#(Maul needs the latter as well but good luck getting him there)

[theamityelf]

Aw man, PROXY (the combat training droid) really would fit so well with the DRverse. Like his introduction scene has him randomly ambush Starkiller while using the Obi-Wan training program (complete with hologram/hard-light tech to make him appear as Obi-Wan did during the Clone Wars). And they just playfully banter like "Huh, didn't even know you still had that program, PROXY", "Oh, I thought if I surprised you with an old one, I might finally kill you master". To which Stakiller's like "Lol, better luck next time buddy". The whole relationship just seems exactly like what you'd get with Nagito having a robot as his only friend.

The fact that Vader had it fitted with an Obi-Wan program (as well as a Darth Maul program that's revealed later on) is both logical and weirdly hilarious to me. Like of course he'd want to prepare his Secret Apprentice to know how to fight his old master's lightsaber style, since he's still out there at this point in time. But it's just so hilariously obsessive. Actually PROXY later takes Vader off-guard by using it on him in a heroic sacrifice to save Starkiller (he's revealed to have been rebuilt in the sequel though).

Oh! And speaking of lightsaber styles...what do you think the DR cast members would pick as their main one if they were a Jedi, Sith, or some other lightsaber wielder? I'm not sure how much you know about those, so here's a rundown just in case. The whole made-up martial arts thing is part of the lore I find so endearingly stupid in an awesome way.

Form I/Shii-Cho is the beginner's form. Pretty much every Jedi is required to learn this one first, since it's the foundation for all the others. It was made in a time when they were transitioning from metal swords to lightsabers, and so it focuses a lot on non-lethal disarmament. As well as combatting multiple opponents. It's considered a bit clumsy and unrefined compared to its successors. But a handful of specialists of the form like Kit Fisto, were known for being very fluid and hard to predict.

Form II/Makashi is the most dueling-centric. With a focus on elegant, focused, and precise strikes. It was developed in response to the need for a lightsaber-to-lightsaber form when Dark Jedi became more prevalent. And as a result it fell out of widespread use when the Sith were thought extinct. With Jedi actually having to ask permission for training in it. It's two major flaws though are that's not ideal for multiple opponents, or against loads of blasters. Count Dooku is considered to be perhaps the greatest Makashi specialist, and managed to partly iron out of its weaknesses.

Form III/Soresu opts for a "stone wall" strategy. Being developed to combat massive numbers of blaster-wielding opponents. And allow the user to deflect dozens of bolts per second. And against other lightsaber-wielding opponents, the strategy is to tire them out with an unbreakable defense and then finish things with a decisive blow. It's polarizing among the Sith, as many view it as a weakling's form. Though the smarter ones like Darth Bane had a respect for it, seeing that there were some clear advantages. Obi-Wan is the most famous specialist, and that factored into the decision to send him after General Grievous.

Form IV/Ataru is kind of like the "fragile speedster" style. Since it heavily focuses on acrobatics for quick leaping strikes. Pretty good at quickly taking down single opponents, but not so much in prolonged fights, or while fighting in enclosed spaces. Not great against blasters either. Yoda and Ahsoka are the most notable specialists for it. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were too, though the latter switched to Soresu after finding Ataru didn't work so well for him against Darth Maul.

Form V/Shien is sort of like a more aggressive branch of Soresu. With the focus going from deflecting blaster bolts to redirecting them back at the enemy. It also has a more advanced dueling-centric variant called Djem So, which was made as an answer to Makashi. Requiring a lot of physical power from the user, the aim of it is to defend and then unleash a massive counter-attack of overwhelming strikes. Although they both had expertise in all forms, it was Anakin and Luke's preferred one. With Anakin actually going all in on transitioning from Shien to Djem So after losing to Dooku the first time. Other known specialists include Plo Koon, Aayla Secura, Darth Bane, and the legendary Ulic Qel-Droma.

Form VI/Niman was created as an all-rounder form. The idea being to take all the elements from the previous 5 and merge them into a single balanced form. In practice this ultimately led to most practitioners being just average in all fields, with no real strengths. It tended to be favored by Jedi who were more devoted to diplomacy and study. HOWEVER, mastered Niman is another story entirely. As its few specialists (who dedicated at least 10 years of determined study to it) had a style that was great in all fields, and had no weaknesses. With excellent skill at combining Force-based attacks into the style. Those specialists being legendary duelists like Exar Kun, Darth Krayt, and possibly Revan.

Form VII/Juyo is the last and most controversial of them. For its extreme viciousness and the intentional use of a wielder's emotions to fuel attacks. A highly aggressive that's like a more wild and untamed Makashi. Obviously it was the style most heavily favored by the Sith, and was the primary style of Darth Maul and Starkiller (who interestingly were both voiced by Sam Witner). Among the Jedi it was borderline taboo, and sanctioned to the point that only very disciplined masters were given permission to study it. Juyo also had a special variant developed by Mace Windu called Vaapad. Which channeled both his own inner darkness and his opponent's fury through himself, and convert those into attacks. This special technique might have factored into him managing to overpower Palpatine.

And of course there's Jar'Kai, which just means dual-wielding. Technically a lot of characters have used it, though only a handful do so regularly. Those beings ones like Ahsoka, Asajj Ventress, Starkiller's clone, Revan, and Darth Krayt. Tends to overlap a bit with Niman and Ataru.

...Lol, got a bit carried away with that explanation. Anyway, I personally reckon Izuru would be a dual-wielding Niman king. As well as being one of the few people to master Vaapad. Makoto I would see as a Soresu guy. And I'd probably leans towards Hajime favoring Djem So.

Wow, yeah, I think, if we're speaking comparatively, I know nothing about Star Wars. 🤣 This is all very fascinating! And yes, Soresu definitely seems to be compatible with Makoto's whole deal. And the fighting styles for Izuru and Hajime also seem really apt.

