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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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okay idk how to explain this well but i was thinking about how some members still live together, i was thinking abt mingyu & wonwoo in particular since they do and wonwoo said when he asks mg to make ramen for him at home he makes it while grumbling, so i was wondering if u could write something a little silly like reader & mg are secretly dating cuz it's still very early but also the secrecy is a little fun but mg has had to hide u in various awkward stuffy places of their apartment cuz ww tends to come home early with no warning but this time ww wants ramen so now mg has a reason to grumble over it making it, ww def almost finds u & then he insists on eating it in the living space so u gotta stay hidden uncomfortably even longer but in the end mg promises to make it up to u

ramen | kim mingyu

summary | you had to hide from Wonwoo, who demanded ramen from Mingyu for the hundredth time

genre | fluff

word count | 1k

author's note | this is such a cute request! hope you enjoy this one <3

“Did I just hear the door open?” you whisper-yelled at your boyfriend, smacking him with a kitchen towel. He let out a grunt and massaged his arm where you hit him.

“What? That can’t be possible,” he frantically looked around himself, knocking down a wooden spoon and a saucepan in the process. You cringed at the loud noise caused by your clumsy Mingyu, wishing you could evaporate from the room.

For a second, you froze like statues looking at each other with big eyes and panicked expressions. The door opening could only mean one thing - Wonwoo coming home.

You let out a quiet shriek and hit him once again, only harder. He swore his roommate was supposed to come home a lot later that night.

And now you’d have to hide. Again.

“You’ve got to hide!” Mingyu yelped in a hushed tone, pushing you out of the kitchen while clutching a skimmer in one hand and a pack of ramen in the other.

“You don’t say, genius,” you rolled your eyes, trying to locate the nearest hiding spot you could occupy for the next few minutes.

Hearing footsteps quickly nearing the kitchen, Mingyu pushed you harder in the direction of the living room. You looked around to scold him for treating you so harshly, but instead, you almost laughed out loud at his expression.

His pupils were dilated and he looked as if he was about to cry, while his mouth was in a slight pout. He looked like a small kid that just broke something expensive and now has to hide it from his parents.

Not knowing what else to do, you quickly rolled under their armchair, making sure that nothing was sticking out. Mingyu tore the blanket off the couch and covered the chair so you couldn't be seen.

“That doesn’t look suspicious at all,” you hissed from under the chair, annoyed that you didn’t just run to his room when you had the chance.

“Sorry, baby. I’m sure he’ll be gone in a second,” he said.

Re-entering the kitchen, Mingyu was greeted by the sight of no other than Wonwoo.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?” he asked while taking a seat at their kitchen table.

Mingyu gulped nervously, trying to hide it with a giggle that sounded more than forced. He was never good at keeping secrets from others and especially not from his dormmmate. Wonwoo was also very hard to deceive, so he usually knew when Mingyu was up to something.

“No, I was just talking to myself. I have to keep myself entertained, you know,” he laughed and put away the stuff that he was still clutching in his hands.

“Oh, you’re making ramen?” Wonwoo gasped.

“Yeah, I was about to,” Mingy said slowly, knowing exactly where this was going. He knew that Wonwoo loved his ramen.

“Great, then you can make some for me too,” he said, making Mingyu grunt in annoyance.

“Can’t you make your own food for once?”

“But you were about to cook it anyway, so why not add some more for me?” he asked, not bothered by the younger's annoyance. Mingyu always grumbled and huffed under his breath every time Wonwoo asked him to cook anything for him.

“Okay. I’ll get it to your room when it’s ready,” he said and opened the cabinet, looking for another package of ramen.

“I think I’ll eat in the living room tonight.”

“What?!” Mingyu yelled out in surprise, simultaneously dropping a packet of flour on his head. The white powder splattered all over the countertop, most of it landing on Mingyu's head and his shirt.

Used to his clumsiness, Wonwoo only snickered under his breath and shook his head. Mingyu observed him, as he slowly made his way into the living room, praying that you had managed to escape from under the armchair.

As soon as his dormmate left the kitchen, he quickly made his way to his room located at the end of the corridor. He quietly opened the door not to bring Wonwoo’s attention and closed it behind him without making any noise.

“Baby? Are you hear?” he whispered into the darkness.

“Yes, I’m here you dumbass,” you whispered back, putting your arms in front of you so as not to bump into him. He swiftly turned on the light, making you squeal in surprise.

“What happened to you?” you laughed, taking in his head covered in the white powder. “I know you wanted to distract Wonwoo, but I think this is a bit too much,” you said and dusted off some of the flour from his cheeks and nose.

“You look cute though,” you smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

You could feel him smile as well, his nose nuzzling yours. You both giggled under your breath, especially when Mingyu wiped his forehead against yours, leaving it full of flour.

“Now you’re cute too,” he giggled and shook his head, dusting more flour off and covering your head with it as well.

You looked up at him and took his powdered face into your hands, placing another kiss on his lips. As he placed his hand on your hip and the other on your neck to deepen the kiss, you came up with a great idea.

"What would you say about a shower, honey? We'd take it later anyways, so..." you dragged out the last vowels, making Mingyu smirk into your neck, where he was currently placing teasing kisses.

"Who am I to deny you," he said, making you clap your hands with excitement.

The only thing you haven't thought of was that flour and water are not the best combination. It's safe to say that your shower took a very long time.

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kkpwnall · 1 year ago

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i felt like making a cover for this and posting it again before it's officially autumn. we go by the celestial calendar in this house

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion (rated: t | <1k words)

steve answers an unusual ad in the classifieds that’s pretty sparse on the details…

[read on ao3, or full ficlet below the cut]

divider by @saradika

It’s not a bad gig, really. Even if it stipulates in his contract that he has to be shirtless while he’s on the property. But Steve also signed the contract in his blood so he’s not sure how legal it is.

Plus the pay is insane. He quit his other jobs, and he’s basically got free reign of the pool all day. So he takes his time with the skimmer fishing out all the leaves and dead bugs, swims laps for a while. Spends the rest of the day in a lounger before adjusting the chemicals so it’s perfect by morning.

What do vampires need with a pool anyway?

The four guys stay in the house whenever Steve comes by, but they're friendly enough and wave at him through the dark tinted windows.

One guy ogles him the whole time he works. Not that he really minds. So what if Steve gets to work early, just to put on sunscreen? Who’s gonna know if he puts some extra flex in his muscles while he works? And who cares if they’ve got the cleanest pool in all of Indiana? It’s not hurting anyone.

But Steve's drawn to him the same way he was drawn to the ad in the first place, with his long dark curly hair and unending collection of black band shirts. His crooked smile and dimples and shining brown eyes.

It's just... they've never once spoken. And Steve is dying to get to know this guy who makes the goofiest faces at him. Who was pissed when Steve laughed the first time he did, hands up like devil horns, tongue lolling and eyes crossed. Until Steve made his own face back.

This guy, who plays elaborate charades with Steve through the glass, trying and failing to do the classic walking-down-stairs bit. Who went boneless when one of the guys in his band (? coven? pod? Ask Dustin what a group of vampires is called.) dragged him away while Steve mimed crying, waving an imaginary hanky at him. This guy, who clutched his heart and fell over when Steve lowered his shades and winked at him one day.

And it's because of those shades that Steve has to drive all the way back to the mansion late one night to retrieve them from his usual chair.

When he gets there, someone’s floating in the pool. Someone, with long curly hair spilling all around their head. Someone, wearing all their clothes, and Steve can't tell from the weak pool light if they're face up or face down, but they sure as hell aren't moving.

His lifeguard training takes over between one step and the next, as he bolts for the pool, launching into the water, and throwing himself forward with broad strokes.

Except when Steve gets to him, the guy isn't drowning, he’s sputtering and swearing and pushing away from him in the water. “What are you doing here?!”

“You're not drowning...” Steve says blankly, trying to catch his breath as he treads water.

“No! And thank you for the rescue, Lancelot, but you need to get out of here.” His long hair streams over his face as he spins while Steve paddles around him to make sure he’s really alright.

“Lancelot?” he asks, just to keep the guy talking, to hear more from his honeyed voice. Better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

“A knight in shining armor,” the guy mumbles, trying to hide his face. “A hero rescuing fair damsels and slaying vile beasts.”

Steve chuckles, but doesn’t miss the venom in his last words. He catches him by the upper arm to stop his spinning. “No, I know who Lancelot is, it’s just–”

It’s just he’s even prettier close up. It’s just his skin is freezing cold in the sun-warmed pool water. It’s just he’s looking at Steve, caught somewhere between a grimace and a grin, and his teeth are so so sharp.

“I’m Steve,” he says, moving closer. Entirely entranced by the pool light, the moonlight, the starlight, glimmering in his eyes. Steve’s hand has a mind of its own, rising out of the water to cup the guy’s cheek with a wet palm, “And you’re…”

Gently traces his lower lip, runs his thumb over the sharp canine, careful not to touch the pointed tip.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve breathes.

The guy surges forward, reeling Steve in with a hand on the back of his neck, and kisses him fiercely. Steve kisses him back just as fervently, wraps his arms around his waist and kicks out with his legs to keep them afloat, as his tongue slides past the guy’s teeth to swirl and dance with his.

It's messy and uncoordinated and they sink and bob in the water as they move against each other. The guy's fingers tangle in the shaggy hair at the base of his neck, twisting and snagging. Steve groans and stretches a broad palm up between the guy's shoulder blades, pressing further into him, drinking all of him in.

“It’s Eddie,” he says, pulling back and panting when they finally part. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve grins at Eddie and kisses him again, pushing them through the water towards the edge at the shallow end of the pool. He can think of better uses for his legs right now.

[also on ao3]

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger thing steve #stranger things eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #pool boy at the vampire mansion #vampire eddie munson #pool boy steve harrington #corroded coffin #kk writes #i'll be on vacation when this posts but queueing it up now #scheduled

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spook-study · 2 years ago

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From Heathers to Jennifer’s Body, from The Craft to The Burning, from Carrie to Evilspeak, bullies are not something horror is want of. They litter the genre. As antagonists, as antiheroes, but most often as victims. And for good reason! It’s easy to cheer the demise of a bully. The more gruesome or wild the death, the more it is enjoyed. There’s a sense of cosmic justice, a ‘they got what they deserved’ mentality. They’re easy shorthand for inducing sympathy on behalf of the bullied, making it easier to connect and root for an underdog or outcast character. Audiences easily supplicate their own bully for whomever is shown on screen and watch as the silly fantasies of their teenage years are acted out for all to see and enjoy. Assholes are excellent horror movie fodder, particularly if the movie is going for multiple kills. There’s that…

And then there’s Piggy (2022).

There’s a special brand of cruelty associated with young women. It’s complicated and deep-seated, a slithering thing that even people involved in the exchange might not be able to catch. More than traditional bullying between boys, female bullying tends to be more insidious. Maybe that’s why female bullies tend to stick in our minds more, and why those stories remain points of fascination; Carrie is a classic for a reason, after all. There’s a certain level of cruelty between women that feels almost intimate. More intimate than getting beaten up, in any case.

