becca will gain superhuman strength and a pack; she'll never have to fear a male predator again, because she will be a predator herself. I loved the queer rep and the twist on werewolf lore; I wish it had been a little longer and more developed. Give me multi-page transformations sequences!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 12 by Ryoko Kui

I love seeing all these plot lines come together! Building towards a wild climax.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 13 by Ryoko Kui

I went out and *bought* vol 13 of this series because my library didn't have it yet, that's how hooked I am. And now I have to wait until JULY for the final volume! (But also, thank goodness I didn't get into this series any sooner or I'd have a much longer wait).

#book reviews #books #reading #comics #manga

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dilf-din · 1 year ago

Note

I would LOVE!!! #7 with Luke if you feel comfy writing him

EEK! What an honor to write for my Lala! I hope you love a sweet sweet Luke!!

Luke Skywalker x gn!reader

Warnings: none, all fluff! pining, childhood friends

WC: 1400

7. we always used to have sleepovers as children, why would it be weird now?

Fresh off their win over the empire, Luke decided to tie up any loose ends before devoting the rest of his days to the Jedi order, or, what was left of it. Time was no longer his enemy, after all. Squeezing Leia’s hand goodbye, he climbed into his X-Wing, accompanied by R2, and set off in the direction of his old home, Tattooine. It had been years since his feet left the sandy surface for the first, and for a while he thought, the last time. There were many moments when he didn’t know if he would ever make it back, or if he even wanted to. But with the handsome pay he had received for his services, he knew the honorable thing to do was to make sure there was no animosity there towards his aunt and uncle. They had worked hard to provide for him his whole life, and he wanted to make sure they could truly rest in peace with no debts to be owed.

With a solemn heart, he descended into the dusty atmosphere, and landed gently on one of the countless sand dunes he had grown to loathe and miss simultaneously.

R2 beeped at him curtly as they made their way into town.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I promise. I clean out your tracks real well when this is done.”

You sound just like your father, he beeped back, and a boyish grin flashed across Luke’s face.

——

Luke stopped by several shops at the local market in search of clearing his uncle’s name. Most of the keepers were glad to see him, while some seemed indifferent or even skeptical of his return. The black glove covering his right hand drew a lot of eyes towards him as it stood out like an ink spot in an otherwise beige world. Hushed whispers and pointed fingers in his direction piled on as people caught sight of the saber hanging from his hip. He felt no animosity in the force though, they were just curious. He was happy to be the talk of the town for the next few days. He recalled how excited he had been as a child to catch whispers of Jedi and star pilots passing through their town.

After making a few small payments and accepting condolences paired with sincere handshakes, his business was done. When he ducked out of the last hut and started heading further away from the ship, R2 beeped a question at him.

“I just wanna see an old friend before we leave,” he called over his shoulder as the droid followed dutifully along.

Luke hoped you would be home. He asked around to see if you had a shift at the diner tonight, but got mixed answers. You lived in a small house just outside of the main town wall. It took no more than a few minutes to walk there. As the suns set, the air quickly turned from a blinding heat to a heavy chill. Pulling his hood up to keep the wind out of his wisping bangs, he stopped at your door, hesitating before knocking. There was smoke rising from the chimney and warm light spilling from the windows, so he knew you were home. But what if you didn’t want to see him. What if you weren’t alone. What if—

His thoughts were interrupted as you peeked through the crack in the door before swinging it open eagerly.

“Luke!” you called out as you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, “Oh, maker, I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Boy do I have some stories to tell you,” he grinned.

“Won’t you come in for dinner? I was just about to set the table,” you urged, stepping out of the way to allow him room to duck through the doorway.

He let his hood drop from his head as he swept off his cloak in one motion and hung it neatly on the hook by the door. Your heart gave a kick as you thought about your things hanging next to his, how normal and natural it looked.

“There’s been talk all over of you joining the rebellion, blowing up the Death Star, fighting the sith! Is it true?” you asked eagerly, clasping his hand in yours and drawing him towards the kitchen. He took a deep inhale of the steam wafting from the pot on the stove.

“You know I’ll tell you everything, but can we eat first?” he smiled.

The two of you sat cozy at the small table nestled beneath a window as you listened to him talk about star ships and lightsabers and far off planets. You noticed the strain of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the way his brow sat a little heavier, the scars littered on his skin and tried to take in the fact that this was no longer the boy you grew up chasing womp rats with, the boy you whispered with all through school, giggling until you got caught. You hoped he didn’t notice your gaze lingering on the pout of his lips as he filled your house with laughter and stories of bravery in a way it hadn’t been since he disappeared. For so long, you were afraid he had died in the blaze that claimed the lives of Owen and Beru. You couldn’t think about living in a world without those blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight while the two of you were out way too late. It wasn’t until you had heard from several different people that they had spotted him in Mos Eisley that your heart was able to rest again. But oh, how it ached in his absence, how it was so full to the brim with hope for him that it became a very heavy thing to carry around.

At some point in the evening, your hand traveled across the table to rest on top of his, needing to feel his warmth to convince yourself that this wasn’t all just a beautiful dream. He noticed your eyes starting to look bleary as the moon was starting to descend in the sky.

“You’re tired. I should go,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand from your grasp.

“No, no, you can stay. I’ll just set up a bed on the sofa,” you assured him, gathering up the bowls and spoons and carrying them to the sink.

“You don’t have to set up a whole other bed. We’ve had sleepovers before,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

Before, you thought. Before you sprung up like a weed and were a whole head taller than me. Before you disappeared and turned my life into a whirlwind of worry.

But then something else inside of you overpowered the apprehension, a desire for closeness. You thought that, maybe if you heard him breathing right across from you, maybe if you felt his shared warmth under your threadbare quilt your heart could finally rest.

“I still sleep on the right,” you smiled.

“And I still snore.”

“I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

——

The two of you took turns freshening up before climbing under the covers. Your bed felt much bigger when the two of you were much younger. It felt like his face was only inches from yours. Luke melted into your mattress like a bed was a luxury he had longed for, his blue eyes closing as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He looked so peaceful, you didn’t want to disturb him. A tentative hand rose to brush his hair back from his forehead, “I was so worried about you.”

“I know,” he breathed back, eyes still closed. His hand rose to meet yours, and he rested it against your cheek, “I’m here now. Please sleep.”

You weren’t sure if it was some kind of Jedi mind trickery or what, but when his fingers laced with yours, peace flooded in, making every limb heavy and a warmth radiate through you, deep from inside your bones. With one deep exhale, your eyes shut too, as you breathed out a lifetime of longing. You weren’t sure what the morning held for you, but for right now, you were beside the person you cared for the most in the galaxy.

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #Luke Skywalker x gn!reader #luke skywalker fluff

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inyri · 8 months ago

Text

Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 41: Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Trigger warning: graphic violence, depictions of torture, body horror.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction Dot Net

Author’s Note: Please note the trigger warnings. I had to step away from this for a little while (all right, more than a little while). Chapters are consecutive, of course, and as I posted the last one and moved to wrapping up this one I found life imitating art in a very, very uncomfortable way. I don’t talk a lot about my work for many reasons. Normally it’s not very exciting. And then there are the days that stay, the reminders that sometimes the world is deeply, viciously cruel in ways that are hard to process. As part of my work I met two men who were subjected to that cruelty, heard their stories, and helped care for them on their paths back home.

The first iterations of this series of scenes were very different from where we ended up. Nine and her team were far nastier at first, which wasn’t really true to her, and then I tried to make it funny which- well, obviously we can see the problem with that approach. So this is where we ended. It’s still an ugly chapter, but here we are.

This chapter is dedicated to AD, AH, and all victims of torture.

Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Theron follows her close as a shadow as they make their way from her ship across the base, dodging carefully around the first watch guards on their patrol routes. A month ago it would have been simple but a month ago they’d been sloppy; since then she’d ordered new watchposts set, new floodlights installed, locked down the turbolift platform to the valley below. There were so many other places to land a ship on Odessen, canyons and clearings and deep, dark forest far beyond the view of the towers, and it would have been far too easy for an infiltrator to sneak in.

Or one might simply use your landing bay. Valkorion’s armor gleams as an arc of light cuts across the path. In through the front door. All comers welcomed. Perhaps Arcann should-

The illusion shatters when she steps through it, the sentence left ominously unfinished.

Second patrol. Third patrol. Through the external door on the heels of a pair of Sana-Rae’s adepts, weaving through the hall and crammed into the back corners of the lift with an absolutely massive Zabrak with a distinct half-ring of glitterstim around one nostril (she makes a mental note- the cantina’s more than necessary but if they’ve got a spice problem that’s another vulnerability they can’t afford), down the hallways into Science Wing and nearly to the lab- outside door’s open, good, but how’s she going to-

Shit.

She’s six steps ahead of herself in contingency plans as usual, mind racing, but that doesn’t matter worth a damn when she fucks up Step One. Stopping so abruptly he almost runs right into her, she grabs Theron by the wrist and pulls him into the darkest corner of an empty meeting room. His head tilts in silent confusion as she reaches toward the stealth generator clipped to his belt. I thought- he starts to sign, one hand raised.

Switching, she replies, left-handed; pulling it free, she replaces it with hers. Backup has a shorter clock when the main’s off. If it overloads-

Theron nods. Bad. Right. Where should I stand?

Back- her fingers stutter as she considers (Void, she really isn’t thinking, is she? She needs to be. One mistake and the whole thing comes apart)- back left corner. You’ll have a five-count to get through the door before it closes, then don’t move and-

Don’t say anything. I know. He repeats the sign, an added emphasis. I promised.

She rubs her forehead, trying and failing to settle the ache building between her eyes. I know. Come on.

***

The inner laboratory door slides closed with a soft hiss, just muffling Theron’s last few footsteps as he settles carefully into the corner, and she lets her stealth field drop.

“I got your message.” Nine forces the words out, forces strength into her voice as she sets the lock. She cannot falter, not now. “SCORPIO, give me the holo. Let’s get it opened up.”

“Commander.” Doctor Lokin looks up from across the room, setting a handful of instruments and an empty syringe- not all clean, she notes- neatly into place on a polished metal tray. Beside him, her would-be killer slumps forward against the treatment chair’s restraints, an intravenous catheter in his right arm and his lower body wrapped in a surgical dropcloth, head covered by black fabric and bound around the middle with thick strips of spacer’s tape. “We were just beginning.”

[ sleepy already, cipher? but we’re only just beginning.

when hunter’s slap hits she startles bolt upright in the chair and then wishes she hadn’t, her ribs shifting beneath the straps like so many shattered potsherds as she grinds her teeth to keep from screaming. she’s screamed so much already and she won’t give him the satisfaction of another, won’t-

hunter gestures- toward the woman, she thinks, it’s getting hard to see now with her face so bruised. let’s wake her up, hm? ah, no- something cold and metallic tightening on her right index finger- the other hand, to start. now the left side, still the index finger, tighter and tighter and oh void it hurts it hurts it hurts she’s got to say something or it-

i’m telling you, she gasps, when those reinforcements get here from- and there’s a sharp snap and she can’t help it and she screams-

keep singing, little bird. I do so hate to have to break your pretty wings.]

Her hand throbs.

“I didn’t tell you to start without me.” Her stomach churns even as she curls her fingers into an easy fist, testing their movement; she couldn’t do that for a month after Corellia so it’s only the memory of pain, isn’t it? “And how long has that tape been on? We need his eyes open, not swollen shut. It’s too fucking tight.”