[reynesofcastamere]

Surface Breach(1/3)[β]

(A/N: Apologies for the longer-than-usual wait on this one. I went back and forth a LOT on which direction I wanted to take this in. and both the weather and irl things have not been cooperating with my muse. X_X. Anyway, the prompt for this was  ‘Ahsoka completely breaking down and Maul comforting her’. Sequel to ‘Pressure Points’, so set about 2-3 years after ROTS with circumstances being closer to canon. Warnings for: Non-consensual abduction, emotional manipulation, possessive behaviour, intrusive thoughts, violent outbursts, violation of physical autonomy/boundaries, mentions of possible body modification/invasion of privacy, major character death and some internalized shame regarding sex and sexual practices. Once again, potentially triggering sections have been marked off with ‘****’. Unbeta’d.)

Ahsoka...drifts for an uncertain amount of time. She gets vague impressions of eating and performing other necessities as if through a thick haze. There’s a...person who helps her with these things. Someone with warm hands(which are very appreciated, wherever she is, it’s cold) and a low, pleasant voice that she could curl up and listen to for hours. Mostly she sleeps, deep and untroubled by nightmares or immediate concerns. When she comes to, there’s an overwhelming grogginess and a slight chemical tang on her tongue that she only gets from prolonged bacta treatment. Not full tank immersion, but there are a fair amount of patches stuck to her skin under the loose robe she’s currently wearing. Peeling them off carefully, she finds that most of the bruising and other marks that covered her body-like a tribute to poor decisions- are either gone or greatly reduced. And she doesn’t feel...sore in any tender places. Kind of a welcome change. Which now brings up the question of Where the kriff am I and how long have I been here?

Ahsoka catalogues her surroundings: Simple bed, storage unit, two doors presumably leading to a refresher and an outside corridor. It’s very...bare. Easily left behind or packed up. Whoever is staying here doesn’t plan to do so for long. She finds her lightsabres, clothes, and armour in the top drawer, and her boots placed neatly at the foot of the bed. Only when she is nearly finished getting dressed does she take out a long, even strip of black fabric. For a moment, she thinks that there must have been an error of some kind, until the memories of her most recent slip-up rush in like floodwater through a broken dam. There’s a hot, tight feeling in her gut that balances precariously between desire and shame. Maul has an obsessive personality. She knows this. So why am I encouraging this disaster by-Ahsoka can’t even finish the thought. It makes her sick. And so very angry. She’d made the mistake of seeking him out for something other than business, and he had flat-out abducted her. Any number of people or her objectives could be in danger right now. Her fingers fumble slightly on her wrist-comm as she checks it for tampering. Still functional. She’ll have to disassemble her equipment later, to ensure there aren’t any tracking chips or other unwelcome additions. 

He might have embedded something in me while I was under. It rattles her, not remembering, not knowing what Maul could have done, given the opportunity. And he’s close. Even with apprehension curdling in her veins, she can tell that much. Slipping the blindfold into a pocket, she pulls her boots on and pauses for a moment in front of the door. So. Time to find out whether she’s a prisoner or a...’guest’. It opens seamlessly, and she almost gives a sigh of relief. Until she realizes that it leads directly into his office. Ahsoka steps through into a moderate, dimly-lit space. The glow from the screen of the datapad he’s perusing throws Maul’s left side into sharp relief. “Sit.” No need to guess whom he’s addressing, or that he expects to be obeyed. And as there are no other chairs in the room -besides the one he’s currently occupying-, her options are limited. She folds her arms and prepares to stand her ground, only to find herself pulled forward. There is a struggle, though the distance is so short that by the time she breaks out of his Force grip, she’s already right in front of him. Ever the image of arrogance, he sets the ‘pad down, only now raking his gaze over her body. If it’s just to assess the state of her injuries, she might not mind. As much. Except this is Maul, so his motives are guaranteed to be awful at best and downright terrifying at worst. She takes the opportunity to loom over him, gripping the back of his chair with one hand. “You have one chance. Tell me why in the name of a Hutt’s karking diseased brood pouch you thought any of this was a good idea.” The odds are heavily in favour of him lying, or any facts being filtered through his...particular mindset. There is still a possibility that she can glean some scraps of truth from whatever pile of waste product he presents her with, though.

“You were incapacitated, and your stability is, shall we say...currently less than sound.” He answers, lazily resting the curve of his jaw against one set of knuckles as he sprawls. “I acted as I saw fit.” Even when appearing relaxed, Maul is still a coiled serpent. She can never forget that. “Although I am curious...What you might have done had you woken up alone.” “Gone back to work with a few new bruises.” Ahsoka retorts flatly. Which is true, minus some details. It might have at least given her more motivation to stay away from him; knowing with certainty that she is viewed as a plaything for him to use roughly and toss aside on a whim. If only.

“A poor deflection. Nevertheless...” Maul hooks two fingertips under her chin, pulling her oh-so-gradually towards him as he leans in close. The resulting kiss is unexpectedly gentle. She didn’t think he wanted... But he’s-this is-good. Not hurried or violent. She finds herself angling her head to get a bit more contact, tongue peeking out to tentatively flick at his lower lip. He purrs, and she feels...oddly pleased as the physical connection deepens. Their tongues entwine and slide in a tantalizing dance to the point where she hums. Ahsoka is dizzy from either a lack of oxygen or budding arousal when they pull apart, chest heaving slightly as she takes in some much-needed gulps of air.  Still, there has to be a catch.

“Explain why I should allow you to leave, Ahsoka Tano.” Sometimes, she really dislikes being right.

“That’s not something you get to decide.” Ahsoka practically spits in retaliation.

“You ran.” Maul hisses. Like she’d had any other choice. It doesn’t matter if he’s gentle, fucking is just one more way for them to hurt one another. “And avoided direct contact for months only to slink back beaten and exhausted to the point of collapse. I have spent the last four days looking after a husk.” Ahsoka nearly hates the look in his eyes right now. Because he is so very good at pretending to truly care that she almost believes it.“Is martyrdom so much more appealing?” The Dark Side seems to slither over her as he purrs, deceptively pleasant even while it attempts to invade.