Piggy, Cerdita in its native Spanish, is no exception to this rule. In fact, the movie hits all of the highlights, making it difficult at times to watch. The title of the movie and the star leave no question as to the source of the bullying. Sara, the title character’s real name, is fat. Perhaps one of, if not the most common thing someone can be bullied for. This group of girls snicker behind her back, or just at the edge of her line of sight. They feign politeness in front of her parents before uploading cruel videos with even crueler descriptions. Their eyes are mocking, without a hint of compassion, and there’s nothing quite like knowing that people hate you just because. And, because no one is being physically harmed, there’s almost nothing to be done about it. This is made worse by the fact that one of the bullies, Claudia, was once a childhood friend. Both Sara and Claudia still have their homemade friendship bracelets from those sandbox days. But even Claudia is one false step away from being bullied herself, teased by her friends for even her past connection with Sara. It’s beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sara is more than miserable, potentially even suicidal, though it’s never mentioned. If it had been a different kind of movie, maybe.

Being quietly decried is one thing, being maligned and sneered at are horrible, life-ruining things, but then things are taken a step further. Sara goes to the pool alone, after everyone else in her community has left, a thing done in private due to her discomfort with her body and how she looks in her swimsuit. The girls pass by on their way to a party, and can’t help but berate Sara in the pool, making fun of her size, the way she looks, the way she moves, even the way she tries to hide. They force her underwater with a pool skimmer, almost drowning her.

But there are worse things.

They take her towel. They take her pack, with her phone. They take her clothes. They leave her to walk the long distance home in only her bikini, completely alone. This would be a terrifying situation for any girl, but the fact that Sara is fat adds to it. Harassment and violence are much easier to perform when the victim is considered on the outside of society. Still, Sara has no other options. She begins the long walk, skin burning under the sun, arms crossed, desperately trying to cover her body. She is made fun of and accosted by a random group of men passing by in a car, not offering her help, or a ride, and steering her off the main thoroughfare. She’s sobbing, she’s miserable, she hurt, and she’s humiliated. It’s a wonder she’s walking at all and not crumpled on the ground. And then she sees it. Her old friend Claudia, now her mildly reluctant bully, has been thrown in the back of a van. Bloodied and terrified, she slams her hands against the window, begging Sara for help. Frightened and not knowing what to do, Sara freezes. Only to have the Stranger, the Assassin in the English translation, drop a towel on the ground outside for her.

And then he drives off.

While female bullying can belie a certain level of intensity and carry almost sexual connotations, they left her practically nude, after all, the bathing suit covering even less than underclothes, it is rarely seen how that closeness would extend in the opposite direction. How would the personal attacks be returned? What does the opposite of this kind of bullying look like? In Piggy, it looks like sorrow, fear, and most of all, indifference. If these girls sunk their claws in and tore at the most vulnerable and sensitive areas of Sara’s very existence, how poetic that it is her lack of passion that abets the kidnap. A towel is now worth more than trying to save a life.

This level of connection trumps even the undoubtedly lifelong dance Sara has had with her bullies. What could be more intimate than a shared crime? How closely two beings must entangle in order to have both participated in lawlessness and violence. To have committed, enabled, and kept that moment to themselves. This man, who would kidnap and kill young women, was the only person to offer Sara even a modicum of kindness. To offer her help when she so needed it. How desperate must her heart have been that a stranger, holding her bosom friend in the back of his van ostensibly to kill, offering her a bloody towel was the most kindness she had ever been shown. Here was one of the girls who had thrust Sara into the situation in which she found herself. A girl who so callously caused her pain with the thoughtless cruelty of youth. A girl who had stood there with her friends, who spat the word “Piggy” again and again, who oinked at Sara, and did nothing. A young woman who had taken Sara’s towel, leaving her bare and exposed. Normally, an audience would cheer. Would say those girls were going to get what was coming to them, good riddance, and whatever happens they deserve it. But that feeling never comes. In its stead, there is only greater sorrow for Sara’s plight.

Sara, unfortunately, has no relief no matter where she goes. Not only is she bullied in her social life, her mother is a domineering, seemingly uncaring woman who speaks over her, bosses her around, and often calls Sara names herself. Her father does nothing, her younger brother only adds his own mocking. When it finally comes out that the missing girls bullied her extensively and called her “piggy,” her mother stands up for her until the minute they are home, where she feeds Sara a plate of salad and tells her the way to solve the issue for her to lose weight. It is intense performative care, going through the public rites of motherhood and then rescinding that care in private. Though she herself and her husband are also fat, it is only Sara who is deprived of the family meal, surely making her feel even more an outsider in her own home. She sneaks sweets and snacks when she can, she stress eats, she takes comfort in food, what little comfort it can bring, and her mother takes even that from her.

In Piggy, the desire to be seen and accepted transcends beyond normal social boundaries in the extreme. When Sara runs into the Assassin again, the two hide together, as she has continued to keep the secret of what she saw and what happened. They are close, face to face, staring at one another, his left hand over her mouth, a knife in his right. His left hand drops, and there is nothing more than a breath of space between them. It’s sexual, it’s tense, and, daringly, it’s romantic. Alone in the world, Sara clings to it, the only offer of intimacy she’s ever had.

Piggy is a fantastic and captivating movie. Often, killers are seen as attractive only after the movie has come out and some group of fans lay their hands on the subject, like Jason. Others, like Ghostface, are given a sexual nature that showcases their creepiness. Piggy has neither of those. The Assassin is not a particularly handsome man. His violence is brutal, unforgiving, and torturous; yet it is he whom our heroine finds attractive. What could be more evocative as maintaining such a tenuous and frightening relationship? Heartbreakingly, it seems to be the only positive relationship Sara has, or maybe has ever had. He may be evil to others, but to her he has only ever been silently understanding. The movie shows that her pain is profound, and that is what makes the situation believable.

The ending is a doozy, and one that should remain unspoiled, but you won’t be able to deny the anguish that comes from the battle between what is right but harder for oneself, against what is wrong but what one desires. What are people willing to forgive, to look past, when offered the right amount of attention and care? Where is the line drawn when those around you stand only to hurt and harm you, while the other stands to hurt and harm them? How much pain must be laid before revenge is justified? Will you cheer if the bullies end up killed? Piggy allows us to contemplate morality in a deeply personal and intense way. It strikes to the core. Who deserves to be forgiven? What would you, as a viewer, forgive? Bullies will always be a staple in horror, that won’t ever change. As long as there are underdogs, there are bullies. Bullies are there to be killed and for audiences to cheer at their death.

Piggy asks more.

It asks, if you were in Sara’s position, what would you do? How far would you go? And it never stops asking. It demands you to think, to feel, to fear.

What made Piggy so great was that it brings to the focal point things that horror can overlook. It’s easy for horror to slide past morality or reflection or grief. Hell, it can even overlook pain, at least the emotional type. Piggy grabs you from the very first frame and never lets you go, making demands of you from the first minute. The dread surrounding the story feels personal and real; real young women and men truly do go through that kind of horrendous bullying. It’s barbarous, vicious, and deadly. Piggy confronts the audience with that and puts them through an emotional wringer of right and wrong, kind and cruel. Piggy is a movie that aches.

Well paced, well written, and well filmed, Piggy rounds out its strong story with a powerhouse performance from Laura Galán, without whom the movie may well have fallen flat on its face. The oily nature of the movies makes it slick and hot. It might not be the prettiest movie you see this year, it definitely won’t be the goriest, but there’s a tang and a grit to Piggy that will have you rolling it over in your mind for days to come. Piggy is a movie with weight, with staying power, and, most importantly, with passion. You would never guess it was based off a fifteen minute short film, as each second feels full and earned. Unlike other short film adaptations, Piggy doesn’t feel drawn, slow, or slipshod. It feels rich and deep, a staunch departure from the wafer thin story and writing that usually accompanies extended shorts. This was a story that deserved a full length feature, and the horror world is all the better for it having happened.

Impactful, stunningly acted, incredibly culturally and socially relevant, Piggy (2022) is a movie of its time and for its time. I can’t wait to see what director and screenwriter Carlota Pereda will show us next. 5/5*

#piggy #cerdita #2022 #horror #movies #review #film review #spook study #writing #5/5 #carlota pereda #my writing #movie review #horror movies #modern horror #Spanish #long posts about horror

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dansnaturepictures · 2 years ago

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17/07/2022-Lyndon and Egleton Nature Reserves, Rutland Water: Part 2 of 2-The butterflies, dragonflies, mammals, other wildlife, flowers and landscape

Following on from my previous post it was also another brilliant day of watching butterflies with a host of species seen and so many individuals too, charted well by Big Butterfly Counts I did at both Lyndon and Egleton. At Lyndon seventeen Gatekeeper, eleven Small White, two Small Skipper, thirteen Meadow Brown, one Ringlet, one Comma, one Brimstone that was sat on the mud of the lagoon with a Small White for a little bit an interfering and nice sight a star species seen today, one Peacock, one Red Admiral and a scrumptious and bright scarlet Small Copper were a pleasing set of results. It felt significant that it’s the first Big Butterfly Count I’ve done this year where I’ve counted into double figures for three target species.

It was a wealth of colour at Egleton too the meadows and pathways of Rutland Water were brimming with butterflies today; in my Big Butterfly Count two Commas, fifteen Small White, five Meadow Brown, two Specked Wood, one Six-spot Burnet moth, one Brimstone, one Ringlet, five Gatekeeper, a faded Painted Lady and an eye catching Peacock looking stunning in the sunshine seen from a hide were brilliant to see. I broke new ground at both seeing target species for the count that I’d not yet seen in one this year.

In the world of other wildlife Brown Hawker and Ruddy Darter two year ticks in Norfolk on Friday starred as we saw them so well today some brilliant views. Southern Hawker, Black-tailed Skimmer and Emperor showed well today too. I also enjoyed seeing a Grey Squirrel feeding on the feeder at Lyndon visitor centre, sheep and cattle in this rural landscape, a nice Roesel’s bush cricket which we got a good view of a highlight of the trip, Common Red Soldier beetle, Swollen-thighed Beetle and spiders across the day. A real wealth of flora and fauna which was so good to see.

We saw many flowers well throughout today with one particular patch of meadow at Egleton which just looked so beautiful with it covered in bird vetch and oxeye daisy, yarrow, mallow, scabious, lady’s-bedstraw and carrot all carpeting the area making for stunning scenes with viper’s-bugloss nearby. Meadow crane’s-bill, thistle, teasel, marsh woundwort at Lyndon where I learnt this flower last year, hedge woundwort, buddleia I believe at Egleton which I took the fifth picture in this photoset of, the dotted loosestrife at Lyndon which I saw yesterday evening again, swatches of ragwort and dock adorning the islands in lagoon four alongside oxeye daisy too, possibly sorrel, another white one, pineappleweed, St. John’s-wort, white clover and broad-leaved clover were special to see too. There were nice red berries again to see today which the third picture in this photoset at Egleton shows. I took the ninth picture in this photoset of pretty pink yarrow and carrot and the seventh and eighth of the particularly nice meadow area on the way to lagoon four.

In the strong sunshine there were nice views of meadow, reedbed, fields, water and more today which was so lovely to take in and be out in today. I took the first two pictures in this photoset of views at Lyndon and fourth, sixth and tenth pictures in this photoset of views at Egleton. Like all the days away we got talking to some brilliant like-minded people with many of them doing as we were visiting here whilst here for the Bird Fair. It was so good to see the famous lagoon four where the sea dragon was discovered last year. And it was nice to take in the pretty villages once more on the way home.

