#high desert low tide

[strwberri-milk]

Three's A Crowd

additional tags: threesome, vaginal sex, oral sex, masturbation, full nelson, double penetration (oral/vaginal) very very mild somno, exhibitionism, wet dreams

Abysswalker x Fem!Reader x God of Tides || Smut || 3 542 words

The desert’s nights are always cold, Rafayel’s body thankfully warm enough to keep you from shivering. You’re glad that he sheds some of his outer layers before laying down with you, feeling the goosebumps along his skin settle only once he holds you. Your face is buried in his neck, Rafayel holding you tightly as he tells you more stories about the fallen nation of Lemuria.

“Your powers…they’re gone then?” you ask him after he recounts the last ascension ceremony for him, eyes flicking down to look at you.

“They’ve been in slumber for thousands of years at this point,” he replies, hand trailing up your back to press your face a little closer to his skin.

“Why? Do you want to see them?”

You deliberate a little, weighing the options in your head.

“I think I’d like to see how powerful you were at the height of Lemuria’s power. I don’t want you to have to live on the run for the rest of your life. I want us to have a life together. To be able to wake up at home without worrying any longer.”

Rafayel chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“My beloved. I already have all those things with you. But, if you want more, I won’t be the one to stop you. If I could give you the world, I would. All you need to do is ask for it.”

His voice is soft, low in his throat. You’re only able to hear him because you’re wrapped up so tightly against him, thick blankets conserving your body heat as your breaths mingle in the shared space.

“I already have it here.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of worry in your chest, his fingers gently resting against where your heart beats. You hope more than anything you could continue to live your days with Rafayel, not worrying about the day where you’d have to lay yourself out for him to take your heart. You wouldn’t mind, not at all. You know you’d go with a smile but you’d always mourn the time you couldn’t have with him.

“It’s yours whenever you want it you know,” you remind him, cupping his face in your hand.

“I could never do something like that to you. Rest now. Stop thinking about such silly things,” he chastises lightly, humming a tune that sounds so vaguely familiar as your eyes drift closed to sleep.

~~~~

When you awake again, you’re in a room that’s not too different than the room you had at the palace in Philos in terms of luxury. The fabrics are much lighter in colour, light silks draped around the room as you lay on a plush bed. Your clothes are different too – nothing as thick as the outfit Rafayel insists you wear for traversing the desert. Instead, they’re light on your body, cool and form fitting.

You look around for Rafayel, unsure of where you are when the door to the room opens. A man walks in, vibrant curls gently framing his face as he looks at you with a smile. Despite the drastic difference of his clothes you’d recognise him anyway, swallowing nervously as you look up at him.

“Rafayel?” you ask, relief filling your chest as he nods.

“My Beloved. You look lovely today, as you always do.”

He makes his way over to you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss. His eyes look different here, softer, somehow. You get the sense that despite being the man you love, he’s not quite right. His body feels familiar to you though, that tightness you get in your chest from looking at him for too long present as he stares intently at you.

Another pair of footsteps walks in, your eyes widening as the Rafayel you’re more familiar with walks in. His dark fabrics seem out of place in the room, leather far too harsh with the pale silks but he seems almost comfortable, a bit of mirth in his eyes as he sees the compromising position you’ve found yourself in.

“There you are. It seems Your Highness has found herself in quite the predicament, hasn’t she?” he teases, coming around behind you on the bed and pulling you against his chest.

You’re sat in his lap, the other Rafayel standing in front of you watching curiously as he spreads your thighs on his lap. You feel him shed some layers behind you, gloved hands slowly trailing up and down your body as you continue to gawk at the man in front of you.

“Don’t be rude,” Rafayel whispers into your ear from behind you. “You are in the presence of a God. Show some reverence Your Highness.”

Your eyes widen in shock as the weight of his words suddenly sink in. The man in front of you – The God of the Sea as now you know him – smirks, coming in to stand between your legs as he cups your chin in his hands.

“How insolent of you. You can’t even recognise the deity that saved your life?” he asks, chuckling at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Perhaps just having you swear your life to me isn’t enough. Just your heart won’t be enough. Should I take my payment another way?”

You look back at Rafayel as he holds you, one of his hands beginning to massage at one of your tits as the other starts to sneak between your legs. You bite back a moan, unsure of what proper decorum would look like when staring at a deity like this, shuddering when you feel him press a kiss to your neck.

“You taste sweet,” he mutters, hands going to hold your hips in place as the Abysswalker teases your entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, a perfect offering for a God. I must have you.”

Adorned hands reach for your clothes, quickly stripping you down to nothing. You feel yourself squirming in his hold, wanting to bury your face in a more familiar body when the God turns your chin to look back at him.

“He’s not here right now. Just focus on me right now.”

He leans in to kiss you, a multitude of thoughts running through your mind. Would your Rafayel consider this cheating? He’s the same person as the one kissing you right now, isn’t he? But he would have stopped you by now if he didn’t want this, wouldn’t he? He must be okay with it if his gloved fingers are circling your clit, gently prodding against your entrance as you gasp into the other’s mouth.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, tongue gently exploring your mouth as he swallows every noise you make. It’s nothing like the hunger that Abysswalker kisses you with, an absolute starvation about him whenever he gets his hands on you. That desperation is felt against your back, the God pressing you against a hardening cock that makes the man holding you groan.

“You’re so filthy,” he whispers as you’re kissed dumb.

“You’re being kissed by another and yet you’re still desperate for my cock? You’re insatiable, aren’t you Your Highness? I wonder how the court would react knowing their beloved princess just wants to be spread wide and used by Lemurians.”

“I think they’d want to watch,” the God says in reply, pulling back from the addictive sweetness of your lips.

“Wouldn’t you? The human body is so intriguing, especially when caught in the throes of pleasure. Of course they’d want to see such a sweet little toy be broken down by two monsters, pussy leaking cum as more is begged for.”

You think you should be terrified at the filthy words spilling out of his lips but you can’t help but get more excited. Abysswalker makes a sound of displeasure, gloved fingers sliding into your hole as he feels you clench at the thought.

“You’re leaking. Your body is so warm. You want that, don’t you? To be used by the both of us?”

Against your better judgement you nod, gasping when the Rafayel in front of you drops to his knees. He pulls your legs over his shoulders greedily, mouth immediately going to lap at your dripping pussy as the one holding you brings his hands to tease at your nipples.

You already weren’t very experienced – being nobility does that to someone – which always meant that your body felt like it was on fire at the littlest of touches that Rafayel would give you. The two of you were intimate before, him showing you just how good his touch could make you feel. That didn’t help you now, hips bucking furiously into the mouth of a Sea God as a vigilante teased at your nipples, lips sucking dark marks into your skin.

Your pussy convulses over nothing as your feel his tongue swirl around your cunt, sloppy in a way that you didn’t know you needed. It feels like he knows your body better than you do, pushing up against you to angle your hips upwards and give him a better angle to start fucking his tongue into you. The sounds you make just get lewder, wet squelching hitting both of their ears and making their cocks twitch with need.

“That’s – too much –“ you whine, hands going to dig into his violet locks.

“I told you I’d be taking my payment,” he says against you, gently tugging your clit with his teeth.

“You don’t get to decide when I’m done.”

The words almost make you cum, gasping for breath as he dives back in like a man starved. His nails dig into the plush of your thighs, loud slurping and licking making all the hairs on your body stand to attention. Your nipples aren’t better off, tweaked and massaged consistently. The onslaught of stimulation as you cumming in no time, spilling into his waiting mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that though, simply pressing closer against you as you feel Abysswalker push you forward to fit against his hungry mouth better. It makes you squeal, gasping and whining as your body is pushed past its limits, thighs clenching tightly around his head when he abandons them in favour of holding your hips.

“He just wants one more,” you hear whispered into your ear. “Just give us one more and I promise you’ll be rewarded for doing so well,” he promises, giving you just that push you need to cum again, catching your breath as the God stands.

Despite the loose fitting pants he wears you can still see the outline of his cock pressed against it, letting him press it against the plush of your chest as he looks past you to Abysswalker. The two of them speak amongst themselves, Lemurian words still past the majority of your comprehension. You can only make out a few meanings, more distracted by the way his cock grinds against you instinctively as they speak.

Suddenly you feel the weight of your body shift, lifted into the air as the God now holds you. He turns you to face him and you catch the sight of Abysswalker pulling his cock out of his pants, slowly stroking it to the sight of you. You’re now face to face with the God, lips swallowed in a hungry kiss. He turns your body as you feel your pussy being brought down to grind against his cock. You moan into his mouth, arms coming up to hold your legs in place as he slowly starts to sink in. You don’t think you can keep looking at him like this, the muscles in your neck already screaming in complaint but you don’t have time to think about it when he starts to fuck up into you.

Your suddenly realise just how exposed you are, pussy stretched full for Abysswalker’s hungry gaze. He leans back on a palm, hips slowly bucking into his fist as he fucks himself in time to the rhythm of the God. Embarrassment floods your body as you turn to bury your face in his shoulder, the squirming of your hips doing nothing but fucking him deeper inside of you.

“Why are you hiding Your Highness?” you hear from in front of you, the bite of a smirk in his voice.

“It’s nothing I haven’t already seen. Come on. Show off for me some more,” he coaxes, groaning low in his chest as he watches your hips fail to escape the pleasure being provided by the cock drilling into you.

Two pairs of eyes watch your clenching hole intently, watching your cum get fucked out of you from the brutal pace that’s been set. Your tits bounce wildly, balls slapping hard against your clit in a way that makes you whine with each touch. Your head thrashes, body shaking as you feel the God walk closer to Abysswalker, giving him a front row seat to your cute little hole just barely accommodating the stretch of his girth.

Your eyes stay stuck on him, watching as his fist moves faster over his cock. You love the way he sounds, the wet shlick of his fist pumping him only muted by the lewd sounds of your cunt being fucked. His pace speeds up when you’re brought closer to him, chest heaving as he keeps his eyes solely focused on the way your hole tries its best to keep his cock inside of you. Every time his head just barely pokes out of you you’re whining like you’ll die without it, every hit of his cock making soft little noises escape from your lips.

“There you go then. Feast your eyes,” you hear from above you, keening loudly as he somehow manages to adjust his angle to hit deeper inside of you.

The head of his cock brutalises a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, whining his name loudly. Both of them smile at your reaction, bodies working harder to reach their peaks. You can feel it inside of you, the way his cock twitches, the feeling his breath as he tries to keep up with the desperate squirming of your body. It makes you scream, legs pressed tightly against his arms as you cum, the knowledge that youre being watched making you squirt on Abysswalker, your arousal spattering against his chest and dripping down to his cock.

His eyes widen and he pulls his hand off of himself, panting as he wills himself not to cum from the sight. Your orgasm doesn’t deter the God holding you in the least, continuing his rough pace with barely any issues.

“You’re squeezing so tight my Beloved,” he coos, grunting lowly as he feels his orgasm cresting.

“You want me to fill you up? Make you drip my cum?” he asks sweetly, such a cruel contrast to the pounding of your hole.

You nod eagerly, trying to press yourself closer to the base of his cock. He laughs a little at your desperation, peppering your neck in kisses as he delivers a few more hard thrusts. He buries himself to the hilt, breath warm against your temple as you feel him fill you up. The warmth seeps through your body, dripping down his cock as he takes his time sliding out of you.

Abysswalker’s eyes follow the trail of cum dripping out of your slit, hole still clenching as you moan softly from the feeling of no longer being as full as you just were. He happily takes you out of his counterpart’s arms, turning you back around to face the God this time as your knees settle on either side of his lap.

You don’t know what to expect until you feel a gloved hand pushing against the small of your back, gently persuading you to lean more of your weight against his lap. You can’t help but stare at the God’s cock in front of you, still shiny with both your arousals as you feel the urge to run your tongue up the shaft. You bite your lip as you stare up at the God, enraptured by just how beautiful he looks staring down at you.

Your mouth opens as you feel Abysswalker’s cock slide inside of you, him guiding your hips down to his base as the God takes this as his opportunity to slide his dick inside of your mouth. He rests the tip inside of your mouth, shuddering as he feels your moans going down the length of his shaft as your tongue instinctively laps at his leaking slit.

Abysswalker guides your pace on his cock, strong hands bringing you up and down as his hips buck up into you, pushing you down further on the dick inside of your mouth. You look up at the God teary eyed, shallow gags from his length being brought down further your throat making him groan as his hips start to lightly fuck into your mouth.

The feeling of being filled on both sides makes your mind spin, legs thrashing on the bed as you pant and gasp. You’re only given time to breath when the God takes pity on you, drawing his length out of you every so often to trace the shape of your lips with the head of his cock before sliding back down your throat. It’s almost too much but you need it desperately, need them both desperately.

You start to bob your head up and down much to his pleasure. Fingers reach for your scalp, resting against the back of your head as you feel him start to guide your mouth up and down. This, paired with the fingers digging into your hips and you’re practically being used like a doll for both of their pleasure.

The burning in your stomach reaches a fever pitch. You never knew your body could feel so much pleasure, desperate moans of his name cut off by the shoving of his cock back inside of you or a rough thrust into your pussy that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. They can both feel your tightness over their cocks, minds running with even more filthy thoughts about how else they can push you to take even more.

You cum without warning, gagging on the cock in your mouth as Abysswalker spills into you at the same time. The feeling of your moans in addition to your gagging makes the God push himself all the way down your throat. You swallow around him as he cums deep, guttural groans coming from all sides of you.

The two of them savour the feeling of you for a second before finally sliding out, laying you back down on the bed. You think you need to be ready for more, not minding how insatiable they seem as you spread your legs. You hear them both laugh a little, amused as they both crawl over you. Your body stiffens as you prepare but you’re met with their lips peppering against you affectionately. Your limbs are lifted, gently massaged as they shower you in attention, licking at the harsh marks they’ve left on your skin and cleaning you up.

Your eyes close as you savour it, greedily kissing back whoever manages to steal your lips first. The taste of you is still sweet on their tongue, hands reaching out for the two of them as you whine and gasp under them, ready for more when they want you.

