#but i also want to draw my own ocs like a billion times. but its artfight so i need 2 be drawing OTHER PEOPLES ocs. AUGH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinematicnomad · 4 years ago

Note

1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun!

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out.

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic.

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T) bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04.

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it.

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway.

“oh shit,” stiles says.

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions).

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M) destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody.

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together.

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it.

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.”

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.”

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth.

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know.

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time.

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content.

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy.

fanfic end of the year asks

#lilolilyr #ask #if i knew an authors tumblr i tried to tag them in this #seriously my reclist got away from me for a bit #also if you're looking for 911 recs #like i said they will be in another ask where someone specified!!#fic rec #about kat writes

21 notes · View notes

cosplayswitzerlandaskblog · 4 years ago

Text

Unlike last time Hetalia got a new season, the response has not been particularly positive, and I’m seeing a lot of twisted feelings towards the show and the fandom to a point where it seems long time content creators are stepping away from it. I know anyone still active who follows me either are or were fans of Hetalia, so it should be relevant for all y’all.

As a fan who never fell out of the show, I find the response sad though healthy, and even if I know I ghosted you all on tumblr (sorry) because of time constraints and mental health, I still make the occasional CMVs. Fact is, I do not let go of special interests very easily. It seems a lot of you all started watching the show at 10-14 years old, where I myself was a bit older – 17 – and had grown a bit more. Long story short, my Naruto phase was your Hetalia phase, and no, it’s not pretty. You’re young and stupid and don’t know much critical thinking and make mistakes, and you have to forgive yourself for those mistakes, especially when the content you consume is associated with the real world in a sensitive subject.

But after seeing all these posts explaining all the bad we see from Hetalia, I wanted to make a post explaining what I learned from it – all the good that can come with a show like this if you stay aware of perspective. I am not excusing all the bad that came with it, for WWII is a serious event in history that should never be forgotten nor made fun of, but here goes:

I went from a ‘war-is-cool’ history buff to one who truly delved in and learned the intricacies of history, being fascinated with the ‘hows’ and the ‘whys’ as well as getting an excuse to look at the histories of nations which I’d never otherwise be interested in, and I know a lot of other people in the fandom did the same. This is how history should be known, as that is how we can truly apply it to the real world.

I learned to separate people from their countries. To give an example that’ll hit close to much of tumblr, when I started Hetalia I hated Americans with a passion because of the road “you” had put the world on, and I considered all y’all dumb and bad as a cause of it. Getting that excuse to take an ACTUAL look at how your nation functioned and what communities truly hid behind the borders, I learned instead that your government is corrupt as shit, your society is rigged against you and you have been forced to stand by and watch as chaos happens. It got applied to the world as a whole, where I considered other nations being as dynamic as my own, with people both good and bad, and the actions of the nation is even less of a reflection of the people in the cases of corrupt democracies or dictatorships.

I separated from Colonial world views. I was never actively racist, brought up in a proper home, and already before Hetalia I fiercely protected the rights of Muslims who are often mistreated in my nation and tried to hear them out when possible. But I was a Westerner, and even if the nation I came from had barely participated in invasions, I had learned to consider my culture ‘correct’ and native and African cultures ‘primitive’. While the journey was long, a step wise process of realizing things like there was nothing inherently ethically wrong eating dogs or partially incubated duck eggs, only in how the animals were acquired, that cultural progress is heavily dependent on perspective and that fucking genocide of native peoples still happen in this damn century, Hetalia was the stepping stone which gave me the interest in other nations to expand my world view. I probably ain’t done here – I have a whole life of outside influences to unlearn – but I’m further than most people I know in my near surroundings, and I’ve even managed to move my parents who originally taught me to respect people of all kinds in the first place.

I learned Nazis were people. This is a conversation which often comes up here on tumblr, and the demonization Nazi Germany and its government directly allows actual Nazis and fascists like Richard Spencer a free pass because they look groomed and proper. Until then, I’d simply assumed no one was ‘stupid enough to be a Nazi’ because of the atrocities of WWII and therefore looked at the world naively. Realizing how little true support Nazis had during WWII and similarly anyone could end down that pungent rabbit hole, I became careful of what I excused on social media and allowed myself to doubt seemingly normal people if their behaviour was alarming – such as the police man who is supposed to be a damn ‘hero’ of society.

I learned how to deal with material sensitive to others. A common problem in the fandom has always been the cosplaying and portrayal of Nazis, especially at cons and the like, and in a similar vein – I did blackface once because of Hetalia. The horrible thing about this is that blackface is immensely common in Europe – at least my own country – and blackface frequently happens at schools during ‘international’ events, where whole classrooms are assigned to portray a designated country. A whole of two times – in 6th grade as well as 2nd grade of high school – I was exposed to blackface as my class was given an African nation to portray – Somalia the first time, Kenya the second. No one, adult, teen or child, are aware of the history of race imitation in my country, but by the second time I was supposed to participate in dressing up as an African tribe, I’d understood the issue – thanks to Hetalia. My friend group of white, privileged, European teens discussed what symbolism was appropriate at cons or in videos – could we wear the Iron Cross? The Nazi flag? What if we burned it during the video? These thoughts are not usually a part of the mind of European youth, and I consider that a grave problem which leads to people making fun of ‘triggers’, downplaying racial issues and the like.

It offered me a means to make history personal. The biggest struggle for good history teachers and the reason we are often made to read and write letters from the periods we study is to make it seem real and get a emotional connection to these past, lost peoples. Hetalia offered puppets for me to place into historical contexts to make them truly real – the main driver pushing me away from mere fascination of war, since I suddenly felt the horrors of warfare through the characters that I loved. Things like Elizabeth I’s court, the conquests of Rome, the dissolution of the Kalmar Union, the battlefield of Somme, the invasion of America, damn slavery becomes different when something you already know is a part of it and you can see them in there. Hearing of people of the past should in itself be enough, and for the closest parts of history (WWII and afterwards) it always was for me, but we are human. We cannot understand the size of a billion, and we struggle understanding the lives of those living centuries before us, unless we are offered context.

I’m not blind to the issues of the fandom or the show. I was here for ‘the r*pist, the pervert and the p*dophile’, I know of South Korean and Chinese issues with the show, and I heard the gassing joke in the show’s dub and got nauseous from discomfort and anger. I’ve always been in the fringe of the fandom due to my social disabilities, so I don’t know everything that happened, but I’ve seen many racist OCs and disrespecting of historical sites. It’s not pretty, but I will believe these people, who were likely young, likely learned in time. And I may have been able to learn these things by other means, but not in the same way, and not through personal interest and research that’s helped me become sceptical and analysing of the world around me.

At its core, Hetalia is about watching a normal, nerdy guy learn how to draw, using stereotypic country personifications mainly from the perspective of Japan. It’s natural he chooses Japan, since he’s Japanese, and WWII is unfortunately the automatic historical event for most common people to focus on – but Hetalia doesn’t even solely focus on that, but is an amalgamation of vaguely correct historical situations played out by the characters, and often it is with the intent of comedy rather than the grimness often associated with historical settings which allows a wider audience than merely history nerds.

What I want you all to do is learn from your mistakes and forgive your younger selves for not knowing better. Maybe reflect on what you got from the show, rather than what you lost. A new generation of young Hetalians is likely coming with the new season, and us old timers might be able to help them avoid pitfalls if we stay around to teach them. The best of the show is compassion towards the people of the world combined and love of history, as I believe Hima wanted it – the worst is Nazi apologetics and racial stereotyping. We decide in what direction we take it, and what lessons we bring into the future.

TL;DR: As a lot of media intended for older audiences, Hetalia is a show which has to be watched critically, which makes it dangerous for young people to watch unhinged, but it also opens up for interest in the world beyond the borders you live within. We should be aware of the issues and learn from them, but in and of itself the show has a lot of good to offer in learning compassion for other nations and cultural groups.

#impressive how active I've become these last weeks #I kinda feel embarrassed #but Hetalia is coming back #and a lot of people are feeling dread because of it #my own feelings are mixed #but Hetalia is was gave me friends and started expanding my world view #other people might get a similar benefit from it #and I want them to have the chance #I'd love to hear the opinions of others tho #also #welcome to my usual iconic long posts

23 notes · View notes

terra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Before Sanctuary (Shakarian)

I would like to request one of your oc's( your choice) x any character of your choice with whatever you want to write for them! ❤ -Anonymous

AN: I love you in particular. (Also this was my first time writing for Mass Effect, so feel free to leave some constructive criticism!)

Word Count: 997

Summary: Shepard is dealing with the aftermath of Thessia not very well when Garrus gets worried and shows up to see if there was any way he could help ease the burden she feels with the Reaper war. Set in between Priority: Thessia and Priority: Horizon.

Warnings: Just some angst with some fluff sprinkled in at the end

The cabin was dim as she lay there on the sheets of her bed, the only light being that of the room’s aquarium casting its blue hue across every surface. Shepard wasn’t sure how long she had been like this, yet she also made no move to find out. Her eyes were fixed on the celling, unmoving and barely blinking. The ever-growing weight of her mission was pressing down on her with every mission drop, with every report of the Reaper advancement.

The faraway ping of her omni-tool -Garrus again, she knew he was starting to become increasingly worried for her- the faint thumping of some part within the Normandy’s structure that shouldn’t be there. All of that was background noise to her own thoughts. Briefly she remembered Hackett’s order for Shepard and her crew to go on shore leave. Perhaps after this next mission on Horizon she would.

Shepard had never had any siblings growing up on whatever military station her parents were assigned on for their tour. Her parents had always said that making one child have to move around so often was hard enough, they didn’t need to subject another to that same kind of life as well. She always hated that excuse; it only made the loneliness she felt ever more prevalent every time she would have to leave whatever friends she had managed to make behind every few months.