**** She sinks into his lap as he tugs her down, thighs parting instinctively under his touch. He fills the space between them with far too much ease.  She refuses to urge him to get this over with, already. Bad enough that she wants anything from him in the first place, that trading pain, degradation and cruelty with a monster gets her off at all. Except that it does. Ahsoka had hoped at first that it was just the physical aspect; That finding someone who could bite and claw at her in the right way would satisfy this...twisted craving in her off-time. There had been satisfaction, and a few personal revelations, yet it wasn’t enough.  “Rex and I buried the men you killed. So many more innocents are dead, dying or suffering under the syndicate.” Any mention of Satine Kryze or Adi Gallia sticks in her throat. She cannot bear to see his pride over those victims while he’s touching her. “You’ll betray everyone and everything for power or revenge.” What good has it done, pushing herself to the absolute brink to fulfill her duties, all but throwing herself into the arms of strangers? She’s still here, on the receiving end of that searing and inescapable gaze. “And you still don’t get why I can’t stand to look at you when you’re-” Finishing the sentence is impossible, both because she cannot bring herself to say the words and suddenly she cannot stand him, his presence, his touch, any of it. 

“I should have just killed you then.” Her shoto is ignited and at his throat in the span of a heartbeat. Maul doesn’t retreat or let go, fingertips pressing bruises into her hips even as he half-bares his teeth in a silent snarl. Taking his head off would be right. The Rebellion needs his resources, not him. Criminals are easily manipulated, and Ahsoka will be free of these urges-The lightsabre is actually burning his skin now. He’s pressing into it, practically inviting-His eyes are-Her mouth is dry. Maul has always been a reminder of who she might have been, and what she might become if she ever loses herself. Everything comes crashing down on her at once, and the next thing she is truly aware of is that her weapon is deactivated and re-holstered, eyes leaking copious amounts of tears. **** He guides her hands to his chest, fingers automatically digging into the material of his vest once he lets go. Her face lowers to rest in the crook between neck and shoulder, breathing stuttered and wracked with quiet sobs while she trembles. Maul doesn’t embrace her. Merely...accommodates her current state of being. The pulse against her lips drops from frantic beats to a measured, steady rhythm. Ahsoka doesn’t want to be like him. Doesn’t want to go further down the path to becoming a desperate, selfish, manic person that would sit back and watch everything burn to ashes. 

Her chest is full of broken transparisteel and every breath hurts. The tears are a deluge that take far too long to dry out, and when they do she wants nothing so much as to sleep again; curled around a warm body for comfort and safety. Obviously she can’t do that for a number of reasons, but it would still be nice to have the option. “Does this-” A light brush along her flank. “-mean I am forgiven?”

“No.”

“Good. What I am, my actions...They do not affect who you are, Ahsoka Tano.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Is it not? When the Empire falls, you still intend to bring me to whatever ‘justice’-” Maul scoffs. “-Your reborn Republic sees fit to mete out. Our alliance has always been one of convenience. Physical intimacy does not change that.” “What the Republic will do to you is the least of what you deserve.” Ahsoka states with firm conviction, raising her head to make eye contact once more. “And am I really supposed to believe you’re not going to try and twist this to your own benefit?” “No.” He replies simply, though she can see that eerie, devouring light in his eyes beginning to emerge. “You already know what it is I want from you. And it means nothing if you come to me unwilling and utterly broken.”  “Hm. We’ll see how long that stance lasts.” Her response is justifiably skeptical. “I have work to do, so if you could point me in the direction of your hangar...”

“Of course.” Maul lists off directions as well as the model of ship she’ll be ‘borrowing’, her own presumably still hidden where she’d left it. “Close your eyes.” “What are you doing?” “Providing incentive. Return to my side when you are ready.” The pad of his thumb traces her lower lip sensually before he tries to close the remaining distance between their lips, only to have her lean away.

“If you want it that badly, you’ll have to catch me, next time.” She can practically feel the air crackle once the hushed provocation leaves her mouth. If she is to keep succumbing to these desires, it will be on her terms.

“It is not wise to tempt me when you are so close to freedom.” The rasp in his voice and the dilation of his pupils indicate that he is seconds away from pushing her down onto the desk and ravishing her senseless. The thrill of it is enough to make her grind down against him, once.

“Try it. We need to have a talk about boundaries anyway.” Ahsoka smiles, a challenge in her eyes as she loops and ties the blindfold around his left wrist before getting to her feet. “I’ll be in contact.” Maul actually lets her go when she walks away, this time. She feels...better. Not healed or whole, but better than she was. In any case, the work of toppling a tyrannical Empire waits for no one, and she has a lot to catch up on.  (A/N: Ahsoka’s still planning to see a med-droid ASAP, since they haven’t had that discussion yet and it’s been thoroughly established that Maul is Bad With Boundaries. I’m sure that most of you can guess what the second part will involve. [I’m predictable that way, lol.] In any case, I will be trying to get my WIPs out sooner and my inbox is still open to all interested parties. Cheers, everyone!)

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 25 - Hobby

The jobs were going well, for the most part. Somehow even with the addition of a ghost to the team, a kitsune, and Vivi’s magic, there was still a chance of something happening to go wrong. All of them learned their lesson with going to places without the proper research. The last thing they needed was another incident like the cave to happen. Never again.

In fact, it was probably for the best they swore off any that had to deal with such a location. That had actually been the bluenette’s idea. It was arguable that she had suffered the least of the three of them, but she was there with Arthur when he was stuck in the past, and losing a battle to depression before the mansion.

And Mystery’s secret must have been hard to keep, and the guilt of mauling one of the humans he was protected weighed on his mind. She wasn’t going to have any of her team go through that trauma again.

And all of them agreed without hesitation.

As was typical, Arthur was usually the one getting in harm’s way. It wasn’t because of his luck, but rather that when it came to combat, he didn’t have much to offer. He was their planner, pointing out flaws, and taking care of locks, or distractions. Thank god for his fast legs. It still bothered him, but his friends always made an effort to make it up to him. For some reason, probably a stupid one in his mind, he wasn’t sure why he let them continue to spoil to him.