~~~~

When your eyes open again you feel the heaving of your chest, pussy warm with Rafayel’s hand cupping you as he stares down at you with an amused smile. He peppers your neck in kisses, nosing against your cheek.

“Well good morning. Did you have a good dream?”

Sunlight streams in through the opening of your tent’s entrance. You can hear the sound of the settlement waking up, conversations soft to avoid waking up any body who happened to still be sleeping. You sigh, making a soft noise as you feel him push up the hem of your shirt to start caressing your body.

“It’s morning?” you ask groggily, throat feeling better than you thought it should considering the rough treatment you were subjected to.

“It is Your Highness,” he says sweetly, hand slipping into your panties as he teases the wetness there.

“You wouldn’t stop moaning my name last night. I wanted to wake you but you looked like you were having such a good dream. Evidently so – I think you came once or twice from nothing.”

You’re embarrassed, flustered by how wet you are. You think he’s right, your panties soaked with arousal from the orgasms you had just from your dream. You divert from the line of questioning by kissing him back hungrily, starving for his touch as your body settles back into that post orgasmic haze induced from what seems to have been your dream.

“Just had a dream about you,” you mumble against his lips, arms circling around his shoulders as you press him closer.

“That’s all.”

He seems sated with that answer for now, rolling on top of you as he reminds you just how ruined you are for him and only him.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[mothertaeraesa]

zb1 maknae line as studio ghibli characters

pairing: maknae line × gender neutral reader

genre: bulletpoint format, studio ghibli au, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

author's note: these scenarios are loosely inspired by each of the characters and their respective movies, as well as all of these can be read as platonic or romantic

maknae line | hyung line

shen ricky | haku, "spirited away"

Your chest heaves in slight panic, as you bring your knees towards you for at least some kind of protection

One moment, you're traveling with your parents to your new home and everything is going fine

And then the next, you're stopping and heading towards a tunnel that popped you out at an alley filled with lanterns and food stalls

Now, your parents are pigs and you feel hopelessly alone

It causes tears to prick the edges of your eyes, and you bury your face into your lap with a shaking head

This has to be a dream, this cannot be real

Maybe if you tried hard enough, you'd wake up in the car with your parents talking to one another while this was all just from a midday nap due to the exhaustion of moving

But you try to concentrate on waking up and nothing happens

You had already tried to cross back through the tunnel, but the high tide had blocked off the path

Just as you're about to allow them to stream down your face, the snap of a twig and the heavy rustle of bushes has you freezing and on high alert

Turning your head towards the intruder, you're about to let out a scream, but the young boy is two steps ahead of you and covers your mouth with his hand, effectively silencing you without a peep

He squats beside you and presses his side into yours, bringing his own finger to his mouth to signal for you to keep quiet

You're too paralyzed with fear to disobey and can only nod, as he seemingly pauses and waits for something to pass

After a moment, the stranger removes himself from you and digs around in his clothes before holding out a bun for you

When you turn away silently, not wanting to take food from a stranger like your parents had, the boy insists and places it into your hand

"Here, eat this. It'll keep you safe." He speaks for the first time, voice low before he pulls out his own and takes a bite

You hesitate, tears finally falling once more at how overwhelming everything is, and the bun is too warm and smells too comforting not to eat any

"Do you know your name?" The boy asks once he notices you slowly taking bites from the bread

"My, my name is Y/N," you manage to whisper with a sniffle

"I'm Ricky."

kim gyuvin | pazu, "laputa: castle in the sky"

Clutching onto Gyuvin's waist, you keep your eyes screwed shut as you try not to think about how high up you are

While heights usually wouldn't be an issue for you, the turbulent lightening storm had really tested your limits

Burying your face into his back, you murmur for him to let you know when things have calmed and it's safe to look again

The boy just hums in acknowledged agreement, as he tries to fly you both to the agreed-upon location

He hoped that things would go smoother from now on, and the two of you would have no more issues on your way to Laputa

Some time passes by as Gyuvin navigates and you hold onto his back for dear life

"Y/N, I think we've arrived." He finally says, landing cautiously and tapping your shoulder lightly

Pulling away, you take in the sight of the lush fauna around you both with a hitched breath

Laputa was more beautiful than you could imagine despite how deserted it was, but then again, the place had been viewed as a myth and almost secret utopia

Gyuvin glances over at you with a grin, admiring how awestruck you were by everything

"C'mon, let's go check it out," the boy suggests while getting out of the plane, helping you as well

The green grass feels plush beneath his feet, and he can't help but be in disbelief himself

Taking his hand, you drag Gyuvin after you with a laugh that he immediately reciprocates

Neither of you could finally believe that you had made it and were finally here

All of the cat-and-mouse chasing with Goliath had finally been rewarded with the final destination of Laputa

You both hurry over to the edge, gazing down at the clouds and paths below

A friendly robot passes by, and both you and Gyuvin give it a tiny wave before glancing at one another and giggling quietly

Intertwining his hands with yours, the boy tugs you along the field, pulling you into him and his chest

You hit it with a tiny thud, but Gyuvin catches you and wraps his arms around your waist, protecting you while you two hit the ground with a laugh

He keeps his arm out for you to rest on, as you lay on your backs for a much needed break and watch the clouds role by

park gunwook | sho, “arrietty”

Park Gunwook was completely and utterly bored

Sure, he enjoyed spending time at his mother's house and visiting with his great aunt and housemaid, but there were only so many cheek pinches and wide smiles he could take before his face ached

He had nearly read every single book in the house, and it was getting to be just a bit too hot to stay in the meadow all-day

So here the boy was, dragging his feet and wandering aimlessly in search of something to pique his interest

It happens in a flash, but out of the corner of his eye, Gunwook thinks he's spotted something moving across the floorboard and near the vents

The boy pauses in his tracks, head tilting as he attempts to make out what he had seen without disturbing it

Creeping over slowly with light steps, Gunwook crouches down and gets to his hands and knees

He pokes his head around before he spots it; a small person holding a sugar cube and struggling to get the item back through the vent's grates

Out of all his years of living Park Gunwook has yet to see such a sight, but it seemed his boredom had disappeared in an instant as a wide grin spreads across his face

You try and use all your might to get both you and the sugar cube back to your home, but you feel as if you're being watched

Turning around quickly, the sight of the human boy has you scrambling and forgetting the cube in an instant

You don't have it in you to scream, but you're scurrying along towards the vent faster in order to not be caught

Clearly, you don't do too good of a job because the boy continues to get closer

"W-Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" Gunwook says suddenly once he notices how terrified you seemed to be by your frantic movements

You manage to slip through just in time to avoid the huge hand coming your way, and hide in the shadows of the vent so he can't see you

Everything tells you to run back to your family, tell them what happened, and start packing your things to find another neighborhood house, but you're too tired and the adrenaline has made you fatigued

"I'm, I'm sorry, please come back..." Gunwook attempts with a frown, saddened at how quickly you ran away

Maybe his eagerness had gotten the best of him, but he truly just wanted a friend

You don't make it known that you're still around, but the sight of the sugar cube being slipped back in through the grates as you still

Waiting for footsteps, they don't come until about a minute has passed

Gunwook dejectedly begins to stand up and walk away before he sees you hesitantly peek through the grates with a small wave

han yujin | sosuke, “ponyo”

“Yujinnie!” You draw on, calling for the boy as you attempt to finish packing up the boat. "Hurry up or I'll leave without you!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Please don't leave without me!"