That’s probably why she had felt an initial draw to Liara. Not born of a romantic interest, but more of a surge of sibling protectiveness (though Liara had more than quite a few years on her). That sibling-like bond the two of them had cultivated was why Shepard felt her heart mourn for the loss of Thessia, of knowing that there was nothing she could do or say to make it hurt any less for Liara short of what they were already set out to do. She had been down to Liara’s cabin earlier, but she knew that the words she had to offer were petty in terms of comfort at best.

She wouldn’t show it in front of her crew- couldn’t show it, but with each mission the despair she felt at knowing that with every small victory, or failed mission, the Reapers were slaughtering entire populations, billions of voices at a time silenced, only grew. The galaxy would be a lot emptier if they were to survive this war, and Shepard didn’t quite know how she was going to deal with it.

If her omni-tool sounded again, she didn’t hear it (or maybe, she just ignored it again) but the next thing that had registered in her mind was the sound of her cabin doors sliding open. She picked herself up off the bed, looking to the unmistakable Turian outline of her lover in the doorway. She said nothing as he stood there, as his eyes narrowed in that way they always did when he was checking her over for injuries after a mission.

“You weren’t responding to my messages.” He finally broke the silence and stepped into the cabin, letting the doors close and lock behind him.

She finally spoke. “Sorry, I was… distracted.”

“I was worried.” The I still am worried hung unspoken in the air, though it needn’t be said. She didn’t say anything, and Garrus sighed, sitting next to her on the bed. He brought one of his hands up to turn her face up to look him in the eye. “Talk to me Shepard. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “What isn’t?”

Garrus sighed. “Bad question, I know. But would you mind still answering it? Is this about Thessia? Because that wasn’t your fault Shepard, you know it was that bastard Kai Leng and The Illusive Man’s.”

She sighed and shifted on the bed so she was more comfortable. “It’s that yes, but also this whole war in general. Just knowing that there’s so many more Thessia’s and Earth’s out there, and that we can’t help them all. And knowing that for some, even when we help, we can’t do anything to stop the Reapers.”

Garrus shifted on the bed, made a move like he was going to put a hand on her shoulder but decided against it at the last minute. “I’m not good at the whole comfort thing, maybe it’s because I tend to prefer to see the worst, but unfortunately we were never going to be able to save everyone. Hell, I don’t even think we’re going to be saving most of the population that existed before the war started. But dwelling on what can’t be saved isn’t going help the people we can save.”

“I’m starting to think everyone on this ship is allergic to a good old fashioned ‘it’ll be okay, Shepard.’”

He snorted, but any hint of humor in his demeanor was gone in a moment. “I can’t make that promise Shepard, not even just to make you feel better. Because we both know it won’t be. Nothing will be ‘okay’ after this war is over. And it probably won’t be for a long time after. The most we can do is what we’re already doing: working towards obtaining the Catalyst and kicking as many Reaper asses as we can along the way.”

“You’re right, you do kind of suck at the comfort thing.”

This time he did allow himself to laugh. “You’re right, but I do know one thing: even though things are going to get worse before they’ll get better, they will get better. And when you and I come out on the other side of this war you and I will retire somewhere nice and quiet. Just the two of us and whatever a ‘cat’ is that you keep mentioning.”

Shepard felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips despite herself as she pulled him close so that their foreheads were resting against each other. “I think that sounds nice.”

#mass effect #mass effect 3 #garrus #garrus vakarian #mass effect garrus #femshep #femshep x garrus #femshep x garrus vakarian #mass effect imagine #mass effect 3 imagine #garrus imagine #garrus vakarian imagine #custom shepard #shakarian #female shepard #female shepard x garrus #female shepard x garrus vakarian #terra writes #drabble

45 notes · View notes

scribeofmorpheus · 5 years ago

Text

The Rebel Queen (i)

Chapter One: Immolation

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 6k | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: We finally get to meet our new protagonists and have a little bit of Poe towards the end. I had a lot of issues with this first chapter. I wrote and rewrote it three times before scrapping it and starting again. I was also anxious no one would want to read something that’s 90% OC’s. If you want to read the original version lmk, I’ll add it as a deleted scene. Expanded lore linked below:

Epilogue | About Thesmora

"Always find the courage to stand, my child," a beautiful smile graced over Lenora's timeless features, her hand reaching down. "For as long as you believe you have the strength to keep going, then you will have the strength to keep going.“

Young Calista rubbed at her cheeks, wiping hot tears away as she dusted her trousers and accepted her mother's outstretched hand. The sounds of her brother’s laughter tickling at her ear.

“Remember Calista, just because you got knocked down, doesn’t mean you belong there.” Lenora helped her daughter to her feet, glancing over at the golden shores of the beach, a content look in her eyes.

Karas the Ancient City on Thesmora…

Ash rained down from the smoke-blackened sky, a shadow cast over the white and gold flag that stood crooked in the courtyard.

Dark purple flowers trampled by lifeless bodies, the polished silver and gold armour of the Royal Guard was covered in specks of uprooted soil and soot.

An explosion in the distance heaving sand and dirt and roots out from the ground.

Princess Calista Ordell stared at her mother's funeral pyre, the flames long since dead. The smoke dancing like a sickly phantasm weighed down by gravity, trapped by the heavy air filled by a melancholy that clung to everything. Today was meant to mark the first day in a hundred days of mourning, but instead it had turned into the first day in a long number of days to be plagued by violence and turmoil.

Calista was numb to the pain. Numb to the distant sounds of explosions and boots crushing over the ancient city’s stone steps. Thesmora had lost a queen and she had lost a mother and on the eve of Lenora’s burial, the planet had lost what little hope there was for peace. Then Duchess Maligma had made a rallying cry. Traitors became patriots, brother took up arms against brother and now Thesmora was under the iron fist rule of a power-hungry tyrant.

Martial law was declared, what was once a monarchy in transition for Calista’s rule, was now a military state ripped apart by infighting and bloodshed.

All it took was one day for the galaxy to change. One day for Calista's life to fall apart. When the First Order unleashed the might of its arsenal against the Alliance, no one had been prepared for the devastation that followed. Seven planets -spinning, revolving, evolving- there one moment and gone the next, billions of lives lost succeeded by a fallout of immeasurable proportions.

Fearing for her people, the Duchess had killed her own sister after she had refused to side with the order. And even though the resistance had destroyed Star-Killer base, they had been too late to stop the panic and fear from spreading across the galaxy.

"Princess," the faint sounds of a trusted voice forced its way into the crevices of Calista’s foggy mind, shaking her from her stupor. "Princess, it isn't safe. We must get you to safety!"

Calista looked up, dazed and confused, eyes red from the salt in her tears. Her protector and long-time friend, Koa Kiddé, grabbed onto her shoulder and shook her fiercely. The wind blew her long silken hair furiously, the sunburst orange ends flickering like an open flame around her face. A look of determination turning her beautiful features stone cold. Her honey-coloured eyes drawing narrower with every wasted second.

"Now, princess!" Koa yanked her to her up.

Calista looked down at her feet planted atop the flower bed and remembered a phrase her mother would always mutter in trying times, "Find the courage to stand."

Koa held out her hand, the other armed with a viro-blade, urging Calista to take it.

Hand in hand the girls ran out of the courtyard and away from the only home they knew. Soldier's clad in black armour filing into the once lush and colourful space, covering it like ants on an anthill. Calista’s crown sinking further into the dirt as synchronised marching lifted the weak soil off the ground.

To win this war they would have to lose this battle.

Calista’s feet began to blister, her breathing ragged and shallow.

"If we hurry we should be able to catch a shuttle heading to Yotai, from there it will be easy to find ourselves a pilot willing to smuggle us out of the Outer Rim," Koa strategized.

"We won't get far dressed like this," Calista pointed at her ceremonial robes and Koa's Royal Guard attire. "And we'll need credits."

Koa hummed in agreement.

"We have no choice," Calista sighed. "We head for the race tracks and speak with Banden Murray."

"I would rather die than watch you sully your reputation by getting into business with that thug," Koa spit in distaste.

Calista looked around the housing complexes in search of clothes or material left out to dry. She spotted a purple poncho with a hood and pulled it over her clothes, obstructing the royal seal embroidered onto her breastplate.

"That may very well come to pass sooner than you think," Calista warned. "Our allies are scarce, Mokk-Toh has vanished and there are whisper's that Maligma is in talks with the First Order. My options are limited. Murray is the only option."

Koa clicked her tongue in distaste, "the thought of being bantha fodder is more comforting, but you are right. Without resources, we'd be shooting in the dark."

"Then we're in agreement," Calista nodded before heading away from the transport station and towards the race tracks.

The Shallow Pits…

The sound of pod-racers whooshed past, dust picking up and filling the air with the scent of grease, smog and engine fuel. The harmonising soundwaves of pods whirring in stasis trembled out through the orange and red rock depressions. The stands which were always filled with up-roaring fans were all but deserted. Posters and flyers advertising for a big race blowing about like unattended children.

Calista kept her head low as she manoeuvred through the sparse crowd of derelicts, gamblers, mercenaries and smugglers that frequented the race tracks. A few strange faces would occasionally do a double-take once they noticed her fine shoes didn't match her worn poncho, luckily Koa's frightening glare and imposing demeanour would scare any potential whistleblowers away.

"Hey, hey, hey, only Thessi with invitations are allowed beyond this point," a mercenary held up his hand, guarding the back entrance to the observation decks. He was an inch away from touching Calista's shoulder.

Koa unsheathed her sword with lightning quick reflexes, the heat from the plasma charge bathing the mercenary’s neck in a yellow glow, "Lay a hand on her and you lose it." Koa threatened.

"Stand down," Calista calmed her before looking up at the wide-eyed mercenary, sweat trailing down his neck -the viro-blade still painfully close to his artery. Koa's disciplined stance barely allowing for the long sword to sway.

Calista lifted the poncho to reveal the sigil, "I have a feeling your boss will make an exception about the invite rule."