Well, as long as they were rebuilding. He would always do anything for them.

The group of four made their way back to the mansion, a usual stop before the blonde, bluenette, and kitsune all made their way back to their own homes. It gave them a chance to wind down from the excitement, find their focus on something else, or even store something that might have been brought back from a job. If there was any safe place in Tempo for such items, it would be at Lewis’ greatest creation.

Sometimes the gang would stay later into the night. For Arthur, that wasn’t much of an issue, seeing as he already had a problem with staying up later than he should. It wasn’t unheard of for the ghost to randomly turn up in his room, pulling him over to bed to make sure he was getting enough sleep.

There was no longer a hunt for a missing person.

Nothing vengeful hunting him down anymore.

He could rest knowing he had finally accomplished his primary goal. He found Lewis.

Speaking of him, he found himself in the kitchen, as was his usual haunt. There were… downsides to his condition, but ones that never seemed to hinder him from doing what he loved most. Senses were lost, but that’s what his living companions were for. Sometimes they would wander on him in the middle of his craft, cleverly sneaking a taste away from him.

Or at least, they assumed they were being clever. Most of the time, he didn’t have a problem with them indulging in such acts. After all, who better to make sure everything tasted properly than the ones who would be eating the final product.

Another aspect of life stolen from him.

No, he couldn’t let his mind be plagued with such thoughts.

Vivi strolled in, a smile trailing over the ghost’s face as he watched her from the corners of his vision. He knew why she was here. It mattered not. He still leaned over, pecking her on the cheek as she came to his side. It surprised him to see her just standing there, watching rather than getting something for herself, then leaving. What was up with this change? Maybe she had just gotten bored? Read through all her books? Why not do something with Mystery then?

“You want some help Lew?”

Help? How curious.

“I wouldn’t mind a little extra help mi amor, but what brought this on?”

“Well, you’re always in here alone. Figured I could lend you a hand with my own skills.”

His smile grew wider, though eyes opened more at the surprise of those words leaving her mouth, “You? Cooking?”

“Well, someone had to make sure Arthur was eating while you were gone, and he couldn’t just have that nasty seafood pizza and energy drinks all the time. It became kind of a necessity.”

Lewis only learned about the consequences to the blonde’s depression mostly after the fact. The habits were still present, especially at the beginning when the two of them were on very rough terms. It was part of what caused the ghost to reevaluate the hatred he felt for his best friend. Why would his killer be working so hard to drive himself towards death if he wasn’t sorry for the actions he had been forced to commit? It tore the blonde apart.

He needed his friends to help pull him out of his own head, more so the one he had spent who knew how long just trying to find him.

Vivi was there for him before, and now both of them could watch over him.

The pair took a little longer than usual when it came to making dinner. It probably wasn’t helped by the fact there were two cooks trying to not only coordinate with one another, but had their own style of cooking. Vivi’s items tended to be something more suited to her culture, whereas Lewis could be all around. Then again, he was fond of any food item that had some heat to it was a good go-to.

When the blonde eventually pulled himself away from his work desk, he strolled into the kitchen. One of his eyebrows rose at the somewhat larger mess than normally was there. Food was still being plated, but this time by Vivi, while Lewis was the one cleaning. He gave a small chuckle, “I don’t think I want to know.”

“Oh hush you. Sit down. You get to enjoy a combination of our culinary skills.”

“Vivi, come help me clean up your mess, then you can eat.”

The blonde and bluenette couldn’t help but laugh, the former finding his way to the table while the latter joined her supernatural boyfriend in the final task of their night.

[saxonspud]

Outcast - Chapter 17

Just want to say thank you to everyone who sent me asks and private messages of support yesterday. Without your help, this story would have probably not been continued, so I dedicate this chapter to you. I hope you enjoy.

The trip from horseshoe overlook was all but made in silence. By the time Lenny arrived back, you had been lead to the wagon by Tilly, and all that remained to pack up, were the tents.

Dutch drove the wagon, and as promised, you sat beside him. Neither of you spoke. He knew what a serious undertaking this was, and he also knew how much this was going to hurt you. But it was what you wanted.

Lenny rode ahead, guiding the convoy of wagons. He dropped back once to ride next to Dutch.

“What's going on Dutch? I left Charles at the new camp, and he’s doing some weird stuff.” Lenny questioned.

Dutch sighed, “Don’t worry about it son, it’s complicated, but Charles… He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch glanced at you, but his face was expressionless. You had a feeling he didn’t know exactly what he was going to be expected to do. You were pretty sure that Charles would tell him, when the time came. He’d already told you that Charles knew what your lore and customs were.

He looked back at Lenny, “did Arthur go for Micah?”

Lenny nodded, glanced at you and carried on leading the convoy.

After about an hour, Lenny turned up a secluded path, through some trees. Not unlike the path which lead to Horseshoe overlook.

The sun was beginning to sit lower in the sky, although it wasn’t yet beginning to set.

Charles walked over to the wagons as they came to a halt.

He looked up at Dutch, “do you want to do this tonight, there should be time before the sun sets?” he asked.

Dutch glanced at you, then at Charles.

“Yes, I want to get this over with as soon as I can,” he glanced at you, “for both of us.”

Charles nodded. “Then you better walk with me, so I can explain how it will go.”

Dutch nodded, and climbed off the wagon.

He looked up at you, “stay there Nizhoni, until its time?”

You nodded. You gripped onto the seat of the wagon, with your good hand. Your heart beating faster than normal. You knew all to well what was going to happen. You had been through it before with your people in the mountains. Last time, you were dragged kicking and screaming. Control taken away from you. This time you were giving control to someone else to do exactly the same, which was a lot more frightening.

Dutch called across to Susan, “Can you get my tent setup first, then the medical supplies sorted?”

Susan glanced at you then back at Dutch and nodded, before chivvying everyone up to get working.

Dutch then continued his walk with Charles. You hoped that Dutch wouldn’t change his mind when he realised what he would have to do.