You glance up from securely fastening the picnic basket into place to see Yujin hurrying towards you; backpack flapping around, captain's hat on his head, and bangs falling into his eyes

"You know I was just joking," you say with a giggle, hoping in the boat and taking a seat

"I know... I just don't like making you wait." Yujin admits with slightly red-tipped ears, handing his things for you to take as he prepares the boat for departure

Once everything is all set, you and Yujin set off, the town flooded from the massive storm from the night before

Things are relatively peaceful though, as other people float around on their own boats while you wave and pass by

You allow Yujin to steer and take charge, opting to point out where to go instead, and the boy eagerly listens

"Yujin, look!" You point out, swaying the boat a bit in excitement

Jellyfish, turtles, and other various sea creatures swim below the surface and through the crystal-clear water

The both of you go on like that for a while, Yujin captaining and you just enjoying the sunny day

After a while, you two stop for the simple lunch of sandwiches and tea that you had prepared before chugging along once more

The chirp of the birds and woosh of the water eventually lulls you to sleep, as you fold your arms on the edge of the boat and rest your head silently

"Isn't it beautiful out, Y/N?" Yujin asks a few moments later, eyes round at the scenery around him. "Y/N?"

At the lack of response, the young boy turns his attention to your sleeping figure with a tiny tug at the corner of his lips

Suddenly, the boat slowly comes to a stop in the middle of the water

Yujin looks around puzzled before realizing the boat had run out of fuel

Throwing another glance at your unmoving figure, the boy takes off his captain's cap and gets into the water without hesitation

He begins swimming and pushing the light boat along to where you both had been planning on meeting his mother at the senior center

Although it may seem like a lot of work to do alone, he didn't want to wake you, he wanted to prove to you that he was reliable

And that he would do anything for you

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The Strange Story of Jonathan Small (Part One of Two)

I will split this in two parts as I've got a lot to cover here.

CW for discussions of nasty prison conditions.

The depth of the Thames is about 6.5 metres at low tide in Woolwich, near to the Plumstead Marshes as they were then. However, the river has strong currents and very little visibility, so it would be a risky operation even with 2024 diving technology for some rather small objects.

The rupee originally was a silver coin dating back to ancient times in India, becoming something of a standard currency during the Mughal period. The East India Company introduced paper rupees and while there was an attempt by the British to move their territory to the pound sterling, they soon gave up, minting their own rupees with the British monarch's head on. The currency was also non-decimal. India retained the currency post-independence and went decimal as well.

Mangrove trees are very common in equatorial coastline regions - they can remove salt from the water, which would kill many other trees.

Prisoners set to the Andaman Islands penal colony were forced to work nine to ten hours a day to construct the new settlement, while in chains. Cuts from poisonous plants and friction ulcers from the chains would often get infected, resulting in death.

The convict huts on Ross Island were two-storey affairs, with the bottom as a kitchen and took area, the prisoners sleeping on the upper floor. Designed this way as an anti-malaria measure, they however leaked and the prisoners themselves were constantly damp from the rainfall, offering them little protection from the mosquitoes in any event.

Ague is an obsolete term for malaria; adults experience chills and fever in cycles.

The British would conduct experiments with quinine as a malaria treatment by force-feeding it to the prisoners. This caused severe side effects.

The British would make use of locals as warders, who wore sashes and carried canes. I'd imagine they could probably be quite brutal.

Pershoe is a small town on the River Avon near Worcester. It has a railway station with an hourly service to London, taking just under two hours today.

"Chapel-going" in this context means that the people attended a non-conformist church i.e. not one part of the Church of England.

"Taking the Queen's/King's shilling" was a historical term for joining the armed forces - for the army this was officially voluntary, but sailors could be forcibly recruited, being known as "press-ganged" until 1815. You would be given the shilling upon initial enlistment or tricked into taking it via it being slipped into your opaque beer. You would return the shilling on your formal attestation and then receive a bounty which could be pretty substantial in terms of the average wage, although a good amount of that would then be spent on your uniform. Some enlisted, deserted and then reenlisted multiple times to get multiple payments. The practice officially stopped in 1879, but the slang term remains.

The 3rd Buffs refers to the latter 3rd Battalion, Buffs (East Kent Regiment), a militia battalion that existed from 1760 to 1953, although it effectively was finished in 1919. However, in reality, they did not go to India to deal with the rebellion, instead staying in Great Britain to cover for the regular regiments who did.

The British never formally adopted the Prussian "goose step" instead going for the similar, but less high-kicking, slow march.

The musket would possibly have been the muzzle-loaded Enfield P53, a mass-produced weapon developed at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield. It was itself was the trigger of the Indian Rebellion in 1857 due to the grease used in the cartridges. They would also be heavily used in the American Civil War on both sides, especially the Confederate one as they smuggled a lot of them, with only the Springfield Model 1861 being more widely used. As a result, they are highly sought after by re-enactors. The British used them until 1867, when they switched to the breech-loading Snider-Enfield, many of the P53s being converted.

The crocodile would likely have been a gharial, which mainly eat fish. Hunting and loss of habitat has reduced their numbers massively, with the species considered "Critically Endangered" by the IUCN.

"Coolie" is a term today considered offensive that was used to describe low-wage Indian or Chinese labourers who were sent around the world, basically to replace emancipated slaves. Indentured labourers, basically - something the US banned (except as a riminal punishment) along with slavery in 1865. In theory they were volunteers on a contract with rights and wages, however abuses were rife. Indentured labour would finally be banned in British colonies in 1917.

Indigo is a natural dark blue dye extracted from plants of the Indigofera genus; India produced a lot of it. Today, the dye (which makes blue jeans blue) is mostly produced synthetically.

I have covered the "Indian Mutiny" as the British called it here in my post on "The Crooked Man".

The Agra Fort dates back to 1530 and at 94 acres, it was pretty huge by any standards. Today, much of it is open to tourists (foreigners pay 650 rupees, Indians 50), although there are parts that remain in use by the Indian Army and are not for public access.

"Rajah" meaning king, referred to the many local Hindu monarchs in the Indian subcontinent; there were also Maharajahs or "great kings", who the British promoted loyal rajahs to the rank of. The Muslim equivalent was Nawab. However, a variety of other terms existed. The East India Company and the Raj that succeeded them used these local rulers to rule about a half their territory and a third of the population indirectly, albeit under quite a bit of influence from colonial officials. These rulers were vassals to the British monarch; they would collect taxes and enforce justice locally, although many of the states were pretty small (a handful of towns in some cases) and so they contracted this out to the British. As long as they remained loyal, they could get away with nearly anything.

562 of these rulers were present at the time of Indian independence in 1947. Effectively abandoned by the British (Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy, sending out contradictory messages), nearly all of them were persuaded to accede to the new India, where the nationalists were not keen on them, with promises they could keep their autonomy if they joined, but if not, India would not help them with any rebellions. Hyderabad, the wealthiest of the states, resisted and was annexed by force. The ruler of Jammu and Kashmir joined India in exchange for support against invading Pakistani forces, resulting in a war. A ceasefire agreement was reached at the beginning of 1949, with India controlling about two-thirds of the territory; the ceasefire line, with minor adjustments after two further wars in 1965 and 1971, would become known as the Line of Control, a dotted line on the map that is the de facto border and one of the tensest disputed frontiers on the planet.

India and Pakistan initially allowed the princely rulers to retain their autonomy, but this ended in 1956. In 1971 and 1972 respectively, their remaining powers and government funding were abolished.

Many of the former rulers ended up in a much humbler position, others retained strong local influence and a lot of wealth. The Nizam of Hyderbad, Mir Osman Ali Khan was allowed to keep his personal wealth and title after the annexation in 1948 - he had been the richest man in the world during his rule and used a 184-carat diamond as a paperweight, at least until he realised its actual value. The current "pretender", Azhmet Jah, has worked as a cameraman and filmmaker in Hollywood, including with Steven Spielberg.

[yourmumsc0ck]

NER KAR'TA (4)

"My heart"

'THE RECONCILE'

Summary: A time after the Purge, Bo-Katan runs into an old 'acquaintance' as she roams the galaxy alone

Bo-Katan Kryze x fem!ClanVizslaR

(Can be read individually)

Word count: 1.8k

"Imperial security checks ahead, have identichips ready. Imperial security checks ahead..." the monotonous drone of the announcement resonates from the speakers across the cramped street in a slightly unsynchronised echo. Being pulled along with the turbulent tide of city night goers, even Bo couldn't navigate her way out of the crowd that she had found herself so suddenly immersed in.

Despite the cloudless night sky far above, the overwhelming darkness of the atmosphere meant the permanent streams of starship underbelly lights replaced the static stars. The only sources of light at ground level came from boldly lit storefronts advertising all manners of exotic items. However, the cramped, high-walled street meant almost all of these lights were permanently obscured by curtains of passers by or sheets of stiffly vertical rain.

"Understood," a stormtrooper states firmly to member of the crowd, whose figure was covered by a low-hanging, dark robe. The torrential rain pommels off every sky-facing surface, which includes Bo's exposed head. As dripping auburn hair falls into her face and obscures her view, the former Mand'alor only catches a glimpse of the dark figure merging back into the sea of people.

Helmet firmly under her arm and cloak, Bo focuses on finding her way out of this situation: she has no identification, and any facial scan would send her straight to the ISB for definite execution. She hadn't battled this long through her life to lose at surprise ID checkpoint.

Slowly inching her way to the right side of the street, she finds herself uncomfortably close to the row of stormtroopers attentively monitoring the process. Bo knew she had to make a break for it soon.

Looking up a little, she hopes her semi-clear view of the galaxy above would not be her last. It was too soon to say goodbye.

Inhaling deeply and grasping the hilt of her holstered hand blaster, Bo steps out of the crowd and tries to slip away between two groups. Despite her efforts, it was almost inevitable that she would be spotted.

"Hey! You there!" the slight augmented voice of a trooper calls out sharply as he lifts his blaster, "Stop where you are!"

Revealing her fire arm, Bo shoots before he can, the pinpoint shot sending him into a crumpled heap.

"Stop!-"

Another falls to her blaster shot, but she hadn't expected the reinforcements to surround her with such quick coordination.

"Hands up! Drop your weapon!" the stormtrooper ahead of her yells.

Bo refuses: she won't go down so easily.

"I said: hands up-" the man continues, taking two steps forward. Bo raises her blaster quickly, ready to fire, "Drop it-"

"Stop!" a strangely familiar voice cuts through the already turbulent situation. To her left, Bo watches with confusion as the hooded figure from earlier emerges. In the fractured darkness of the street, their face is still obscured, "I am ISB Lieutenant Paxton, and this rebel is under my custody."

'Oh, kriff," Bo thinks with a sense of almost humorous dread, "Maybe I should've got myself shot."

"Sir, may I see some identification?" the nearest one asks with a deep, clipped tone.

There's a moment's pause, before the figure responds, "Yes... if you must."

Holding out the indentichip for examination, the trooper quickly stiffens and holds his blaster to his side, "Sorry, sir. Would you like an accompanying guard, sir?"

"No, that won't be necessary, trooper," the voice dismisses him, before approaching Bo in two measured steps, "This rebel will not attempt to fight me, if she knows what's best for."

"Very well, sir."

"You are dismissed," the others all hurry away. Arm suddenly twisted behind her back, Bo finds herself being pushed forcefully down a deserted alley way, winding through a maze of identically depressive streets.

"Get off me, you-" surprisingly, the supposed ISB agent lets go before even having to complete her demand. Bo watches the still-concealed figure, before asking with indigent confusion, "Who are you?"