“If you’re referring to this-” Lokin lifts a pair of bloody-gripped forceps with one finger and a long-suffering look- “your knife tipped his saphenous, and I assumed you would prefer he not hemorrhage before you had the chance to work. I’ve only just run the amytal in, nothing more. But,” he squints at the rings of tape, flips a vibroscalpel from the tray into his palm and before she can even begin to move he slices through the binding neatly, once and then again, “you aren’t wrong. SCORPIO restrained him while I was busy with his leg, but I ought to have-”

SCORPIO turns from the console, shoulders lifting in what might have been a shrug. “My primary directive on Odessen remains operational security, Commander. He cannot share what he cannot see.”

“Yes, but-”

One of the wall-mounted monitors beeps, shrill and insistent, until Lokin prods it with a gloved finger and it lapses into red-flashing silence. “He’s starting to wake. Shall we?”

Void, she hates interrogations. (She used to be good at them once, when she was younger and followed orders better. She used to be good at them because of course, why waste precious time on subtleties when you can simply pry and bend and break and it all comes out in the end either way- maybe in pieces, yes, but that was just another puzzle to solve if one was clever enough, even if it was messier-

Orders were orders.

She used to be good at them once. Before Corellia.)

“Is Lana coming? She’s covering for me with Sana-Rae, I think, but-”

She turns too quickly as the door opens behind her and as she spins the room tips sideways and then it starts to spin, too; pausing midstep, she grabs at the nearer benchtop to steady herself, her left hand raised as a counterbalance. Lana clears the doorway in two steps, the worry lines across her forehead deepening.

“I’ve got you,” Lana murmurs. “We’ve just finished, and I had a feeling you might-” she only wrinkles her nose a little as she glances toward the instrument table- “want my help with this.”

When she nods the world shifts unpleasantly anticlockwise. “Yes. Dialing out blind on his holo’s a losing proposition. With any luck he’ll talk, but I’m not counting on it and we haven’t got the time to wear him down.” Pressing her lips together against a wave of nausea, she inhales. Exhales. Inhales. The spinning slows.

“Physical methods, then?”

She shakes her head- oh, Force, there it goes again- inhale. Exhale. “Just tell me what you see. I’ve been bled on enough today, and if we push too hard-”

“Does it matter? You can’t possibly intend to let him-” at her gesture Lana lowers her voice, just above a whisper- “walk away from this. An attack, here, on you- there have to be consequences.”

“Do I look like a Jedi to you? You know me better than that.” When she says it Lana snorts and rolls her eyes and to be fair she has a point- of course she has a point- but a misstep now could be the last strand of a rope to hang herself by, the final block knocked loose that brings the whole tower crashing down, and she can afford that far less than to give away a shred of undeserved mercy. “You’re a step ahead of me, that’s all. I need the who before I decide the what.”

Lana sighs. “I know. I only- I defer to you, Commander. It’s your decision.”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s Trant’s. But we won’t know until we know, and-” another warning chime from the monitors; another warning look from Lokin. “We’re running out of time. And when we’ve finished I’ve still got to talk to Koth and Senya, and-”

“Already postponed, and that can wait in any case. There’s nothing to discuss that won’t keep for a day. We’ll call them once we’re in transit,” Lana eyes her up and down, “after another round of kolto.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Lana’s hand comes to rest beneath her lifted arm; with the world still half-spinning she’d have missed the subtle pulse of energy if Lana hadn’t flinched when their fingertips meet. “Force help me, you’re not - I’ll take it over, Nine. I’ll… I can do it. You should rest.”

“No.” When she shakes her head the room stays level now, at least. It’s something. “No. This is my mess to sort out. Just lock the door.”

***

Five minutes later all she’s got out of him is a slurred sequence of names, ranks, and serial numbers (lying, Lana says each time from her perch behind the chair, though she knew that long before she said it) and the unwavering gut-punch certainty that the man is an SIS agent. With so little actual information to go on and their databases two years out of date- when Theron left he’d downloaded what he could but slicing back into the mainframe to sync them’s a risk none of them are willing to take right now- trying to find a name for her attacker’s useless, with dozens of dossiers a partial match to the same physical parameters: average height, average build, Underlevels accent, Republic emblems tattooed on biceps and back and another handful laser-faded to barely visible outlines. With half the Republic’s infantry dredged up from the Coruscant undercity’s gangs and prisons and half the SIS (and nearly all of SpecOps) poached from the army, she could have shot into the Dealer’s Den or the Red Rancor on a Primesday night and hit five clones of him in a straight line between the door and the bar.

She studies his face from every angle, waiting for a memory to trigger, and- no, still nothing, barely a nod in the corridor or a passing glance in the mess line. Three weeks on Odessen and the man’s practically a ghost, a traceless alias for a name and a ride hitched on a transport from Port Nowhere. Granted, both she and Theron had been off-planet most of that time, but stars, if this one got in so easily how many more could?

That’s a problem for another day. It has to be.

But for now SCORPIO runs the serials, just for the sake of thoroughness, and- ah. Those faces she knows: Corellia, six years ago; a Coruscanti gala, bloodstains on a black dress; Dromund Kaas, only a month or two before Zakuul.

She just hadn’t known their real names, then. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had.

Orders were orders.

“So you’re ten dead men in a trenchcoat, then? And you’re wrong about that last one, by the way. That was probably Cipher Four. I’ve never been to Ord Mantell.” She pushes his commpad away with a scowl. The damned thing’s wiped clean- all the more likely he’d spoken to Trant within the last half-day, then; that was a lesson from Alderaan that only the Director ought to have learned. With enough time they could have recovered it, but they don’t have time. So she turns back to him instead, her thumb and index finger poised on closed eyelids gone puffy from the pressure of the binding. “Last chance to make this easier on yourself. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

“More’n ten. Way more.” His words are less slurred now, the serum finally taking effect, and Lana sits up straighter. “‘nd hells take your easier. You’re gonna kill me anyway, so-”

Void, why are they always so insistent on dying?

She doubts he can see her, so she just adds a twinge of melodrama to her sigh. “Not necessarily, agent. You tried to murder me. Naturally, I objected-” a little more pressure on his eye, just enough that he starts to shift against the restraining strap- “but if I really wanted you dead I’d have let you use your kill pill instead of wasting perfectly good antitoxin on you. I can be civil if you can.”

Lana closes her eyes, focused and still.

“To be clear, you’re alive as a means to an end and it’s in your best interest to cooperate. But you and I know how it goes, don’t we?” When she lifts her open hand SCORPIO presses the holotransmitter into her palm. “Good soldiers follow orders. It’s not personal. You were only doing as you’re told.” She leans in closer, knee jostling against his mended leg just a little harder than necessary as the paper drape crinkles, voice lowered in a simulacrum of confidence. “Stars, I remember those days. He sits in his big office and sics you on a target, unclips your leash and you just- well. Ours not to reason why, hm?”

The cuff around his right wrist clinks against the arm of the chair as he makes an obscene gesture.

Wrong tactic. Well, then.

Her sigh’s loud enough to make him flinch. “And it was all wrong, wasn’t it? All that planning, all that time pacing, writing a five-line message that he never even saw, all for nothing?” His breath stills, his heart rate spikes, and Lokin hooks another syringe to the IV port and slowly pushes the plunger down. “DId you think I wouldn’t see? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it wasn’t so utterly pathetic.”

His head lolls forward against the restraint, a counterpressure against her hand.

“Oh, no, no.” Shifting, she pushes him back upright with two fingertips in the center of his forehead. “Not yet. Not until-”

“I almost got you.” His mouth contorts- it might have passed for a grin in a darker room, teeth bared, feral- and something in his voice makes her hair stand on end. She recoils, pulling her hand away from his face even as he pauses. “So fucking close. Just a few more seconds and I’d’ve bled you dry, Cipher, and then I’d-”

(The words barely register; he’s not the first and certainly not the most creative person to threaten her with postmortem indecencies but somehow they always think it’s going to shock her into silence, as though it’s the single most awful thing that could ever happen when she’s lived through far worse horrors and more to the point she wouldn’t even know, she’d be dead).

“-see enough and you know Shan’d come running- Force, that would’ve been even better, the look on his traitor face even if it was the wrong way round-”

wait.

WAIT.

no, Trant wouldn’t have-

When she blinks she sees it all in the span of a millisecond: half a hundred ways it could have gone, half a hundred indignities inflicted, half a hundred times it breaks Theron for just long enough for the blow to fall. Lana must see something else; she makes the smallest little sound, a muffled gasp of disgust covered over by knuckles cracking in clenched-fisted fury and then a snarled Sith curse she doesn’t understand (but Valkorion clearly does- she isn’t wrong, he murmurs) and it brings her back to herself.

Her comm buzzes; her eyes flick down toward the screen.

Kicking him for breaking comm silence would be counterproductive, she supposes, but what does Belsavis have to do with anything? If Theron knows his name he ought to have just said so, not making her work harder than she already is.

< don’t know him but think I know the unit> <told Marcus it was a bad idea> <don’t think he listened>

That would explain the burned-off tattoos. Stars, has the SIS truly become that desperate? Or was this another Garza project- some experiment likely as not to fail just as Eclipse Squad had, so why waste frontline troops when the Republic had a whole planet full of froth-mouthed maniacs more than happy to keep killing as the cost of their freedom and if things did go bad, well, they were going to die one way or another so what did it matter?

Then SCORPIO blinks once, head turning toward her comm and then, slower, toward the corner and oh, damn it all-

“Didn’t think the SIS went in for necrophilia,” she says conversationally, covering her mouth over a particularly exaggerated yawn as Lokin barely stifles a snort. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Jedi. I am curious, though- did you pick that up on Belsavis, or was that why they locked you up in the first place?”

His teeth clench.

“Piracy? Hm, no. Some flavor of war crime, I’m sure- oh, I know. Fragged your CO, I’d bet. You’ve got that sort of look.”

“Onomatophobia. Go fuck yourself.”

(She’d come at it all wrong, hadn’t she?

She’d thought this wasn’t personal because for her it wasn’t. Okay, fine, with Trant maybe it is, now, but this is no old enemy. She only hurt him to start with because he cut her first and deeper and even Theron doesn’t know his name- and stars know his memory’s brilliant, to judge by his stories he remembers everyone he ever worked with and it was far harder for him when they weren’t all just Minder Ten and Fixer Twelve and Watcher Three. The garotte alone might have been sheer bloody-mindedness in a way she wouldn’t have expected from the SIS, but even the Republic for all its supercilious moralizing had its fair share of sadists; Hunter hadn’t truly been one of them but they’d certainly all thought so at the time and still they’d all turned their heads, every single time, even when she’d screamed until her voice gave out.

Of course her control word was in her Republic file. He wasn’t the only one to try to use it, the first ones in earnest and then, when she’d shredded enough of them into bloody little pieces that they realized it didn’t didn’t hold her any more, as a vicious sort of mockery. That worked a bit, she supposes; maybe it always will. Not well enough to save them, of course.

She’d thought it wasn’t personal, that orders were orders and he’d come after Theron because he had to. But stars, she’d been out of the game for five fucking years and he’s practically got her dossier memorized, errors and all, and he’d called Theron a traitor and the first time she really pushes his buttons he-

Oh, this was very personal.)