What an amazing weekend away of birdwatching, butterflies and dragonflies key moments in my year for all, as well as moths and mammals with all of my year lists growing this weekend, as well as flowers, views, walking, social interaction and helping raise money for a good cause by visiting the Bird Fair and relaxation. An unforgettable time. My full wildlife sightings summary for the day is in my previous post. It was beautiful to watch the sun go down and see Buzzard on the way home seeing Lesser Black-backed Gulls and the Greylag Goose that frequent it on my school field as we got back home and a moth in my room once in tonight.

Part 1 of today’s blogs is here: https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/690142199183212544/17072022-lyndon-and-egleton-nature-reserves

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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I’m Always Curious Part Thirty Seven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕 This one is uh... Long-ish

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; angst; fluff Summary: “Couldn’t unearth that eight hundredth notebook?” Una asked dryly.

I’d given up on trying to find my old translations by the time we reached Catalpa.

Paledore commed that he was making headway with some of the translations, anyway, though he didn't have anything he was fully confident in sharing with the team. As soon as we dropped out of warp, a shuttle with a few of our engineering officers was on its way over to the Hutton to lend a hand. With transporter and warp capabilities down, as well as limited transmission capacity, their team was spread thin.

“Have we got a fix on the crew’s location?” I asked Number One as we strode toward the transporter bay.

“Not yet. We have the coordinates of their last transmission, but whether or not they’re still there is a but of a gamble.”

“Any breakthroughs on the translation?” Pike asked, looking over his shoulder at the two of us.

“Not yet, but Paledore’s on it.”

“Couldn’t unearth that eight hundredth notebook?” Una asked dryly, and I shot her a look.

“Notebook?” Pike asked as we all approached the transporter pads.

“One of the runes looked familiar from a class at the Academy. Couldn’t find where I took the note down,” I explained before stepping onto the transporter pad beside Watson. I caught sight of the Captain glancing back at me, seemingly poised to say something before he turned to face forward again. My brow furrowed, curious, but I didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was before we were beaming down.

Catalpa’s surface was arid and bright. It took a few moments to adjust to the light that the three suns in the sky shone down on us. I looked around at my fellow crew members before I turned, searching for any other signs of life, or any other Starfleet crew members. “Alright,” Pike said, looking around, “Let’s split up— teams of two.” I had assumed Una and Spock would pair off, but Spock moved to go with Watson, his junior officer, and Una with the Captain. That left myself and Thira— but that was more than alright with me. We’d be looking for the crashed shuttle that the crew of the Hutton had taken down. There was a chance that there would be crew members within the surrounding area, and even if there weren’t, if Thira could patch the vessel, we could get it off of the ground and use it to scout for the landing party. Pike glanced around at the groupings of us, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he nodded firmly, glancing away and issuing a stern, “Be careful,” To the group.

“Sidhu here.” “Anything?” Una’s voice was nearly unrecognizable through the thick crackling of the static. “Nothing,” Thira answered. I glanced over as we waited for an answer, for further instruction, but none came— just the crackling hiss. I shook my head a little bit, raising my hand to swipe at my brow. “How long have we been down here?” Thira muttered, tucking her communicator away again. “Couple of hours at least.” “I need— I need to sit,” Thira huffed tiredly, lowering herself onto the ground and opening her jacket a little. She waved her hand at her face, trying to cool off. I looked around. Where we were looked no different from where we’d beamed down, but I knew for a fact that we hadn’t gone in circles. I huffed, walked around to stand in front of Thira, offering her some shade, and she sighed, smiling. “Thank you.” “No problem,” I smiled a little in turn before glancing around. I could feel a breeze, picking up a little. “...You feel that?” I asked, looking in the direction it was coming from. “Yes, finally,” Thira muttered. I frowned at the sight of what seemed to be a shadow moving in the distance. “Thira.” “Mm?” “What’s that?” She turned to look at it, frowning, and pushed herself to her feet, trying to get a better look. I lowered my hand to my communicator as I heard it trill. Before I could get out my greeting, Paledore’s voice crackled through: “Commander! — Ambushed crew — translated — runes of — Folmarian—!” My stomach twisted at what did come through, as the shape of the shadow became clearer and clearer still. It was a vessel, a large sand-skimmer outfitted with fore and aft guns. “Thira, move,” I pushed her arm behind me, “Run.” “Folmarian what?” She asked, taking a couple of steps back as I urged her. “Pirates.”

The bad news was, we could not outrun the sand-skimmer. A planet as barren as Catalpa was, there was nowhere to hide. In addition to the unforgiving landscape, we’d been walking for two hours; we were tired, we were thirsty. The good news was that we found the crew of the Hutton. Of course, they’d had their communicators taken away, as Thira and I had, as well as their phasers before having their hands bound, but, you know. You take what you can get, really. There were seven members of the Hutton crew on that sand-skimmer. I watched, dismayed, as one of the skimmer crew members smashed our communicators to pieces before flashing me a toothy grin. “Won’t need that where we’re going,” He rasped. His fellow crewmates had chuckled; I felt Thira tense beside me, and I’d simply lowered my eyes. There was no way for me to track where we were going. Whatever this ship-type, it had some cloaking device that kept it hidden from the Enterprise’s sensors. “What are we going to do?” Thira mumbled. “Don’t panic,” I reassured softly, “They’ll find us.”

“Shouldn’t we fight them off?” I frowned at one of the crew members of the Hutton that had scooched up beside me when our captors were occupied. I glanced around at the surrounding ship before asking, “With what?” “I cannot stand to just waiting,” They hissed. “I understand that, but anything we do will be risky. We have no weapons— no way to free our hands.” I hesitated before admitting, “During the Klingon war, I was taken hostage, briefly. It was terrifying, but I knew that my crew was coming. We’re here because your crew reached out as soon as they realized something was wrong, something bigger than your vessel could handle. They’re going to find us. We just have to wait.” The Hutton crew member went silent beside me, shifting moodily. “...When were you captured?” I nearly didn’t hear Thira’s question about the rush of wind around the sand-skimmer. I shook my head a little. “Let’s just say we stopped using a tether on Tag and Runs after that.”

Waking up to Christopher’s voice had been the sweetest sound in the world, once. This particular instance, however, was… More than a little imposing. “Attention: this is Captain Christopher Pike of the U.S.S. Enterprise.” I wasn’t sure when I’d drifted off, but now Thira was nudging her shoulders against mine, forcing me awake. “It has come to my attention that several Starfleet members, including two of my crew, are aboard your...Vessel.” I had to fight a grin off at the pause, looking around and trying to locate the source of his voice. It was too low in the atmosphere to be coming from the Bridge of the Enterprise— he had to be close. “If you halt now, return our crew members to us unharmed, we promise you that we will let you go. If, however, you choose to engage us in combat...I cannot speak for the condition you will leave in.” I had to huff out a soft laugh, unable to help it. The crew of the skimmer were rushing this way and that, doing their best to locate the source of the threats, to man their guns, to raise their shields. They didn’t do it quickly enough, however, because within seconds, members of the Hutton and the Enterprise alike were being beamed aboard. “Beam us out!” The member of the Hutton beside me snapped, even as Phaser fire began whizzing over our heads. “I’m sure they would if they could,” I gritted, trying to shrink myself down against the rail of the ship. “That’s not good enough!” They yelled, “If I’m ever aboard a starship again—” I was hardly listening— I was watching Una cover Spock’s six as he worked at an imposing-looking control panel. She caught my eye and I gave her a quick nod, letting her know that I was okay before the two of us averted our gazes again. Questions and answers could come later, when there was time. “Are you listening to m—?” The Hutton crew member yelled, but before they could complete their irate tirade, they were beamed out. “Shit!” I hissed, glancing up after them. “Clear, Captain!” I heard Una yell. Captain? But— “Copy, Number One. Five to beam up—” Why wasn’t he on the Bridge? He should’ve stayed on the Bridge— I saw Thira beamed out before I saw Christopher just in front of me— And then the ship dropped away. -- I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to be sitting on the floor of the transporter bay with my hands bound. I glanced over to see Spock already working to untie Thira’s hands, and I glanced behind me as I felt Una’s nimble fingers working at my own restraints. “How’d you find us?” The words were thick in my mouth, my tongue heavy and dry. “Paledore got some help, worked out the runes. We did a fine-tuned scan of the planet, there’s a map carved into its crust, and a deeper magnetic mantle. It was interfering with our communications and initial scans.” I glanced up as Una helped me to my feet, and I caught sight of Christopher leaving the transporter bay. He glanced behind himself, but he didn’t turn, didn’t meet my eye— he just hesitated for a half-step before going on his way. “Med-bay, both of you,” Una tacked on before I could say a thing. -- The dehydration was an easy fix. The sleep deprivation, that was fine, I was used to that. Boyce had given myself and Thira the day, and while she was taking it to rest, I couldn’t get my head to settle. It was the worry I couldn’t get out of my mind— the half-looks that Christopher had been giving me, before I beamed off of the ship and when I’d been beamed back on. I needed to speak with him. He didn’t seem surprised to find me standing beside the Captain’s chair, expectant and quiet. He just glanced up, told Number One that she had the conn, and led the way to his ready room. The door slid shut behind us, and I folded my arms around myself, looking around. “You’re alright?” “Yes, Captain.” “Then what is it that you need to discuss, Commander?” I couldn’t help my sharp glance, the furrow in my brow. His tone was so austere; his eyes were guarded, and a little cold. “...The mission on Catalpa. Before we beamed down, you seemed like you were going to say something—” “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean—” “And when we beamed back aboard,” I spoke up a little bit, speaking over him— I wouldn’t let him hurry me out of the room, no matter this discomfort, “You also seemed to hesitate.” Pike shook his head a little bit, lips pressing into a thin line. “That sounds like a matter of your perception, Commander.” “...Don’t do this,” I pleaded softly, “We’re just getting back to… Something normal, and Catalpa’s a hiccup, but—” “A hiccup,” He scoffed, “A hiccup doesn’t almost get you killed.” “Captain—” “I had it.” “...Had what?” It took him a long moment, but— “The notebook that you were looking for, I… It was in my quarters. Several of your notebooks still are. I’ve been… I have been meaning to give them back to you.” I considered this for a moment before I managed, “Then how did Paledore—” “Once I realized that you couldn’t find it, that it was likely my error, I beamed back aboard and gave Ensign Paledore the materials he needed. But it was clearly too late.” I watched Christopher turn away from me, walking over to the window. “I see,” I finally said, “Well...The point is, we made it off of the planet—” “No, the point, Commander,” Christopher turned back to me, “Is that you were nearly killed because I can’t let go of you!” I was stunned into a surprised silence, my mouth falling open a little as Christopher lowered himself onto his couch and put his head in his hands. My heart had ticked up in my chest. Christopher and I had been toeing this line for so long, but for him to simply dive headfirst into this conversation— my mouth was as dry as it had been when I’d been beamed off of the planet. “I almost lost you again,” He said quietly, “And it would’ve been my fault.” I took slow, careful steps over to him before I hesitantly knelt down in front of him. I reached up, lightly gripping his wrists and tugging his hands away from his face. “...Technically it’s mine for not digitizing my notes, right?” I tried to tease, to bring a smile to his face, but Christopher’s lips barely twitched. “I should’ve given them back a long time ago,” He mumbled, defeated and tired as he said so. I settled back onto my heels, brow furrowing in confusion. “Why didn’t you?” Christopher’s face shifted, his eyes flashing, his hands leaving my grip as they cupped my face. “How?” He asked lowly, “How can you still not know what you do to me?” In that moment, I felt more joy and more fear than I had the moment I’d seen him aboard the sand-skimmer. “Christopher,” I mumbled weakly, shaking my head a little. He didn’t give me a moment to falter or to shy away. He just drew me in, pressing his lips firmly to mine. I leaned into him, bracing my hands on his thighs. We took our time, indulging in each other’s little shifts and pauses, the feeling of our lips slipping together, heady and sweet. I teased my tongue along the seam of his lips and thrilled in the soft groan that emanated from his throat. When Christopher leaned away, it was only long enough to draw me off of the floor and onto the couch. I settled into his side, his arm curling around my shoulders as mine wrapped around his middle. He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed as he drew in a deep breath. I leaned in, pecking his lips gently, trying to soothe the hurt that was lingering over him. “I’m sorry,” He murmured plaintively against my lips. I nodded, smoothing my hand over his side. “It’s alright.” The words were hardly out of my mouth before he was kissing me again. -- Number One had the conn for...Quite a while. Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner ; @tardis-23 ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel ; @blueeyesatnight ; @hotchswifey ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lunadegitana

#I'm Always Curious #Captain Pike x Reader #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike/you #Captain Pike fic #Captain Pike Imagine #Christopher Pike/Reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Christopher Pike fic #Christopher Pike Imagine

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pan-xichen · 4 years ago

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MDZS characters as unus annus quotes I think about a lot part 1:

JGY: I murdered three people. On a Thursday night, it was cold. It was partly cloudy but the moon was still peeking through. Just enough light to see but not enough to see me approach. I snuck up behind them, knife in hand, blood pumping in my ears-

NMJ: Okay, this is a... hypothetical scenario-

JGY: This- yeah this is hypothetical. What, you think I did this?