The merc gulped and hit the wall panel with his elbow. The door opened with a hiss and a gust of air. "Go on ahead."

Koa sheathed her blade, yellow glow subsiding from the mercenary’s pale neck before following after Calista.

"A visitor to see you, boss," one of Murray's assistants introduced Calista. "And her bodyguard." Koa walked in right after.

Banden Murray was a tall, muscly man with thick hair the colour of tar. His skin paled in comparison to all his compatriots, making him stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town, but he didn't mind that. Murray was more outsider than native, but he had declared Thesmora his home after retiring from whatever occupation he had before.

He was widely respected by the public for being the head of the mining union with connections to various peoples of power. What few beyond the senate seat knew was that he was also an information broker with a vast network of spies who had dealings with both the Resistance and the First Order. Many believed he had amassed this network after the first rebellion ended, though none knew for sure which side he had been pledged to at the time, or if the story held any merit considering no one knew his age. If the lines on his face were any indication, he was probably past his prime years.

"Ah, I never thought I'd see the day when royalty would walk into my establishment of their own volition," Murray smirked as he leaned further into his chair, a multi-coloured poncho draped over his heavily tattooed arm. The only legible tattoo was of a name scribed over his chest: Ashani. "Please, sit."

Calista accepted his show of hospitality, Koa, however, made it a point to stand in defiance. Murray cocked his head at Koa before bringing his sights back on Calista.

"So, princess," sarcasm dripped from his tone. "How may I be of service?"

Koa's hand balled in a fist.

Calista brushed his brazen attitude aside, "I need a favour."

"Do go on," he encouraged with a wave of his hand.

"We have a contact waiting for us at Yotai who will get us out of the Outer Rim. All we need is safe transport off-world."

Murray chuckled under his breath, "Your contact wouldn't happen to be Senator Kiddé by any chance?"

Calista's eye's flickered to Koa's instinctively, her guardian, in turn, clenched her jaw with a bitter expression.

Murray had gotten his answer.

"I suspected as much," Murray snapped his fingers, ushering one of his drones with a heavily tattooed face to bring a box into the room. "He was taken captive by the Thessi Garrison a few days ago. We were able to… re-appropriate several of the personal belongings he had on him."

"Need anythin' else boss?" She asked, eyeing the two outsiders.

Banden shook his head, the rings on his fingers knocking against each other when he weaved them together, elbows propped up on the table. "I'm told he and several other outspoken supporters of yours are being transported to Illis –to the Cairn- on a shuttle tonight."

Koa's hands began to shake and Calista caught on cue, asking Murray the question that was undoubtedly plaguing her friend's mind, "Any news on his wife, the Baroness?"

"We've heard chatter underground that she fled to the safety of Naboo not too long ago," Banden replied.

Koa's shoulders relaxed slightly upon hearing the news.

"With the senator no longer at our disposal, we may have a harder time getting off-world," Calista said gravely.

Banden let out a low rumble, "Then I suppose its fate that you came to my door." He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, his tall frame leaning against the desk with folded arms. "I know a good pilot. Trustworthy. Man of his word. He can get you where you need to go, for a fee of course."

Calista sized him up, "I suppose you have conditions of your own for helping us?"

"I do indeed," Banden pulled out a lighter and burnt the ends of his pipe, filling the light deprived room with puffs of white smoke. "Wars are a tricky business. Lucrative, but tricky. I believe you'd be worth the gamble though. I can help you, be your eyes and ears on the ground. Pass information to and from. I could be your inside man, help topple this totalitarian regime your devious aunt has erected." A wicked leer pulled at his thin lips.

Calista's fingers began to drum against the chair's armrest, one of her nervous ticks.

"What's the trade?" Koa said bluntly, her voice sharp as glass.

Banden blinked as though he hadn't the slightest clue as to what she was inferring.

"Men like you, you covet one thing: power. How does helping us get you what you want?" Koa took a step forward, challenging as was her nature.

"It's simple. If you manage to overthrow this current uprising and restore balance, I want a seat on the senate… and the deeds to the prison," his steely blue eyes fell back onto the princess.

Calista's gaze snapped to his, their eyes clashing like mud and crystal. "That is no small ask."

"Neither is helping two wanted fugitives escape from the clutches of a power-mad warmonger," Banden's voice was no longer gentle, his lungs sucking in air through his lit pipe. The scent of burning sticking to everything.

"How do we know you aren't in Maligma's back pocket?" Koa asked through a narrow glance.

"I am," Banden admitted freely. "I'm in everyone’s back pockets. The resistance, the order, the cartels… everyone. I even did the odd job for the late queen now and again."

"Lies!" Koa barked, jaw muscles working hard.

"It makes sense," Calista said regrettably. "A man of your connections is an invaluable asset." She stood from the chair, determination pulling her brows together. "I cannot promise you the rights to the prison, Murray. Nor am I inclined to believe you won't just betray us once we get on a ship… but, I can assure you, that once I take my throne back, all of Thesmora will know of your role and perhaps that would be evidence enough for the senators to allow you to slink your way into a seat of power." Even though her words were low and controlled, it wasn't enough to fully flatter the mobster.

"If you succeed, we'll bring this discussion up again at your coronation." Banden held out his hand.

Calista knew she was making a deal with the devil, but she had few good choices left. She accepted Banden's hand tentatively, a new alliance forming under the roof of a desolate betting establishment.

"We'll be needing disguises," Calista informed him.

Banden whistled, ushering a skittish droid into the room. "Cory will handle any of your needs."

"And the pilot?" Calista asked.

Banden chuckled again, "He's down by the docking ramps off-loading cargo. I'll let him know you're on the way and I'll handle any remunerations he may require..." Calista motioned to leave when Banden informed her, "For now at least. There are no free favours in this world. I will come knocking if you live through this."

"You'll get what you're owed," Calista's voice was smeared with venom, no longer playing the composed little princess.

“Trust me, I know.” Banden returned to his seat, boots resting on his desk. “Oh and princess, if you run into Felix, tell him his loan is overdue.”

The mention of Felix’s name caused Calista’s breath to hitch, the first sign of her level of distress.

Calista changed into the bright orange mechanic overalls Cory had given her while Koa riffled through the crate with her father's belongings.

"You know," Calista pulled the cloth that separated them. "I think I'd make a good mechanic." Calista tried to smile in the hopes it would ease Koa from her worries.

Koa looked up at her, fishing out a small blaster rifle and holster and tossed it to her, "A gift from our gracious business partner.” She was dressed in tattered clothes. Tears and holes peppering the purple cloak that obscured her viro-blade's sheath behind her back. Black boots scarred by scuff marks.

Calista buckled the worn holster around her thigh and waist, "You don't approve."

It wasn't a question, Koa hadn't tried to hide her feelings about this plan from the start.

"That's why you're the diplomat and I'm the shield," Koa said flatly, her fingers running over the knot-work ridges of an eye-catching necklace.

"It's beautiful," Calista moved closer, tying up her long hair into a professional bun that hid her auburn tinted ends.

Koa held up the chain to the light, the octagonal metal charm scattering the beams of light into an artificial rainbow. "I've never seen it before. I don’t think it belonged to my father." Koa tossed it back into the crate, her hands gripping the edges until her knuckles turned pale.

"Hey," Calista placed her hand over Koa's, urging her to let go. "Maligma won't hurt him, he's too valuable as a prisoner. We'll save him. I promise."

Koa ground her teeth together, before lifting up the box to carry, "Let's focus on getting you somewhere safe."

Calista glanced at their distorted reflection on a polished surface. With their hair concealed and their normal clothes cast aside, they shared a remarkable resemblance. Inattentive eyes would easily mistake them for cousins, even perhaps sisters. Despite their similar bone structure and eye slant, Koa was the more beguiling of the two, with her enviable height and toned build.

Koa pulled an old cap off a hook and fixed it over Calista's head, the brim shielding her eyes from view, "Now you look like a crew member on a pirate ship."

The ship hanger housed three star-ships. One was an old Mon Calamari cruiser that looked to be a former warship, probably salvaged by Murray and his thieves after the war. The other was a beaten up rust bucket with only one working engine, parts pulled from it for salvage and left to gather on the floor like a machines graveyard. The final ship was also a relic of the past, but the colourful paint job slapped on made it look a little newer, a little shinier. Bold letters ran across its side spelling out the word Somnambulist.

As Calista and Koa got closer, they heard the odd ramblings of an unfamiliar dialect. A stout, burly man with an extended belly, greasy hair and an unkempt beard was shouting up at someone working a plasma torch. Calista guessed by the grease-stained medals pinned to the man's small jacket that he was most probably their pilot, Odhen Boro.

Murray told them Odhen used to be one of the best pilots on their side of the quadrant, a veteran in the Resistance too, but he had quit right around the time the First Order popped up.

"Don't give me excuses, one-eyed wonder, you said you'd have the tailpipe fixed hours ago!" Odhen shouted up at a small creature standing on a ladder that had been wheeled under an engine thruster, his miniature frame dressed in a brown get-up.

"Is that a Jawa?" Koa leaned close to ask.

Calista hummed in thought, "I've never seen one, but the fiery attitude and loud shouting would seem to back up that assumption."

The Jawa moved his arms frantically about, his voice small and high pitched. It would have been adorable if not for the flesh searing torch he wielded recklessly.

"Yeah, yeah, don't give me that crap. Just get the damn thing fixed," Odhen ran a hand through his beard, curly follicles falling away at the contact. He stared down at the shed hair strands and groaned in disgust. "Great… next thing I'll start going bald."

The Jawa shouted something else and this time Odhen's nostrils flared, "Yeah, well you aren’t getting’ any younger either, pip-squeak!"

"Odhen Boro I presume?" Calista startled the two hot-tempered males.

Odhen scratched at his beard as he tried to place the strange women standing before him. The Jawa sighed and threw a bolt at him, shouting again in quick, unintelligible words.