“No,” she says, and breathes, trying to untie the panic-knot tightening in her chest, “I don’t think I will.” Snatching up a scalpel from the instrument tray as her voice wavers, she presses its tip, just so, beneath his chin. “You thought you were close? Close only counts in horseshoes and heavy ordnance, puppy, and that and a slip of my hand’ll buy you an unmarked grave. And-” he’s trying not to move, trying not to flinch. A single bead of blood wells up beneath the blade and stars, it’d be so easy, just one little movement and stay calm stay calm stay calm- “you still haven’t answered my question. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

Lana exhales as her gaze comes back into focus, lip curling. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like it. “Today. It was today. But beyond that-”

“It’s good enough.” It was never going to be that easy. “SCORPIO, you don’t still have Belsavis census access, do you?”

A yellow flash, and then- “I am no longer tethered to Ward 23, and what I retained is long out of date. Proximity would be required.”

“Never mind. We’ll move on to the holo, then. Doctor?”

“Ready.” Lokin nods approvingly as she sets the scalpel down. “Retractor?”

“Retractor, please. Left eye.”

One click. Two clicks. Three.

The ‘pub squirms, fighting the restraining strap in earnest as he tries to blink against the cold metal instrument. “What are you-” his pupil constricts until she shifts the operating light away- “you gonna take my eyes now, Cipher? Keep ‘em in a jar somewhere, or-”

The holo’s scanner locks on as she holds it level with his forced-open eye. “No, thank you. I never was much for souvenirs.”

It chimes cheerfully as it comes to life in her hand; she flips idly through the settings. The user ID’s a string of alphanumeric gibberish, the message system’s not set up and the whole thing’s still on factory default but she’d expected all of that. It’s almost certainly a burner. The call log’s intact, though, with four time-stamped entries. One: incoming but barely five seconds long, likely a functionality test. Not useful. Two: outgoing, eighteen days old. Confirmation of arrival? That’s a Coruscanti subnet, but that could be a handler. Three: outgoing, one day old, to the same address as the second- they’d landed back from Nar Shaddaa by then.

Four: incoming. Coruscant again, but a different address. One minute and six seconds duration.

Two and a half hours ago.

He said he’d call it off, Void damn him. If Trant kept his word and she’s wrong, if she burns the last thin strands of the bridge between Theron and everything he ever believed in to ashes and she’s wrong-

(He did say he would call them. Reflected in the freezer’s glass door, Valkorion tilts his head contemplatively. And tell them what?

He said-

he said-

[-but those last few breaths last longer if you don’t struggle, don’t they? You’ll figure that out soon enough.]

For the first time she can remember there is something like approval in his smile. So you did hear it, he says. But oh, little Cipher, you didn’t listen.)

She gestures to Lana and Lokin, pointing with two fingers at each one in turn and then the door with a snap of her wrist that sets it throbbing. “All of you but SCORPIO, clear the room. Now.”

Lana blinks but it’s Lokin who speaks first. “Commander, if I may? If you plan to proceed further, the subject may require additional stabilizing mea-”

“Wait outside until I call for you. That’s an order.”

He’s halfway to the door before Lana starts to move from the benchtop and even then she pauses beside her as she passes, one hand on her shoulder and her mouth lowered level with her ear. “You’re not getting Valkorion involved? I know you’d rather not dial out blind, but I thought I felt-”

“I’m not,” she murmurs in reply. “On either count. But if this goes bad I don’t want you in the room when it does.”

“All right.” The sheer force of disapproval contained in Lana’s sigh might have leveled buildings; it isn’t all right and they both know it but it’s far too late to argue over it now. “Should I go and find Theron, then? I can think of some excuse to keep him with me until you’ve finished.”

They both startle at the sound of SCORPIO’s voice. “Unnecessary. He is-” her heart stops as the droid’s eyes flicker- “secure.”

“We can’t be certain of that. He still doesn’t know, does he? If there’s a second-”

“I see many things that you do not, Lord Beniko.” Five metallic fingers uncurl ceilingward (not toward the corner; her heart stutters, then resumes). “I am perfectly certain.”

Lips pressed together, nostrils flared, Lana grits her teeth against a retort before she simply continues toward the exit. “Then I will wait,” she says, a sparking halo of electricity coiling around her words as the door slides shut behind her, “until I am needed.”

And then the room is quiet save the beeping monitors, the ‘pub’s ragged breathing and the sharp rattle of his restraints, and Nine glances sidelong at SCORPIO as she settles herself carefully in the blind spot on his right. “Be nice.”

“Error. Program file: nice not found.”

She must have iterated again; the sarcasm’s new. Rolling her eyes, she glances down at her comm again.

< Also, you are welcome.>

She flicks an ironic salute toward the droid and that too makes her wrist ache. More time in the tank, then, on the way to Voss. More time lost that she can’t afford and a favor owed that she probably can’t afford either- stars know SCORPIO’s kept secrets for her well enough through the years but she’s no particular fondness for Theron; the last time he’d cracked a joke about needing a processor update she’d signal-locked his implant to play That Slippery Little Hutt Of Mine on repeat for forty-three minutes straight until half his face was twitching and he’d finally apologized- but hopefully that can be negotiated. Ongoing access to the network, maybe. Lana will fuss and she’ll be right, but if that message had gone through unintercepted they all know what it might have meant. It’s a small enough price.

“If you’re done arguing-” the ‘pub’s slurring again. He’s burning through the serum faster than she’s ever seen- “either get this thing off me or-”

If he keeps that up she may as well not bother with the call. She ought to have known better than to think that he’d say much of anything useful but his ranting’s absolutely tedious; they’re going to need to gag him after all, aren’t they? It wasn’t supposed to be that sort of interrogation, but she also hadn’t particularly expected him to- oh, if he calls her that one more time she might just stab him after all. (Like he’s got any room to criticize- all her old sins could overfill an archive but at least she’s not a stars-damned corpsefucker.) “Shh.” When she tilts her head toward it SCORPIO picks up the spacer’s tape and tears a strip from the roll, pressing it firmly over his mouth until th+e noise quiets into muffled incomprehensibility. “That’s quite enough out of you, I think.“

Hm. That brings to mind a better idea, actually.

“Do we have enough input for a voiceprint? Something like this?” Tapping a brief message into her commpad, she sends it through to SCORPIO. Only a few lines, but if it truly is Trant on the other end of the connection it should be enough to be certain.

It has to be enough.

She doesn’t look toward the corner. She mustn’t look toward the corner.

“Way more than enough.” It’s near enough a perfect mimic. SCORPIO folds her arms smugly and the ‘pub goes grey. “Prepared for playback.”

“On my signal, then, but give me a twenty second delay on video.” Her fingers twitch despite themselves, tingling at the tips; she forces her breathing into rhythm. (Lana was right. She isn’t fine.

Lana was always right. But she doesn’t have a choice.)

Inhale. “And prep the package files for transmission on verbal command. No passcode.” Exhale.

A pause, a flash of scarlet. Inhale. “Yes, Commander.”

Exhale.

Inhale. She smooths her hair back, adjusts her collar carefully under her chin, slaps both cheeks briskly with closed fingers to bring a little color into them and even that little jolt rattles her brain inside her skull. She considers, briefly, the backs of her eyelids. That seems to help. Exhale.

The far corner remains quiet.

She lifts the holo in line with the ‘pub’s eye once more as his pupil shimmers finely from side to side; they’d definitely pushed the dose too high but even so it’s far faster than it ought to be, chasing some other vice out of his system, and the camera struggles, beeping and chirping error after error until finally it locks on.

Inhale. Exhale.

She meets SCORPIO’s gaze, scrolls back to the end of the call log, and presses redial.

Inhale.

“Connecting.” The tinny synthetic voice of the SIS operator sets her nerves on edge. “Connecting.” Come on, pick up-

The channel opens with a click and she nods, lets her breath out into the following silence before the voiceprint begins.

“It’s done. Shan and the Cipher. Wrong way ‘round, but-”

“Well-” the video delay goes both ways but she doesn’t need it, she’s heard Marcus Trant’s voice in so many briefings it’s burned into her brain; the last brittle shard of hope she’d clung to shatters and leaves her with nothing left but rage. How dare he- “it’s about fucking time.”

Oh, she is going to end him.

***

Nine’s body language shifts then, her spine rigid where she’d been starting to hunch forward in fatigue, her hands fisted, fingernails digging hard into her palms. Her stance settles, just a little wider, forward on her toes; her chin lifts. He can’t see her face, still angled toward the prisoner.

“Send the photo confirmation, then execute extraction- and get your video on. Where are you?” Force, he’s going to throw up. Even when Jonas told him, even after hearing Marcus with his own ears he hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d called it off. It had to be a mistake- or maybe Nine’s paranoia got the better of her (and he knows why and he doesn’t fault her, she can’t help Valkorion in her head and the poison he’s feeding her day after day after day) and this was just another shadow to peer into. Dragged into the light, it would have been nothing at all. A mistake. A mistake.

She nods to the droid once again. “ Just a few more seconds. Bad connection but I’ve almost got it.”

He shudders. The copywork’s uncanny and he knows for sure that’s not all readback. If SCORPIO gets it in her head to playact as one of them, starts giving orders in Lana’s voice or Koth’s or his own? He’s no reason to think she would, but whatever loyalty she seems to owe starts and ends with Nine. They’ve got to talk about it, at least.

Nine angles away from their prisoner, raises the comm chest-high as the little hologram springs up in the hollow of her hand. He can see her better now, her face blank and beautiful and perfectly, utterly cold, and then she smiles and-

(He has spent far more time than he’d ever admit to, from Rishi to Ziost to Zakuul to tonight, every hit and hurt and shattered bone and her bloody armor left in a pile again and again on the medbay floor, being scared for Nine.

This might be the first time he’s honestly been scared of her.)

“Hello, Director,” she says. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s only a little flinch, but it’s there. “Cipher. Still alive, I see.”

“Commander. You lied to me, Marcus. You know what happens now.”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.”

Every syllable of her laughter’s a rifle shot, clear and piercing. “Yes, yes. You said you’d call, and you did.” By his posture he’s caught and he knows it, back straight, shoulders set. “But you know perfectly well that wasn’t our agreement. To go by the way Theron spoke of you I’d have thought you an honorable man, but-”

Marcus lifts one hand, a futile placation as Nine’s mocking smile fades back into hard-eyed silence. “I really am sorry about Theron, for what little it’s worth. He-”

“You’re sorry?” That wasn’t a laugh, not quite, halfway caught in her broken throat. “You’re certainly about to be, but Theron’s fine. This puppy was just as stupid as the last one- worse, actually, since he got himself caught in the bargain.” She turns her body, lets the camera capture the prisoner behind her straining against the chair straps in wide-eyed muffled fury. “He never got anywhere close to Theron.”

“He knows, then?” (He still can’t see Marcus’ face. He isn’t sure whether he wants to.)

She shrugs, noncommittal. “One thing at a time.” Her free hand gestures vaguely toward the instrument tray. “I’ve been a bit busy, I’m afraid, and now I’ve got all these dossiers to send off-”

“I’d suggest some time in kolto first. You don’t look at all well, Cipher.”

“Commander.” When she blinks her eyes stay closed half a second too long and she sways back and forth and stars, she needs to sit down before she falls over but she’s too stubborn to let anyone see her hurting. He knows her tells now, though- her jaw clenches, her left hand curls and uncurls. “Five years in carbonite couldn’t kill me. You honestly thought a garotte would be enough?”