"You are a very different woman to find, Kryze," you respond slowly, watching as her eyes search desperately under your hood for any glimpse of your appearance.

"Who are you?" she asks again, slowing and emphasising each word. You can see why she was such an intimidating Mand'alor.

"I got word from various contacts of a 'lone Mandalorian female with blue and white armour'. It had to be you," you continue, "didn't make the journey to track you any shorter. Like really, Canto Bight? Daiyu?"

Bo pauses, as if realising that this person is no ordinary bounty hunter or recruiter. However, they also couldn't be from the Empire. This time, with caution and deep thought to her words, she asks again, "...Who are you?"

You let out a slight huff: you thought she might have worked it out herself. With the rain still pouring between you like a thick, translucent pane of scratched glass, you tug down your hood and immediately feel the pummelling droplets cascading over every inch of your exposed head.

Despite being able to see her for the past few minutes, it's different to see her when she can see you as well. It had been so long, yet she and her gaze had changed so little. Both her gaze for people, and her gaze for you.

"...Mesh'la?" she takes a tentative step forwards, watching you as intently as she always did. However, this time you can see into her eyes as well (something which her heavily guarded persona used to conceal so steadfastly). She appears almost... nervous. But how could that be?

"Bo- I-" your words catch. Despite practicing a whole range of ways this could go, all memory of that preparation was lost down the gutter along with the tidal curtains of sweeping rain. As she takes another step, it's apparent that she is becoming even clearer; every curve and ridge of her face was so familiar.

"You died..." she mumbles, her face falling to a concernedly disappointed one as she almost appears to be trying to wake herself from a vision of sorts. That wasn't quite how you saw this going. You had had your fair share of near-lethal run ins with the Empire, but none that- oh...

Tenad 3 Major: a run of the mill, mid-rim trade port which had an unusually lucrative cargo going through it a few years ago. Now, to all of your sources - including your initial informant and semi-boss at the time - it was barely guarded with anything more than a couple of TIEs. Easy work. Except... it really wasn't. A few mistimed proton bombs and another volatile cargo shipment (doing what volatile shipments do) later, and the Empire had declared you dead. Or, 'perished with indistinguishable incineration' was there exact phrasing.

"Tenad was a mess, but I'm fine..." the vast burn marks from the proton blast and general anarchy said differently. However, with some backstreet modshop appointments and a few too many of those bacta viles later, and you looked significantly less like fried Bantha fodder than before. Didn't mean you felt less like it though.

"Your ear..." of course she noticed so quickly. With a face of pure concern, her exposed fingertips reach up to brush the freezing, rain-covered metal surface.

Despite keeping it exposed because you thought it looked pretty badass, you begin feel slightly insecure. What if she doesn't like it? It's not very Mandalorian, is it?, "I've been meaning to, uh, cover it up, but- but I-"

"I like it, cyar'ika," she smiles lightly, the slight tense in her jaw and static nature of her eyes telling you she hadn't done that in a while. But you loved the sight. Tracing around the shape, her finger follows down to where the metal binds back with the skin by your jaw. As she crosses the boundary, you shiver at the contact, "It's been so long... I feel like I know nothing about you anymore."

"You know everything important, cyare," you lean slightly into her touch. There's a clear Rancor in the room however, so you decide to get it over with, "I'm so sorry... about the Purge, that is... I- you..."

She notices how you get lost again, choking up at the thought of losing your home so permanently beyond your reach. For you, Mandalore was not a place; it was foremost a people. And those people were so brutally gone.

"It wasn't the planet... it was my clan; my people beyond that. I was lost, but I still slept. That was, until I hear you were dead, and I never even got the chance to protect you..." you step forward as her eyes glaze, knowing this moment of such vivid vulnerability was something she wasn't used to. You grab her free hand, pulling away layers of the rain between you until it is only a thin veil, "All I could see was your burning armour, and smoke, and a wreckage, and you just being gone, and-"

"Shh, cyare..." you reach your hand up to her rain-soaked cheek and hold it with tantalising delicacy as you ghost your finger over the edge of her cheek bone. The dim night - interrupted intermittently by dashing streaks of transport lights above - condenses and confines itself into the high-walled, cramped alley like a compressed blanket, pushing you even further together. You breath, "One day, you will balance those nights lost with ones of pure nothingness. And I will be here... if you want me, that is."

She lets out a huffed laugh, a playfully sad smile toying on her lips, "Of course I want you, mesh'la."

Your tracing stops as you fix your position. A silent conversation passes between you, just as you imagine the mystical force to allow the Jedi to do the same. It's paralysingly small between you, however the tumbling torrents of rain still find gaps to trickle through. That and half a breath of air are all that is between you.

"You still have it," you sort of blurt out as you notice the fragment of rugged, red stone you had given her as a parting gift now hanging around her neck on a black chain.

She smiles softly, though a sad tinge creeps up and down-turns her eyes a fraction, "I couldn't hope to close my eyes for a minute without it."

There's no dramatic crash, nor are jumping sparks between you. Instead, it feels homely. The familiar feeling of your closeness had been in everything but the physical nature. The lack of rain between you had left a warm silence to enclose around you like a swaddling blanket. Neither of you deepen the tantalising connection, allowing the light brushes and urge for air to bring you back to reality.

Bo finally tilts her chin down, her forehead resting on yours, "All this time..."

"I didn't live..." you breath deeply, "because I can't live without ner kar'ta (my heart)."

Aww, wasn't that cute. Anyway, that's the end so check out the rest of the series if you haven't already!!

[cb-writes-stuff]

Other worldbuilding question!

What are the landmarks of Kem lon-Dalan, like what’s the structures that kids say to meet up at cause people know where they are

I’m glad you asked! Again!

Gates are very common meeting places. There’s the North Gate, which is exactly what it sounds like: the gate leading north out of the city. Likewise, there’s the East Gate. The so-called “East District” is the part of Kem lon-Dalan atop the Brother (the eastern cliff of the Twins). It’s kind of a pain to get there, though. Your options are go around the cliff, or climb stairs. In contrast, the Sister (the western cliff) just has fortifications for defensive purposes.

The Market District runs along the western edge of the city and has three gates, namely the High Market Gate in the north, the Low Market Gate in the south, and just the plain Market Gate in between those two. (There used to be a high wall around the Market District, like there is around the Living District. Since the wall was torn down centuries ago, all that’s left are arches with gates that just always stay open, hardly more than ornamental.) There’s also the docks, of course.

The Living District is a big bulk of a district in the southeast of the city, pressing against the cliff and coast. It has three gates as well, the Pearl Gate in the northeast, the Iron Gate in the northwest, and the Dirt Gate in the west. Different parts of the Living District are nicer and more expensive to live in, and the name of the gate generally corresponds to how nice or not nice it is.

I am tired of talking about gates. If I have to say gate one more time, I’m going to scream.

The Red Beach is, as the name implies, a walled-off beach with red sand. According to the stories, a king from a far off land came ashore on that beach, riding a tide of his enemies’ blood. Natives know that it’s really an execution ground. Old traditions saw that those on death row had their blood drained onto the beach after death. That hasn’t been done for a long time, though, and the smell of iron is gone. It’s still entirely red, which is both disgusting and terrifying. Great for dumb kids to test their courage. It’s smack dab in the center of the coast, quite possibly the least welcoming sight for visitors.

The Veika ta-Lilasen is the grand square below the steps of the Veika ir-Jai, the palace of the tyrant king who supposedly ruled the entire Vandeth Desert some 1500 years ago. The stories go that a star fell to the teph*, where the Veika ta-Lilasen would be built, hence the name: “The Star with Us”**. Apparently, the tyrant king used the star to create not only the Veika ir-Jai—Wisdom’s Star—but the whole of Kem lon-Dalan, all on his own. But that’s preposterous. A story is all it is.

*The planet’s name is Teph (/tef/). If there’s a word with “earth” in it, it’s replaced with “teph”.

**The Vandeth language has no articles; rather, they are inferred from context.

And yeah! Those are some of the major landmarks in Kem lon-Dalan. There’s probably others, but to be totally honest, I haven’t thought of those yet.

[stanislawkowalski]

LUKA & LOVE

Luka’s relationship with love is akin to a traveler who had been lost in a desert for years, only to stumble upon an oasis and find it a mirage. Love, in its raw and unfiltered form, is a treacherous beast he could neither tame nor understand. For him, love was, is and will be a landscape of shifting sands—one moment a comforting balm, the next a scalding desert sun. It torments him, licks his wounds one day and pours salt into them the next.

His early experiences with love had been nothing but a series of broken promises and hollow words, etched into the fabric of his reality. The world Luka inhabited was painted in shades of violence, death, and deception. Each day was a precarious balance, navigating through lies and shadows. In this world, he learned that affection was a currency too costly, too dangerous.

Luka’s cold demeanour was not born out of natural inclination but rather forged in the crucible of relentless suffering. His approach to love was a calculated defense, a shield he raised against the maelstrom of human emotion. To him, warmth and vulnerability were signs of weakness, a stark contrast to the unyielding strength required to survive in his world. He cultivated an air of indifference, masking the searing fear that lay beneath—a fear that love, with all its promises and perils, would strip him of his carefully constructed armour.

Nastka had been a revelation, an unsettling storm that swept through Luka's meticulously ordered life. Their love had been a new territory, unfamiliar and daunting. It was a paradox of passion and pain, of exhilarating highs and crushing lows. Luka felt exposed in Nastka's presence, like a raw nerve laid bare, and it terrified him. The genuine affection he felt was a vulnerability he had never allowed himself to experience before, and it was precisely this rawness that drove him to destroy it. The very thing that had the power to heal him was also the one that could destroy him.

His departure from Nastka was not merely an act of ending a relationship but a desperate attempt to obliterate the dangerous allure of unrestrained love. Luka sought to protect himself from the torment of unfulfilled promises and the sting of betrayal, even if it meant severing the tender threads of connection that had briefly intertwined their lives. To Luka, this was a necessary destruction—a means to reclaim his control, to escape from the unpredictable tides of affection that he felt he could not navigate.

Now, as Luka moves through life with his walls intact, the echoes of his past linger like ghosts. He walks among the vibrant and the joyful with a façade of detachment, aware that beneath it all lies a broken man. The raw love he once knew with Nastka has left its mark, a bittersweet reminder of what he lost and why he must remain guarded. Luka's world is one of calculated distance and controlled interactions, a painful testament to his struggle with a force that both fascinates and terrifies him.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

10th December >> Mass Readings (USA)

Second Sunday of Advent, Year B

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: B (2))

First Reading Isaiah 40:1–5, 9–11 Prepare the way of the Lord.

Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her service is at an end, her guilt is expiated; indeed, she has received from the hand of the LORD double for all her sins.