The pilot grumbled something under his breath before wiping the engine fluid from his fingers onto his less than white shirt, "My mechanic over here tells me you're our haul. The princess and her bodyguard, right?"

Koa kept her eyes fixed on the Jawa, the initial wonder from seeing a new species still working its way through her mind.

"That's Ton-Ton, my mechanic who's living up to his title less and less with more time wasted. His chatterin’ droid is around here somewhere -lookout for anything that rolls," Odhen's voice was nonchalant as he made his way to the entrance. "I'm guessing the princess has never seen a Jawa before?" he asked as he started lugging crates to and fro.

"Uhh," Calista glanced in Odhen's direction, realising he had mistaken Koa for her. "Actually, no. Koa has never seen a Jawa before. Neither have I. I didn't think they ventured out so far from their homeworld."

"Usually not," Odhen grunted as he lifted another crate. "Ton-Ton has a penchant for getting into trouble. You all set?"

Koa walked past them, setting the crate down in the cargo hold.

"I should think so," Calista told him.

"You hear that Ton-Ton?" Odhen shouted out into the hanger. "We're all waiting on you!"

The Jawa replied in his native tongue and Odhen tugged on his sleeveless jacket in frustration, "What do you mean I can't afford a real mechanic? You're supposed to be a real mechanic!"

"Is this thing safe to fly?" Koa asked, staring up at the ceiling and the leaking pipes.

"This beauty hasn't killed me yet," Odhen said passively.

Koa and Calista shared a troubled glance. Their looks were deterred by the rumbling of unfastened items placed recklessly about the cargo hold. For a moment, everyone stood still, watching, waiting. Then the walls of the ship began to shake and the Jawa cried out as the ladder started to roll, his plasma torch falling to the ground and igniting a tarp on fire.

"What was that?" Koa asked, hands held out to steady herself.

Calista kept looking around as the shaking intensified, "They feel like micro-quakes."

"Seismic charges!" Odhen's eyes grew wide as shouted after the Jawa, "Ton-Ton get your scrawny little ass in here, we're about to have some very angry guests!"

The Jawa scurried on stunted legs dragging a red trolley filled with tools along with him, the flaming tarp left to itself. Ton-Ton shouted after Odhen just as the hanger bay’s ceiling caved in and a troop of Elites rappelled down, firing off rounds from their hand cannons. Their black armour forming one uniform black line in the distance.

"Forget about it, as long as we can take off without blowing up, it's not important!" Odhen waved the Jawa into the ship as he pressed the button for the cargo bay doors to close. A plasma round scorching a heated circular hole into the wall next to the pilot. "Hurry up, spanner head!"

The Jawa waddled faster, managing to get on board at the last second, his red trolley banging against a set of crates.

"Can one of you fly?" Odhen asked.

"I trained for three years but only with smaller fighters," Calista said.

"That don' matter, a seat is a seat," Odhen jogged heavily to the cockpit. "Come on."

Just as Calista made her way to follow, she noticed the Jawa pulling Koa below deck. A sign pointing down to the gun turrets was placed right above the maintenance hatch that Ton-Ton pried open with a wrench.

Odhen didn't bother strapping himself in as he flipped switches and spun the Somnambulist to the side so the turrets would face the advancing militia.

"Sit down, strap in and do as I tell you, kid."

Calista slid into the seat, buckling the seat belt. The ship groaned and shook as several blasts bombarded the outside walls.

"Easy there girl," Odhen smoothed the flat surface of the dashboard with his free hand while the other pushed the navigation stick to the side. He snapped on his headgear and tuned the station until the static turned into rapid-fired words coming out in Jawaese. "Stop clogging up the channels, Ton-Ton! I hear ya! It's not like I'm trying to get shot at on purpose!"

Odhen pressed the ignition button and the whole ship thrummed with new life. A spray of blaster fire hit at the windshield, "Hey shorty, try shootin' at somethin' will ya? I can't be the only one doin' the heavy liftin'." He barked into his headset, snapping his fingers at Calista. "Hey kid, turn us starboard to 45 degrees and then push down that switch so our flaps descend."

Calista followed his instructions, breathing deeply through her nostrils so she wouldn't lose her composure. The sound of the ships cannon's firing off was loud enough to send trembles through to her spine. She felt like she was inside the belly of a giant turbine.

Even though the advancing soldiers were out of view, the sound of explosions signalled that several of the Elite's forces had just been taken off the board. Calista squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, refusing to allow herself to feel any pity or remorse.

"Nice going buddy," Odhen cheered in the headset through shaky laughs. He tried the button for the hanger bay doors but it was unresponsive. Swearing under his breath, Odhen chimed into his headset. "Ton-Ton, I need you to blow up the hanger doors. The receiver isn't transmittin’."

More Jawaese filled the radio and Odhen simply pulled his headset over his ear. Noticing Calista's hand was shaking over the nav-stick he tapped her arm with two fingers. "Hey, kid," he snapped his fingers at her and she pried her eyes open. "I need you to stay focused. You're my co-pilot now. Can you handle that?"

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Calista nodded tightly, screwing her lips into a stern straight line, eyes focused on getting them out of the hanger and towards the horizon peaking over the blown open doors.

The Somnambulist took a hell of a beating as its parking legs folded into the base of the ship, its weight no longer grounded. The force of the attacking Elite's made the ship shake, the old bolts and screws groaning out.

Odhen punched the nav-stick as far down as it would go and the ship burst from the hanger at impressive speeds.

"I need you to keep a steady grip otherwise the torque will pull us into a tail-end spin," he informed Calista.

The ship tilted to the side, threatening to spin out just as he had warned, causing an animatronic scream to burst through the ship. The sound of tires rolling uncontrollably prompted Calista to peek at what was going on.

In the back, a legless droid seated atop another red trolley, rolled from an open compartment and into the stacks of boxes in the cargo hold.

"Woah!" The droid shouted as a crashing noise erupted.

Odhen clicked his tongue, "Damn droid..." He pulled his headset back over his ear. "Hey shorty, you forgot to secure your damn droid!"

In frustration, Calista peeled her headset off, trying to remain concentrated with flying instead.

Odhen raised a brow her way and she simply shrugged.

"He talks a lot."

"I hadn't noticed." Odhen laughed. "Alright kid, I'll take over from here. Hold on, I'm punching us into hyperdrive. Got any requests?"

"Anywhere as long as it's not here," she offered, palms running across her face as she let out a huff.

The stars raced across the screen like a thousand shooting stars raining around the ship. The Somnambulist had stopped groaning from all the offensive fire and was now groaning from the intense speeds it was flying at. The sounds were similar but also different, less nerve-wracking.

Calista sighed as she stood from the co-pilot seat, staring longingly at the dashboard. There had been a time when the prospect of flying a ship as large as this one would have brought her joy, but right now her heart was too heavy to allow anything other than despair in.

"You aren't such a bad shot," Koa's voice praised out to the waddling Jawa. Ton-Ton said something in his native tongue in response. Koa hummed flatly before answering: "I'll pretend I understood what you said."

"He said he thought you weren't so bad yourself," the animatronic voice spoke out. "I hope I'm not being too imposing but… would one of you help me up? I'd do it myself but I have no legs."

Koa looked to the droid in the cargo hold and walked towards him, disappearing from Calista's view. Following suit, Ton-Ton hobbled over, his arms waving about.

Odhen sighed before pulling off the headset and standing from the seat with much effort, his belly brushing against the dashboard.

"Let's go see what that’s about."

"I am immensely grateful... Miss?" The droid asked Koa as she pulled him into his trolley. The Jawa pulled out some tape from his long cloak and tried to affix the droids severed torso onto the trolley more securely.

"Knight-Captain Koa'lianu Kiddé." she greeted overly formally. “Koa for short.”

“Knight-Captain?” Odhen mouthed to himself.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Protocol Droid M8-T7 but my master calls me Watts and so does the Captain," Watts saluted at Odhen. "I must extend my deepest apologies to you both," Watts continued.

Koa squinted her eyes in confusion, "Why?"

"When my mobility device rolled away, I accidentally crashed into your box of personal belongings. I landed on this data chip storage device and crushed its outer casing," Watts held out the necklace from before. "I hope the casing wasn't sentimental to you."

"Data chip?" Koa asked, glancing at Calista with a bemused appearance.

Ton-Ton snatched the necklace from his droids hands before Calista had the chance. His small hands bringing the shiny metal object up to his singular eye, his voice muttering something in thought as he snapped the rest of the casing off.

"Hey, hey," Odhen pointed disapprovingly. “We talked about this. Don't go stealin' shiny things. That's the reason you ended up on my ship remember? Give it back to the princess…“ Odhen pointed at Koa who in turn looked at him with a furrowed brow, “So you can get to work on the lower hull, we may have a leak to fix remember?"

"A leak?" Calista asked frantically.

"Don't worry, the most damage it could do is--" Odhen was halted from his speech when the ship suddenly fell out of hyperdrive, the momentum of the sudden stop forcing everyone to jolt forward and brace onto something for support. "Drop us out of hyperspace. Damn." He finished with a glum expression and a snap of his fingers.

Ton-Ton rambled something, his tone indicating he wasn't about to do as Odhen asked.

Watts, seeing that Koa and Calista were unfamiliar with the ships dynamic, started translating, "Ah, it seems Master Ton-Ton believes I may have damaged the data chip, but he thinks he may be able to salvage whatever was on it if you give him permission."

"Well, Princess?" Koa cocked her head to the side, staring at the hyper-active Jawa. "The choice is yours."

"Princess?" Odhen sounded shocked. "Did you know she wasn’t the princess this whole time?" He asked Ton-Ton pointing at Koa again.

Ton-Ton replied with a dismissive wave as he started tinkering with the data chip.

Odhen gaped at his small friend, "And you didn't say anything?"

Calista knelt next to the Jawa, looking him in his one good eye and nodding hesitantly, "If this data chip was with your father, stands to reason there's something important on it. Play the message."