Everyone in the gang knew what you had asked Dutch to do, and why. They knew as much as Dutch about the actual ceremony, which wasn't much. That was of course, with the exception of Charles.

As you sat on the wagon, you heard footsteps and looked down to see Abigail.

She went to touch you with her hand, a comforting gesture, but you quickly moved away.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I forgot,” she hesitated, “I’m sorry Nizhoni, I cant stay. I don't want Jack to see this, I hope you understand,” she concluded, her voice cracking.

You couldn’t see her clearly, but you guessed by the tone of her voice that she was upset.

“Nizhoni understand. Boy too young to watch,” you agreed.

Abigail lowered her head, trying to contain the tears that were pooling in her eyes.

“You’re such a good person, Nizhoni. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You gripped the seat a bit tighter, your chest feeling a little tight.

“go, take boy and go,” you asserted, you voice breaking as much as Abigail’s.

You watched Abigail walk towards the horses, but you were surprised when you glanced down and heard John.

“Nizhoni,” he started. “I know we didn't get off to a good start, but you saved my life. I ain't ever gonna forget that. If anyone can get through this, you can.”

You smiled, “Scar look good, John Marston.”

John chuckled, as he touched his cheek with his fingers. His face took on a more serious expression.

“I wish I could be here, to support you in some way, but I have to look after Abigail and Jack.”

You nodded, “John Marston look after family, No wolves in Rhodes.”

John nodded, “Ya know Nizhoni, we really don't deserve you,” he added, as he walked to where Abigail was waiting for him with Jack.

He glanced back to look at you. He knew you thought you had brought bad luck because of the mark on your back. To be fair a lot of things had happened. He had been mauled by wolves, Micah had set Sadie’s house on fire, then got arrested for murder. You’d been arrested and now bounty hunters were looking for you, as well as Arthur and Dutch because they thought you had murdered Molly. It could be a load of superstitious clap trap. Whether it was or not, you were prepared to go through this agony, to try and stem the bad luck. You were either very stupid, or very brave. He was beginning to think it was the latter.

Dutch and Charles returned from the walk along the shoreline. Dutch looked significantly paler, than when he had left you in the wagon.

He walked over to where Hosea was standing.

“Can you hold this for me,” he asked, removing his jacket.

Hosea frowned, “is everything ok, you look… Well you don’t look very well.”

Dutch rolled his eyes, and started to roll up his sleeves.

“I never thought I’d be doing this to someone I really cared about!”

Hosea hummed, “its not too late to...” he started.

“Yes it is,” Dutch interrupted, “she needs this, she’s terrified but she’s doing it anyway. She doesn't think that there's any other way. Its fucking religious crap, but its her fucking religious crap. Once this is done… At least she wont think she’s possessed by some serpent demon!”

Hosea frowned, “what?”

Dutch rolled his eyes. “Its what they believe. A great serpent...Snake, from the underworld sees the mark, and sends a demon so that anyone she touches gets bad luck. If she’d survived in the mountains, and her tribe had taken her back, they would have done this to her. At least with us, she has a better chance of surviving.”

Hosea nodded, “do you still have the medicine the doctor gave you?”

Dutch nodded, and pulled the phial from his pocket, and handed it to Hosea.

Hosea examined the bottle, “liquid morphine. As soon as this is over, and she’s in your tent, give her a dose.”

Dutch nodded, and put the phial back in his waistcoat pocket.

“Once I’ve done this, I’m the only one who’s allowed to touch her, until she’s in my tent. I want you and Susan ready, as soon as I put her on my cot.”

Hosea nodded, “understood.”

Dutch sighed and walked over to where Charles was standing.

“Lets get this done, Charles,” he stated.

Charles walked over to the wagon, where you were sitting.

“Nizhoni? Are you ready?”

You nodded. You climbed from the back of the wagon. Charles had already gone to the back of the wagon, where some of your stuff had been stowed.

He picked up your bow, quiver full of arrows and your knife. He gave them to you.

“Follow me, the path is clear, I wont touch you,” he advised.

You followed Charles to a small clearing in front of the scout camp fire.

Dutch was already there, holding something in the flames.

In the clearing, stakes had already been hammered into the ground.

You placed your bow to the left and your arrows to the right. Your knife you placed at one end, the end you were facing. You started to remove your clothes, and these were place behind you.

Other members of the gang, were watching. Most at a distance.

Sean stood with Karen, when he saw your clothes being removed, his jaw dropped.

“Jesus, that Dutch is one lucky bastard,” he scoffed.

Karen thumped him on the arm, “shut your gob, this ain't no laughing matter!” she hissed.

Susan who was standing next to Mary-Beth, looked at how pale she was.

“You don’t have to watch, if you’d rather not,” she whispered.

Mary-Beth nodded, but looked on regardless.

Hosea, had already averted his eyes. He stayed where he was, more to support Dutch than anything.

Javier, stood next to Tilly, his arm gently wrapped around her.

“Don’t look Chica, if you don't want to,” he soothed, But Tilly also stayed put.

You Knelt down and raised your arms skyward.

You began to speak in your own language.

Dutch looked at you, even though he didn't know what you were saying, he felt that the words had real meaning to you, and the sound of your voice, brought a lump to his throat.

You began;

O Great Spirit

whose voice I hear in the winds,

and whose breath gives life

to all the world hear me!

I am small and weak

I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset

Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy...myself.

Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.

Once you had finished speaking, you lowered your arms. You looked at Charles and nodded, before laying flat on your stomach.

At this point, Dutch walked towards you.

He slipped the loop of a rope around your wrist, securing the other end tightly to one of the stakes.

You winced as the rope cut into your flesh.

He continued and did this to your other wrist and your ankles.

The rope between you and the stakes were pulled taught, making it impossible for you to move.

You turned your head towards you bow.

Dutch walked to your head, and crouched down.

“Open your mouth Nizhoni,” he whispered.

You complied, and he gently place a piece of wood between your teeth.