A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low; the rugged land shall be made a plain, the rough country, a broad valley. Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Go up onto a high mountain, Zion, herald of glad tidings; cry out at the top of your voice, Jerusalem, herald of good news! Fear not to cry out and say to the cities of Judah: Here is your God! Here comes with power the Lord GOD, who rules by his strong arm; here is his reward with him, his recompense before him. Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 85:9–10, 11–12, 13–14

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

I will hear what God proclaims; the LORD—for he proclaims peace to his people. Near indeed is his salvation to those who fear him, glory dwelling in our land.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and justice shall look down from heaven.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

The LORD himself will give his benefits; our land shall yield its increase. Justice shall walk before him, and prepare the way of his steps.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

Second Reading 2 Peter 3:8–14 We await new heavens and a new earth.

Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day. The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard “delay,” but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and everything done on it will be found out.

Since everything is to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be, conducting yourselves in holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved in flames and the elements melted by fire. But according to his promise we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Luke 3:4, 6

Alleluia, alleluia. Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths: all flesh shall see the salvation of God. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 1:1–8 Make straight the paths of the Lord.

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God. As it is written in Isaiah the prophet:

Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way. A voice of one crying out in the desert: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.”

John the Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. John was clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He fed on locusts and wild honey. And this is what he proclaimed: “One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[yeehanfrf]

Week 16 Recs: You Don't Want Sand There

For Week 16, we're celebrating the start of summer in one hemisphere and maybe providing some warmth for anyone missing it in the other hemisphere!

I asked for "summer vibes" and y'all didn't disappoint. Behind the cut, you'll find the fics gathered from the Yeehan community, organized by rating and then alphabetically by title.

General Audiences

A Summer's Promise by Rikkichi [9,254 words]

Hanzo was there, kneeling down by the water, and he had some kind of bread with him. Hanzo was tearing off small pieces of the bread and tossing it to the water, letting the fish swallow the bites whole. During all of this, Hanzo had a smile on his face. A smile that Jesse had never seen before, but that he definitely liked. It looked way better than the scowls Hanzo had been wearing a few days prior when they had met for the first time. "Hey there," Jesse said, grinning as he waved to Hanzo. Upon hearing a voice, Hanzo looked up very quickly, acting like a child that had been caught in the cookie jar. As soon as he saw Jesse, though, the other boy scowled and moved to stand up. That was when Jesse realized he had disturbed some sort of private moment, and he felt a pang of guilt. Hanzo had been enjoying himself, so why was having someone else here a problem?

Teen and Up

Mid-Mission Summer Break by wyntera [4,609 words]

With an afternoon to kill, McCree encourages Hanzo to have a little fun.

Seas the Day by PersonalSpin [3,198 words]

Overwatch beach episode, written for the Summer Gift Exchange on the McHanzo Discord!

the turning of the tides by fishpoets [5,431 words]

The end of summer doesn't have to mean the end of summer love. (Or, Hanzo goes for a swim, has a haircut, and feels a lot of feelings.)

Explicit

a cold breeze, a warm sea by extra kanin (gracon_bacon) [4,458 words] Reccer comment: "only got one this time but it's about a sweet, sweet vacation on a private island"

When you have only two days off in a month, you make the most of it. For lack of anything better to do during his rare vacation, Hanzo decides to go to a remote island with McCree. It's a day he will never forget.

Away by Vimeddiee [29,154 words] Reccer comment: "Viv's 'Away' is a masterpiece so pls go read it"

Hanzo awakens to the feel of grit in his eyes and the crunch of sand between his teeth. This in itself doesn’t rudely force him into consciousness, but the insistent flicking against his nose that he groggily attempts to bat away, does. “High tide’s coming, you better nap someplace else.” AKA I wanted to write Cassidy as a slappy boy so I DID.

Binary by mataglap [4,380 words] Reccer comment: "when I thought 'what's a summer vibe?' I thought 'Cassidy pulling the ~popsicle maneuver'"

Hanzo is arrogant and Cassidy is stubborn, which results in the world's strangest game of chicken.

Catch and Release by robocryptid [19,481 words] Reccer comment: "Catch and Release, of course. Lifeguard Cassidy as a damsel in distress and cyberninja Hanzo as his swoon-inducing savior!"

Lifeguard Cassidy works at a beach currently being terrorized by an octopus-obsessed omnic. Cyberninja is on the scene!

Coyote Lovely by t_pock [WIP; 38,969 words] Reccer comment: "Coyote Lovely (t_pock) always gave me summer-in-the-desert vibes, even though I don't know if it's set in that season specifically. Either way, it's one of my favorites even though it's not completed."

After a mission gone wrong, Hanzo and McCree must lie low in New Mexico for a week. Together.

In the Summertime by ChillieBean [41,644 words]

Halfway around the world, Cole starts a new lifeguard gig at Bondi Beach, Australia. A destination on his bucket list, he was expecting rescues, keeping people safe, laughing and joking with the locals. He was not expecting Hanzo Shimada.

on a day like this (it feels like summer) by motorghost [WIP; 4,504 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost breaks my heart bc it has the loveliest liminal vibes, but it was never finished :( it's still great as a one shot though!"

Cole enjoys cushy undercover work as a lifeguard on a small, calm beach with a handsome local fisherman, but summer can't last forever. Or can it?

Today is a fine day for... by hunahuna_un [4,058 words]

After getting away from people, he takes another – closer – look of the picture he received. It is from Hanzo. And it is a picture. Hanzo is still home, laying lazily at bed, fresh out of shower, hair still dripping wet – and the bastard knows how Jesse is weak for that – naked in all his glory, holding only a small towel over his crotch, hiding his goods. Bridge piercing between his dark eyes, that promise naughty things. The nipple rings shine from morning light and his skin is still wet with droplets. Jesse lets out contented sigh and feels his cheeks becoming even more red. He curses and grits his teeth. He can feel his swimwear becoming tighter as his front gets interested in the picture he just saw. That goddamn son of a bitch.

---

That's it for Week 16! I hope you're feeling the summer vibes! Thanks so much to everyone who submitted a recommendation.

If you find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Coming up for Week 17: "Better Get Comfy." This one is another word count rec week, where the only criterion is that the fic be between 25,000 and 50,000 words.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 15 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

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Curious about the icon and some of the fic titles? This rec blog supports #EndOTWRacism, a fan campaign asking the AO3 to make good on its 2020 promises to address racist harassment on the site. Fans of color deserve to feel safe and welcome in fan spaces. To learn more, please visit @end-otw-racism and read their Call to Action.

[amandasgeekblog]

Don't Nod's Jusant Demo Review

Don't Nod recently announced its newest game Jusant by revealing its trailer during XBox Games Showcase 2023. Showing off impressively tall environments and highlighting somewhat otherworldly nature, it feels like a fresh setting for the studio. It was a beautiful and intriguing look into the surprise climbing video game due out this year. Lucky for us, Steam has a demo. Here are my thoughts.

Jusant's demo starts with the definition of the title. Jusant, a noun, is French for low tide. While cliche in an essay, I don’t mind this at all. I do not know French, and the demo likely doesn’t start at the very beginning of the game. It's low tide, and in this game, it’s implied a big unusual ebb.  One might miss that the desolate, incredibly tall, vertical climb is not your average desert. But beside the definition, there is the call of seagulls and areas of barnacles found on the climb. It’s a quiet game, in its isolation and sound. You can hear your breath, your hand as it grasps a ledge, the wind as it blows past your body. Jusant is almost devoid of music for the majority of the game, with subtle musical cues, and high impact when the music full of awe does come through. 

Besides the sounds, right off the bat, the visuals are great. The protagonist’s design has a brightness to it. The high saturation colors stand out from an arid landscape. The stylistic choice of no whites of the eyes makes the character design stand out. The interior environments seem to be an eclectic style of construction site, oceanic, and alien. These ad hoc scaffolding areas were built for all to climb because the low tide seemingly upheaved the locals' lives. No one outside of the player character is seen in the demo (save for glimpses of your little water-blob friend), but there are a few notes and text-based messages to be found. Those familiar with Don’t Nod’s massive hit Life is Strange or the lesser known Tell Me Why (available for free every Pride month) might wish for more interactivity of props. There is one “moment of reflection” as I like to call it, that is common in that genre, and it was peaceful. But if exploring via thoughts or item examination is lacking, that could be very intentional, Jusant’s genre is described as an action-puzzle climbing game on their website. However, Jusant is also tagged as an action-adventure game on Steam. So, it will have to be examined in the full game if the adventure elements are lighter.

I know, I know. Let’s get to the gameplay: climbing! Apologies in advance to those who boulder or rock climb that might suffer through my lack of knowledge and clunky wording. Another note: I used a controller, and it is highly recommended that you do. Climbing feels pretty good. The left hand is the left trigger, and the right hand is the right trigger. I wouldn’t say the controls are floaty, but I do feel like the experience is a little smoothed. The protagonist feels like a strong climber. It is easy to get a good flow in the beginning of the demo with an abundance of available handholds. The player can “look” with one of the joysticks to direct where they reach. Stamina is no worry at all in the start of the demo. Once embarking on some longer climbs or when jumping is needed, you’ll have to watch your gauge. The protagonist will also breathe a little heavier for a diegetic reminder to rest. While on a climb, simply clicking your left joystick down lets you rest just about anywhere. The character is shown shaking out the hands, which is fun and a thing I have seen real climbers do. I did not see what an actual fail state looked like, but when stamina was dire, there was heart racing and red blinking on the stamina meter. 

There’s more depth to the aspects of the gameplay, like with the length of your rope, and adding pitons along the way so you don’t fall too far and lose too much progress if you lose grip. There’s elements of rappelling and ascending that are not realistic to physics, but fun for a game. Sometimes you need to descend or do a sort of wallrunning move to reach the next set of handholds. The demo explored mostly straightforward navigational routes except for a couple trickier spots closer to the end. From the trailer it seems more puzzle elements will be introduced. For example, growing, flowering stalks can take you higher, and seemingly magically-appearing vegetation can sprout into handholds.

Don’t Nod bills this game as a meditative climbing game in nature. I do think they will deliver that. The scenes and landscapes are really vast while on the climb. There doesn’t seem to be anything to rush you on your climb, and the visuals and music are calming. You explore a desert-like landscape in the demo, but there seems to be more biomes that will be explored throughout the game.

Any negatives or issues? 

Handholds are not always the clearest, I do not have an issue with this myself but people with low vision may have trouble. A highlighted or more contrasted color scheme setting could be good for others

There was some graphical stuttering on my PC a few times (for reference I have RTX 2070, Ryzen 7 2700x). But to be honest, I don’t know much about PCs or running games.

I feel like once the panting audio to indicate lower stamina got stuck even after I rested. 

Hints were repetitive, but this is a demo, and there was a setting to turn it off, so this is all good

You might wish more in the interiors were interactive

The pros: 

Fun to climb, intuitive. Which is good, that’s the main mechanic!

Lovely style, saturated hues contrasted with expansive and more realistic landscapes.

Quiet game, relaxing. An hour passed without me noticing!

Potential to have unique lore, something different

Jusant is planned to release Fall 2023 on XBox Series X|S, Playstation 5, and Steam. Get the demo on Steam now.

[heriugena]

"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Confusion on thy banners wait,

Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing

They mock the air with idle state.

Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,

Nor even thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail

To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,

From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"

Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride

Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,

As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side

He wound with toilsome march his long array.

Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;

To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.

On a rock, whose haughty brow

Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,

Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,

With haggard eyes the poet stood;

(Loose his beard, and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)

And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,

Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre;

"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,

Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!

O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,

Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;

Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

That hush'd the stormy main;

Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:

Mountains, ye mourn in vain

Modred, whose magic song

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.

On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,

Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:

Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;

The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.

Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,

Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,

Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,

Ye died amidst your dying country's cries—

No more I weep. They do not sleep.

On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,

I see them sit, they linger yet,

Avengers of their native land:

With me in dreadful harmony they join,

And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line:—

"'Weave the warp, and weave the woof,

The winding sheet of Edward's race.

Give ample room, and verge enough

The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,

When Severn shall re-echo with affright

The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring,

Shrieks of an agonising King!

She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs

The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait!

Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd,

And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

"'Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

No pitying heart, no eye, afford

A tear to grace his obsequies.

Is the Sable Warrior fled?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.

The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?

Gone to salute the rising Morn.

Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;

Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,

That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

"'Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare;

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.

Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.

Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance, and horse to horse?

Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course

And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,

With many a foul and midnight murther fed,

Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,

And spare the meek usurper's holy head.

Above, below, the rose of snow,

Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:

The bristled Boar in infant-gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom

Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

"'Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun)

Half of thy heart we consecrate.

(The web is wove. The work is done.)'

Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn!

In yon bright track, that fires the western skies!

They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height

Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll?

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,

Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul!

No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.

All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

"Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

In bearded majesty appear.

In the midst a form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;

Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,

Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air,

What strings of vocal transport round her play!

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;

They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,

Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

"The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.

In buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And distant warblings lessen on my ear,

That lost in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud,

Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?

To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me: with joy I see

The different doom our Fates assign.

Be thine Despair, and scept'red Care,

To triumph, and to die, are mine."

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height

Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.

[a-mad-scientists-writing]

A Bygone Era (4)

Chapter 4: Blood

1 2 3 4 5 6

AO3 P1 P2 P3 P4

The eclipse passes virtually unnoticed. By nightfall, the Earth Kingdom forces are severely rattled. Most of their high command is dead.

Bliss survived his attack, but he was one of the only ones who did. Voids have been created, and the promotion of less experienced, less qualified men is necessary to fill them.

Ghastly, Hopeless, and Ravel all push to be sent on a rescue mission for Skulduggery. They get word to Larrikin, and he joins them without further prompting. High command faces the choice of whether or not to send them in pursuit of a very effective leader, precious few of whom they have left. The argument in favour is tempered by the blow to the Earth Kingdom’s confidence, and their unsurety of what they can achieve. In a single day, the turning tide of the war has been completely reversed.

The choice is made for them when Ravel, the best with words and the default for dealing with superiors, flatly states that they aren’t asking for permission. The operation is going to go ahead with or without the generals’ consent; this is just a courtesy notification.

The bluster dies down and the high command, not wishing to have to deal with deserters only days after this disaster (especially from soldiers as highly commended as these four), hastily approve the mission. The only question now is, why was Skulduggery taken prisoner when everyone else was killed?

The answer, Ghastly suspects, once signs start pointing to Serpine having been the one to take Skulduggery, is that Serpine is a sadistic monster who needs entertainment to keep from getting bored. A whole new urgency is lent to the mission.

ʘ

Infiltrating the Fire Nation colonies, where Serpine has made his stronghold, is relatively easy. Getting close to the stronghold itself is a different matter.

It is, obviously, heavily fortified. Several days of recon yield no viable entry points. The only way in or out is the main gate, but when it opens it can be seen that a wide court with firebenders and archers lining the battlements, ready to fire at the first sign of something wrong, stands in the way. No doubt the interior of the place itself is just as heavily guarded.

There is one idea they have: the supply carts that run in and out of the place. One of the four soldiers could sneak in and break Skulduggery out by themselves.

‘And then do a masterful impression of a blazing hedgehog, what with being on fire and shot full of arrows,’ Larrikin muses.

No, they have no idea what’s waiting for them inside, or what condition Skulduggery will be in when they find him, so it’s all of them or none of them. They could hijack a cart, but then how would they prove their status as Fire Nation citizens to be allowed in? Getting fake documents will take more time, and Skulduggery has already been held for weeks; who knows how much time he has left.

Momentarily defeated, they journey back to the nearest colony village to lie low and plan.

ʘ

One day, Ghastly is recognised by a soldier. His scars make him very memorable, and this particular soldier has fought him before. He raises the alarm and the group scatters, rendezvousing at the old abandoned hut by the river.

Except the hut isn’t abandoned.

After a lot of shouting, panic, some insults, and excellent observational skills on the part of Hopeless, it emerges that the firebender inhabiting the hut isn’t a soldier anymore. He’s wearing civvies over his de-armoured uniform, and the insignia has been torn off. He’s a deserter- the first to ever make it out alive, and his name is Dexter Vex.

He agrees to help them. He’s been finding ways to sabotage the Fire Nation for years, ever since he steered his ship away from the fleet and abandoned it before his crew knew what was happening. Ghastly, Ravel, and Hopeless think back to the captain-less vessel they boarded one fateful night several years ago.

Dexter still has the armour for his uniform, which will cover his missing insignia, so he can masquerade as the ‘suppliers’’ military escort. The mission goes ahead, and the five of them are inside the stronghold by nightfall.

ʘ

Even when he’s not weak from the torture, Skulduggery finds it difficult to move. The grief and despair took him over when he first woke up in the stronghold, and for the first few weeks he was sure he would die in there, and didn’t care much.

The lightning missed his heart, and Serpine decided to roll with it rather than re-aim and try for a second killing blow. There were some waterbenders also being held prisoner, and they were made to heal him. The jagged star of a scar still burns on his chest, but again, for the first few weeks, he didn’t care.

Then, very slowly, he started to get angry. Fury filled him more with each of Serpine’s visits. Now, he summons enough energy to let it out.

The iron shackles drop from his wrists, twisted into uselessness, and reshape into wickedly sharp darts. Skulduggery forces himself up, and rips apart the cell door with them. Then he goes looking for Serpine. He wants destruction, so he’ll destroy, and he’ll start with Serpine’s stronghold.

ʘ

The infiltrators are understandably concerned when the stronghold suddenly goes into high alert, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s not because of them.

They follow the shouting back outside and find dozens of firebenders struggling to defend against a towering inferno of flame. The entire west wing of the facility is already ablaze, and the battlements have been scorched bare of soldiers and archers. Lightning flashes out from the centre of the maelstrom, exploding a section of wall, and that’s when they realise there’s a person in the middle, and who that person is.

‘You never told me your friend was a firebender!’ Dexter shouts over the roar. They shake their heads. They didn’t know.

Reinforcements flood in, and lightning or swathes of fire meet them. Serpine isn’t among them, and Ghastly can guess that’s who Skulduggery really wants. He yells to Skulduggery that it’s time to go, that Serpine’s long gone by now. The fire begins to die down, and Dexter clears a path through it so that they can reach him.

Skulduggery is unconscious when they get there. Ravel and Larrikin drag him out through the exploded wall while Dexter, Ghastly, and Hopeless cover their escape.

ʘ

Once again, the squad is on the run, in little shape to fight, while Fire Nation soldiers hunt them.

Skulduggery was not careful when he set that firestorm going, and he’s covered in burns, never mind all his other injuries and starvation. They do what they can for him, following the river north, heading out of colony territory.

When Skulduggery wakes up again, he’s different to the man they followed back to his village weeks ago. He’s grimmer, and quicker to anger. The grimness will, in time, gradually fade, but while the anger will be kept under control, it won’t disappear. At the moment, he’s angry at many things: the patrols, the hiding, his weakness, Serpine, himself. More than once, the tree he’s supporting himself on at a rest stop begins to smoulder.

Dexter sees this, and after the second time asks questions, starting with who trained him. Skulduggery tells the truth. No one. Everyone takes this to mean he didn’t know he was a firebender before being captured. As such, Dexter offers to train him, show him some techniques to stop him from firebending accidentally (and giving away their position).

He’s not expecting the immediacy of Skulduggery’s affirmative response. Everyone else is surprised too. For days, Skulduggery has only spoken when spoken to, and hasn’t expressed anything close to enthusiasm or interest. 

The squad travels by night, but at dawn Dexter and Skulduggery are always found sitting opposite each other in meditative stances, eyes closed and breathing as they focus on the sun.

ʘ

Near the border between the colonies and the Earth Kingdom they almost walk right into a Fire Nation camp. In fact, the only reason the soldiers don’t notice the squad is because of a startled squawk from the top of a hill, and the presence of a water tribe warrior rolling into their midst.

The man’s momentum flings him to his feet. Everyone is startled- the soldiers, the group covertly trying to sneak away, and especially the man. No one knows how to react.

Then a Fire Nation soldier stands up, the man yells and conks him out with a metal boomerang, and all hell is unleashed. Skulduggery and the others are jumping into the fray before they know it, and another water tribe man is cursing and sliding down the hill after his friend.

Somehow, they all escape, running after the water tribesmen towards their boat, and making sail quick enough to break records. They each jump aboard, Dexter at the rear, and as soon as his feet touch the deck the larger water tribe man turns and punches him out cold. He’s still wearing his Fire Navy uniform.

The others are quick to straighten things out. Dexter is grumpy.

The big man is Anton Shudder, prince of the Northern Water Tribe. He’s even grimmer than Skulduggery and a powerful waterbender, not born one but granted the ability when his life was saved as a child by the Ocean Spirit. The other man is Saracen Rue, a non-bender representing the Southern Water Tribe who alternates between being very knowledgeable and just a plain know-it-all. He has an answer to everything, even if that answer is a clueless shrug. When he does answer though, he is usually right (due to an extraordinary reservoir of luck).

ʘ

Shudder and Saracen meet up with the rest of their fleet, and they ferry the squad the rest of the way to base camp. The water tribe contingents are planning to meet with the Earth Kingdom leaders to work out how to move forward after the crushing defeat on the Day of Black Sun. The general air of both armies is that of recovery, of getting up and moving on, of keeping it together. Caution is abundant but the feel of the war has changed: strikes are more vicious.

Skulduggery volunteers for what is essentially a suicide mission. Ghastly follows. Saracen stretches at the wrong time and can’t take it back. The others all pile onboard, except Larrikin, who is back with his original squadron.

It turns out Skulduggery doesn’t have a plan to survive. They all prepare for whatever will come after. And then… they come back. And come back again. And again. Skulduggery doesn’t lead a battalion into battle any more, and doesn’t need to, not with the things the Dead Men can achieve.

ʘ

High Command is astonished to find they suddenly have a powerful firebender in their midst. They deploy him without reservation. Mission after mission is a success, and the Dead Men become the most effective unit in the field.

Skulduggery and Dexter continue firebending, and Skulduggery’s regained enough rationality to remember that announcing he’s the Avatar would not be a good move. Dexter teaches him to be more refined, and now that Anton is a close friend, Skulduggery has much more opportunity to observe offensive styles of waterbending, so he picks up some new techniques for that, too.