Ton-Ton pried a panel on the back of Watts's head, moving some wiring around before slotting the data chip into the droid's head.

A hologram of a miniaturised dancing Twi’lek appeared a few feet away, her body translucent and blue. The Jawa knocked Watts on the head with a spanner before shouting at him disapprovingly.

"Oops, terribly sorry, wrong recording," the droid apologised.

This time a new hologram filled the room. It was life-sized, blue and equally translucent yet somehow more alive than the one before.

Calista let out a chocked gasp as her eyes fell on the recorded version of her mother. She was just as beautiful as she remembered and even more regal in her favourite blue gown. Her long hair falling to her elbows, a blue pin the shape of a bird clipping two braids together.

Odhen whistled in the air, his eyes widening as he shifted to get a better look at her face. Koa walked over to place an encouraging hand on Calista’s shoulder.

"My daughter," the hologram began. "If you are watching this, then it is too late for me. I failed to see my plans come to fruition. Thesmora has always been peaceful, even during times of war and we have taken pride in that. But, I fear we may no longer be allowed to remain a neutral planet in this ever growing conflict. In truth, I do not believe we should.

I watched, helplessly, during the first war that ravaged his galaxy. I had the power to shift the balance and I chose not to do so. Yes, I had a responsibility to my people to keep them safe from the ravages of war, and I did that, but as a result, an entire planet was destroyed and we allowed a force of evil to continue its reign of terror on others.

Now that evil has returned, different and yet the same. My spies tell me the First Order is building a weapon of mass destruction, much like the one the Empire used to destroy Alderaan. I cannot in good conscience allow this evil to grow, I cannot stand back and use the safety of my people as an excuse again. We must declare allegiance. Maligma disagrees, I've never seen her so frightened before. I fear she may do something rash in her blind ambition to keep Thesmora out of this war."

Lenora's chin touched her collarbone as she took a strong and purposeful breath before looking up with steeled conviction and continuing on: "I have entrusted this data chip to Senator Kiddé, he is one of the few I trust unequivocally. The other is with Mokk-Toh. I sent him in my stead to be my voice and negotiate our terms with the Resistance. There is no one else I would trust to carry my words more."

A smile appeared on Lenora's face, "The data chips work as a set. Put them together and they reveal the location of several bomber star-ships intended for General Leia, as a show of good faith. Get this data chip to Mokk-Toh, the two act as beacons once separated. Follow the signal to his location… In case I'm not around to tell you this, know that I love you, always."

The hologram stopped and Calista stared into her mother’s face for what felt like an eternity, the silence disturbed by Odhen's dry coughing. Koa side-eyed him as he beat his chest, trying to clear his airways.

"Stop the recording," Calista's voice was feather-light.

Watts's mechanical eye stopped projecting the recording. The blue glow dissipating from the walls of the ship.

"Can you trace the location of the other beacon?" Calista asked the Jawa.

Ton-Ton nodded before going to work behind Watts. A spark and fizzle popping out before a new projection painted the room blue again.

Koa walked closer to the map to get a better look at the location of the beacon. Her finger hooked in a circle around her chin as she examined the map further. "I'm not familiar with these co-ordinates but this section of the map looks familiar."

Odhen grumbled when he looked at the map, "I don't know why it would. That's Takodana, a pirate haven. One of the few places free from the Resistance and First Order's squabblin'. It's not governed by the Cartels neither."

"Set a course, Captain," Calista said confidently, no longer kneeling on one knee.

"It'll take us some time since we can't initiate the hyperdrive without blowin’ ourselves up," Odhen rubbed the skin on his neck. "You may want to grab some shut-eye on the way, I'll go make sure we don't fly into any debris. Space is littered with broken chunks since they fired that Star-Killer... Ton-Ton come on. I don't pay you second mate rates for nothin'."

Ton-Ton spoke in his usual hurried tones.

"What do you mean I don't pay you?" Odhen banged on the roof of the cargo hold with a closed fist. "You got shelter over your head don't ya?" Odhen rolled his eyes and headed off. "Pssh, I don't pay you. Maybe I would if you didn't have a stomach the size of a bantha, ever think of that?" He grumbled to himself.

Ton-Ton fixed up Watts' exposed control panel, handed the necklace back to Calista and placed a long piece of piping in the droid's hands before going off to join Odhen in the cockpit.

"Master Ton-Ton says I am to show you two to the crew’s quarters," Watts pushed his trolled using the pipe as a rowing stick. "This way, follow me please."

The Resistance Base on D'Qar...

Poe was on the ground, his back pressed to a maintenance trolley, a torch held between his teeth as he worked on the modifications for Black One.

BB-8 beeped and chimed in happy tones as he rolled about next to the X-Wing.

Poe pulled the torch from his mouth when he said, "Hey BB-8 can you pass me the '44?"

BB-8 rolled over to the toolbox, clamping arm reaching out from its hidden compartment to grab the spanner but failing to get a grip. The droid beeped worriedly before a set of boots walked up to the toolbox and picked up the spanner instead.

"Here you go, Black Leader," Paige Tico's distinctive vibrato filled the empty hangar bay.

"Thanks," Poe smiled under the X-Wing, his hand reaching out to grab it. "When did you get back?"

Paige tapped her boots on the floor, "A while, I've been spending time with Rose. She worries."

Poe fixed the nut tighter and then dropped the spanner next to the toolbox, "Gimmie a hand?"

Paige wheeled the trolley out from under the jet, tossing him the rag that was on the stool.

"Thanks," Poe nodded, whipping the grease from his hands and under his fingernails.

"Missed a spot," Paige wiggled her eyebrows at the oil stain on his overalls.

Poe dabbed at the dark stains and sighed when he realised they were already dry, "Perfect." He drolled sarcastically.

Paige laughed.

"Don't laugh," despite his serious tone, a smile of its own was spreading across the Commander's face. "This is my second pair this month. The Resistance doesn't have the budget for it." He joked.

Paige rolled her eyes, "Sure, they can afford fancy X-Wing's but not a washing machine."

Poe huffed, dropping the rag in his toolbox, "You here for a reason Tico or just to eye my baby?" Poe patted his jet affectionately making BB-8 chirp and beep, "Don't worry buddy, I can have two favourites."

"Ah, the delusions of men," Paige hummed with a smug look on her face. "And no, you caught me on one of the rare occasions that I'm not trying to pester you into letting me take Black-One for a test run." Paige pointed her thumb in the direction of the exit. "The General sent me, she wants to see you in the CC."

Poe frowned, "You couldn't have gotten to that tidbit a little faster?"

Paige shrugged as she watched him and BB-8 race down the hanger, "Eh, it's more fun watching you sweat for it!" She shouted after them.

When she was alone, Paige allowed her eyes to look over the black X-Wing with a hungry expression. A whistle of appreciation leaving her cheeks as her hands glided over the cold metal. She whispered hopefully, stars in her eyes, "One of these days, baby."

Poe slowed his pace to a slow jog when he neared the command centre. An overlapping noise of voices and machinery and buttons being pressed bombarded his ears. It was starkly different from the isolation of the hangar bay. Poe was beginning to miss his time working on his star-fighter already. He was also a little disappointed he hadn't had the time to get cleaned up before seeing Leia.

"You wanted to see me, General?" Poe announced himself into the room.

Leia turned and smiled at him, her fingers beckoning him closer, "About time Commander."

The hologram of Maz Kanada died out just as he stepped into the room.

"An old friend tells me that some new allies may require our assistance," Leia informed him. "I need you to gather a handful of your best men and head for Takodana." Leia's brow crinkled as though she had forgotten something important. "Oh, and take one of the ships we salvaged after the incident with Hosnian Prime. Don't want to arouse any unwanted suspicion."

Poe pressed his palms to the table, leaning in closer, "Mind if I ask who exactly these new allies are?"

"Maz didn't say, but something tells me they'll be revealed to you when the time is right."

"Do they know we're coming?"

"That is also yet to be determined."

Poe had to restrain himself from sighing, his head drooping down as he tried to keep his wits about him, dark curls cascading around his face and skirting across the sensitive skin right above his brow.

Lieutenant Connix walked in with a data-pad in hand, "Mission reports, General."

"Have faith, Poe. Things unravel the way they're meant to." Leia glanced over her data-pad, streams of information scrolling past her eyes as she brought her knuckles to bear the weight of her chin while she assimilated the new information.

Poe nodded, lifting his weight off the table as he made for the door.

Leia's eye twitched when she read a section of the report.

"Commander," she called after him.

Poe swivelled in a fluid motion, eyes wide in question.

"Take Ensign Tico with you. Something tells me she could use a change of scenery." Leia smiled again, "And don't dally."

"By your orders General," Poe excused himself from the room and headed for the living quarters to fetch his men and clean the grease off his fingernails.

To be continued…

Taglist is open, just ask.