Standing up he walked back to the fire. You could hear him moving something in the flames. You knew what it was, you bit down on the wood, trying to prepare yourself for the pain to come.

As Dutch had walked back to the fire, Arthur and Micah had arrived at the new camp. Walking from the hitching posts, Micah had stared at the sight before him.

“What the fuck is Dutch doing to that redskin!” he exclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up Micah, or I’ll hang you myself,” Arthur retorted, punching Micah in the shoulder.

Before he had a chance to reply, he watched Dutch walk over to you, with something metal in his hand. It was glowing white hot!

Dutch stared at you, even like this you were beautiful, he watched as you breathed, you were trembling. Your ribs poking through your skin with each inhale. The doctor was right, you were pitifully thin.

Dutch glanced at Charles, as he swallowed down the bile that was rising in his throat.

Charles nodded his head.

Dutch rammed the white hot metal circular disk, attached to the end of the pole, down onto your back, covering the mark that was already there.

The sound that came from you would have been enough to scare the hounds of hell back to hades.

It was guttural and raw.

Every muscle in your body stiffened, as unimaginable pain ripped through your body.

Dutch held the burning metal disk on your back, for what seemed like an eternity, until Charles gave him the nod to remove it.

The smell of burning flesh was rancid, and Dutch turned his head away, not only because of the smell, but because he couldn’t stand to look at what he had done.

The gentle breeze that blew across the camp, wafted the smell to the onlookers.

Bizarrely at same time as Dutch thrust the burning metal onto your back, a low grumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and a streak of lightening cracked on the mountains in the distance.

Mary-Beth and Susan, had looked away, the minute Dutch picked up the brand.

Tilly, had screamed, and buried her head into Javier’s chest, sobbing. Karen had wrapped her arms around Sean, burying her head in his chest. She didn't cry, she was completely silent.

Sean looked towards the mountains, “hope that struck the fuckers that did this to her,” he hissed, quietly.

In truth, it had all been over in less than ten seconds, but to you and the onlookers it seemed much longer.

Dutch flung the brand at the fire, as Charles handed him a wooden cup, intricately decorated with the morning star. It was filled with water. Dutch didn't have time to think about the symbolism, which Charles had told him earlier was a sign of courage, and purity of spirit.  He just poured the water, over the burn mark on your back. Still hot, it hissed, and steam rose.

Dutch looked momentarily at the place where your mark had been, the serpent mark had been erased, replaced with a blank circle, burnt into your back.

He quickly ran to where your knife lay. Picking it up, he sliced through the ropes.

Your whole body, had begun to shake.

“Quickly,” Charles hissed, “she’s going into shock!”

Dutch quickly picked you up, being careful not to touch the newly made mark on your back, and ran to his tent.

Hosea was already there holding the flap open.

Dutch put you on the cot, laying on your stomach. Your teeth were still clenched tight on the wood.

He gently stroked your face. As he did your jaw relaxed, the wood dropped out of your mouth, and you started to sob.

“I know, Nizhoni, I’m so sorry.” he soothed.

Dutch quickly pulled the phial out of his pocket.

“Nizhoni, sweetheart, I need you to open your mouth,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes, gasping for breath between sobs, you opened your mouth.

Dutch dropped some of the liquid on your tongue, which you swallowed.

“Gone?” you rasped.

Dutch stroked your face, “Yes Nizhoni, its gone.”

Your eyelids began to flutter, as the painkilling drug took effect.

Dutch gently kissed your forehead, as Hosea and Susan walked into the tent, armed with medical supplies to tend the wound on your back.

[thebigpapilio]

Regina et Pistores: My Prompt For “Favorite Ship”

Hello again, everyone! It’s screw-me-sideways-in-the-morning over here, but I’m here to deliver my Day 3 Prompt! 

This actually was the last prompt I finished fully, so I hope it doesn’t seem...half-baked. Oh, right, you haven’t read the story yet. How about I just let you read the story so you can get the pun already?

Enjoy!

When it came to Miraculous-related business, Sabine and Tom knew many things, but they were blind to a lot of other things too.

First, they knew that their daughter and her girlfriend were Ladybug and Rena V, as the latter called herself. They also knew that Marinette and Alya knew each others’ identities.

They didn’t know what the V stood for.

The current question they’d been tackling was an… interesting one. The two wanted Chloé Bourgeois to join in their relationship, despite all the pain the queen bee (Tom had laughed at the pun even harder when they realized who the girl behind the striped domino mask was - none but Hawkmoth were hidden from their superhero radar either) had caused her. Sure, she and Marinette were childhood friends, but why did it come back now?

The Dupain-Cheng adults weren't going to blurt or anything. Now wasn’t the time, and it ruined the fun of… well, life isn’t like Scooby Doo, so there were no meddling kids (though there WOULD be meddling adults).

Well, they’d tried everything they could think of - offering their services to Grand Paris for work, catering at birthday parties, and so forth. Nothing worked (most likely due to Andre’s child stepping in). Later, Tom and Sabine decided it was time to talk about everything.

Sabine was sceptical. They shouldn’t tell the kids they knew about their night activities. Tom rebutted that they would learn eventually, and the kids needed help outside the suit as well. Nightmares weren’t often heard from the two girls, but they still happened. Overall, it was best that the baker duo stepped in before things went out of hand.

That was the plan, at least.

WAS.

They’d been hiding from a furious circus strongman who was after Tom (Macho Monster, he called himself). The virile villain wanted to be the strongest, and that meant eliminating all the competition.

Queen Bee had swooped in to get them out of the way of a earth-fracturing fist when he’d gotten his eyes on the two. He was strong, but he wasn’t fast.

Tom and Sabine were not dextrous in the same way their daughter was, but the Marinette was clever as she was held no major relation to the luck-based powers.

Queen Bee held her maul with the determination and confidence only the recently mid-redemption Chloé could have in a good mood. And that’s when she made Sabine and Tom understand the affection Alya and Marinette had for her. She held off Macho Monster alone and kept Hawkmoth’s moth-mutated minion from getting close to Tom and Sabine until everyone else showed up to hold Macho Monster down so that they could take his arm band, release the akuma, and save the day.