“No,” Marcus says softly. “Not really. But we make do with what we have, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do. SCORPIO, transmit file Eclipse . Full recipient list.”

One red flash, two green. “Transmission complete.”

(She really did it. Oh, fuck, she really, actually did it.

He should never have gone home. He should never have gone-

It isn’t home. Not any more.)

Marcus sighs. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Nine looks up abruptly as one of the monitors sounds yet again; she reaches up and simply shuts it off completely and at this angle he can finally see properly, both of their faces in profile. “Every reputable news service in the Core Worlds and about half of the disreputable ones, so you may want to warn your receptionist. I suspect your switchboard’s about to melt.”

“She’ll handle it, and Eclipse Squad was Elin’s mess. I’m afraid I can’t comment. Now, if we’re finished-”

“We are not. Transmit file Legate. Full list. Call it off. Now.”

One red flash, two green, and Marcus winces, his composure finally breaking. “Are you out of your fucking mind? No one came out of that clean, you least of all.”

“I might be.” A knock at the door- no, it’s there, not here, and a comm chiming. “But Legate died in a warehouse collapse on Quesh, poor thing, though with all those warheads going up at once confirming it was quite impossible. Pity.”

A single vein pulses across his forehead.

“Call it off.”

Another knock. “Do you think Theron will believe that?”

“He doesn’t need to. He knows about the Castellan restraints- he’s known for years.” She glances, for the smallest fraction of a second, toward his corner. “I think he’ll understand if I blur the truth a little.”

(He nods before he remembers she can’t see him. Of course he understands. He wishes she hadn’t done it, wishes she hadn’t needed to do any of this, but of course he understands.)

The room goes quiet, the stillness broken only by restraint buckles clinking against the chair frame.

“Do you think he’ll believe this?”

The angle of her head’s a wordless question.

“What wouldn’t you do to bring down an enemy? The head of the SIS, no less.” The framing of the projection changes, the bottom edge of a screen coming into view as he stands up slowly from his desk. Marcus’d always lived at the office, one of so many bad habits he’d passed down to him over all the years they’d worked together (the work always comes first, he’d said. It always will. It will take everything you can give to it and then it will take more and you’ll swear and shout and threaten to quit. And then you won’t, because this is what we were made for. And that is how we win). “It’s everything you ever worked toward. So: a foiled assassination attempt in your own base- how terrible.” He clicks his tongue, a mocking little tsk. “You’d have to retaliate, and who would fault you?”

Nine’s eyes narrow.

“But if it came out that you set it all up- a few intercepted messages, perhaps, shared by an old friend-”

Her lips draw back from her bared teeth. “Stay away from him.”

“I’m finished,” Marcus says. “I know that. But that doesn’t mean you get to win. Once a iiar, always a liar, Cipher Nine. Who do you think he’ll believe- you? Or me?”

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t . Not that it would have made a difference, but Marcus couldn’t have known that- Force, he really is going to throw up.

(When Theron joined the SIS he was seventeen years old and every adult he’d known for more than a galactic standard month had abandoned him, sold him out or simply sold him at the first sign he’d outgrown his usefulness. It took nearly a year on Coruscant, nearly a year of steady paychecks and a bed to sleep in every night, before he owned more clothes than he could fit into a go bag; it took almost two before he stopped apologizing for asking for equipment. But Marcus never gave up on him, even when he fucked up (which back then was more often than not), even when he bristled and snapped like a half-wild animal, even when he wanted to give up on himself. If Master Zho had been the nearest thing he’d known to a father- stars knows it wasn’t Jace, especially not now- Marcus had come close too, once.

Once.)

She takes a deep breath. She’s fading fast, now, hands tremulous even as she’s fighting to keep the holo steady. He can’t just sit here and watch this, he can’t, he can’t-

“Her,” Theron says, letting the stealth field drop as he takes a step forward and she spins, startled, at the sound of his voice. It comes out as a gasp; he doesn’t even know how long he’s been holding his breath. ”Who do I believe? Her. Always.”

Marcus buckles like he’s been gut-shot, bracing himself against his desk. “You- you said you hadn’t told him yet. You said-”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” Nine smiles, absolutely feral and absolutely beautiful, and he steadies her with one hand at the small of her back. “Though as you can see, I really have been busy.”

The last time he saw that look on his face was the day the blockade went up around Coruscant. “Hello, Theron.”

“Hello, Marcus.”

He sits back into his chair, heavy, elbows resting on the desktop. “This office would have been yours, you know. You were ready for it. But you’re on the wrong side of the war.”

“Which war?” Nine says it at the same time he does and then she dips her head, ever so slightly- you first. “We’re here fighting Zakuul. We’re here fighting Arcann,” he continues, “and we’re finally winning. I know you know that. I know Jace knows that, and I know you’re both still fighting the same fucking war against the Empire that you’ve been fighting since before I was born because for you that’s the only thing that matters. But I’m not.”

“You dare-”

“I made my choice,” he says softly. “Now you make yours. Are you going to drag the whole SIS down with you?”

Marcus rests his head in his hands. For a moment it’s the day after the Ascendant Spear, the day after Ziost, the day after Tython, the weight of a thousand impossible choices and ten thousand lies pressing down on him, and then he looks up and shakes his head. “No.” He sighs. “No, I’m not. What happens now?”

“Resign,” Nine murmurs. “Retire. Disappear before the Senate comes for you, or let them scapegoat you: I don’t care what you do, but you will call this off. You will do it now, and if I ever have reason to doubt you- if anyone from the Republic so much as breathes harm in Theron’s direction- the Ralltiir file goes public.”

Someone’s pounding on his office door, a woman’s voice shouting something incomprehensible as he reaches out of frame, and then a few moments later a series of four tones in a cadence burned into his own memory- send message; subnet selected; confirm?-

Message sent.

The holotransmitter in Nine’s hand chimes.

“Done. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Nine turns once more (and he turns with her, careful) to put their prisoner back into frame. “What do you want me to do with him? I’d put him back on Belsavis if I was you, but-”

Marcus stands up abruptly, even as he makes a face as she says Belsavis, at the unmistakable sound of a single round of blaster fire and the hiss of a door sliding open. “Elin,” he snaps, “not now -”

“Yes, now.” General Garza’s got a blaster pistol in one hand and a commpad in the other when she crosses into camera view. “I just got a fucking call from the fucking- oh.” She cranes her neck toward the projector. “Well, we can fix that problem, at least-”

The call disconnects abruptly.

Nine sags against him, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I know I promised-”

“Commander.” He’d nearly forgotten SCORPIO was still at the console until she speaks, and he’s never heard that tone from her before; he looks sharply up at her and follows her sightline. The prisoner’s sitting bolt-straight, back rigid, eyes wide, and a high-pitched whine like a drill through durasteel shrills warning from somewhere that isn’t his mouth- “Commander, get down!”

All Theron can do is drop where they’re standing, his body a shield over Nine’s, before there’s an awful wet noise and the smell of blood and something else familiar in his nose, hot and metallic and not his and not hers and even though he knows he shouldn’t he looks up again and oh, fuck-

The lab door slides open and Doctor Lokin comes running into the room, Lana just behind with her lightsaber blazing, and they both stop short at the sight of it, at the ‘pub still strapped into the chair with half his head just gone and at him and Nine on the blood-spattered floor.

“What- who-” Lana covers her mouth with her free hand. “What in the Void happened?”

Nine’s shaking so hard she can barely move; he curls her close against him to keep her upright. “Not me,” she whispers. “Not me.”

#inyri writes #equivalent exchange #swtor #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent/theron shan #nine/theron #cipher nine #thank you all for your patience #as i wrote this one fought me for a very long time #so i hope it was worth the wait #and the next chapter is kinder to them i promise

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minimumsky5 · 1 year ago

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So, it turns out, drawing planets is hard....

Anyway, here is the system we will be following as life develops on multiple planets, with the sizes to scale, but the distances obviously not! The system is shown as it would appear 5 billion years into its history. Tidally locked planets are shown with their sub-stellar point pointing at the observer.

Lets start with the star, the energy source for the entire show. Yggdrasil (Norse tree of life, and foundation of the universe) is an M1V BY Dra star, which when translated to English means that the star is a large red dwarf (nearly at the limit of M class), but it is also a BY Draconis variable, meaning that its starspots are so big, that they can significantly reduce it's light output. This star is expected to have a main sequence lifespan of 225 billion years, but as with all red dwarfs, its luminosity will increase significantly more proportionally than Sol's will, so its habitable zone will end covering most of its terrestrial planets for at least some part of it's lifespan.

Hephaestus (Roman god of fire and the forge) and Laki (named after a particularly destructive Icelandic volcano) are the two innermost planets of Yggdrasil. They are both hot, small worlds with large iron cores, similar (though smaller and a little cooler) to Mercury. By 5 billion years into the systems history, Hephaestus's mantle has cooled and solidified, but Laki alternates between a resonance state with Vitrellus and one with Thalia, meaning that it maintains a constant volcanic output driven by tidal forces, even though a planet of it's size should have no primordial heat left. Laki was on the cusp of habitability, but it's high volcanism resulted in a runaway greenhouse event that stripped it of its water early in it's history, leaving it with a roughly 2 bar atmosphere of CO2 and SO2.

Methuselah (named for the biblical patriarch, said to have lived for 969 years) is our next stop, and unlike Laki this world is the first one to be able to hold onto significant water. However, due to it's proximity to Yggdrasil, its water cycle is very different to Earth. At it's equator, it is too hot for rain to reach the ground, and so it's tropics and mid latitudes are parched deserts with only very rare oasis providing any moisture. At the poles, however, water can condense, and these small seas provide Methuselah with 2 very habitable areas for life. Methuselah is a small planet, twice Mars's mass but much smaller than Earth, but it is locked into a complicated resonance with Thalia and Avalon/Eden, one which will remain indefinitely, and means that Methuselah is capable of sustaining plate tectonics despite it's small size.

Vitrellus (named in reference to Oil of Vitriol, an old name for sulphuric acid) is the most alien of all the worlds in the Yggdrasil system. This world, half the mass of the Earth and nearly the same radius, has a much higher concentration of sulphur and sulphur compounds in its crust, meaning that it's oceans condensed not as water, but as a strong solution of sulphuric acid. Despite this incredibly hostile chemistry and hellish temperatures (regularly reaching 90 degrees Celsius at the equator), Vitrellus has an active and diverse biosphere based on silicon, carbon, and sulphur compounds.

Thalia (named for the Greek Charity of fertility and plants) is a planet somewhat larger then Earth, which due to it's size accreted a large envelope of volatiles onto its surface, forming an ocean nearly 50km deep on average. This layer of volatiles also created a thick atmosphere and a strong greenhouse effect, creating surface temperatures just barely below the critical point of water, where the boundary between the ocean and atmosphere becomes indistinct. No life survives down there, but the cloudtops maintain habitable temperatures despite the torrid conditions below, allowing huge blooms of skyplankton and other attendant organisms to flourish, turning the planet a strong green colour.