NMJ: No but I'm saying that you don't need to explain it in such vivid detail, because why would you?

JGY: Why would I?

NMJ: Also why would you know the vivid details of what you did-

JGY: I have a vivid imagination.

WWX: No one will ever find you...

NHS: What do you mean?

WWX: If you're too deep into the sea... The Gongoozler... will- heeeeeeeh- swim up to you... take you by the toes... and bring you down, down, down, into the frothy depths...

NHS: For fucks sake-

WWX: THE GONGOOZLER!!

NMJ: Okay, so when I- when I go for a nail- not- remember I did this for two years, so- AAAAH HELP HELP DON'T JUST LOOK!

NMJ: So- *confidently stabs the head of the nail into wood instead of the point*

NMJ and LXC: *hysterical laughter*

NHS: You put it in a weird sock, alright? You put it in a weird sock, you cook it up on a skrittle- skittle- sk-

NMJ: No you're right, skrittle.

NHS: Skrittle?

NMJ: Yeah.

NHS: Hold on, so that's not it-

NMJ: Keep going-

NHS: Griddle! Griddle. What's the o- what's the one that starts with an "S"?

NMJ: You're gonna get there, I believe in you.

NHS: Skimmer. A ski-ski-ski-sk-

NMJ: Are you serious right now?

NHS: I'm super serious.

NMJ: AHAHAHA

NHS: This is really bad-

NMJ: I'm not gonna help you.

NHS: Skid-a skid-a skrittle- a skim- scur- a skim? A skibble? No, what is it? Tell me.

NMJ: You can do this.

NHS: A skittle. A skitter!

NMJ: You keep going in circles- *scratches chin*

NHS: A scrATCH! Skritch!

NMJ: No this isn't a hint!

NHS: A skittle! Why- no- *laughter* ski?

NMJ: Uh-huh-

NHS: Skid-

NMJ: *audible disappointment* No.

NHS: Skir... skur, skurle-

NMJ: My god-

NHS: Skrittle!

NMJ: No!!

NHS: *laughs* A s- I'm getting there-

NMJ: You're not!

NMJ: What happens when you level up, and you need to put your points into your...

NHS: Skill tree! Ski-skiltrill. Skill..

NMJ: You can't be for real right now- *laughter*

NHS: *lauging* I'm a hundred percent real oh my god! Oh no, oh my-

NMJ: *DRAMATIC HAND GESTURES*

NHS: Skill tree... *laughs*

NMJ: *covers mouth*

NHS: Skill.... SKILLET! *laughs hysterically* Oh my god!

NMJ: *laughing* There you go!

NHS: Oh my god, that wasn't a joke! God damnit.

WWX: Meet a frieeeendly monster!

NHS: Fuck, just give me the ingredients!

WWX: I did-

WWX: Get ready for a sliiiime adventure, we're making monsters coooome to liiife. Do you think they have a scaaary power, or have a seeecret hiding place? What if they have mooore than two eeeeyes? There's only one way to find out when we use sliiiime to play-

NHS: We're making monsters cum!

NMJ: *trying to concentrate on furiously pedalling on an exercise bike* STOP! Oh god, stop talking to me!!

NHS: Wait, but if we go to the home depot, we can get home depot hot dogs! They're so good...

NHS: How many miles have you got?

NMJ: 1.1 mile-

NHS: That means we have so many more... so many more!

NMJ: I'm gonna punch you in the face. I'm gonna punch you... in the face.

NHS: Three miles more! Your breathing is excellent. *reaching for a megaphone* I don't think he can hear me. Da-ge your breathing!

NMJ: *slaps megaphone* I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!

JC: Hey Siri! Call us daddy.

SIRI: I don't see a father in your contacts.

WWX: *cackles*

JC: *having an existential crisis*

#this is really long now so imma do a part 2 if people like this lmai #i have many more #mdzs #the untamed #nmj #nhs #lxc #lgy #wwx #jc #a little bit of #nielan #xichen speaks

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kerra-and-company · 3 years ago

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16, 19, 24 for the headcanon asks!

Ooh sure, sounds like a plan! :D (And while I'm here answering your ask, thank you so much for making this excellent ask game; 'tis very fun to both ask and get asked these questions! <3 )

16. Have you put any thought into how Asuran Magitech works? (If yes the author of this game would love to hear as many details as possible ;D)

I have no idea how much of this is supported by the actual canon, but I tend to picture magic as an energy source of sorts, like heat or electricity or light. It's both more chaotic and more malleable than some other forms of energy, and the asuran magitech functions by harnessing that energy source. They can harness it via runes or via crystals (which are kind of like batteries), both of which I think can be found on the golems we see in-game, and I bet they've made solenoids and circuit boards and capacitors and inductors and all that other fun circuit stuff that functions with magic rather than electricity. And this would just be the inherent magic in Tyria that they're pulling from, not the magic of individuals.

This does bring up a question that makes me want to hide this post from the Inquest, though--if we take the headcanon that they're harnessing magic this way, could they pull magic directly from a person to make a device work? Would that have different effects, since an individual's magic tends to be class-based, and could they ever possibly be beneficial or useful or would devices just explode? I hope no one from the Inquest has tried anything like this; I have to imagine that people are worse batteries than crystals, and draining their magic for a device would most certainly hurt if not outright kill them. But considering that it's pretty much canon that they put people's brains in golems both as an experimental method and as a torture one, I don't have high hopes on that point :P Alternatively, and on a slightly less evil-scientist (but still angsty) note, if an important magitech device malfunctioned at a critical time and needed a power source because for whatever reason its original one wasn't working, could it be modified to pull power from the operator instead? This entire thing might not be possible at all, of course; the magic produced by a person might not be in a form that's usable for a device, just like ATP (our cells' energy molecule, to oversimplify) can't really power an electrical grid.

And if magic is like light or electricity, is it possible to build something that acts as an insulator for magic? Or is that not possible because magic is such an intrinsic thing in Tyria that it permeates everything on some level? I could see either one.

19. Can skimmers actually go underwater or is it just a gameplay mechanic to satisfy the fans?

I 100% believe they can actually go underwater! They are completely made to swim if you look at their design, and though I do think they breathe air and don't have gills, I headcanon that they can hold their breath for quite a long time underwater, potentially as long as some whales can--up to 90 minutes or even more. @mystery-salad gave me the lovely image of a shoal of skimmers in the ocean, snacking on tiny plankton and other small things, so I'm passing that on here as well. Also, stingrays burrow in the sand to hide from predators, and I definitely think skimmer pups will do that too (underwater only, above water the sand's too hot for them) when their parents are away (if their parents care for them, which I headcanon they usually do, at least for the first year or so).

(Side note, did you know a group of stingrays is called a fever and a group of manta rays is called a squadron? I didn't until just now and thought I'd pass that on, too xD )

24. Wild card slot. Just anything that’s on your mind

Ever since I answered the question about the Mordrem and the Branded and what happens to them after their masters die, my brain's been throwing around what happens to the Icebrood and the destroyers after Jormag and Primordus are gone. (tw: discussion of injuries in the next paragraph)

As far as any of Jormag's minions/followers who were touched by their magic go, there's gonna be a lot of melting involved. I grabbed this from the icebrood wiki page: "Recently corrupted icebrood are merely covered in ice, still having blood in their bodies, while older icebrood are said to have frozen insides." So anyone turned recently has a chance of surviving, but those who weren't are most likely dead. Also, even if they do survive, they could be left with pretty dangerous injuries (see: Bangar and the "unfortunate" holes in his throat because of being the Voice and having a spiky ice collar). There's also a high probability of cellular or brain damage from being frozen that long; cells can burst when frozen. I think the Frost Legion, or whatever's left of them, will probably survive with faculties intact, though injured for sure. And the Frozen are confirmed to be alive inside their magic prisons, so I'm going ahead and saying they're all right, too.

My first instinct for the destroyers was to say that they would continue on being a nuisance, kind of like the Branded or the Risen might, but if they react the same way as Jormag's minions, they won't be able to maintain their warmth anymore without Primordus. They'll slowly cool and solidify, like lava, and thus won't remain a threat for long. Tyria might get some frustrating (because they could get stuck to the ground) but kinda neat statues out of that whole process, and I bet the asura (and everyone else) would run lots of tests on the leftover volcanic rock.

#gw2 #headcanons #dasozelotvonnebenan #icebrood saga spoilers #(just being extra safe)#thanks so much for the ask! :D #these were really neat to think about!#hope you enjoy my magitech headcanons

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invasato · 4 years ago

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i know next to nothing about gelflings but, do u have any ideas about their biology in really cold and really hot places? like desert and arctic

YEAH HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG SO

the only landmass (besides scattered islands) we know abt on thra has no poles rlly but it does have mountains where the vapra live! the desert is where the dousan live. i used those two in this example bc it seemed the best fit

far left is my bald template just for the sake of reference. middle is a vapran, and right is a dousan.

so as ive said in a previous speculative biology post, i think all gelfling have a covering of fur! its thinnest around the feet/hands/face, but other than that it varies in length. ive never really fully fleshed out the idea before tho so.... guess this is the debut LOL. i will say tho that a lot of warming/cooling stuff comes to culture/community rather than biology!! even if biology helps

anyways so vaprans live on the snowy mountains. i took inspiration from arctic animals/mountain goats/etc, and the canon idea that they blend in with the rocks and snow on the mountains/their vliyaya is light manipulation. thick fur helps keep them warm and they tend to be a bit fatter than other clans as a bit of insulation. modern gelfling obviously wear clothes and shit so their fur is more decorative, typically clipped short and styled, with the upper class invested in more elaborate designs. their elytra shells (my elytra stuff can be found here!) are thicker as well to protect their sensitive wings, and childlings are taught to vibrate their elytra to generate heat (theyre also encouraged to group hug and cluster together!!)

wrt the dousan, they have very thin fur, which is in a combination of light/dark to absorb/reflect the sun that also helped pre modern gelflings hide among the sand and rocks. they further protect themselves with tattoos and body paint (like in canon, but not shown in the picture). childlings always get body paint, and adults usually get a combination of both. the paint is thick and protects their skin from the sun, and some paint, much like tattoos, is reflective. dousan wear clothes too though obviouslyyy so this paint mainly concerns their faces, hands, and feet (if uncovered). along the same line of thinking as vojeye/sign language, they tend to not fly with their wings during the day (and night is often too cold), believing they could lose moisture by opening their elytra. besides, why fly when you have skimmers to fly for you lol

#sorry this wasnt super biology focused but #hope u enjoyed regardless!#i sure had fun :D #my art #gelfling #gelflings #tdc #tdcaor #the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #vapra #dousan #ask to tag #partial nudity #<- just in case? idk #bare chest #long post

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (8)

Chapter 8: Ensnared | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m happy that you’re enjoying the story so far! But I have to let you know that I’ll be in a quick pause from publishing chapters for a while because I have to drop off my laptop in the shop again to have my new SSD put in (because I don’t know how to do it myself). They said it might take five working days, but that will still depend on my place in line. So this might be the last chapter for now, but I hope I get this baby back soon!