Queen Bee seemed hesitant to leave the bakers behind, though. They couldn’t help but go up and ask if anything was wrong.

“...I used to be in love with a boy; now I’m in love with girls and boys. I used to be in love with Ladybug; now she’s dating Rena V. I tried going back to the boy, but he’d starting dating another boy, and I’d fallen out of love with him! It feels like everytime I fall in love with someone, something changes and they show they don’t love me! It’s like I’m…”

In understandable hesitance, Sabine asked what the feeling was like.

“…it’s like I’m not allowed to love.”

She cried, and they consoled her. It wasn’t until they’d finally broken that all 3 realized her transformation had broken. Chloé seemed to pale, but they consoled her before they could worry too much. They told her that they’d known, that they knew the identities of everyone in Team Miraculous. They helped her “kwami” Pollen heal up (thankfully, strawberries were in season then), but before she could go, Tom asked her one last question:

“Who do you love now? You will find the love you want, need, and deserve; we’ll help if you want.”

A beat passed.

“I fell in love with your daughter and Alya.”

Tom and Sabine had to hide the squees.

“I don’t know why they’d love me back. They're already dating, and after all the time I had spent being terrible to them, I don’t think they’d ever love me back…” Sabine just advised her to try asking Ladybug and Rena V for advice. Apparently, the two other superheroines knew the younger Dupain-Cheng and Cesaire rather well, and they would have good wooing advice for the bee. Chloé thanked them profoundly, but when she eventually had to leave, she promised them she’d treat their daughter like a queen whether things went out well or not.

Time went by. Not much time, of course - Chloé was a go-getter. When everyone learned that Chlolyanette was a thing, Marinette started helping out more in the bakery when she could. Alya and even Chloé would help too.

Tom and Sabine didn’t have to wonder why.

1. By the way, the V stands for Vulpis.

2. Did you get my pun from earlier yet?

[ncfan-1]

The Mandalorians and the Ironborn

Okay, so I mentioned in an earlier post that the Mandalorians are basically the Ironborn of Star Wars, and that would make Satine Quellon Greyjoy. But in true ncfan fashion, I thought: why not expound?

The Ironborn of A Song of Ice and Fire are reavers, a somewhat archaic English word that basically amounts to them being raiders. Their typical M.O. is “rape, pillage, burn”, partially because the islands they live on are poor in resources, but honestly more because their culture glorifies this kind of violence. The Ironborn culture glorifies violence and domination through strength in general, despising weakness. There are terms in the Ironborn culture, “paying the iron price”, acquiring valuables through force, and “paying the gold price,” acquiring valuables through paying for them with money. The former is admired and seen as a sign of proper Ironborn strength (and particularly, proper Ironborn masculinity; this culture is also rife with toxic masculinity); the latter is seen as a sign of weakness, and thus despised. The Ironborn once ruled over lands in mainland Westeros, but they have been pushed back to their home islands, their empire dwindled down to almost nothing. And the rest of Westeros? Absolutely despises the Ironborn for their reaving ways, because every once in a while they like to hit the west coast of Westeros and do the “rape, pillage, burn” thing, carrying off valuables and abducting women to becomes “salt wives” (Or, in plain English, sex slaves).

The Mandalorians of Star Wars are traditionally known as being professional warriors, waging war upon others and upon themselves (to ruinous effect, considering that Mandalore is all toxic desert completely unlivable outside of its domed cities, and literally half of Concord Dawn’s been blown up), conducting raiding in their section of the Outer Rim and elsewhere. They revere strength, giving warriors high honor, and when Death Watch exaggerates this to mean that “Only the strongest may rule”, valuing strength above literally everything else, saying that non-warriors are not fit to sit the throne because strength in war is the only kind of strength that matters, nobody seems particularly surprised that Mandalorian warriors would think this way—it is an exaggeration of the warrior ethos, but not something made up whole cloth. The Mandalorians once ruled over a vast empire, but they were pushed back, and as of the present day they have only their home sector. While it’s not explicitly spelled out in the new canon, you can definitely infer that the Mandalorians are feared and hated by the rest of the galaxy. For one thing, there’s the “raiders and would-be conquerors” part of their background, and for another, the Mandalorians are traditionally enemies of the Jedi, who are (in ideal times) the Republic’s peacekeepers.

In that case, Satine Kryze and Quellon Greyjoy align pretty well as character parallels.

Quellon Greyjoy, Lord of House Greyjoy and the Iron Islands, was a would-be reformer of his people. He had no intention of turning away from violence altogether (because Westeros as a whole exalts violence, holds the peerlessly strong warrior as a masculine ideal), but he did seem to understand that the Ironborn’s reaving ways were not going to be sustainable in the future. He tried to integrate the Iron Islands with mainland Westeros and rehabilitate his people’s reputation; some of the measures he took to achieve this end was putting a stop to reaving, freeing Ironborn thralls, discouraging the taking of salt wives, encouraging his people to intermarry with the people of mainland Westeros, and bringing maesters to the Iron Islands. Even during Quellon’s lifetime, his reforms were not universally accepted (to say the least), and he just flat out didn’t have enough years in him to make them stick. After Quellon’s death, his son and successor Balon promptly set about undoing the vast majority of his reforms.

Satine Kryze was a would-be reformer of her people. After witnessing firsthand the destruction her people could wreak upon each other via civil wars, and having her life be basically ruined by the old ways, she rejected violence wholesale and as Duchess and leader of the New Mandalorian movement sought to remake Mandalore into a pacifistic culture. After cementing her grip on the throne, Satine kicked all the warriors off of Mandalore, exiling them to Mandalore’s moon Concordia.* Satine then set about trying to instill her people (those who hadn’t been exiled to Concordia; I honestly suspect Satine may have written them off as a lost cause) with pacifistic ideals, teaching them to abhor senseless violence and instead hold negotiation and non-violent communication as ideals to aspired to. No more would the Mandalorian people settle their differences by going to war with one another; they would instead employ peaceful diplomacy. Satine was trying both to rehabilitate Mandalore’s reputation, and create a new Mandalore for her people, and for a time, it looked like she was succeeding.