Dionysus (named for the Greek god of festivity and insanity) is the closest thing to the traditional picture of a tidally locked world orbiting a red dwarf that Yggdrasil has to offer. It has the traditional swirl of cloud surrounding it's sub stellar point, and at this point in it's history an ice sheet surrounding it's terminator. The planet currently has an active surface biosphere, but this is only a temporary feature. Dionysus goes through regular cycles of huge build ups of carbon dioxide in it's atmosphere, up to 1-2 bar, followed by equally massive drops in CO2 levels down to just a few parts per million, caused by continents passing through it's central collection of storms. Life on Dionysus is one of times of huge plenty, and vast catastrophes.

Avalon/Eden are the jewels of the Yggdrasil system, a pair of habitable superearths locked in orbit of each other. Both of these worlds are ideal candidates for life; large mineral rich oceans, plate tectonics to allow for carbon cycling, and their mutual tidal forces will keep their interiors warm and convecting for billions of years. There is one current difference between themselves and Earth, however; as these planets are currently towards the outer edge of the habitable zone, they have large CO2 dominated atmospheres, nearly 2 bar each, just to keep warm. These planets will be the centre of attention for this project, and along with Methuselah, will maintain life for the longest time.

After the Avalon/Eden system is a rocky asteroid belt, containing twice the mass of Sol's asteroid belt, followed by an interloper from the outer reached of the system. Anguta (named for the Inuit creator god, and god of the underworld) is a waterworld that initially formed outside of the gas giants in the system, before an encounter with Persephone saw it swing into the inner system. A combination of another encounter with Parvati, and drag from the original system asteroid belt (now carved in 2 by Anguta), caused it to settle into a circular orbit. Anguta is currently right at the outer edge of the habitable zone, with it's surface locked in ice and only a thin, nitrogen dominated atmosphere, but as Yggdrasil grows in luminosity, this is unlikely to last.

Our next stop is the queen of the system, the largest planet of Yggdrasil, Parvati (Hindi goddess of power and beauty). Parvati is a large gas giant, 50% more massive than Jupiter, with a large collection of rocky and icy moons, and rings to rival Saturn's.

Odin (Norse god of wisdom and healing) is the second gas giant of the system. It is about half the mass of Jupiter, but due to the effect of gravitational compression, Parvati and Odin are almost the same size, to within a few dozen kilometers. Odin has a thin set of rings, but has 4 major moons locked into a Laplacian resonance.

Amun (Egyptian god of the sky and wind) is the systems only ice giant, an azure gem shining brightly due to methane in it's atmosphere granting it a brilliant blue colour. Occasional clouds of methane occur in it's mid latitudes, and around storms in it's tropics.

Persephone is the final planet, an Eris like object in it's outer system, covered in a homogeneous layer of ice that was deposited from past volcanic paroxysms.

#geology #biology #science #astronomy #speculative evolution #space #art

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bobbile-blog · 1 year ago

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Okay so considering the end of Il Siracusano, I wanted to put together a list of floating plot threads that might lead to future events, just to get my brain in order. This will be a list of the events and characters involved, as well as a general summary of where things are in these plots in Global.

So, we have:

(Minor spoilers for a lot of Global under the cut, but specifically for some bits at the end of Il Siracusano)

- The main story, obviously, counting both Reunion and Dublinn/Kazdel stuff, as well as stuff like What the Firelight Casts and Vigilo. Not sure how relevant this will be to future side events because it’s already the main plot, but who knows.

- The Feranmut plotline, encompassing Ancient Forge(?)/Who is Real/Invitation to Wine/Where Vernal Winds will Never Blow, featuring Nian/Dusk/Ling/Chong Yue. Updated pretty regularly as the CN new year event. Haven’t been keeping up with this one so I can’t say where we are rn but we’re about to get Vernal Winds anyway so it doesn’t matter much. The short overview is that Yan used to be populated by godlike beings called Feranmuts. Feranmuts fought a war with people, which concluded when a Feranmut named Sui betrayed his people out of a selfish desire to be the only being with the kind of power that Feranmuts possess. When he was discovered, the emperor of Yan (China analogue) split him into 12 fragments which eventually developed their own identities and personalities - these are the Sui siblings, i.e. Nian, Dusk, Ling, Chong Yue, etc. Once all twelve of these siblings meet again, they will reform back into Sui and he will be reborn, and probably take over the world. As such, the current goal is to find a way to prevent the siblings from all waking up and getting back together, and hopefully finding a larger way to prevent Sui’s resurrection.

- Abyssal Hunters and Seaborn, with Grani and the Knight’s Treasure/Under Tides/Stultifera Navis/Mizuki and Caerula Arbor, featuring Skadi/Specter/Gladiia/Kal’tsit. Was updated pretty frequently as an anniversary event, but they seem to have thrown us a big lore dump with Caerula Arbor and left it at that for the time being, which is understandable. The state of the plot at the moment is the Abyssal hunters we have are back together, Specter is back to her old self, they’ve met Ulpian and established an uneasy truce with the Iberian (Spanish analogue) Inquisition, and we’re starting to understand just what Ishar-mla is. Iirc the alternate timelines we see in IS3 are actually shown to the Doctor by Mizuki, so that may play into future events as well.

- Kazimierz, with Maria Nearl/Pinus Sylvestris/Near Light/Obscure Wanderer, featuring Blemishine/Zofia/Nearl/The Followers/Flametail/Ashlock/Fartooth/Wildmane/Justice Knight my beloved/Młynar. This kinda shouldn’t be on this list, because it’s mostly wrapped up, and I don’t expect any more Kazimeirz events for a while. It’s still probably important to summarize though so: Margaret Nearl won the 24th Major and became the Grand Knight, and has since stayed in Kazimierz (Poland analogue) to improve living conditions for the infected and push back against the General Chamber of Commerce. The Armorless Union has mostly been decapitated - the Platinum defected, the Lazurites have disappeared and taken on new identities, and the Darksteel has promised to stay away from Margaret and Rhodes Island. Pinus Sylvestris and most of the rest of the Nearls are now on the landship, working for Rhodes Island.

- Rhine Lab, with Mansfield Break/Dorothy’s Vision/Lonetrail/the second Records of Originium comic (which has an official translation that you absolutely should read it’s really good), featuring Silence/Ptilopsis/Saria/Ifrit/Dorothy/Mulesyse/Ho’olheyak/Kirsten. This is one of the newer plotlines, and my personal favorite. Kirsten Wright, founder and head of Rhine lab, wants to go to space. Ever since her parents were killed in a plane crash, she’s looked at the stars as a goal for humanity and a symbol of the power that science and technology can give us. Unfortunately, in pursuit of that power, she believes the end justifies any means, and the Colombian (America analogue) military-industrial complex definitely isn’t helping things. Kirsten’s disregard of human rights has pushed away the people closest to her, most notably Saria, who left the company after discovering how Ifrit was abused. At the moment, the relationship between Rhodes Island and Rhine Lab is becoming more adversarial because we keep poaching their directors when they see the horrific human rights abuses that they’ve committed. Saria left after the Diαbolic incident, Dorothy left after site 359, and now the Doctor even has Mulesyse thinking about leaving. In addition to that, Saria has finally confronted Kristen and told her in no uncertain terms that she is done working with Rhine lab, which Kristen previously hadn’t fully accepted. Unfortunately, all this has only served to drive her deeper into “the ends justify the means” - rather than accept that she might have been wrong, she’s doubled down on the idea that if she can just achieve her goal and make it to space, they’ll all see how right she was and come back.

- Wolf Fangs, with some hints in the earlier chapters of the main story and being explicitly confirmed in Il Siracusano, featuring Texas/Lapland/Projekt Red/Lunacub. This is the newest of these plots, set up in Il Siracusano and presumably proceeding from there. The Feraerus are supernatural talking animals that we’ve encountered a couple of times throughout the story, like the High Priest or the Emperor. They are connected with the land and are almost akin to guardians of it. They don’t need Originium for their magic, and are tied to the setting in ways we don’t quite understand yet. More importantly to us, though, they’re involved in their own power struggles and contests among each other. This underscored the drama in Il Siracusano - the whole Bellone family was propped up by the wolf Feraerus Zarro as part of an ancient game in which the wolves pick champions, called Fangs, who fight each other in a Battle Royale to decide the pack’s next alpha(debunked study, I know, just roll with it). We know a couple of the fangs - Lunacub is one and Bernardo was another before his death, but Projekt Red is also a Fang, as well as Crownslayer’s mentor, so we’ll probably be coming back to this conflict in the future. Judging by Bernardo’s story and Lunacub’s files, the implication is that a lot of this story is going to revolve around breaking free of these old traditions and systems.

- The Sami Icefields haven’t technically gotten an event yet, besides that one story in Operational Intelligence, but I’m including it as an honorable mention because it looks like we’re going there for IS4. The Icefields are up north of Ursus, and they are terrifying. You remember the Emperor’s Blade, the one that kicks your ass in WD-8? Yeah we only see three of them in the game because the rest are busy fighting against the Eldritch demons constantly invading from the Sami Icefields. Let’s please never go there ever, thanks.

That’s all I can think of in terms of plotlines as of Il Siracusano in AK Global. If there’s anything I forgot or got wrong, tell me and I’ll add it in.

#arknights #il Siracusano

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willowwind78 · 5 months ago

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1 Annabel- Chapter 5

Chapter 5- Faust: First Part - Johann Wolfgang Van Goethe

Wild dreams torment me as I lie.

And though a god lives in my heart, though all my power woken at his word,

Though he can move my every inmost part – yet nothing in the outer world is stirred.

Thus by existence tortures and oppressed I crave for death, I long for rest.

Annabel returned down the hall to her own room confused and unnerved. The floor was cold against her bare feet. She had not given it much thought earlier. Now, she wondered how she could have ignored her half-frozen toes and what time it was. She pushed the curtain aside and looked out the window.

The night sky glowed with millions of stars. The blackness went on forever, the moon shining like a light bulb in the sky. She could do nothing but smile as she slipped out of her pajamas and scurried to the wardrobe. A worn pair of jeans, white t-shirt, light sweater, and some socks, she tip-toed out of her room and down the hall. Carrying a pair of brown leather boots in her hand, she was careful to not make a sound as she crept down the steps and out the front door. On the last step she sat and pulled her boots onto her feet.

Struck by the beauty of the night, she reached down and felt the cool softness of the grass against her fingertips. A deep breath filled her lungs with the smell of rotting leaves that was fall. She half ran, half hopped to the converted stable beside the main house. The door creaked and moaned as she slid it open and disappeared into the darkness. Instinctively her hand reached out to grab a helmet where it hung, exactly as she had left it with a dark leather jacket. She threw them over the seat, pushed the small bike out of its holding and walked it nearly a quarter of a mile down the drive towards the dirt road.

Once past the mailbox, she swung her leg over the worn seat. Grinning from ear to ear, she clipped the turtle shell helmet under her chin, pushed the start plug and twisted her right hand. A familiar “Bwat-ta-tat-tat” filled the night air. The twinge of sulfur infected her nostrils. She wasn’t much for speed, but it sure beat walking. Off at a fantastic thirty-five miles per hour, the cool wind pulled tiny tendrils from her braided hair.

The Vespa twisted and turned with its rider past small forests of trees, along rocky hillsides and past field after field of sleeping sheep and cattle. At this time of the morning, there was not a soul to be seen. Every man woman and child was snug in their bed, preparing for the next day’s work.