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

9 of ?

“Hey, Irele, I got a job for us!” the Twi’lek boy, Frelik, panted as he supported himself on the arch of their door, as if he came sprinting from the town to their house in the salt flats.

“For who? Where? When!?” Irele bombarded back, and luckily Frelik answered all questions.

Irele looked over his shoulder, he had reached her house using the sand skimmer that all five of them worked together on. She told them to wait, hurried back inside, jumping to the floor from the first landing of the stairs to the rotunda and sprinted to her bedroom. She was all over the place—flashing from one side of the room to the other, swiping her pack with her tools and her scarf lying in different spots.

“I’m going out!” she announced in a voice loud enough for Owen and Beru to hear, wherever they were, and there was no time for either husband or wife to respond. They just heard the door whiz open and then shut.

Another wrangling job with her friends. It was a normal day, but it was something she enjoyed.

They’ve traveled about ten miles east of Mos Espa. The skimmer did its job, it resembles perhaps a smaller rendition of the complementary hovercraft that comes with a sail barge. Through his binoculars, Frelik spotted a cluster of brown speckles in the sand—a Bantha herd, he had found. Their quarry.

“Drello, full speed ahead!” cried out the tan-skinned Twi’lek to the human male. The boy cranked the lever of the motor and they pulled forward.

They stopped their skimmer in a safe distance, atop a small hill that overlooks the Banthas gathered around a watering hole—a rare sight in this planet. After peering through the lens, Frelik handed the binoculars to no one in particular, Irele took it out of his hands.

“Those aren’t domesticated, alright,” she panned slightly to her right. “We can slide our way down there. We’ll have enough cover so they won’t be startled by us.”

Before they got themselves on the move, Irele scanned the area for any signs of Tusken Raiders. It was not uncommon to have a run-in with Tuskens who were also trying to wrangle up mounts for their numbers; should that happen, the most logical—and only—move is to try your luck for another herd. A group of adult Tuskens versus a small band of children are in no good odds whatsoever.

“We’re clear. We’re the only ones here,” she reassured then returned the binoculars to Frelik. They sprinted back to the skimmer to retrieve their sleds and boards.

“I’m gonna ruin your win streak today, Irele!” prided Drello.

She clapped back after pulling her goggles down and smirked, “We’ll see about that!”

The children ran to the edge of the slope, the Twi’lek siblings shared a sled, Heeda—the other human female besides Irele—had her own sled that can only fit her. Golden blonde and sandy brown tinted the girl’s hair, and a bright-eyed face that proves her to be the youngest of the group, being only a year behind Irele.

A trail of sand plumed as they zipped down. It was a collective skill for them to resist squealing and cheering in delight as they slide down a two- to three-mile long sand slide. Irele and Drello surfed with a quiet confidence in the middle of this friendly competition between the two of them; sweving and leaving snake-trails along the sand, as one overtook the other.

Show off! Said each teenager in their heads, referring to the other.

Only a few meters remain before the group lands on flat grounds. They hopped out of their rides and hurried behind the rocks.

“I thought you were gonna beat my streak, Drello?” jeered Irele.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” the boy chide, and the girl snickered under her breath.

Another cautionary look through the lens before they approach the herd and then they scrambled to their positions. For every job they took together, there was always a harmony amongst them, a testament to their three to four years of friendship forged by their odd job life.

As always, Irele was in charge of the actual wrangling—along with Drello and Frelik. The two other girls’ jobs were to tranquilize the animals should any of them escape or refuse to be mounted.

The three vaulted over the rocks, leaving Heeda and Venee—Frelik’s sister—behind. Producing ropes out of their packs as they prowled quietly in the Banthas’ blind spots. Given the beast’s width, the children are practically invisible if they stay directly behind them. They became slower when they crept slower, the ropes primed into a lasso. In all their years in practice of this dangerous trade, they’ve mastered how to cleanly hoop the rope around the Bantha’s thick, spiraling horns.

A solid tug indicated that their ropes have rung around the base of the horns, they jumped onto the giants’ backs. Drello’s Bantha bucked its massive head, attempting to wriggle the rope off. Unfortunately, the boy had caught perhaps a more aggressive one than the rest of the herd; and to add insult to injury, his ropes have tangled around his leg and a few strands of the Bantha’s fur caught along with it.

“Drello, hold on!”

“Irele!” Drello yelped. “HELP!”

“Stay still!”

Seeing the trouble from their post, Heeda and Venee primed their dart guns.

“Wait for my signal, Heeda,” Venee warned. Fives seconds when they saw a clear shot, “Now!”

Two darts charged with a strong dosage of tranquilizer pierced their way through the Bantha’s curtain of fur and thick hide. The girth of the needle was thick enough to penetrate the animal’s skin. Drello’s Bantha seemed to have slowed down and the boy finally won some control over the beast.

“Troublemaker, are ya?! I’ll sell you to the first butcher I see in town!” grumbled a vexed Drello.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that!”

“What? He was the one who tried to buck me off while my leg’s caught in the rope,”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you,” Frelik suggested jokingly and the rest of the children giggled in agreement.

For the Banthas who didn’t put up much of a fight and were tamer, Irele suggested strapping their skimmer to the beasts.

“Since they got ropes around their horns anyway, we can just tie the other end on the winch!” she suggested, and everyone loved the fun idea.

There were no objections from her friends. In fact, they were all in on it! Heeda and Venee wanted to the ride bareback on the Bantha while the other three would sit in the skimmer. All five teenagers giggled in excitement and delight as their idea is about to be put into play, until Irele’s smile vanished, she flinched when she felt a needle prick the back of her shoulder.

“This is PG-957, target has been found and marked.” a sinister, muffled voice spoke through his comlink gauntlet.

No one noticed the tiny dart that had landed in her shoulder, but she easily swatted it off like it was some kind of debris. Little did she know that the tiny bullet that hit her packed such a punch. In her easterly side, she saw two distant figures calling out to her. The first figure waved a piece of cloth to get her attention, the second cupped their mouth with their hands to amplify their voice.

Irele!! Come quick!

“Hey, Irele, what’s wrong?” Frelik asked as he noticed his friend has suddenly gotten quiet.

“Smoke?” she muttered under her breath.

She squinted her eyes, sheltered her head with her scarf and confirmed that a pillar of smoke was in the distance as the Banthas pulled their skimmer.

“Do you see that?” she asked to no one in particular.

“See what?”

“That! That column of smoke over there!”

Frelik and Drello exchanged confused glances, and then back to Irele who had her back turned to them.

She squinted again, the two figures appeared to have gotten closer to where they are, and she could hear their voices.

IRELE, HURRY, IT’S YOUR FAMILY!!

“My home!” she bursts.

“Whoa, hey, Irele, where are you going!?” Drello tried to stop her by grabbing her sleeve but she slipped away.

Irele literally jumped out of a moving skimmer, taking her things with her as well.

“Irele, hey! Come back!” Heeda screeched.

“Where is she going!?” Venee exclaimed.

“There’s nothing over there!” Frelik insisted to his friend as he—along with his companions—watched her sprint into the distant nothingness.

Irele sprinted as fast as she could, those two figures materialized into a pair of older human males. Her friends literally lost her in the desert just when they were about to make their way back to Mos Espa, where they client awaits.

“I can’t see her anymore! Frelik, can you!?”

The Twi’lek growled in frustration, “No, she went straight into the storm!”

“Is she crazy!?” his sister protested.

“We have to go after her!” Heedra insisted.

“We’re not equipped for a sandstorm, Heeda, we can’t turn around. We have to get back to town and get shelter!” Drello argued.

They have no choice. They continued in their original path but they wordlessly promised that they’d come back for her.

Irele followed the direction of the smoke, knowing that it’s coming from the homestead. The adrenaline made her forget the aching of her legs, exhausted from running. She cared not if her friends didn’t believe her, her vision narrowed to the direction of her house. She didn’t even notice that the two males she followed were out of her sight.

The tower of black smoke got bigger as she closed the distance further. At the top of her parched lungs, she cried out for her family.

“OWEN!! BERU!!” she screeched.

She caught sight of her homestead in flames—or so she thinks—the dirty white dome of her house was charred black, a gaping hole put into the front door, the machines in their rotunda had been blown up, and tattered rags scattered across the front of the house.

“No…” she gasped. “NO!! OWEN! BERU! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

She repeated these three names, but an answer did not come.

Irele… a voice called to her.

“Owen!?”

Irele… do not fight it. It instructed her. It was a deep, ominous voice, and after the last word, a sharp robotic breath followed.

She recognizes that voice anywhere. She’s heard it in her nightmares, during the nights where she cannot sleep.

“No… No… Bring them back!” she cried.

She did not know it was an illusion. The sniper who had planted the needle into her flesh had followed the girl aimlessly going into an incoming sandstorm.

Poor Irele spun around in a panic, thinking that she was standing in the premises of her home, when in fact that she was standing in the first few inches of the storm. It was all a blur in her eyes, but she persisted looking for her family. The sniper, a trooper with a unique black armor, watched the poor girl spin until she got dizzy and weak.

Meanwhile, Darth Vader remained unmoving in his meditation chamber, dead center in the black, cold floor. He could hear Irele’s cries, her screaming of Owen and Beru’s names, and he could feel the hot, prickling wind that swats her face. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he tightened his already-closed fists.

Irele…

“No…” she exhaled one last time. “Bring them… back…”

“Target incapacitated. Requesting transport.” The trooper reported and was answered by an incoming transport craft to retrieve the trooper and a knocked out Irele.

–

The storm had eventually died down, but the teenagers’ anxiety did not.

Once they’ve gotten rid of the Banthas, they instantly hopped back on their skimmer and retraced their steps to the location where they lost Irele.

The sandstorm had erased her tracks, but they followed the direction where she aimlessly ran to.

Frelik heavily relied on his binoculars to find any sign of Irele. They had gotten far enough from the path they took when the Banthas pulled their skimmer. Drello may not be the most skilled wrangler, but he was a good tracker.