The thing is, while he recognises that announcing he’s the Avatar would not be a good move, his suppression instinct is weighed up by a depression mindset. What does it matter? What could they do to him? His family’s been killed, he’s been tortured, and he failed to dispense his revenge on the man who did it all to him. The friendship, trust, and grounding that comes from having the others near him helps, so much more than they realise, but it’s not always enough. So, sometimes, if he’s on his own for a part of the mission, he’ll go into the Avatar State and make everything easy for a while. No one can touch him when he’s like that, and no one ever lives to blab about it. Until one day…

A woman sees him in the Avatar State. He only notices when he comes out of it.

Abyssinia doesn’t say anything, just smiles, plans burgeoning in the back of her mind. She dresses all in Fire Nation red and bends flames so hot they burn blue. She tells him and the rest of the Dead Men that she is neutral in the war. She lies. She doesn’t tell them about what she saw Skulduggery do. She lies. With someone who is in as much pain as Skulduggery, who is reaching for any scrap of connection to stop from drowning utterly in the darkness, it is easy to worm her way into his heart. She tells him she loves him. She lies. At first anyway. Whatever it becomes, her intentions don’t change.

Skulduggery falls deeper into darkness, always fighting, hate growing and focusing onto a much bigger target than Serpine- try the whole world. He trains. He gets better and better at firebending, at waterbending, earthbending, and even airbending. He doesn’t use the Avatar State as much anymore when unleashing vast amounts of destruction and violence. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t need it, not because going into the state is getting more and more difficult. Sometimes just a sword will do. Sometimes just his hands.

And then, when he’s on the cusp of his potential, he goes off with Abyssinia, without a word to his friends. He never sees Hopeless again.

Abyssinia gifts him a suit of armour. It’s all in black. She tells him to meet her in the Fire Nation, and she’ll make sure he can destroy everything he wants.

ʘ

The revelation that she’s a double agent doesn’t matter to him. What does is the rumours of a new technique for inflicting pain coming out of a freed region of colonies. A strange group, waterbenders who wear midnight blue, and have learnt how to bend the blood in a body. He seeks them out.

Introducing himself as the Avatar, they are eager to teach him, especially when he promises to annihilate the Fire Nation. A young man by the name of Solomon Wreath wins the honour of teaching him, and he perfects his arsenal of violence. The bloodbenders tell him stories of the Grotesquery, the sleeping spirit that inhabits their nearby forest, and what it can do. When one day he returns to awaken it, they show him the way.

Once he has learned all he can, Avatar Vile reveals himself to the world, showing an appetite for destruction that cannot be matched.

He meets Mevolent. The first time Vile goes into the Avatar State, as a demonstration to Mevolent, it causes him physical pain, it breaks something inside him. After burying Raava under so much violence and wrath, he finally snaps his connection to her. He knows he’ll never go into the Avatar State again- but that doesn’t matter, to him or to the Fire Lord. Avatar Vile doesn’t need the Avatar State to bring cities to their knees, as he proves on his first assignment to Ba Sing Se.

The impenetrable city has held out against Fire Nation incursion for a century. After two days of Avatar Vile’s siege it crumbles. The rest of the world is hardly far behind. 

Eachan Meritorious is imprisoned in his own cells. The Dai Li, who have long worked behind their king’s war-occupied back to control the population of Ba Sing Se through fear, hypnotism and censorship, betray their monarch and employ the same tactics under the governance of Nefarian Serpine.

ʘ

Her goal of finding and manipulating the Avatar to her advantage accomplished, Abyssinia reclaims her high-ranking position within Mevolent’s war council. She plans to use Vile against Mevolent and usurp him, however something unprecedented shakes her to her core and throws off her plans: Mevolent finds out that her son is his illegitimate heir, and that she herself is the last living child of the Unnamed. She has become embroiled in so many plans that they have finally caved in on her.

Caisson, still a boy at this point, now has a target painted on his back as Mevolent correctly assumes that Abyssinia will attempt to reclaim the throne taken by force from their family. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that Mevolent and Serafina themselves do not have an heir, and have not adequately cemented themselves as the rightful rulers of the Fire Nation. This threat to their power cannot be abided.

In order to save her son’s life, Abyssinia bargains with Mevolent that if her son is allowed to leave, she will stay. Abyssinia is a fearsome warrior and strategist, possessing a gift for violence that rivals the darkest hearts of the Fire Nation; her loss would most definitely be felt. Mevolent accepts her deal, and she re-swears her loyalty to him while Caisson is exiled.

China Sorrows feels her cracking loyalties finally disintegrate, and takes her chance to escape with the son of two enemies. She finds Caisson, takes her own daughter Solace, and the three of them steal away into the Earth Kingdom to seek out China’s brother.

Meanwhile, Abyssinia is closely monitored, her treacherous plans in shambles. She has no choice but to commit herself fully to Mevolent’s cause, and the shock of failure combined with perpetual fear for her son begins to unbalance her mind.

ʘ

Mevolent’s goal of creating a Dark Avatar becomes Vile’s own. Vaatu would suit him more than Raava, and would alleviate the pain his shutting out of Raava brings. He returns to the bloodbenders, awakens the Grotesquery by spilling his own blood, travels to the South Pole, and opens a portal to the spirit world so the Grotesquery may release Vaatu to fuse with him.

Nothing happens.

Vaatu never fuses with Vile, never even appears. Vile shuts the portal and sends the Grotesquery away, where it eventually finds a new home in the northern mountains and slumbers there once more.

In the Fire Nation, Mevolent remains unmoved at the news even if many of his followers are shocked. The Dark Avatar was a means to an end, and there is more than one way of achieving his goal- a goal which he is already on the precipice of accomplishing. Besides, he already has the Avatar on his side. There is no need to transform him.

With this simple refutation of the power Vile never considered he wouldn’t be able to possess, he begins to feel weary. He sinks and sinks until he can’t sink any further, and then he looks up, and begins the long climb.

He discards the armour. He relinquishes his white-knuckle grip on rage and pain and suffering. After two years of drowning in death and darkness, he lets Raava creep back into his soul- but there is a rift between them. He cannot access the Avatar State, and accepts that he never will again. It is the least he deserves.

If he wants to help, he’ll have to do it with his own two hands.

A world away, the Dead Men are accumulating injuries and trauma faster than they can shout for help.

ʘ

From here, we know most of the story.

Skulduggery Pleasant resurfaces, and Avatar Vile is presumed dead a few months later. He rejoins the Dead Men, of which Larrikin is now a permanent member. He stepped in when Ravel was captured and tortured, and came back again when Hopeless died.

Along with a few stragglers, the remnants of the Water Tribe fleets, and a certain exiled prince, the Dead Men are all the resistance against the Fire Nation that remain. Skulduggery knows Mevolent is planning to use the returning comet to raze the rest of the world, and so he corrals them all into an attack.

The Dead Men invade Ba Sing Se. They break out Meritorious and all the captured Earth Kingdom soldiers, and get word to the small number of Dai Li agents whose true loyalties had never lain with the Fire Nation. Geoffrey Scrutinous and Philomena Random begin an insurrection of their own and take the Dai Li down, ironically, from the inside. Larrikin sacrifices his life, and Bliss subdues Serpine. Ba Sing Se is freed.

Skulduggery, China, and Caisson lead a separate force directly into the Fire Nation. Skulduggery defeats Baron Vengeous on the battlefield, and then a dangerously unbalanced Abyssinia at the palace in a truly spectacular Agni Kai duel, but he doesn’t kill either of them. China, alone, takes out Mevolent’s airship fleet. Caisson confronts the Fire Lord, defeating and killing him in Wulong, a forest of rock pillars and muddy water.

The war is won.

ʘ

Despite wanting to free her, Caisson’s time among refugees, the Earth Kingdom, and China and Skulduggery’s unique perspectives on forgiveness, conscience, and redemption have shown Caisson things that his mother never did. He loves her, but for the sake of peace, he cannot allow her to walk free; she will most likely continue the war if she is able. Abyssinia is therefore locked in the Fire Nation’s highest security prison, while Vengeous and the other members of the war council are sentenced to be held in the Northern Water Tribe.

With these uncompromising but just actions, Caisson impresses on the other nations how much he truly desires peace, and his heritage as both the Unnamed and Mevolent’s heir is made public so that the Fire Nation accepts him as their rightful ruler. He is crowned Fire Lord without objection. It is seven years before he and Solace marry and have children, but when they do the Fire Nation is prosperous and at peace, and they only bring more security to an already stable reign.

Reinstated as Earth King, Meritorious works to rebuild. Rewards for the actions of many are distributed: Bliss is granted kingship of Omashu, China amnesty and a library, Ghastly the comfortable tailor’s shop that he emphatically maintains is all he wants. The rest of the Dead Men received similar commendations from their respective nations; Shudder abdicates chiefdom of the Northern Water Tribe to someone who actually wants it, and takes the helm of a mobile peace summit barge, quickly developing a reputation for being able to get anyone anywhere by midnight. Dexter and Saracen go travelling and actually enjoy the sights this time instead of worrying about being killed. Ravel recovers from his own bout of torture and takes up diplomacy while schemes grow in his mind.

Skulduggery wants to move into law enforcement, but the general consensus is that he can’t be wasted as a small-time detective or policeman. The nations all agree that he has jurisdiction and authority all over the world: not only was he born in the Southern Water Tribe, raised in the Earth Kingdom, and has made his new home in the Fire Nation capital, but the world leaders all trust him. They know him as a capable warrior who served under them all at some point, and who commanded their forces well in the absence of more immediate leadership. They proclaim him the first Arbiter of All Nations, which Skulduggery admittedly likes the sound of.

In the meantime, he works to put things as right as they can be made, and looks out for any opportunity to fling Serpine through a wall. He has a long road of redemption ahead of him, and still has to combat thinking that the Dark Avatar will help him, that the spirit of Vaatu will bring him the relief he seeks.

The funny thing is, he’s right.

(Even if he doesn’t see so for another fifteen years. The irony hits him one night on the deck of the Midnight as he stares up at the stars. Despite the stress and fear brought on by recent revelations, he can’t help but grin a bit, and feel grateful that it turned out this way, with the sleepy head of the girl who fought so hard to help him nodding onto his shoulder, and him knowing for certain- more than she hopefully ever will- that he is more than qualified to help her in return.)

In a little town outside Omashu, the Last Airbender’s youngest descendent is born. She is welcomed into a world at peace. Something inside her waits, and watches.

[crypticoctoberdays]

Day: 11 Friends.