From the first time she was allowed out on the scooter, she was enthralled by the feeling of freedom when straddling the old seat. The only thing that existed in the world was her, the dirt beneath the wheels and the wind flowing relentlessly across her shoulders. It was the closest to flying she had ever come. Complete exhilaration filled her every pore. While she contemplated at times, upgrading to a motorbike, the Vespa held a special place in her heart for midnight riding and it was easier to avoid deer.

She drove down the road in whatever direction the world took her. Father Samuel taught her long ago that there is purpose to all we do and following the path of God was as simple as letting go and allowing Them to lead you. While she often doubted Father Samuel’s wisdom, when she was on the bike, his words never rang truer. She paid no attention to where she was, just went where an invisible force tugged at her to go.

Within what seemed like no time at all, she arrived in an unfamiliar location. As the bliss of freedom wore off, reality began to settle in and she wondered to where she had traveled. The point she had left the graveled road was uncertain. Standing here in the woods without the faintest clue as to where she was, she started to ponder if perhaps she should have listened a little less to God and a little more to the Randall McNally folded beneath her seat.

With a flick of her foot, the kickstand came down and the Vespa sat neatly on the dirt path. Pine trees had left a thick bed of needles creating a crunchy trail beneath her feet. Unsure of where she was headed, she felt the need to travel on foot and after setting her helmet and jacket on the bike she started down the ever-thinning deer trail towards the unknown.

Tall oaks that had somehow managed to not get choked out by the pines, left pesky acorns threatening to wrench her ankles at nearly every step, but she picked her way along what felt for no particular reason, the way to go. Since the path seemed clear enough in the dark, she felt confident she could find her way back when she needed to.

Luckily, she was completely absorbed in watching her feet as she walked, so there was little chance of her falling off the steep cliff when the tree-line abruptly ended. The ground stopped. She looked up and out upon the horizon. It was breathtaking.

A small church nestled itself into the valley surrounded by a field of recently harvested corn. The white-washed walls were stark and out of place against the dark background. A faint glow had begun in the east where the sun was threatening to rise. A tiny graveyard lay next to the church, between the fields cut by a short dirt drive. As the sun peaked over the horizon, she followed the rays of light into the cemetery and was pulled in.

A young man, far too young to be mourning this kind of loss, knelt in front of a newly erected tombstone reading:

Tolle lege

Christina Evans

1995-2013

Beloved wife, daughter, sister and journalist

Tears filled his eyes. A glint of silver sat in his hand.

Annabel’s heart ached for him. His pain and thoughts echoed across the distance to her as if they were her own. He had come to take his own life on his wife’s grave. His blood would flow into the ground and in some way, he believed he would be with her again. The blade was poised, firmly grasped in his right hand, over his left wrist. His words carried across the wind to her ears.

“Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I do not understand. What did she do wrong? Was it me?” Tears openly flowed from his eyes, down his cheeks and dropped to the ground. “I loved her! Damn you I love her!” His body shook with a mixture of anger and pain, the muscles twitching and relaxing at sporadic intervals. Several times his arms tensed, readying the knife above his wrist, only to be relaxed and nearly dropped to the ground.

He looked up suddenly when he heard a voice behind him. A man, dressed in a charcoal gray three-piece pin-stripe suit and a dark red bowtie leaned against the fence, the watcher. “God considers the taking of one’s own life the biggest sin you can commit. Some might say… unforgivable.” He paused momentarily as the figure straightened and began to walk toward the young man. “Far greater than murder, gluttony, pride, envy, or even greed. Those that commit suicide are doomed to burn in hell for eternity. Is that what you want?”

“I… I don’t care anymore.” His head bowed as he stared at his left wrist. “Anything is better than the hell I am already in.”

“I can take away this pain away if you want. You will never have to feel again.” The suited man’s tongue spoke eloquently. It brought comfort and soothed even Annabel’s ears. She watched as the stranger glided through the cemetery, so smooth that he seemed to float across, his wing tip shoes leaving not a trace in the dewy grass. He placed his left hand on the shoulder of the mourning man in what should have been a comforting gesture but felt like something else entirely. “Imagine no pain, no worry, everlasting life. It is yours if you want it.”

“I never want to feel again. Not now. Not ever.” He looked up with tear-stained eyes, red and swollen with pain. “What kind of God would do this? Take away a life so young, so promising?”

The man in the gray suit’s mouth twitched only slightly. “My God will alleviate your pain if you choose to follow.”

“I choose.” The kneeling man said without hesitation. “I choose to forget.” The knife poised over his wrist, reverberating with intent.

“You would hand the devil your soul?”

“Lord, if you can hear me. I am done with you! You have taken everything from me!” the man’s voice echoed across the open ground. Hatred. Scorn. Loathing.

The stranger leaned toward the man, his lips nearly caressing his neck as he whispered into his ear. “You give me your soul? Openly?”

“Anything to take away this pain, yes.” With a quick slice, the blood began to flow, while simultaneously the suited man sank his teeth deep into the other man’s neck until his body collapsed in a lifeless heap. A shimmering cloud emerged from the man’s body like the smoke from a djinn’s lamp. Suddenly, the cloud shattered into a million pieces of shiny silver confetti that dissipated when they hit the ground.

Reality sucked back like a vacuum cleaner. The world shifted as Annabel returned to the hillside where her body stood motionless. Choking on a lump in her throat, she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She stared in horror at the body laying on the ground, blood oozing from its wrist in ever slowing pulses. The sun rose above the horizon, casting light upon the world as if everything were still good and wholesome in it. Tears filled her own eyes. She slumped to the ground, hanging her legs over the side of the hill, dumbfounded, yet entranced by the surreal scene.

Questions filled her mind, bogging down her senses with confusion. Who was the man in the gray suit and where did he come from? What was he? Did she really just see him bite the other man? Was she even awake? She pinched her arm. Ouch. Yes, she was awake. How could she possibly see everything from so far away?

Eventually, something caught her eye. She tilted her head to the right unsure of what she was seeing. No, it couldn’t be. She caught herself attempting to leap forward to get a closer look, just before she would have fallen two hundred yards down the steep, rocky cliff. She squinted and peered, then closed her eyes and reopened them again.

No matter how many times she repeated this action, she could not change what she was seeing. Two men walked out of that cemetery into the trees and one of them was looking at her.

#Annabel Lee #1 Annabel #Faith & Fangs #F&F

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starsaviour48 · 2 years ago

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Space wars AU

It's ya boi with a new AU. This time with a little bit of darkness as spice. WARNING: This fic contains child abuse.

So let's jump into this shall we? The main idea is basicly both factions realise that Cybertron is going to be destroied if they keep up this war. So an agreement was made by Megatron and Optimus Prime which contains that the planet must be evacuated and they shall continue their warfare in space or other planets which don't have civilization on it (you can imagine that the latter was sometimes overruled). So there is the main ship of the fleet (Omega-1 on the autobot side Nemesis on the decepticon side) on this ship we have the representatives of each teams/squads (the other members are on other ships of the fleet ofc) so the bots who Optimus thinks he needs in close range. Sooo introducing the main cast! And guess what Smokescreen and Bumblebee star in this one too (well I always try to give everyone equal attention as someone should have khm live action khm khm) so basicly the story followes them and drum roll pls: Devcon✨. That's right I love this character and I need to see him more but not everyone can have their well deserved spot light.

Smokescreen

Prowl Blue and Smokes trinity is back. They are coming from an abusive family. Prowl as the older brother took it up on himself to protect his younger siblings. Smokescreen and Bluestreak disliked the way how their brother took every single hit for them but Prowl was stubborn as pit and he quicly shut down any attept from his siblings to take some of the responsibility of the protector roll. Eventually things got bad really quicly when Prowl got into the hospital with a broken chestplate. Smokescreen feared that he could lose his dear brother if he doesn't act. So he started doing bad stuff on purpose. Like starting random fights at school, stealing, gambeling and talked back to their "guardians" on every chance he got. Of course this had the desired effect the attetion shifted from the older sibling to the middle one. Prowl being still at the hospital and Blue not being old enough to help Smokescreen (he wouldn't have let him anyways) created a bad out come to Smokescreen. He took a beating so hard that his processor's memory department was damaged that led him with a really bad memory. Basicly he forgets a lot of things (mostly random things) but some come back to him naturally. This incident was enough for Prowl to say "no thank you" and left with his baby siblings.

Relationships

Prowl and Bluestreak after the incident become very protective of Smokescreen since he was now easy to take advantage of. Smokescreen appreciates them but sometimes he feels like they are going too far.

Bumblebee is Smokescreen's boyfriend (can't escape the Smokebee sorry I know I'm terrible shame on me) they got to know each other in the young soldier program. Their relationship is basicly every sappy teanage romance. No.1 notebook of Smokescreen's.

Devcon is the childhood friend who always helped the datsuns whenever he could. He had a loveing but poor family. No.2 notebook of Smokescreen's.

Personality

A sweet overenergetic young bot who is more then ready to prove himself. Real confused cinamonroll who is a big fan of Optimus and sees Prowl as his rolemodel. Can and will chat about everything. But don't let his cutness fool you cause he has a dark side. He can confuse the pit out of you and can lie and deceive you very easily (the cons are keeping him on the "20 most dangerous autobot hit list" he is that much of a problem.) He has the most info of every bot. So don't mess with him because he CAN ruin your life.

Bumblebee

Born in the "Slums" Bee was a very capable bot from day 1. He had to learn how to survive in a cruel world that only took things from him and never gave him anything. He never knew who his parents were but he never really cared. They left him and that's all that mattered to him. Ratchet found him when Bee tried to steal from him. He took him in and let the young mech choose his own path which was deciding to be a recruite in the Scout Team. He and Optimus worked together a lot and that made a Prime really fond of him. Tragedy striked when Megatron traumatized the scout by killing everyone in his squad and leaving him as the messanger to Optimus. The Prime was worried about the mechling and so he send him to the back lines of the war for a while until he feels ready to fight again.

Relationships

Smokescreen is his boyfriend as previously mentioned. He adores the young mech and his overly friendly and curious nature. He is always there to remind his love about the things he forgets from time to time and in exchange Smokescreen is always there with him to support him and cheer him up. It's a win win situation.

Ratchet is like a carrier to him. Most of his knowledge is from him and he respects the older bot. He is the most open with Ratchet and when something happens it's the old doctor that knows what's going on first.

Devcon and Bumblebee's relationship started pretty rocky. Bee found the bounty hunter scary and didn't understand what a guy like him was doing with a cinamonroll like Smokescreen. He thought he was dangerous at first but after getting to know the bot they become like brothers. Bonding over the protection of memory boy.

Personality

Before the incident he was a happy easy going bot but after he become more reserved. He become wary of bots and doesn't shares his real personality with everyone. But under the tough layer lies a gentle and really emotional bot. However he is still a force to be afraid of. He is really determinde bot who stands up after any blow (also on the hit list). Don't mess with his loved ones.

Devcon

Coming from a poor autobot family Devcon is determinde to become succesfull in life. He studies criminology for a while when his life took an unexpected turn. His family had an unpaid debt towards a decepticon maffia boss. Unfortunatly his family couldn't pay the maffia which killed them leaving a bloody message for Devcon. But the bot wasn't scared easily. Out of rage he hunt down the maffia one by one and after no one left he moved on. He realised his talent in bounty hunting and wanted to pursue this life carrier which however meant leaving his only friend behinde. Instead of chasing after the desired wealth he stayed beside Smokescreen and his siblings, using the occasional bounties to help them get by.