“We were here when she started talking funny, saying that she sees smoke when there’s nothing at all,” Drello pointed out the subtle indents of their skimmer and the Banthas’ hooves. He then angled his body to his easterly side, mimicking Irele’s position before she ran off. “And then she ran off there.”

“It’s strange,” Frelik added. “I heard her say the word ‘Home’ before she ran… but her house is in that direction.”

“Maybe the heat got to her?” Heeda theorized.

Frelik shook his head, “We didn’t even stay out that long, Heeda.”

“Come on, talking will take us nowhere!” Venee grunted. “Drello, what can you take from here?”

“We go to that direction,”

The skimmer hovered in a steady, leisurely pace; they were careful not to miss anything. The wind picked up as they got farther, a minor aftermath of the sandstorm in the middle of its calm; on his right, Frelik spotted something fluttering in the distance.

“Look! Drello turn us over there,”

Drello went straight ahead for that fluttering brown shape in the wind. Heeda picked it up and they all gathered around it.

“This is Irele’s scarf,” Venee mumbled pessimistically

“Then she must be close!” Heeda’s hopefulness contrasted the Twi’lek girl’s mood.

With only her lost scarf as a clue, it took the group all day trying to find her. The sunset beckoned them to stop. It never crossed their mind that they have to tell this to Owen and Beru, and they were scrambling over on what to tell them, how to say and explain it all, and that they’ll witness firsthand the wrath of Owen Lars—as well as his grief.

Reluctant, they drove their skimmer to the Lars homestead, with only a piece of Irele to bring home to her family. Up to now, not one of them have decided who will speak to Owen—neither do they have the courage to walk up to the front door.

They agreed that they go together, however, they hesitate to come an inch closer.

Eventually, Owen appeared out of the door.

“Oh, good thing you kids are back before dark.”

Silence from the children. Drello clutched onto Irele’s scarf so hard that it creased.

Owen’s eyes shifted left to right, counting in his mind, and it hit him.

“Where’s Irele?”

The teenagers flinched—shoulders flinched, sweaty fists clenched tighter, and knees were knocking.

Owen repeated the question until he spotted the scarf crumpled up into a ball.

“That’s Irele’s,” he pointed weakly at it. “Where is she!?”

“We… We’re sorry, but we lost her…”

“Lost her? Lost her!? Lost her how?!”

The raising of Owen’s voice attracted Beru—carrying Luke—to go outside. She finds Irele’s group being confronted by her husband.

“Owen, what’s going on here?”

“Irele didn’t come with them.”

“What?!” Beru gasped, her brown eyes widened.

Venee stepped forward, “We were on our way back, honest! But she started acting strange. She looked distraught about your house, she said she spotted smoke coming from here but…”

“What smoke? We were perfectly fine here all day!” Owen interrupted.

The Twi’lek girl continued, alternately looking to her friends. They vouched her every word with nervous yet truthful nods.

“That’s the thing, sir. What’s worse is… she ran into an incoming sandstorm. That’s when we lost her.”

Heeda stepped in Venee’s side, “It’s true what Venee said. We tried to look for her when the storm passed, honest! We just didn’t want to stay until dark because of the Tuskens.”

“We’re sorry,” Frelik said sadly and with a misplaced guilt. “But this is what we can only find of her.”

Drello unfurled the scarf and held it in both hands, presenting it to Irele’s brother. The young boy stepped forward to hand it over to the man who was hesitant to take it from his hands. Unable to accept that this was a rhyme to the fate of his late stepmother.

“No…” Owen’s rage melted into grief and distress. His heart wrenched. “Oh no…”

“Owen…”

Luke tugged the collar of Beru’s jacket and quietly asked, “Aunt Beru, where’s Irele?”

Unable to grasp how Irele’s friends had lost her, neither can Beru explain it to her nephew-in-law.

“Irele’s… Irele won’t be home for a while, dear.”

“Why?”

At a loss, Beru gave up looking for answers, there were no right ones after all.

“I don’t know, darling, I don’t know…”

As soon as Irele’s scarf came to Owen’s hands, he did not care anymore who would see him break down to tears. His knees melted, his back arched as he embraced a remnant of his dear sister—his remaining closest kin next to Luke—as he was fueled by the burning determination to find her.

Even if it meant he will have to repeat his father’s steps in finding Shmi all those years ago, then he would do the same for Irele. But for this night, the dunes heard his sobs and buried them underneath each and every grain of sand.

The next few days seemed desperate and hopeless. Owen had called up every men who were willing to come with him in search of Irele, her friends joined in as well. By the day, their numbers thinned out—majority giving up on the search as they could not find any other relevant leads except the scarf and the girl’s last known position.

“Give it a rest, Owen! The girl’s probably lost, or worse, fallen into a Sarlacc pit while in a heatstroke daze.”

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER!” Owen swung with a finger pointed at the man who claimed such an assumption.

Knowing that this was not worth his time and energy anymore, the scout gave up and turned tail. Owen originally rounded up at least fifty men scattered across the outskirts of the major towns, even as far as the Dune Sea; though little by little, they all gave up on the search as well as Owen himself. Some with a heart apologized and wished him luck in finding the teenage girl.

“Oh, Irele…” Owen huffed, exhausted. “Where are you…?”

He was forced to stop the search just a few hours before sunset. He sent her friends home earlier. Upon returning to the house, he watched as Beru quickly walked out of the kitchen with a hopeful face—only for that hopefulness to fade away when she saw that her husband arrived alone.

She awkwardly dismissed herself and returned to the kitchen. Leaving Luke playing with a toy cruiser and shuttle on the table. Owen sat across him, the boy continued playing and reentered the little world he’s created with his ships, accompanied by little scaled figurines carved out of painted wood.

And from that day forward, something in Owen changed. In the following years, he would have grown old and sterner especially towards the remaining youngest family member—his nephew. Never mind if Luke would resent Owen’s ways in disciplining him or keeping him grounded, if it meant keeping him safe and preventing the same fate to happen to the boy, then he would do it.

He cannot afford to lose another part of his family.

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stonecreationslongisland · 2 years ago

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Hide a Skimmer Cover - #stonecreationsoflongisland #pool #skimmers

http://www.instagram.com/stonecreationsoflongislandinc

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 21, 2021: The African Queen (Part 2)

Ah, Part 2! So, how are they doing at this point again?

RIGHT. Rapids. Well, let’s not navel-gaze, let’s see how they do! Check out the first part of the Recap right here to see how we got to this point!

Recap (2/2)

So they go over the rapids, which are basically just a short waterfall. It’s one hell of a ride, that’s for sure, and the two have some difficulty.

But even through that, they ride it out fine! More than fine, as they celebrate surviving the fort and the rapids. Rose lets out a kind of awkward “hip-hip hooray, and descends further into her adrenaline junkie fervor, saying the bullets were like mosquitoes. She, uh...she’s really getting into this whole thing, huh?

Charlie, meanwhile, is just overjoyed to still be alive, and embraces Rose in celebration. They have their own little twin rants about the occasion, and Charlie finishes it off with his own hip-hip-hooray! That’s followed by...

Well...OK then. Both of them seem taken aback by the kiss, and they brush it off as it nothing’s happened. But you can tell that things are different after this. And it seems like both of them are kind of into. Charlie, OK, I can sort of buy, but Rose has really started to experience a different side of life, and she’s embracing the SHIT out of it.

Doesn’t take them long to actually kiss in earnest, either, and they quickly succumb to their passions. Can’t imagine that they succumb completely, though, given Rose’s status as a woman of faith and all that. Either way, the two quickly legit fall in love. This is despite not knowing each other’s first names, goddamn. They finally start to refer to each other on a more personal basis, and they continue their journey down the river.

The two start to enjoy themselves, with Charlie imitating animals he sees down the river (the GIF up above is him imitating a hippo), and Rose laughs with a little snort that I will freely admit is adorable. But that’s cut juuuuuust a little short, when they hear and see what’s coming: more rapids.

And these are WAY worse than the other two, descending into a straight-up waterfall. Still, the boat makes it through, but not entirely undamaged this time. Propeller shaft is a little messed up, and supplies are limited. But Rosie, ever the optimistic innovator, manages to convince Charlie to give it a try, and to let her help.

And honestly...I’m digging their relationship. They’re EXTREMELY different people, but they’re also one of the best examples of opposites attracting that I’ve seen this month. And not only do they work together as a couple, but they LITERALLY work together to fix the boat! They weld a propeller together using makeshift bellows and a wooden fire on short, and the boat’s back to being river-worthy.

And the Ulanga River becomes the Bora, and elephants cavort along the shore...where the hell are they? Like, real talk, I’ve seen Nile crocodiles, elephants, hippos, babbons? Hold on, lemme look up these rivers while these two get assaulted by a massive swarm of mosquitoes, which looks unbearable.

OK, so considering that they’re in German East Africa, they’re probably going through Tanzania. And apparently, the river itself is a pretty common place to find all of those animals co-existing, as well as the largest population of Nile crocodiles in Africa, and a breeding ground for a bunch of bird species, like openbill storks and African skimmers...and can I take this cruise? Like, is there an option to go on a cruise through this area? ‘Cause I wanna. I REALLY wanna, goddamn. I would KILL to see this shit, I mean it.

OK, well, moving on, the two make their way through a papyrus swamp, and they get badly stuck in the mud. They’re forced to make their way out of the reeds by getting out and literally towing it through the muck. Charlie does so, while Rose helps from above.

But remember what I said about a lot of shit being in the water? Well, it’s time for leeches! Yay! Charlie seems to think that they’ve poisoned him, but that’s DEFINITELY not how leeches work. You wouldn’t know that, though, as Charlie starts to feel sick. Even so, they have to pull the boat through the muck onceagain, with Rose using a machete to clear the way.

But again, it doesn’t seem to matter, as a fever-stricken Charlie is convinced that the two of them are now permanently stuck in the mud, and that the two will die there. Rose seems to agree, and she prays to God once more, accepting their deaths, and asking for him to be merciful, despite their...weakness? That would seem to indicate that something may have been...consummated. Huh. Go figure.

But God’s not taking them yet, as the heavens produce not mercy, but torrential rain, which covers the giraffes, hippos, lions, and...I think those are puku? Common antelope species found around the river. But the rains also bring salvation, as the risen water level sweeps the boat out of the mud and onto the lake (which is fictional, by the way)!

But even now, after ALL OF THAT, it isn’t over yet, as the Königin Luise is on the horizon, about to spot them! They head back towards the reeds to hide, and narrowly escape. They decide to enact their torpedo plan at night, and spend the next few days making the torpedoes and cleaning the ship.

They argue about who’s going with the ship to take out the Luise, but they decide to both go, as they’d rather not risk losing each other if anything were to happen. They head out under cover of night and rain, and it’s then that something occurs to me...are they gonna make it out of this? Because swimming in a lake as big as this is no...oh, wait, never mind, the boat just sank. Shit.

Rose is lost, and Charlie’s found by the ship, who interrogate him under suspicion of being a spy for the British. He’s sentenced to death by hanging, immediately. And JUST as they do so, they find Rose and bring her to the ship. They embrace each other, but Rose is also interrogated by the “court” of sailors.

Rose, however, don’t give a FUCK, and just STRAIGHT-UP ADMITS THEIR PLAN! Holy shit, lady’s got balls. Charlie goes along with her, and the Captain (Peter Bull) is more intrigued than angry. But, y’know, not really gonna stop the whole “hanging” thing, now is it?