The Clone Wars created a new opportunity for Satine, allowing her to become the voice of thousands of planets and star systems that wanted no part in the war, and allowed her a place as a prominent diplomat and her world as a potential political powerhouse. But as the Clone Wars dragged on, the side effects of the war seriously—and ultimately, fatally—destabilized Satine’s rule. The war severely disrupted trade, which was a very bad thing for Mandalore. As mentioned above, centuries of warfare had left Mandalore a toxic desert, with little to no arable land. The Republic Senate had little sympathy for a world that refused to take a side, and thus Satine had a very difficult time getting the resources Mandalore needed to carry on. A combination of food shortages and Satine’s government becoming rife with corruption gave Death Watch a strong foothold, and through the machinations of Maul and Pre Vizsla, Satine was eventually deposed. Her reforms had not had enough time to become truly entrenched; if Satine had had another twenty years, if there had been two full generations raised with the New Mandalorian ethos, maybe the reforms would have stuck, but her luck had run out. Vizsla began turning the Mandalorians back to his (somewhat) exaggerated vision of the old ways even before her death, and Satine was ultimately murdered by Maul. All of her reforms were completely undone.

When we look for a parallel for Balon Greyjoy, Pre Vizsla is the first guy who comes to mind.

Balon Greyjoy was Quellon’s immediate successor. He was a follower of the Ironborn Old Way, and believed that his father’s reforms would only make the Ironborn weak; thus, he undid them. Balon revered wanton violence, and believed that anyone who didn’t was a weakling. He was ultimately murdered by his brother, Euron.

Pre Vizsla was Satine’s immediate successor. He believed in his particular vision of the old ways of the Mandalorians, and believed that Satine’s reforms were an aberration that must be stamped out. He gloried in violence for its own sake, and spoke derisively of Satine as believing that “being a pacifist is a good thing.” Ultimately, his own beliefs were used against him by the Euron parallel, Maul, and Vizsla died at Maul’s hands.

Despite not being a Mandalorian, Maul is actually a pretty good match for Euron Greyjoy.

Euron basically comes straight out of nowhere into the story as a villain; he’s referenced a few times, but seeing him for the first time among the Ironborn, he just comes off as being a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit with the rest. He usurps the Salt Throne from a potential successor with a stronger claim (Asha Greyjoy) by using the Ironborn’s values against them, but it’s clear that ruling over the Ironborn is not an end goal for Euron. It’s just one stop in the road, a means to an end, his real goal being to topple over the gods of the world and replace them with himself (I’m not joking). He has abilities that just don’t fit with the Ironborn, abilities that are in fact almost completely alien to the Ironborn people. While the Ironborn are reavers, Euron is on top of that a sorcerer, and, by strong implication, a powerful skinchanger as well. He’s using the Ironborn for his own ends, but he looks down upon them and does not really consider himself one of them. He’ll just bleed them dry over the course of his own crusade.

To the Mandalorians, Maul basically comes out of nowhere, too; Death Watch randomly comes across him in space and just decides to take him home with them. Being a Force wielder, he has abilities that are completely alien to the Mandalorian people, and uses them to his advantage. He usurps leadership of the Mandalorian people from Pre Vizsla by using Vizsla’s values against him and killing him. However, it seems pretty clear to me that ruling over Mandalore was never the endgame for Maul. Mandalore was just a means to an end for Maul; he took over the planet and the people because doing so provided a vehicle for his real goals. What those real goals are, beyond simply getting revenge upon everyone who ever wronged him, is not entirely certain, but what is certain is that Maul is more than happy to bleed the Mandalorian people dry fighting his battles for him.

--

Beyond that, trying to find any clear parallels is difficult. The closest for me is lining up Sabine Wren with Asha Greyjoy, but they’re not as strong a parallel as the three I listed above. Asha seems set to take up her grandfather Quellon’s reforms, with the understanding that this is the work of a lifetime and that it won’t be done in a few years, nor even a couple of decades. With the trajectory Sabine is one, she definitely does not seem set to take up Satine’s reforms, and instead seems set to liberate her people from the Empire and purge their warrior culture of its more toxic aspects, work which will likely take a lifetime and could easily wind up undone if she doesn’t find a successor who shares her values, but is definitely not gonna line up with Satine’s reforms.

In A Song of Ice and Fire, Quellon’s reforms ultimately have a pretty good chance of being resurrected by his granddaughter. Satine’s? Almost certainly not.

The biggest tragedy of Satine Kryze’s life is not how she died. It’s how she’s likely going to be remembered. She won’t be remembered as a visionary, as a pioneering reformer. More likely, she’ll be remembered only as a historical oddity, the leader of a failed regime, the conductor of a miserably failed experiment. And that’s the best-case scenario. Unless someone clears up how she was deposed and how Pre Vizsla died, she’ll be remembered as a traitor to her own ideals as well.

--

* One could argue that by doing this, Satine created a fertile breeding ground for Death Watch recruits and sympathizers—people who were exiled whether they actively opposed Satine or not would probably not have too many good feelings towards her after being indiscriminately booted off of their homeworld. But the thing is, I suspect that when Satine first took the throne, before she had to go into hiding and call upon the Jedi for protection, she did make an effort to integrate the warrior clans into her regime. What I unfortunately also suspect is that this effort failed miserably and is the reason why she had to go into hiding and call upon the Jedi for protection in the first place. Once she got her throne back, it’s likely Satine had officially run out of patience, and that “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me” was in full effect. She really had no course of action she could take that wasn’t going to cause trouble somewhere down the line. Either she allows the clans who rebelled against her and tried to kill her to remain close—too close—by her, or she can exile all the warrior clans, both those who tried to kill her, and those who didn’t, from Mandalore, and foment bitterness in people that might not necessarily have opposed her rule to start with.