Relationships

Smokescreen is his trusted best friend. They were always there for each other no matter what. He visited countless doctors to get Smokescreen's memory problem treated but everyone said they can't help them. That didn't meant that he will stop trying.

Bumblebee is like a younger sibling to him that he didn't thought he needed. Would do anything to see the yellow bot smile. In his free time he reads "how to help bots through trauma" guide books.

Prowl and Blue are basicly family. Touch them and you will meet Devcon's sniper rifle up close.

Personality

Scary looking, quite bot but he is really empathic and a great friend in general. He always tries his best to give everything to the bots who stayed beside him. Tried older sibling vibes who mostly observes the chaos before joining in anyways. Calm and collected as always he is the type of bot who thinks first and acts after (truly a rare kind.) He is a deadly assassin who is also on the hit list (he is the highest out of the three of them, weird flex but okay) decepticons that mess with him and his rag tag family fear him.

#transformers #bumblebee #smokescreen #new au i guess #transformers prime #devcon #transformers prowl #new au idea #bluestreak #optimus prime #ratchet

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sam-glade · 1 year ago

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Hi Sam! Happy STS! How do you approach physical descriptions in your writing? Do you try to include it all when they're introduced, lace it through their appearances, or a secret third option? Do you have some snippets of OCs being described that you can share? -- @tisiphonewolfe

Hi Tiss, happy STS!

Fun fact: I completely forgot to include physical descriptions in the very first draft of Days of Dusk.

For the main trio in Gifts of Fate, I included their descriptions as soon as they're introduced from someone else's POV (and I'll paste them below the cut), and I scattered more small details later on - especially from Lissan's POV, since he does a lot of staring in wonderment (can you blame him, when the Princeling is involved?). For the supporting cast, I tried to include 2-3 sentences as soon as they appear.

Finally, for characters that have a single appearance, I try to list 2-3 memorable details. So e.g. for Mikkel (Anthea's Adamant Guard) it's "He had the most vibrant hair Lissan had ever seen; its copper waves fell past his shoulders, framing a strong jaw and otherwise plain pale face with eyes the colour of storm."

Anyway, here are the longer descriptions:

Ianim from Lissan's POV:

A young man — maybe a couple decades older than him — knelt on the ground within an arm’s reach. Lissan blinked, struggling to tell apart his ashen uniform from the clouds. The ashen uniform of the Army. A uniform he had hoped to see before he’d almost died. He was too exhausted to point it out though. Striking blue eyes looked back at him with concern, from a face that was too pale and clean in the muddy, churned field. His skin was smooth, unmarred by scars or even pockmarks, and his hair was arranged into thick, dark waves. With the thin straight nose and angular features that came to a sharp point at his chin, something about him screamed ‘highborn’ — yes, good-looking, gorgeous even, but too distant, as if he came from a different world entirely.

Gullin from Ianim's POV:

Ianim relaxed into the familiarity of his presence. He could picture every detail of his face without looking, the cold shade of his brown skin, the keen eyes, the square lines of his jaw, the slightly humped nose. He was out of uniform, sporting a short maroon coat of thick wool. It was well-worn, but far from needing repairs. Casual.

Lissan from Gullin's POV:

The mystery friend turned out to be a kid barely forty years old, with a freshly shaven face, slightly rounded cheeks, and serious eyes the colour of acorns. He had sun-bleached hair cropped fairly short and tanned olive skin, marked by an inch-long scar on the left side of his jaw. Not too shabby looking overall. Still, barely more than a kid.

And for the supporting characters we have:

Marta from Lissan's POV:

Her hair was falling out of an attempt at a single braid — her first shearing took place not even two years ago, marking her coming of age at thirty-five, and her hair barely reached past her shoulders now. It was a lighter shade of brown, like Lissan’s, although he had worn his as short as it was cut during his first shearing. Her face was round and tanned, dusted with a smattering of faded summer’s freckles, also just like his.

Varré from Lissan's POV

They were shorter than him by a head, and while Ianim appeared slim, they were outright tiny. Lissan couldn’t quite make out their features beyond a pale nose hooked like a beak of a bird of prey, and light, silky hair parted into two wavy curtains.

Erya, followed by Catnip from Gullin's POV:

She had strikingly white skin and short-cropped hair, pale as paper. She wore her ashen double-breasted coatee buttoned up, with silver-rimmed buttons displaying eight-pointed stars. The cold light didn't do her appearance any favours, but then practicality always took precedence for her, and every other Sword in IntSec. Well, maybe with the exception of Catnip. The Third Brigadier lounged in a tall-backed chair next to Gullin’s, her legs crossed casually, her grey breeches stretched tight over her toned thighs. A springy lock of her auburn hair twisted around her finger. A sparrow sat on her shoulder, and Gullin couldn’t tell if she was paying more attention to it or their commander.

#sts #ask and i shall answer #gifts of fate

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troubleshade · 2 years ago

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Some good-byes aren't meant to be forever

(The aftermath from "Lost and Found")

Several weeks passed since Chiisai found back home. She couldn't be happier about it, even if she needed a week to get used to her old world and how a few things worked here. Her siblings Asha and Coen barely left her side. They had so much to talk and catch up from the past years. Even Aster took his time to ask the returned turtle about her adventures. Sometimes it felt too surreal for her to be here again and seeing her loved ones busy with their own lifes. It doesn't felt like she was away for a decade but at the same time it does. This feeling causes her often to daydream.

And like the past dawns, Chiisai let her mind drift away again while laying in her old hammock. The new wake-sleep circle was the most difficult part for her to get used to it. She stares up to the remaining stars while thinking back to her other family. A slight pang of guilt rose in the turtle again, she just left without leaving a hint for the four boys. Did they notice her absence? Are they maybe even mad at her? Will they think she's dead? The turtle sighed, she just hoped that her new brothers are still okay without her in their life. Well, she was sure they'll be just fine without her.

Her train of thought came to a stop as she heard light footsteps next to her hammock. Chiisai didn't need to look to know that it was her old caretaker Aster. His shell scraped for a second on the wall as he sat down with a quiet huff. The silence between them was familiar and quite comfortable. "Thinking again about your brothers from another world?", he softly broke the silence. Her smile grew at his title he gave her four brothers to avoid misunderstandings. "Yeah..." Her answer was short for that question. "Are ya worried about them?" Chiisai finally glances to Aster. "Not in the slightest", she answers with a proud voice, "They doing just fine even without me, I know it. They don't need me anymore as a protector, they found their own way." He hums in affirmation, nodding slightly. For a moment both didn't say a word. "They may don't need a protector, but maybe they need their sister." Chiisai stared perplexed to him. "It's a difference you know? Just because you got the title as the older sibling doesn't mean you're only there for one purpose." Aster continues. "Well no of course not but it was like my most important main task...", Chiisai mumbled defensive. Before she could continue he interrupted her quickly. "Your most important job wasn't looking after them. It was every opportunity you took to be there for them. You told me so much about your time with the boys. How you learn more about their interests and lifes, you gladly spent time with them, helped them when they had a miserable day and even the four were there for you if you had a bad day. It was a give and take. You're more for them as just a 'protector'. You're part of their family." She still looked at him in silence, clearly thinking about what he just said. A small smile formed on her face. "Yeah... still I hope they forgive me that I just vanished... I just ran into the portal without thinking twice about it because I was afraid it would close on me again..." She sighs. "Well...now I can't change it... they'll figure it out... hopefully." Aster just nodded.

Once again it was silent for a while, her eyes returned to watch the sky. After a while she could hear him softly chuckle. "Well...but some good-byes are not final... you do know that I saved the coordinates from the other dimension where we found you don't ya?" The question was followed from an awkward silence before her shout was heard in the farthest edge of the city: "WHY DIDN'T YOU TOLD ME THAT SOONER?!"

The apartment never felt so gloomy like in this very moment. Because Chiisai didn't respond to their texts and calls for the last weeks the four boys Lee, Raphie, Mike and Don decided to visit her. They just assumed the reason of this problem was that she destroyed her phone again somehow. For the last hours they waited patiently in her home, talking and joking around. She would come home eventually, like always...right?

Their mood drastically went from "worried but good" to "worried and horrible" after an almost day long wait. Just right then Raphie would notice the fine layer of dust on the furniture, Lee looked into a fridge full of spoiled food. Don mentioned that the most precious belongings are still here, so she couldn't moved away. And Mike closed the window who stood open for a while because the floor underneath it was wet from the rain. Hopes were crushed and the worst scenarios appeared in their heads. "Maybe she found a way home?" Don slowly said, trying to sound positive. Lee was the only one who nodded but even he didn't believed it. Silence filled the room again it felt like a heavy blanket.

A hard blow on the couch broke their trance like state. "Bullshit! Accept it Don, she just left us without saying anything!" Raphie shouts out his face turned angry . "She don't wanna see us ever again! Why should she just disappear without a word?! We're nothing for her anymore since we travelled around!" Mike stared bewildered to his screaming brother. "Don't you fucking dare to say that again! She would never-" "LOOK AROUND! SHE. IS. NOT. HERE. ANYMORE. This apartment is empty for a long time now! She cut us out of her life! She took the frickin' chance that we were out of town to do that!" Raphie cried out louder to interrupt Mike, waving his arms around to prove his point. Mike's eyes well up with tears. This wasn't true. Hell, he would even swear on his own life that Chiisai would never just abandon them. He wanted to say something against it but Raphie didn't gave him the opportunity. "I don't want to hear your poorly thought reasons why she wouldn't do it!" His breath staggered. "Because the other option would mean she would be d-" Raphie stopped, never ending his sentence. His brothers stared shocked and silent at him. "I..." He sighed out and let him fall defeated onto the couch. "I just can't believe she's gone..." His voice was only a whisper now.

No one of them dared to speak, they only thought about the happier times of this place and the past resident. The heartbeats was the only sound that they could hear right now. Until a familiar voice spoke up:

"Wow, that's the saddest display I've ever saw... Can I join the pity party?" Flabbergasted, the four boys stared to the newcomer. The red masked brother was the first who reacted with a sprint to the person and a surprised shout. "BIG SIS!" The others followed him shortly, almost tackling the smaller turtle to the ground as they hugged her. "It's good to see you all again too." She said happily, trying to hug them all back at once. Her old caretaker were right: Some good-byes aren't meant to be final.

Universes AU boys belong to @xxlea-nardoxx

#tmnt au #tmnt #tmnt oc #tmnt chiisai #following me is free and would make me happy no pressure thou :>#tmnt oc chiisai #tmnt oc aster

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neverlearnedtoread · 1 year ago

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A Curse So Dark and Lonely

⭐⭐⭐⭐; it is a truth solely acknowledged by me that the more cringefail a love interest is, the better the romance

Oh?? 👌😉😏

fairytale retelling! i love retellings of well-known stories. something something telling the same stories as our ancestors and our descendants binds humanity together something something

it takes a while to come to light, but the love interest is one of those 'head before heart' idiots. he's genuinely shrewd, politically savvy, and calculating, i.e. exactly the sort of person who doesnt fall in love easily. which makes him being the 'beast' in this beauty and the beast retelling so compelling! he's trying SO hard to engineer feelings and its just not working 😭

following off the above point: the love interest thinks he is inherently unlovable. nothing is juicier than someone who thinks they're too hard to love being proven wrong!