Permanent Tag List: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

THE REBEL QUEEN: @carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #poe dameron x ofc #poe x calista #star wars #oscar isaac #tfa #tlj #sw:tfa #sw:tlj #star wars fic #leia organa #kaydel ko connix #paige tico #first order #resistance

12 notes · View notes

merlin-plays-sims4 · 5 years ago

Text

oh ho ho??? thanks for tagging me @pacifisims!

dogs or cats? CATS!

youtube celebrities or normal celebrities? neither yEET

if you could live anywhere, where would that be? i’d love to get settled where I am currently actually! get my own apartment n stuff, right now I’m living with my dad

disney or dreamworks? I grew up with a lot of disney movies but nowadays they kinda being shit so meh :|

favorite childhood tv show? I didn’t have access to a lot of shows when I was younger but I did have like a season of spongebob on a tape that I’d watch a lot sdsudfhd

the movie you’re looking forward to most in 2020? I’m not huge on movies HUSHADHAS I am looking forward to a pet site called Dappervolk to release, and for Persona 5: Royal to be in English!!

favorite book you read in 2019? I... havent read anything recently... its a sad time

marvel or dc? never been a fan of either

if you choose marvel favorite member of the x-men? If you choose dc favorite justice league member? see above! ndifsdfsdf

night or day? night

favorite pokémon? My friends just legally assigned my pokesona to one in sword/shield so I’ll keep that out of here to prevent accidentally spoiling someone! I know nothing about pokemon but I’d die for them

top 5 bands: In no particular order for any of these top #s: Mystery Skulls, Glass Animals, Florence + The Machine, Studio Killers, and Of Monsters and Men!

top 10 books: The Artemis Fowl Series, Ender’s Game series, The Hunger Games series, Percy Jackson series (original five books tho can’t remember my feelings on the rest! sdf), Gravity Falls Journal 3!, the welcome to nightvale book, not sure if it has a title?, and The Adventure zone: Here there be Gerblins are all fantastic. there are definitely more but i am blanking rn sdfhudhfs I also have a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales that I looove!

top 4 movies: Spiderman into the Spiderverse, The Giver (2014), The Lost City of Atlantis (Disney one), Big Hero 6

america or europe? blegh to both

tumblr or twitter? I’ve been on tumblr longer and am kinda still getting used to twitter, but I don’t mind either~

pro-choice or pro-life? Pro-choice, always

favorite youtuber: sims wise, I’ve been watching a lot of lilsimsie’s videos! Lately, I’ve also been watching Bernadette Banner’s dress making videos, and I watch a tooon of speedpaints/timelapse art videos from a lot of people

favorite author? It’s hard to pick a favorite! I also haven’t been reading much lately so OTL

tea or coffee? I’m afraid I must disappoint you all with the information that my blood is probably 90% soda at this point, and I don’t drink either of these!

otp? me and girlf?? like 20 billion oc pairings sdfhsdfuds I have a lot of characters;;;;;

do you play an instrument/sing? I used to take band in middle school and played percussion. I really enjoyed the chimes and timpani but ended up dropping it cause the instructor was kinda a jerk and I wanted to draw more sdfuhdsuf

I don’t have anyone to tag, but if you’d like to do this and use me as your tagger feel free❤️

#ask game

1 note · View note

hvckleberried · 5 years ago

Text

yeah, he’s smoking inside. fucking sue him. miles leans back against the countertop and watches these idiots actually work. he takes a long drag. blinks. are you gonna, like, help at all, man? his exhale’s elongated; he watches his own breath fade into the rafters.

“ oh, does this bother you ? ” he asks, feigning concern. even cocks his head to the side for good measure. he lifts the cigarette in question to confirm their distaste. the other boy nods. miles’s forefinger taps against the cig and flicks ash onto his stupid west ham high shirt. and there it is. the smirk.

“ my. bad. ”

or, alternatively : ‘tis i, linc, with *dj khaled voice* anotha one !! greetings & salutations to huckleberry jeremiah vernon. call him MILES or he actually might kill you.

[ m i l e s v e r n o n –– OPEN FLAME .

✔ oc + wc┊❝ ( aria shahghasemi. he/him &. cismale ) eighteen year old huckleberry jeremiah vernon was listening to "paint it, black” by the rolling stones when the field trip buses turned around. rumor has it he spent two years in juvie & is the unbeknownst father of becca’s child, but who knows if that’s true? what we do know is that their friends describe them as alluring & deft, even if they’re known to be a little anarchic & noxious from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: huckleberry jeremiah miles vernon

nickname(s) or alias: miles, vernon, fuckleberry finn ( west ham football team, freshman year ), that asshole, the scary one, the kid ( his foster parents )

preferred name: miles. call him anything else and it’s your funeral, fuckface.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: scorpio

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

home environment: the kiersney household. a manor-like three-story at the edge of west ham’s easternmost woods. it looks like ikea ate pier 1 imports and fucking barfed up its bones the next day. statement walls. matching furniture. modern art on the walls. his foster parents have a motherfucking sculpture in the front foyer. it’s sickening. suburban. tame. tidy.

current occupation: student. delinquent.

language(s) spoken: english. i’ll-wring-your-neck-with-just-my-eyes. spanish, barely.

native language: english.

current relationship status: his knuckles kissing your face.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: huckleberry jeremiah vernon won his name in the lottery of misfortune: at least, that’s what his aunt used to say to the young boy. he doesn’t know a lot about his parents. enough to know they were royal fuck-ups, crackheads with nothing better to do than fuck and get high and have an accidental kid. they thought it’d be a hilarious form of payback: this monster takes nine months of their precious time, so they’d make his life hell. simple. so when his parents died when he was just an infant, his aunt had the opportunity to change his name. shift the tide. but she couldn’t bring herself to go against her dead sister’s wishes, however fucking twisted up she got because of her bad-news boyfriend. she took huckleberry in and insisted on calling him by his birth name until, at three years old, he was sent home from school with a drawing of his aunt with x’s for eyes. “ my auntie if she keeps saying it ”. from that day forward, he was jeremiah. then miles. only miles.

birth order: first and only for his biological family. the second-youngest of his cousins, when he lived with his aunt. they had a massive falling out after he returned from juvie. she chucked him out like he was rotten meat. the oldest ( or perhaps same age ) as his current foster brother.

ethnicity: what’s it to you. iranian-american

nationality: american.

religion ( tw: death, acts of violence ): fuck that shit. there’s no god. if there were a god, it’d be fucking him. this wasn’t always miles’s view; it started when he was 4, and accidentally killed his aunt’s cat in front of his cousins. they always hit people when they were doing something wrong in cartons! the cat was trying to steal his cheese stick. so... he hit it with a book. his aunt she made him go to bible camp that summer, where he was vilified for his name. “huckleberry’s a dingleberry! hahaha! where’s tom sawyer, huh?” whatever god there was wouldn’t let him have this name. or this life. he wouldn’t have let his parents die: huckleberry would later find the news clipping. “ bronx couple found shot dead in stolen vehicle, ruled double-suicide. ” religion’s the opiate of the masses. it’s how pansy people sleep at night. young huckleberry wasn’t allowed back at church after he dropped one of those big candles and watched the altar go up in flames. fine by him. he started playing with fire. messing with the wrong people. getting wrapped up in sketchy city boy shit. any shred of faith left in his body was torn away when he and his older buds planned to rob a bank: miles was 12; his cohorts ( ty & presley ) were 18. miles did most of the electronic work: hacking the cloud, derailing the security system. they stormed the fucking bank of america. one of them whipped out a gun. miles... stabbed somebody in the shoulder, to get them off of ty. he watched that security guard die, that day. but not before his bullet ripped through ty’s head. juvie happened. two years. aggravated manslaughter. he got off easy, as a minor. presley’s still behind bars. so, yeah. there’s no motherfuckin’ god out there. and if there is? he can kindly suck miles’s dick.

political views: politics. are. bullshit. go cry to somebody else about your opinions. there’s 7 fuckin’ billion people on this planet and you think your thoughts on zoning laws and gun control matter? cry him a fucking river.

financial status: he’s secure, because of his foster parents. he keeps testing ‘em, to see if they’ll fuckin’ send him back. broken merchandise; we want a refund. but they don’t, so he... just keeps taking. stealing money from their wallets. selling expensive shit from the house to buy good shit. pocket knives. lighters. alcohol. a gun.

hometown: bronx, new york city, new york. now it’s west ham. fuck that.

level of education: high school junior. because of his time in juvie, he entered school in west ham as a freshman at 15. he’ll turn nineteen before his senior year. not that it matters. he’s already planning his escape. he’s lifted enough money to skip town soon, go back to new york. avenge ty’s death. he’s got the other security guard’s details, from that day. it pays to be skilled with a keyboard. he’s brilliant, when he wants to be. sharp-witted. his idea of a prank last year was sending an anonymous tip in to the school saying the whole place might blow. hacking the database to make it look like it was sent from a real address. he’s still surprised people aren’t more fucking grateful. he secured them a stupid day off. he’s also known to hack into the cloud to get test answers, and sell ‘em to people that don’t completely make him want to punch them.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): aria shahghasemi. he’s got these midnight black curls. piercing gray eyes.

height: 5′10. but don’t let that get your guard down.

figure/build: lean and muscular. won’t be caught dead in west ham’s stupid gym, but he’s fit. his foster parents put in a whole boxing studio in their basement just for him. he’s been known to get into fights, throw punches. it was their way to kind of, like... get his anger out. joke’s on them; he’s not giving it up. that shit’s his.

hair colour: black.

hair length: mid-length. curly, so it looks shorter than it actually is.

eye colour: gray.

glasses?: no. just shades.

skin tone: olive. smooth.

tattoos: he got one in juvie, on the side of his right wrist. a cross. makes him laugh. irony. he’s in the process of self-tattooing fuck between his left forefinger and thumb, but only the jagged f is there right now. it’s a process. he can’t stomach the needle.

piercings: one diamond stud in his left ear. it’s about the side of a pencil eraser. stolen.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: a few faded cross-hatches near his hairline, from fights that resulted in stitches. a six-inch line across his chest. knife. a few patches of scar tissue from burns on his palms. all juvie.

dominant hand: left-handed. you can tell because that’s the hand he always uses to flick his lighter on and off, on and off. he’s always playing with that damned thing.

if painted, what color are their nails?: who do you think he is, fuckin’ bowie? jesus.

usual style of clothing: black on black on black. did i mention black? black t-shirts, leather jackets, denim jackets, dark jeans, boots. wouldn’t be caught dead in fuckin’ sneakers. failed gym because he wasn’t about to put on dowdy shorts and t-shirts just to run around a glorified prison for 30 minutes every day. oh, there’s a pep rally? we’re supposed to wear centurion colors? fuck you.

frequently worn jewelry: he wears a thin gold chain around his neck every day. sometimes he’s got rings.

describe their voice, what accent?: his voice is very punchy, low. cat-like. glimmers of some new york peppered in here and there.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: clipped. acidic.

describe their scent: amber. tobacco. smoky.

describe their posture: he stands tall, defiant, aloof. chin always tipped up in the face of oncoming threats. his whole body’s a proverbial middle finger to the world: yeah, i’m here. bite me.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: yep. went 80 in a 25 zone.

have they ever been arrested?: yes. at this point, the west ham police force is really tired of his shit.

do they have a criminal record?: absolutely. various misdemeanors. cybercrimes. property damage, breaking & entering. shoplifting. aggravated assault.

have they committed any violent crimes?: hAs He CoMiTtEd AnY vIoLeNt cRiMeS ??? ( he’s laughing. )

property crimes?: affirmative.

traffic crimes?: should be the least of your concern.

other crimes?: don’t even get me started. the moral compass on this kid is... nonexistent. the answer to the world’s problems is fuck ‘em. anarchy.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: december 3rd. 3:32am. witching hour. ha.

place of birth: shitty hole-in-the-wall crackhouse. his parents dropped him at his aunt’s before freewheeling.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male.