The two are lead onto the deck to be hanged. Meanwhile, the sunken The African Queen is still out there, submerged in the lake, with the torpedoes in tact. As they’re about to be hanged together, Charlie asks the ship’s captain to marry them, in ANOTHER ballsy move. Fuck me, I love this bullshit! Dumbest thing in the world, and yet I completely buy it!

The Captain, agreeing with me, actually does marry them as the nooses are tied around their necks. And that’s when Chekov’s boat is hit, and the whole thing goes down! HOLY FUCK!! Charlie takes the opportunity and throws off the nooses, and the two dive off the boat as the Königin Luise sinks entirely! The two, now married, swim off to the shore. And that’s it!

The African Queen! Another lovely film, with an ending that’s...abrupt as fuck, I’m gonna be honest with you.

But I’ll get into that in the Review! See you there!

#the african queen #john huston #humphrey bogart #katharine hepburn #robert morley #peter bull #romance february #romance film #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs #hildy-dont-be-hasty #hildydontbehasty

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stormhawksplanb · 4 years ago

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Storm Hawks Fanfiction: Plan “B”

https://myhushhushdarling.tumblr.com/PlanB

Chapter 7

For those who are on Mobile, Check out the #planb for all the chapters and related content!

The next few hours were quick. The terra was cleaned up, and the art exhibition was cancelled. No winners, no anything. The damage caused by the attack was surprisingly small. Houses were destroyed, and the ground we walked on had dips and small shallow craters. No one was badly hurt which was the good part.

It took a while, but when we accounted for everyone, including the COGA members, The Storm Hawks had taken off on their skimmers to search the terra for any other invaders. Leaving me, Stork, and Junko to deal with the wreckage. Usually that would be no problem, but I don't think any of them want to talk to me after my "This was my war long before any of yours" comment. But like with any negative situation, I try and correct it. After all, it'll make things easier if I at least try.

"Junko! There you are erm- doing... What are you doing?"

I caught him at the center of the town, pulling out the broken canvases and left over art utensils.

"Well the building structures are useless now. But a lot of the art work and other stuff is only partially damaged... So you know..."

My heart sank a little bit. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. Was what I said that bad?

"Hey uhm. I just wanted to try and apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn't have said what I said..."

Junko turned to me, his head tilted. Then all at once it was like a lightbulb went off in his head.

"Oh that! No, yeah, it's fine. We've all heard worse. No need to apologise."

I was almost dumb founded by his reaction. He seemed so mature about it. Then it dawned on me.

"So... How long have you been a storm hawk?"

"Oh uh, since I was 15... I'm 16, going on 17 now..."

"Oh... That makes sense."

Despite how well put together the team was, I seem to have forgotten that they were in the same predicament I used to be in. They were all dealing with the carnage of a war they never started. My only other reaction was to give a quick nod goodbye and head to my next target. Why I did that I don't know.

Upon seeing the condition of the Condor, I cringed. There were scratches on the outer material, burn marks on the paint job, and some cracks in the glass. Glued to the hip of the Condor was Stork, working away at some patch work. Taking a deep breath I stood beside him, and hesitated to tap his shoulder. I jumped a bit when he grunted and glared at me.

"Heeey, do you need any help with repairs? I uh, I know how to paint and I can even get out most of those burn marks!"

All he did was turn away from me, and scoff. I gave an audible groan, wanting to get this done and over as quick as possible.

"Ok! Fine! I'm sorry for being a brat earlier, and I'm sorry for getting in everyone's way! But you can't just keep on ignoring me like this-"

I was silenced by a paintbrush being swung out in front of my face.

I felt embarrassed as the heat stroked my cheeks. He still didn't look at me, as I took the paintbrush and started working beside him. Something tells me he didn't really care about what I said. Or what I did...

After a few hours of hard labor, and helping Junko find the owners to the left over artworks, consoling some children who were lost on their way to the bathroom, the rest of the Storm Hawks squadron came back to the terra. All of their faces covered in mud and dirt. I held back a Chuckle since none of them were very pleased with their new look.

Soon enough the whole Terra surrounded us, hoping to hear about what had happened to them. Aerrow had looked away from the bombardment of "Are we safe?" And "Who was that?!". He Seemed, uneasy.

"It was... Cyclonians..."

Aerrow seemed defeated for a split second, and he faced the crowd again when the murmuring and disbelief subsided.

"It's not Master Cyclonian herself. But one of her lackeys had taken her thrown… Recently."

I locked eyes with Piper and muttered Ravess’ name in hopes the current spectators didn’t notice. She nodded at me, acknowledging my hypothesis to be true, and Aerrow continued.

"I know today was supposed to be important to everyone here. It was supposed to be a step towards our recovery as Atmosians... But today..."

It was like he froze on everyone. We all just stared at each other. My brain kicked in and I stood beside him, a sorrowful look across my face replaced with a sincere smile, and he gave me a grateful one in return.

"Today is the day we prove to everyone who dares question us. And that we now keep what was once taken by the Cyclonians."

It was a short statement, but not false. The crowd cheered and I looked back at Aerrow. A small smirk and a nod my way as another thanks.

Eventually, this part of the Terra was cleared out. Thankfully some neighboring Sky Knights arranged for people to stay at their own Terras while the properly qualified went to work to restore buildings. I had other plans. One of which was to try my shot again at convincing Aerrow to let me bum a ride to my home terra.

Walking on the drop down ramp to the condor, I more or less physically bumped into Piper. Arising a small squeak from her.

"Oh! Sorry!"

I shook my head at her, and playfully rolled my eyes.

"It's fine. It's not like you snapped my arm in half. What's up?"

She rolled her eyes back at me.

"oh you know. Navigating maps, saving a whole Terra, just normal Sky Squad stuff. And what are you up too?"

I shrugged at her, not wanting to disclose to her that I was looking for Aerrow.

"Well if you're not doing anything, could you help me with something?"

"Yeah, what do you need?"

I followed her off and away from the ship as she explained her plans for the terra.

"Well, the unexpected Bombing left us vulnerable, and out in the open. So we’re setting up a temporary Shock Wave Crystal tower. I'm not sure of how aware you are about the war against Master Cyclonis, but-"

She gave a heavy grunt as she moved a box of unmarked Crystals from a table to the floor, then taking out an old map.

"Terra Atmosia had a Sky knight named Carver who betrayed them, and joined an alliance with Master Cyclonis herself."

I grunted and scrunched my face up at the name, Carver. It rang a bell, but I decided not to press on about him. And Judging by her attitude, I'm guessing no one's a real fan. Least, not anymore.

“That also means the Terra is still without a Sky Knight. What's left of his squad still helps out, but it's hard to have a Squad without a leader."

"Why is that?"

She gave me a slight judgmental face. Shaking it off and smiling at me, deciding to humor me anyway.

"Without a Sky Knight or some kind of leader, the Squadron loses their title and rights to their Squad name. The Sky Knight is responsible for not just leading the team. They keep it together, and take responsibility for the whole squad. Those rules can be bent and flexed but the concept stays the same."

I gave a quiet "Ah" in response. It made sense. Something still bugged me though.

"If that's true, Then why don't they just recruit a new Sky Knight?"

I got the idea of what she needed help with, which was moving crates and sorting maps. My mother showed me how to organize maps, so I could do that much.

"It's not a hard thing, but because of Carver's stunt, people are scared to be the new Sky knight. It's an old wound. Some Atmosians have gone as far as to threaten the Ex-Squad members. Some people think that the whole team was involved, and carver freezing his crew mates was just for show."

"Ew."

Piper let out a huffy laugh, shaking her head.

"Storks right. You really are different from other Sky Knights. Speaking of which. Can I ask you something?"

I nodded my head, finishing up on the last map. It looked like they were creating blueprints for new energy launchers, and a radio scrambler.

"What Terra are you the Sky Knight of? Stork said you mentioned something about being a sky knight yourself."

I gave a deep sigh, making sure to look her in the face. The obvious tone mocking Stork, all whilst hinting at her curiosity.

"It wasn't my choice..."

"Is it ever really a choice?"

I gave another sigh, (Just now realizing that I’ve developed a nasty habit of doing that).

"I was designated to become a Sky Knight when I was 10. I live on Terra Argonia. I was actually hoping that you guys could swing round that way and drop me off..."

"Terra Argonia! But that Terra was swept out clean by the Original Cyclonis! That was YEARS ago."

I chuckled at her.

"Terra Argonia is home to the Nova Crystal. Why do you think they call me Nova?"

Piper was looking at me in amazement, blinking rapidly. I could tell right off the bat she was going to mention Dusty.

"That means you're the daughter of the infamous Dusty of the Raving Vultures!"

Yup. There it is.

"Ta da? I think. I don't know why you're so impressed. He's infamous for a reason."

"I know, I know! But do you know why?"

I felt an old wound open up in my chest. My face must have given away my anger because Piper was quick to apologize.

"O-oh. Right. You'd know. Can I ask what happened?"

Before I could speak a hand was placed on my shoulder. Arrow had joined us in our little circle. His face was serious.

"You're gonna have to hold that thought. We're receiving a stress signal from Terra Rex. We might also have a lead on where Ravess is hiding currently".

#storm hawks #stormhawks #planb

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stars-wars-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the 236th.

This was not at all what Scarecrow had envisioned deployment to be like. He had dreamed of the day for years, the day he and his batchmates would finally be allowed to leave Kamino and join the war. They would fight in glorious battle, bring glory to the Republic and become war heroes.

He had never imagined the blood and chaos and screams of the font lines. Matchbox went down within seconds of the firefight beginning, and Scarecrow didn’t even have time to register he had lost a batchmate before Skimmer dropped as well.

It was fire and blood and screaming and death death death and Scarecrow could do nothing but try to stay alive. This was nothing like his training, nothing like what he had expected.

Finally, the smoke and fire cleared and they had a moment’s lull in the fighting. The droids had been pushed back - they were winning.

It didn’t feel like a win to Scarecrow. His entire batch was gone, the brothers he had grown up with, trained with, been beside his entire life. Within minutes, all their training useless in the face of action combat, shot down and abandoned among the dead of the battle. They were gone, and Scarecrow didn’t know what to do.

He ripped his helmet off, trying to breathe, trying to understand what was happened as he crouched in the cover he had been hiding in for the past ten minutes. His breath was coming quickly, his eyes shimmering with unshod tears.

A low moan caught his attention and Scarecrow started, turning to see a soldier, lying in the mud near his position. Moving to his side, Scarecrow crouched, gripping the wounded man’s hand.

“Do you need a medic?” he asked, because he didn’t know what else to say. He just knew he couldn’t leave this man, he refused to let someone else die. The clone shook his head, trying to pull himself up.

“I - I need. Gah. I need to get up. Please, help-”

“You’re wounded,” Scarecrow protested. “Y-you need a medic.”

“It’s the General!”

“Sir!”

“Heads up!”

The sounds of clones snapping to attention interrupted them and Scarecrow looked up. He didn’t miss the flash of fear that crossed the wounded clone’s face.

“You need to help me up,” he gasped out, trying to pull himself to a sitting position. Scarecrow hesitated, unsure of what to do. But it was too late - the General was making his way through the assembled soldiers. Scarecrow hadn’t had a chance to see the General in person before and was instantly surprised at just how big the besalisk was.

He was an imposing figure, two hands folded behind his back, two arms crossed in front of his chest. He stood a good head and shoulders above the clone commander at his side, an expression of disdain on his face as he passed.