No.. ❌🤢🤮

isekai story, which as a trope teeters on the edge of losing me completely on principle; Kemmerer did manage to add enough details to keep me from totally losing my suspension of belief

just enough 'not like other girls' energy in the main character to make the first 50-100 pages hard to get through. i know its crazy, but consider: sometimes when a girl is kidnapped it's okay for her to have some level of caution / fear??

love triangle attempted(?) - wild choice from the author to make the guardsman hotter than the prince. i mean i get it, but if you're going to do that, can we not have the reason she doesn't choose him be so obviously and singularly because it wouldn't break the curse?

Summary: Harper, an 18-year-old girl with cerebral palsy, has a lot of problems - her mum has cancer, her father's a deadbeat who left them indebted to loan sharks, and her brother Jake is now working for said loan sharks to pay off those debts. Harper's always felt like a liability - too weak to help, let alone protect anyone - but when she sees a dodgy guy knock a girl unconscious in an alleyway, she has to try. Of course, no good deed goes unpunished - in the tussle, Harper finds herself magically transported to a parallel world with a whole new set of problems, including a cursed prince, an evil enchantress, and no way home.

Concept: 💭💭💭 Honestly, I didn't think too highly of this one! I had heard various criticisms about the prince being too broody and the sense of 'not like other girls' throwing others off, and it was selling itself as an unapologetic YA Beauty and the Beast retelling, so I wasn't thinking that this book would do anything crazy for me because Beauty and the Beast as a fairytale isn't my favourite.

Some spoilers under the cut!

Execution: 💥💥💥 On the whole, this book met my expectations exactly where I held them, which was a typical YA fantasy romance. I hold nothing against books that give me exactly what I expected - if I didn't think a book would suit my reading tastes, I wouldn't pick it up in the first place! I did have a hard time at the start - I'm pretty sensitive to 'not like other girls' vibes, so harper really grated on me, but once she and rhen understood each other better I was having a lot more fun. I kept pinballing between enjoying it (rhen being bad at romance) and rolling my eyes at it (harper being too Strong Women Feminist) through the middle but by the time we hit the 'i have to go home to see my family before its too late' story beat, the book was clawing its way to a solid 4 stars.

Personal Enjoyment: ❤❤❤❤ Despite being a predictable YA fantasy romance, Prince Rhen was a pleasant surprise. It is my personal (and therefore, correct) taste that male love interests are best when they are, at heart, cringefail. Rhen fits this criteria perfectly - he can wine and dine and politick with the best of them, but what he wants to do is save his people, and for that he needs someone to fall in love with him for realsies. He is wholly unable to accomplish both (on account of him being very shit at love) until Harper jostles him forcibly out of his holding pattern - he tells her he's doomed to fail, and she still convinces him to wholeheartedly try. It makes Harper not only the heroine of the story, but specifically Rhen's saviour - that's true romance, babey!! Their chemistry was the cornerstone of me rating the book 4 stars - with special shoutout to Lilith being shamelessly used as a plot device to make the romance go. We love an evil enchantress who is petty and bitchy.

Favourite Moment: The sweetest moment of the book was definitely Harper inviting Rhen into her room after learning Lilith tortures him every night. It was such a genuinely heartfelt moment that brought them together! But I love mess, so my actual favourite moment is when they kiss right before Harper leaves for DC, only for Harper to recoil from the sharp scales growing over Rhen's skin. The horror!! The drama!! The 'if you haven't fallen in love with me at this point, you certainly won't now'!!! and then Harper just going home without any resolution at all. NO ONE ELSE was having fun in that scene but me! and THAT'S BEAUTIFUL 😝

Favourite Character: Prince Vincent Aldrhen of Emberfall, cringefail king. Yes I understand he's horrible for any number of reasons, and no, I will not be retracting my statement. There's nothing more fun to me than a character who is convinced they are unlovable and has the evidence (and track record!!!) to prove it. This dude was like 'kissing this girl i like is more emotionally devastating than being magically tortured by a crazy evil enchantress every night because I will only be able to do it the once'. I can't NOT root for him to be dicked down!!

#a curse so dark and lonely #acsdal #brigid kemmerer #books #book review #booklover #bookblr #reading

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faelune-home · 1 year ago

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FFXIVWrite 2023 #8: Shed

(A/n: If its been perpetual Light without any other weather for 100 years, surely that means no seasons too? So I have to wonder how the First would feel about the world settling back into its old rhythm and the old seasons once they finally return. It must be so strange if they haven't seen snow or rain or ice in so long, or the changing leaves. So I really wanted to catch this sense of uncertainty, if most won't remember or even know about the concept.

Tho in this case, Almet might know, or she might not, depending on how old she is, but I've erred on the side of caution and assumed she's post-Flood birth.

Part of me just also feels like I miss the First and Ryne, even tho I know the very next patch is gonna have her feature in a way (small or otherwise, we don't know yet). I hope she's doing well, especially if she's still working hard for everyone. ;3;

Word count: 1385)

“Which way was it again?”

The blue flower path was certainly pretty, but it made for difficult travel when one forgot which fork in the road to follow to Fanow. Ryne unfortunately had forgotten, given the long while it’d been since she had visited the Viis town. The dense trees and the darkened shadows from the enveloping canopy didn’t help her bearings, unable to even see into the distance for a hint of life at the forest’s edge. She was travelling with a small guard, though unfortunately none had any experience with the forest as she had. Leaving her alone to shoulder the burden of navigation.

Her role as Oracle of Light had been changed somewhat, in light of the First’s new lease of life - she was something of an Emissary now for the Crystarium, often ensuring good relations between the various surviving settlements across Nordvrandt, both within each region and with the main city as a hub. Slitherbough didn’t have any issues with their neighbours, but she still wanted to check in with Fanow herself as well. If she could find it…

Fortunately for her, she wasn’t left stumbling around for much longer, as a voice broke through the leaf rustling ambiance.

“Hail, Oracle! It has been some time!” Looking up, and hearing the surprised chattering from her caravan behind her, Ryne smiled to see the familiar face of Almet standing upon a thick branch in the canopy. The woman leapt, traversing down the trunk with graceful bounds until she landed upon the petal strewn floor.

“Almet! It is good to see you,” Ryne greeted her, “I hope all has been well.”

“Of course. The forest has never been more peaceful since the night finally returned and the Sin Eaters numbered finally dwindled to nothing. I’m sure you could tell as much during your travels.” Ryne nodded, already breaking into chatter about their journey there and their reason for visiting, and idle introductions to the rest of her entourage.

“An Emissary is it? From one important duty to another, surely you of all of us have more than earned the rest after your deeds?” Almet said, shaking her head in awe.

“Many have told me, but I wouldn’t feel right just sitting doing nothing while everyone else did all the work,” Ryne replied.

“Well, that is your burden to bear, but I am pleased to see you continuing to look after the wellbeing of all on our star. Even coming all this way to check on Fanow, as cloistered away as we are here,” Almet nodded, coming to a stop by a wooden gateway arch. To Ryne’s surprise, they’d already reached the town’s entrance, unaware that Almet had led them along the way as they’d talked.

“Oh! I…Thank you. I’m sorry to say I seem to have forgotten the way,” Ryne said, flushing at her confession. Almet at least worse an understanding smile.

“Tis no worry. With how far you have travelled and how the forest has changed with the Light gone, I would be more surprised had you remembered. Feel free to come in and settle yourselves, someone will come and see you to a hut to rest yourselves so long as you are staying here,” Almet announced to the rest of the group. Ryne’s own nod to encourage them had them wasting no time entering the village, leaving the two alone.

“As much as I appreciate your hospitality, we hopefully shouldn’t stay too long. We wouldn’t want to impose, but we do have other places to visit as well.”

“You are certainly not imposing. We would always welcome you, as the allies of Ronka and the saviour of the star. But you of course have your duty as well. Allow us to at least see you well prepared for your journey,” Almet offered. Slitherbough had already offered to refill their supplies for the next leg of their journey after visiting Fanow, but more would always be nice. Sometimes to pass onto the next village they visited or even to the Crystarium’s supplies and stores when they returned.

They started up into canopy bound platforms, unperturbed at first of the wind that began to pick up – though Ryne did feel her stomach lurch as the boughs around her creaked and groaned from the strain. However they both came to a pause at a mumbling from a pair of nearby guard Viis leaning against the railing.

“It’s so different, how did it change so?”

“I don’t know, but it looks rather beautiful.”

“Ladies, is something amiss? Did something happen on your patrol?” Almet asked, making them both jump. As one of them frowned to see her surprise had crushed something in her grasp, the other held out a pristine leaf to show.

“Almet, it's so strange! The leaves are changing!” the guard stated. Almet took it in hand, brow furrowing at the discovery. Ryne peaked over, confused. The leaf was a bright vibrant orange, with dappled yellows along its lower half. A fan of leaves were thrust into her view, and she gaped at the sight; bright reds and yellows, more orange and faded gradients, and the normal greens were tinged brown along their edges.

“Is it not just from a peculiar tree?” she asked, trying to rationalise the strange appearance.

“Absolutely not, I’ve patrolled these same forests for 75 years, I know every tree in every corner,” the guard insisted, “This is new!”

“Almet, do you think the trees may be suffering an illness to cause this? Are they dying?” the other Viis asked, looking over the crushed remnants still in her hand with concern. Almet paused, still marvelling over the odd phenomena.

“No, I don’t think it is that,” she said carefully, “I can’t guarantee what this is for certain, though I may have an idea. I would like you to keep an eye out on your patrols, and inform the other groups of the same; if any more turn out like this or if anything else changes, let me know. But I appreciate this news.” The guards shared a look, then nodded and rushed off into the town.

The wind grew fiercer, and Ryne found herself shivering in its blast. Almet stood, letting it rustle through her hair and clothes.

“To think, it may finally be happening again,” she hummed, turning the leaf over in between her finger tips.

“What? What’s happening?” Noting the rising panic in Ryne’s voice, Almet smiled.

“Nothing to be worried about…or perhaps we should. But not for the reasons you may think, Oracle,” she said, “Tis the seasons. They may finally be cycling once again. The forest is changing.”

“Seasons? Changing?” Ryne had heard the concept somewhat, from Thancred - he’d mostly explained them briefly, how the sun would grow warmer, or the wind would grow colder at different times in the year. But in a world without shifting weather patterns, the notion didn’t really seem to be understood anymore.

“I remember tales from my mother, from before the Flood,” Almet explained, eyes growing distant as she recalled the memory, “She would talk about how the seasons would change the forest; how the animals would shift and move their nests and families, following their food as it too moved; how the grass would grow thick and green with the heat, and thin and wiry with the chill; and how they had different produce cycles for each passing moon, how they had to plant many crops in one season to keep people fed in the others, as less could be grown.

“And I know these past 100 years, the Light has prevented any such changes. The temperature may have dropped or risen, but it was never enough, and the forest was still the same as ever, unchanging and silent.”

“So…the idea of these seasons returning is good?” Ryne asked. The wind blew through once more, and this time Almet let the leaf in her hand fly free with the gusts.

“Yes, I think it is. Perhaps we will struggle to adjust after so long without, but I believe we can do that. And it will be wonderful to see the world return to its original self once more,” she smiled, “You may have extra work for yourself now to prepare the world for these big changes to come.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ryne #ryne waters #almet #shadowbringers #fufu's writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv

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