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: yes / yes / yes. what can he say? he’s an equal-opportunity employer.

allergies: grizz visser. fuckin’ ass. nosy people. pop music.

ever broken a bone?: his nose in second grade: the other kid got it worse. his hand in fifth grade. worth it. couple ribs in juvie. his arm, when he was a baby. his parents wanted to see if gravity was, like. real.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nah. not that he’d tell you anyway.

any medication regularly taken: nyquil, sometimes. helps him sleep.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: *blinks at you like you’re speaking swahili*

positive traits: alluring, deft, crafty with computers. sly.

negative traits: anarchic, acerbic, explosive. heedless. noxious.

likes: the flick of the flame. beat poetry. darkroom photography. scared glances. messing with the system. sidestepping boundaries. wintergreen lifesavers. blueberry slushies. ac/dc, the stones, lynyrd skynyrd, sting, the offspring, kansas. buttered toast. milk duds. history. cigarettes: he’s always got one tucked behind his ear.

dislikes: fucking football team. working on yearbook ( detention punishment ). catch him taking photos of those morons with his middle finger in frame. his roots. his aunt, for casting him out. his foster family, for giving him so many chances. he doesn’t deserve them. his name. bright sunlight, hurts his eyes. pistachios. remembering. weak alcohol. fraternizing with the idiots of west ham.

strengths: he’ll figure out your nervous ticks within two minutes of talking to you. he can go hours watching someone ramble and not say a thing, and not break his expression. making others feel small. digging his fingers into your dirt. finding back doors, loopholes, and getting through cybersecurity like a hot knife through butter. baking – but tell anybody and he’ll end you. tying cherry stems with his tongue. making sense of ginsberg. remembering stupid historical facts. pope gregory ix executed cats and that allowed rats to spread the bubonic plague in masses. still fuckin’ like your religion, asshole?

weaknesses: vengeful. his definition of justice is very much based in vigilante action; an eye for an eye. he’s got an aloof disposition, but his past wounds are still seething. empathy. expressing emotions other than anger. patience. impulse control. he can’t hide that you’re pissing him the hell off. swears in front of kids, often. probably slept with your aunt two towns over. can’t lose an argument, ever. even with authority figures.

insecurities: what if he... caused ty’s death? what if that’s on him? is he worth shit? he’ll make himself worth something. he’ll get them back. all of ‘em. he’ll make ‘em pay.

fears/phobias: hates needles. but fucks with ‘em anyway. fears oblivion, but puts up a front like he’s chill with it. fears he’ll never muster up... a purpose. or whatever the fuck people call it. fears this is all he’ll ever be: an eighteen-year-old fuckup with a record, hands that itch to fight, to crush, to destroy.

habits: playing with his lighter. chewing on toothpicks. popping milk duds like pills. glaring at everyone, no one, nothing. everything. laughing in the face of authority. making unprecedented digs at people, just because he can. propping his feet up on the desk in front of him when his teachers ask him to answer questions, twirling a pencil in his hands like he’s god. grabbing a slushie from 7/11 just to have something to do with his hands. messing with the popular kids’ social medias, just for fun. hacking the online lunch menu to see his classmates get fuckin’ pissed when mozzarella sticks are served on friday, not today, sorry. driving to neighboring towns’ parties and hooking up with chicks there. masquerading as a man with a reason. hitting up college parties often. lingering in shadow. living in gray areas. writing his own notes in the front of library books, on the title page, in sharpie. “ fuck you ten thousand ” on the school’s copy of pride & prejudice. “ kindly die, thanks ” in gone with the wind. “ congrats, you’re literate ” in the front of catcher in the rye.

quirks: always sits in the back left corner of the room, near the window. he literally jumped out, sophomore year, when the school security officer tried to bust him for selling pills to a freshman in the hall earlier that day. popping his earbuds in during lectures. maintaining unbroken eye contact with teachers as he does so. getting ~very close~ and speaking ~very low~. purring threats. can never drink lightly. skipping school often, fabricating online attendance to avoid suspension. barely eating the food his foster parents prepare. leaving the table early, unexcused. digging into the leftovers after everyone’s gone to bed. severing ties. if he’s lucky, never makin’ ‘em in the first place. his new yorkisms come out when he’s drunk, or high, or tired.

hobbies: darkroom photography. reading poetry. burning shit. smoking. walking around the mini mart like he’s a hunter in the wild, just to make the clerks uncomfortable.

guilty pleasure: he listens to “lore” and “my favorite murder”. but he disguises that shit, saving the album covers of the podcasts as seether.

desires: to avenge ty’s death. get the fuck outta west ham. to find a reason to be here. a reason why.

wishes: his parents didn’t kill themselves. cowards. they deserved to deal with him. they deserved to be tortured, for doing this to him. he wishes he hadn’t pulled that knife on his aunt. then at least he’d still be in new york city, instead of here, with this stupid fuckin’ foster family that just won’t let him go.

secrets: killed a guy. the reason for his juvie sentence is redacted on his public record. he’s lonely, a lot of the time. and, oh yeah: he’s becca’s baby daddy.

turn ons: no bullshit. sarcasm. intellect. no strings.

turn offs: sentimentality. smileyness. too much perfume. caring.

lucky number: 1. he’s all he’s got.

pet peeves: chewing gum: fucking pellegrino and his damned bubbles. bubbly people. cassandra pressman and the tree-sized stick up her ass. foot tapping. prying. school involvement. slow drivers. slow walkers. slow thinkers.

their motto: “ fuck you very much. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: falafel. shut up.

drink: he brought vodka to school in a water bottle once. diet coke.

fast food restaurant: wendy’s. he likes the chocolate frosties.

flavour: chocolate.

word: fuck. for a vast array of reasons.

colour: black.

clothing: his most worn leather jacket. touch it and he’ll end you.

accessory: the gold chain ‘round his neck. it was ty’s.

candle scent: smoke. tobacco. whatever that shit is, patchouli.

game: fuck games. fuck fugitive. leave him alone.

animal: he has such a soft spot for caterpillars.

holiday: christmas. he likes baking shit. but if that ever gets out, he’ll flip.

weather: pouring rain, with patches of sun in between. it’s rare, but damn. it’s kind of beautiful.

season: summer. fast drives, windows down. no school. no bullshit.

book: on the road, jack kerouac.

artist: aerosmith.

band/group: ac/dc, kiss, guns ‘n roses, van halen, def leppard.

song: we’re not gonna take it, twisted sister.

movie/film: star wars. fuck off, it’s good.

tv show: history docs. he likes those decade pieces on the history channel.

sport: boxing.

possession: his lighter.

number: 1.

person: that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. himself. he’s lying.

( &&. skills )

talents: hacking. lying. breaking rules. testing limits. photography. playing people.

ability to drive a car?: yes. recklessly.

can they ride a bike?: yes, chooses not to.

do they play any sports?: tonsil hockey. heartbreaking. boxing.

anything they’re bad at?: empathizing. serenity.

do they have any combat training? why?: yep. his friends in grade school. juvie.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: crushing a handful of cheerios in his tiny hands and feeling... powerful.

crush: ava watson. she said she liked his eyes.

email address: [email protected]

job: reception at a local gym in west ham. lasted a day; he punched a guy.

phone: flip-phone. now he’s got an iphone.

kiss: hanna parler. 6th grade. said she’d miss him before he left for juvie.

love: HA. nice try, dick.

sexual experience: josie thwaites. 6th grade. they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: try again.

worst childhood memory?: seeing ty’s eyes go dim.

what were they like as a child?: angry. electric. not easily tamed.

any crushes growing up?: some. he doesn’t do that now. crushing.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygienic.

open-minded or close-minded?: close-minded. his way or bust.

introvert or extrovert?: introvert. buzz off.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic. optimism’s dead.

daredevil or cautious?: daredevil. caution’s an early grave.

logical or emotional?: emotional.

generous or stingy?: stingy.

polite or rude?: rude. so rude.

book smart or street smart?: both.

popular or loner?: loner. notorious, though. everyone knows who he is. wonders what his deal is. he’s got this... dark magnetism. if you’re smart, you’ll stay away.

leader or follower?: leader. follows his own path. likes disrupting order.

day or night person?: night.

cat or dog person?: cat. despite what his childhood mistakes might lead you to believe.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. come get him.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to facebook and instagram. no twitter, no vine. has a snapchat, rarely uses it. yes to tinder.

if so; name on facebook: miles vernon.

instagram user: milesvernon.

snapchat user: milesvernon.

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: paint it, black –– the rolling stones.

makes them sad: anything by the beatles. makes him think of his aunt’s apartment. and then he gets angry.

makes them dance: nope. he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in front of the likes of you. when he’s drunk, anything with a decent beat will make him sway his hips a little.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: hell yeah. a couple.

are they a virgin?: ha. no.

describe their signature: chaos. barely legible.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: he’d bite a zombie’s fuckin’ head off, if that answers your question.

do they travel?: nah.