“We must press on before we lose our advantage,” he said, his voice loud and booming. Unease curled in Scarecrow’s gut as he kept a gentle hand on the wounded clone’s shoulder, trying to keep him down. He knew the other man was in no condition to stand. “Leave the wounded,” the General said. “We need to move fast and they will only slow us down.”

Scarecrow let out a small gasp of horror - leaving the wounded went against everything he had been taught. That was lesson number one on Kamino - never leave a brother behind.

“But sir-” he gasped out before he could stop himself. The wounded clone beside him winched.

The General turned, his unsettling yellow eyes landing on Scarecrow and the clone felt a deep sense of unease and fear. With two large steps, the besalisk was suddenly right in front of him. Scarecrow scrambled to his feet, snapping to attention.

“What is your number, clone?” the General asked. Scarecrow swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I- I’m called Scare-”

“Your number. Do you think I care for your foolish nicknames?”

“S-sorry, sir. CT-9333, sir!”

“Well then, CT-9333, did I or did I not give an order?”

“Y-yes sir, you did sir,” Scarecrow said. His mouth was dry - this was almost more terrifying than the wild firefight earlier. Somehow he had never thought the Jedi could be so frightening.

“Then you will obey.” The General moved forward, shoving Scarecrow hard. He stumbled back a few paces, trying to stay at attention, trying to keep his balance.

“Yes sir,” he said, his voice shaking only a little.

The General nodded, his eyes narrowed, turning away from Scarecrow to address the other soldiers.

“I will not be questioned by a clone. Now, do as I say. Leave the wounded, move out.”

He turned, marching away, leaving the rest of the clones in his wake.

“You heard him,” the commander said, stepping forward. “We have to keep moving.” His helmet was on, so Scarecrow didn’t see his face, but for a moment he felt a rush of betrayal - no clone should leave the wounded behind.

“I’m sorry,” Scarecrow muttered to the wounded clone, casting about for his helmet again. When he couldn’t find it immediately, a shaft of panic rushed through him - he needed to keep moving, to stay with the rest and he couldn’t do that without his helmet.

“Bucket on, vod’ika.” A helmet was shoved into his hands and Scarecrow looked up to see another clone, his own helmet blocking his expression. “Keep watch, look busy, I need two minutes.” Then he dropped, crouching beside the wounded clone.

Scarecrow blinked, shaking himself into action and pulling the helmet over his head. It wasn’t his, but that didn’t really matter - all the helmets were identical here.

He glanced about, watching as the other clones slowly began to make their way through the trees, following the General. A few of them cast a look in his direction, but didn’t pay him any attention. Remembering the other clone’s words, Scarecrow dropped to his knee, pretending to examine his blaster.

“R-Ratchet, what are you, ugh, what are you doing?” the wounded clone hissed. Scarecrow glanced over his shoulder to see the clone who had handed him his helmet - Ratchet - crouched over the wounded brother.

“Easy Mags, I got you. Hard luck, learn to duck next time, yeah?”

“Ratchet, you can’t,” Mags gasped. “You have to go.”

“Ha, since when have I followed orders? Look, there’re caves back there, if you can make it you should be able to hide out for a bit. Here’s blaster, not full charge, I’m afraid, but better than nothing. And a bacta pack.” Ratchet produced the items, handing them over to Mags as he spoke.

“I can’t - I, I’ll be a deserter. A traitor.”

“The Republic betrayed you first when General Krell left you behind,” Ratchet said darkly. He leaned forward, gripping Mags’ shoulder. “Ret'urcye mhi,” he muttered. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Mags’. For a moment they stayed there, heads pressed together. Then, he pulled back, laying a hand on Mags’ shoulder and standing.

“Thank you, Ratchet,” Mags said quietly. “K’oyacyi.”

“K'oyacyi, vod. Let’s go, kid.” Scarecrow started, realizing the last was addressed to him. He nodded, scrambling to his feet and lifting his blaster. They moved quickly, darting through the trees as they caught up with the rest of the army.

“Will he be alright?” Scarecrow asked. Ratchet didn’t answer for a long moment, ducking around a bush.

“He’s strong, it’s going to take more than that to keep Mags down.” He paused, ducking behind a fallen tree and looking over at Scarecrow. “Look, shiny, you gotta learn some of the rules around here, alright?” Scarecrow nodded.

Ratchet began to move again, speaking as he did.

“Rule one - brothers come first. We watch each others’ backs, we cover for each other and we don’t tell on one an another in for breaking orders, got it?”

Scarecrow nodded, ducking a low branch as they continue to move. Sounds of blaster fire came from ahead and the low curl of fear in his stomach grew stronger.

“Rule two - Head down, bucket on, don’t draw attention to yourself. If you’re branded as a trouble maker you won’t be able to help anyone. And if you keep making trouble, that’s a fast track to the front lines.”

“But... I’ve already drawn attention to myself,” Scarecrow said uneasily.

“Yeah, you’re okay.” Ratchet paused again, slipping behind a tree. “The thing you need to know about the General is that he likes power. He likes to be in control and he likes to feel like he’s got us all beat. If we act like he does, we can generally get away with some stuff. And don’t worry - there’s always at least one shiny in a batch who gets his anger directed at them, it just happened to be you this time. Unless you keep making trouble he’ll ignore you.”

Scarecrow nodded, glancing ahead uneasily. There was definitely a firefight happening and that was the last place he wanted to be at the moment.

“Ready?” Ratchet asked. Scarecrow nodded uneasily, knowing he was anything but ready. “Welcome to the 236th, vod. We’re here to die!” With a whoop, a shout of Oya! and a mad grin undoubtedly plastered onto his face, Ratchet moved around the tree, leaping towards the blaster fight. Somehow, it made Scarecrow feel better. Death didn’t seem so bad, really. Not when the possibility was to die in a blaze of glory, fighting for his brothers.

Echoing Ratchet’s shout, he shouldered his blaster and charged into the fray.

____

Mando’a

Ret'urcye mhi: Goodbye - lit. maybe we’ll meet again.

K’oyacyi: hang in there, come back safely, a command to stay alive.

Vod: brother

Vod’ika: little brother

Oya: A shout of triumph, let’s hunt, a command to stay alive.

#star wars #clone wars #clone ocs #tcw #pong krell #star wars fanfic #oc: ratchet #oc: Scarecrow #my writing #my fanfic #the 236th #my words

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ganymedesclock · 5 years ago

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So, who is the architect in heartfelt? What does the City look like? What happened to Grail, and is she alive? Do you have a basic list of the wildlife in the tundra? Sorry for all the questions, I’m really curious about this world.

I am probably gonna break this into several posts for the sake of, it’s covering a lotta ground, so in the interest of keeping track, I owe you: Who’s the Architect, What’s up with the City, What’s up with Grail- this time, I’m gonna focus on the Silence and its endemic wildlife.

The world of Sphere is split into seven continents or ‘plates’, and this particular story takes place in the lower half of the Sixth Plate. This area is dominated by the Silence- a vast arctic tundra that’s basically a desert but very, very cold. And when I say vast, think, ‘the Silence alone is the size of the entire North American continent’. Sphere is a big world (It’s a dyson sphere, so its actual surface area is much larger than Earth’s).

While Sphere is made out of what one could call authentic planet chunks built over a mechanical infrastructure, so it has rocks and dirt and sand and water, it has no purely organic life. Everything’s biomechanical, down to single-celled organisms. It’s androids all the way down! Plantlife and fungi? Also biomechanical. If you want a meal here, hope you eat metal pretty well, or are pretty good at sorting out the tender bits.

(This does also mean that the fun news is most of these robots will do very un-robot-like things, like eat and bleed. Chalice has functional viscera.)

The Silence in particular is largely, very flat, and very open. Trees are rare, though hills, cliffs, and canyons are a little more common. Blizzards are scarce but there’s also a fair amount of ash on the ground because of local volcanism that can be kicked up by the winds to blinding ash storms. Between this, the quite-a-few active volcanoes in the area, and the bitter chill of the place, especially during the cold season, survival is tough and few things eke out a life on the surface of the Silence itself- mostly caravans that pass through on their way to the scattered enclaves of habitation... and the bandits that seek to make their life difficult.

What follows is far from a complete list of living creatures in the Silence, but an incomplete roster of some, shall we say, customers of distinction.

Skimmers and swoopers are birdlike creatures, the former more used to beaches where its straining throat sac can let them just scoop a mouthful of water and sort out whatever’s exceptionally useful to it. Swoopers, conversely, as their name might suggest, have a legendary tendency to dive-bomb people from the vantage of the Silent’s very few trees, though they’ll also quite happily pick over anything they find dead.

Despite the inhospitable locale, the area is well-suited to large, sturdy grazers. Herds of unicorns (Spud’s species) are rarer as they tend to prefer the forests where those long necks and flexible tongues can net them tasty leaves- they’re more browsers if they can help it- so wild or wild-feral crosses (“Mustang”) band-backs tend to dominate the area.

The band-back is a huge, powerful creature widely tamed as a beast of burden, but in the wild or living feral they’re quite a hassle to deal with as they’re, well, big strong prey animals with relatively terrible eyesight and a tendency to slam their giant, horned, plate-of-steel heads into anything that gets too close to them, and that’s not getting into rutting season. Dubiously tamed mustang band-backs are the cavalry of choice used by many bandits, so the band-back skull has emerged as a symbol or signpost for them.

Also endemic to this area is the not-so-humble Copperskull, a snake sometimes hunted for its valuable hide but just as often left alone for its spring-loaded venomous jaws, and Howlers, pack predators that, while fairly small, are known to hunt and kill solitary band-backs with fair regularity, which is quite a resume when you consider this boils down to winning a fight with an armadillo-plated ornery cow the size of a small elephant.

One of the Silence’s more interesting life forms, certainly, is the Snowtrap Antlion, which, unlike their namesake, spends their entire life as a burrowing predator which is horribly unwieldy above ground but is excellent at digging pits, planting itself in them, and then lunging out to eat whatever disturbs their protractable pressure-sensor whiskers. They are almost universally driven by primal animalistic spite, and like the humble lobster, can basically live forever and keep growing as long as they have the food supply to grow and molt. Horrible.

(and per Chalice’s verdict: their meat tastes horrible and they don’t make good tools, so there’s little to gain hunting them)

That said, the main thing that guarantees you’ll stay frosty is that the Silence’s hot springs, a precious resource, have a horrible tendency to be inhabited by the infamous Pump Crab, which is exactly as terrible as a wild animal with a machine gun mount on its back that it’s capable of using at will suggests, combined with its cannon claw that it uses to firehose things with jets of scalding spring water as a means to cook and tenderize potential threats into finger food. The one thing that makes the Pump Crab better than the antlions is it’s far more lucrative to hunt, as its meat is considered a delicacy and there’s many people who’ll pay lavish sums for any part of it.

There probably aren’t really thunderbeasts. Nobody’s gotten a clear image of one, or brought a body back. It’s probably fine. Nobody really wants to live in a world with maybe-intelligent giant moose-alikes that shoot lightning.

TL;DR there’s a good reason a lot of people in this setting are missing pieces if they survive to adulthood. Chalice was sequestered in a subterranean greenhouse most of her life and that didn’t save her right eye. Think the wild west but frozen over and full of hell beasts.

#Heartfelt #original characters #robots #readmore #anon thank you SO MUCH for your enthusiasm #Anonymous

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