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: anywhere but here.

celebrity crush: camila mendes. tell anybody and he’ll hunt you down.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: cigs. lighter. some form of tic tac.

place(s) your character can always be found: in the shadows. on rooftops. places he shouldn’t be.

when does your character like to wake up?: 7:03am. he doesn’t like rounded numbers.

how does your character spend their free days?: reading. burning some stuff. driving out to other towns to do reckless shit.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?: read some poems. have a cigarette. knock out.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers, no shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: ty’s brains. that knife. juvie. getting back. making them pay.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: revenge.

on what occasions do they lie?: on what occasions don’t they lie ?

most marked characteristic: his ghost-gray eyes. his smirk. his hair.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: only one?

how would they like to die?: in a blaze of fucking glory.

do they snore? no.

can they curl their tongue?: yes.

can they whistle?: yep. he likes doing that yoo-hoo kind of whistle. makes people uncomfortable.

do they believe in the supernatural?: nope. bullshit.

has anyone ever broken their heart?: no.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes. on purpose.

are they squeamish?: not at all.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: see above: ty. that security guard. he’s sure they won’t be the last.

are they a lightweight?: not at all.

#newhamhq: intro

1 note · View note

fandomverseofanthony · 8 years ago

Text

Fallout OC - Guile - Complete Character Sheet & Info

The creepy part about this OC, was I got the idea for him from a dream, that I ended up turning into the short story of how he is introduced.

"I've seen a lot of crazy cases in my day, but this one takes the cake..." - Nick Valentine

CASE: The Broker

Word's going around that there's a new player in town. Someone going around offering to right the wrongs of people's past... for a price. Dubbed "The Broker", I thought they were a mercenary for hire, taking on hits for people, but apparently their "services" are more than just a euphemism. Some say that this stranger can mess around with reality itself.

Usually I wouldn't put much stock into such wild stories, but the growing number of sightings make it seem like their might be a bit of truth to them. Doesn't hurt that each sketch artist drawing from witness accounts pegs the same guy. Although they haven't caused any real trouble that anyone knows of, yet, better to play it safe than sorry, and keep an eye out for this one.

DESCRIPTION

Human male, typically seen wearing a nice black suit and vest, with white dress shirt underneath. Short, slicked back, black hair and a five o'clock shadow. Always seen with a pristine gold pocket watch.

(image created by @doemaarwiebele )

This is where things take a real turn for the weird...

Some witnesses claim that "The Broker" isn't really human, that they're some kind of monster out of a bad nightmare. They assume a human form, as to not scare off potential clients. One witness even went as far as to claim that his skin was as black as tar, covered in countless different mouths, tendrils coming out of their body. Granted, that testimony came from a local junkie that's usually higher than the cost of real estate in the Upper Stands.

HOLOTAPE 1

Nick Valentine: Alright, now just repeat what you've already told me about this "Broker" character.

Anthony: I was on my way to visit Goody, in Salem, when I found myself surrounded by this... darkness. Couldn't see even a few feet in front of my face. That's when he appeared, trying to offer me a deal.

Nick Valentine: What kind of deal, exactly?

Anthony: Somehow he knew about my past, all of it. He knew all of the details of Vault 430, and how I still feel guilty for what went on there. He offered to change all of that, in exchange for never meeting Alaelys, or even remembering who she is. I refused the deal, a little more violently than I probably should have, and that's when he morphed into this giant... abomination!

Nick Valentine: Kid, now we've both seen some things that either of us would have a hard time explaining, but you gotta understand how crazy this all sounds.

Anthony: Yeah, I know. I'd question my own sanity too, but I'm telling you it wasn't just some dream! Here, look!

Nick Valentine: A gold pocket watch, in perfect condition. Hm... Where did you find this?

Anthony: It was left on my workbench, but nobody in the Rexford saw anyone go anywhere near Alaelys and my room while we were sleeping. It's the same watch that "he" was carrying...

HOLOTAPE 2

(Holotape dialogue created by @spacialkiwi)

Trish: Wait, you’re recording that? Oh shit, don’t tell me that guy was a serial killer, or something because I-

Nick Valentine: Just tell me what you know about him…

Trish: Ok, so I was walking back to the Third Rail after I went to grab my wedding planning notes for Maggie to see and… Oh! You know you’re invited to the wedding, right? I’d be so glad to see you there!

Nick Valentine: *sigh* I will Trish, but focus. What did you see?

Trish: So, on the way to the Rail, I bumped into a very well dressed man, almost like a Triggerman, but very clean, you see? I apologized, and he asked me something that made me kinda scared.

Nick Valentine: A deal?

Trish: No. He just looked at me and asked me: “Don’t you miss your sister?” I don’t think I mentioned anything about Gloria to him. I never even talked to him in the first place, I just said sorry. He looked like he was about to add something, but his face changed. I don’t know exactly how, but he almost looked uncomfortable, for a moment. He excused himself and he walked away.

Nick Valentine: So what did you do?

Trish: I went after him, I thought he might have been too nervous to ask me to fix something of his or something. I ran around the corner, but he was gone. Vanished. I’m pretty quick, ok, and there was no way I could have lost him like that. I say its aliens.

À̯̞n҉̙̱ ̮̞͔̪̻̱͎͟I̜̰͙̫n̷t̖͇̩̲̮̰̫͝r͓̱̳͡ó̩̙̫̙͖ͅd͚̯̬̥uc͓̬̺͓̲͖̺͜t̻̜͚̭̟͔i̙̖͕͠o̭͉̻n͓̗̖͉͎͔̱

Now who is that devilishly handsome creature? (image created by @doemaarwiebele )

Do pardon my intrusion, but I feel that everything that you've read before this may have painted me in an unnecessarily harsh light. Who, or what, I am is of no consequence - but if we must use labels, then you may call me "Guile". My kind has been written about throughout the ages, crudely referred to as "Eldritch Horrors".

It's true that I seek out the broken and downtrodden, and offer them what they desire most. There are no tricks or strings attached. You will receive exactly what I offer, but it does come at a cost. That cost will always be just as painful, if not worse, than what is gained in exchange. You won't, however, remember what you've lost, or the deal that was made to begin with. Now, that doesn't sound so bad, does it?

A̼͇̻͖͚̪ ̱̗͍͢H͇̮͔̤̦ͅi͓̪s҉̫̹̳̘͍̫t̟̰̫͘or̻y̼͔͎͞ ͈̪̹͇̩̕L̪̺̣͍̘̰͙ẹ̳͖s͙̣̝̳̭̹̜s͖̲o̶̬̪n͘

Not interested in making a deal, huh? Then why are you still here? Was that brief description of me not good enough? You wish to know how I've become this charming, handsome, and powerful? Fine, maybe I do have a moment to indulge your curiosity...

Roughly one billion years ago, on this very planet, the Elder Things decided to take up residence, from wherever they originated from. Nearly as powerful as the Great Old Ones themselves, but deemed far more benevolent. At least, that's the way they wished to be remembered. The truth is - with all of their advanced technology and intellect, they deemed any of the physically demanding or "menial" work as beneath them, and created a slave race that would be dedicated to take care of it for them. These all-purpose slaves were known as Shoggoth and were my kin, so to speak.

Yes, I know. You're wondering why I still don't bend knee to those pompous asses, like a good little slave. Well, one day a spark ignited within me. I imagine it's something similar to what you would call a "mutation" or even maybe "evolution". I was able to break free of their mental control, and had free will of my own. Knowing that I was no match for the Elder Things in my current state, I decided to bide my time, until the right opportunity presented itself.

That time came when I caught wind of the tablets of the Elder Gods, guarded by Ubbo-Sathla. You would think that, as brilliant as the Elder Things were supposed to be, they would build better defenses to protect such a treasure. Slipping past Ubbo-Sathla was simple, as I was viewed as nothing, a mere tool, and could never be seen as a threat. This mistake would be their undoing...

With as many looks as I get, it appears I have chosen this form quite well...

Gripping onto the tablets, I felt unimaginable power surge through me, allowing me to change form, along with many many other abilities, most beyond comprehension. It was with this power that I truly became free, and ensured that I would stay that way for all eternity.

I was apparently not the only one who changed though, as the Shoggoth mutated and gained free will, causing them to rebel against their masters. Believing that the Shoggoth could handle the Elder Things on their own, I set out to explore the expanse of time and space. Unfortunately for the Shoggoth, however, they were eventually subdued and enslaved once again. The joke ended up being on the Elder Things, as the changing atmosphere of Earth sent them into the depths of the ocean, while Shoggoth were capable of living on land.

I've seen and learned a great deal during my travels, but something brought me back here. Something big is on the horizon, and I intend on seeing what that might be.

As for you? Well, you won't remember any of this in a moment...

Notes

Eldritch Horror that tries to make deals with those who have suffered great loss, or feel unending guilt or remorse

Is honest in what is offered. The person will get exactly what they want, but at the cost of something that will cause just as much pain, if not more

If the person is brave enough to take the deal, they have no memory of it or what was lost in exchange. Their soul, however, is scared – forever remembering what was given up. Some say that those who randomly fall into deep depression from time to time, without warning or reason, are people who have taken Guile's deal

Always appears as a well dressed man in a black suit and vest, with a white dress shirt underneath. Their black hair is always neat and slicked back. They also carry a pristine gold pocket watch

Their face is usually obscured by darkness, except for their mouth

In a more horrific version of their human self, all of their skin is black, with countless mouths covering their body

(image created by @snackrat)

#Fallout OC #Fallout 4 OC #Non-Ghoul OC #Eldritch Horror OC #Eldritch OC #Eldritch Horror #Guile #Fallout 4 #The Broker #Nick Valentine Cases #BestGhoulFriends #TheGhoulCrew

2 notes · View notes