When everyone goes away they are the ones that are there. Though one may wish to be alone, they will never be. They are always there. Watching, following, they speak words to sooth you. Listening for a moment there is calm. Then the flames lash out with a fire filled fury. Insanity drags claws down your spine till there is nothing but bone. Blood rains from the sky yet they stand. They stand watching you, following you, speaking words to sooth you. When you turn to see them they look back. Though you want nothing more than to cry they somehow know just what to say. No one in the world knew you felt this way. Yet in that moment it seems that they know exactly what to say. No mind to lose, no heart beating, no soul. Empty eyes, empty pages, broken phones. Never alone they stand with you. Even if dead and in a grave they stay. They never leave, just simply follow. Low lows and high highs they never dip on high tide. They stand in the rain. They stand in the sand. When your mind is a desert with no storms they can help cover you from the burning sun. Some of them feel like family. Some of them feel just like you. They speak words to sooth you. They say things that make you laugh. They sit and wait when you are angry. They yell at the people that make you mad. They can be the ones that drive you mad. They stick to you like glue. Though you may be a monster in the night they never leave. Instead of calling the cops on the phone they join you. Carrying bats and knives they paint the town red but never would they leave you for dead. They are a voice of reason, they are a voice of fun, without them your world would come undone. On days where you feel dead they chase the crows away from your grave. They drop gifts at your coffin and help you rest. They pull you out of the ground when you are no where to be found. They come in all shapes and all sizes but they all have one thing in common. When you meet someone true, life can be old or new, but in the end you will always have a friend.

[1ore]

speaking of poetry. I am going to a poetry open mic about the sonoran desert later tonight (my bullshit: back on it) and I'm thinking about these poems I wrote back in 2020 about sinuk and brun :)

A woman falls into a black hole and asks the dead sun if her girlfriend remembers her ◆ December 1, 2020

I lose the sun overhead.

Meanwhile the vultures. Meanwhile the torches in the black night write the name of god like a child tracing her mother’s handwriting. Meanwhile the dogs of war file through a field and they break rank only to step around a dry riverbed.

Out beyond time it is hard to imagine our mother the sun. I ask her anyway: Do you hear them? Do you close your eye on the dying day and turn away?

I imagine then unbroken sun Unblinking eye, rank and file over the sky again and again. If you are a memory of light, how would, then, you remember even the night?

The tunneling microscopes in the university lab allow us to image individual atoms. Does a photograph of an atom capture its likeness if only its absence can be felt?

Meanwhile there are quarks. Meanwhile there are black holes in which the future opens infinitely before you and your past is annihilated. Meanwhile gas burns in an imagined sun.

Two lovers complicit in the death of a comet ◆ December 5, 2020

Beyond the moon there are mesquite trees whose boughs hold the sun as fat drops of monsoon rain There are pronghorn that leap through time like jumping stones in a creek

Through Titan you and I are two different places on a map Near and far, inhale, exhale, high tide and low Saturn and Jupiter, holding the world in confidence. Even the far, sightless stars share gravity with you and you with them and you with me

Yes, beyond the moon there is still gravity still a monarch’s wingbeats tug at you still we cry out in the soundless night as a passing comet burns up in Earth’s arms and hardly blinks still we feel and are felt

I have seen mockingbirds pluck and eat planets like soft berries ciliates with pulsing vacuoles made of distant suns There is a place where space and time switched places partners in the cosmic dance, playfully wearing one another’s habit

Today I watched the ocean rise instead of the sun and I thought of you. Will you meet me there beyond the moon?

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 48 - Renovations

Once more featuring the voice of Lauren Sharpe as Lauren Mallard and Kevin R Free as Kevin of Desert Bluffs.

{Kevin} True beauty is on the inside, where everything is red and glistening and full of practical organs and sharp rocks. Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area.

Strex had decided to renovate basically all of NV (including tearing down the old missile silo, attempting to tear down the Whispering Forest, tearing down several elementary schools for being low-achieving and allowing the tiny civilisation until lane 5 to take over the bowling alley, rename it The Cathedral of Huntocar and tearing down the Arby's before replacing it wit a 1:1 scale model of itself.)

They started with the radio station though. They've hung several pictures of human teeth and added new sales offices and a Room of Questioning complete with fun steel chairs and executive restraints. They are also redoing the bathrooms and encourage people to come and take Khoshekh's kittens before they're destroyed by the construction (which is impossible, because the Company Picnic has been going on for the past two weeks and nobody can leave).

Lauren had sent Daniel to take pictures of the kittens, just to show people what they're missing.

Old Woman Josie, the angels named Erika and the mayoral power of Pamela Winchell prevent Strex from building on a site they claim is for the 'New Old NV Opera House'. This destresses Lauren and Kevin as nobody should be outside of the Company Picnic and also they acknowledge the existence of and are afraid of the angels.

The picture of a lighthouse, seen in the house which doesn't exist, appears in the radio station. It changes to reflect a different time of day as an Old Oak Door appears and opens, first revealing an Erika holding a lightbulb and secondly Cecil holding Khoshekh.

Weather: "High Tide Rising" by Fox, foxtheband.bandcamp.com

Cecil takes control of his station after Lauren and Kevin flee from the Erika. He tells us what we all know, that the 'volleyball nets' are just high-powered electrified fences which are fatal to everyone who touches them. He escaped first by digging his way out, and secondly because Dana pulled him into the Desert Otherworld.

They stood on the mountain (Cecil still doesn't believe in it) surrounded by the masked warriors and several Erika's (Cecil still doesn't acknowledge them as real) and he sees the vast light of a Smiling God for himself. He's then shown through the door which leads him back to his station.

He worries briefly about Carlos, who was not captured with the other scientists, but convinces himself and us that Carlos will be fine because scientists are always fine.

Side notes: The Whispering Forest does not speak to Lauren (indicating that it can't find anything nice to say about her, at all) but they do compliment Kevin on his vest and colourful dress sense before rejecting him because of his eyes. Kevin says he has a healthy respect for nature, but apparently thinks it's great that Strex wants to tear down the forest and replace it.

Kevin says he rarely feels anything at all - confirming that perhaps only those who work directly for Strex, like Lauren, have the ability to feel emotions under Strex's programming. The two of them have a strangely sometimes passive-aggressive feeling friendliness towards each other.

He also hints that in DB people are simply kidnapped, broken down spiritually and then assigned a new job.

Lauren tries to make Kevin 'less kind' by liquidating almost all of his domestic stocks after he said he would become less kind due to how a bad stock market means 'people are being sad and lazy and not caring about their economy'. Kevin does not become less kind, apparently, because when she does this and tanks the market he just tells these 'sad and lazy people' to cheer up. She seems to somewhat regret doing it, saying there will have to be layoffs and/or disappearances now.

Daniel ends up dead/inoperative (Cecil reports this and says he doesn't know if Daniel identified as organic or not) due to 'the dangers of taking pictures of cats'. Lauren was the only one who seemed to be concerned about Daniel's whereabouts before she was made to flee.

Stay tuned next for that nagging feeling that you left the coffee pot on. Surely it's no big deal. But, oh geez, what if it is a big deal? Oh no. I can't believe you left the coffee pot on. And as always, Good night, Night Vale. Good Night.

Proverb: Feeling lost? Like you have no goal in life? Like you're covered in dirt and wet leaves? Like you're an earthworm? Are you an earthworm? Kinda sounds like you're an earthworm, actually.

[doomedandstoned]

LUNA SOL Drop Bombshell Heavy Stoner-Blues Rocker ‘Vita Mors’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Ladies and germs, please put your filthy hands together for the kings of the high desert heavy blues... This is LUNA SOL a band drawn from the high mountain country of Colorado and Kentucky, existing with no doubt for the pure love of rock 'n' roll. And a very specific breed of it, with a bluesy, bittersweet, and darkly-hued dive bar vibe and a warm, driving rhythmic underbelly that brings comfort to misery and has a way of lifting the spirits.

"The personal struggles and joys we’ve shared through making this album highlighted that at the end of the day life is good," says Hermano guitarist David Angstrom, who has fronted the band since 2012, "and each day is a reward that we need to cherish and take in."

'Vita Mors' (2024) is their third LP, releasing tomorrow on Ripple Music -- a big album with a big, thumping heartbeat. When I say big, I mean 13 tracks worth of stirring, soulful, foot-stomping rock, with real lyrics about real shit.

Joining the core of the band (which also includes Zeth Pedulla/drums and Doug Tackett/bass) are members of Black Stone Cherry, Kingfish, Hermano, Disengage, and Supafuzz, along with Luna Sol friends and family. There's a vibrancy about these various collaborations on tracks throughout the album that comes through from the get-go with "Black Cat Callin'" -- a stage-storming evolution of blues, soul, and rock influences spanning decades.

The genre of rock 'n' roll is proving enduring, even if it seems to go "underground" in the popular culture from time to time. Tracks like "Head in a Hole" cannot help but raise hell in any generation (you'll hear many of those friends and family in the chorus, I suspect). Luna Sol's music does the trick, thanks to a good infusion of '70s guitar-driven axe-wielding with a swampy, southern-desert twist (check out 1:52 on "Never In My Life" and the deadly riffage of "Freelance Friend").

There is some balance with the moody "Low 'n Easy," which reminds me fondly of Jerry Cantrell's Degradation Trip in its dour, grungy mix. "I've been wrong, I've been right. Some will say...I bite." The vocals are jaded and mellow throughout which is a nice contrast to the slithering rhythm, piercing tap tap of the drums, and a downtuned guitar and bass.

Speaking of downtuned, "Surrounded by Thieves" begins as an amp-worshipping gem, and you can tell the band is having fun with it, too. This may be my favorite of the record, just for how effectively pedal effects are used to shape the atmosphere of the song. The riff on this one is gnarly a.f. "Let's go drink in the sun, let's go drown in the moonlight, and live life on the run." The vocals really bring out the lyrics' rebellious intent.

"No Substitutions" is as heavy as Rage Against The Machine, but turns the guitars in a bluesier direction. The sway of the rhythm is driven and rollicking. Luna Sol play with conviction, in a way that can't help but pull you away with the tide, if you've got on a good pair of headphones especially.

There's a near 22-minute bonus track which was a refreshing capstone to what has been a hard-driving album.

Look for Luna Sol's Vita Mors releases Friday, September 20th on Ripple Music on vinyl, compact disc, and digital formats (get it here).

Stick it on a playlist with Creedence Clearwater Revival, Clutch, Corrosion of Conformity, Brant Bjork, and Old Blood.

Give ear...

Ripple Music · Luna Sol - Vita Mors

SOME BUZZ

LUNA SOL is a highly regarded high mountain stoner blues rock band led by veteran singer and lead guitarist David Angstrom, known for his work in bands such as Hermano, Asylum On The Hill, Black Cat Bone and Supafuzz. Now in its 14th year, the band is poised to deliver its finest album yet through Californian imprint Ripple Music.

To bring this vision to life, Angstrom enlisted the help of drummer Zeth Pedulla and bassist Doug Tackett. The trio's chemistry was immediate and undeniable. As the riffs began to flow, songs came to life and they decided to hit record to capture the beautiful heaviness they were creating together. From the onset, they all wanted "Vita Mors" to feel and sound live, pulling the listener into a small dive bar nestled in the mountains and filled with Marshall stacks, Les Pauls, a massive amount of drums and a wall of bass amps to shake the foundation.

Vita Mors by Luna Sol

"Vita Mors" highlights Angstrom's desire to evolve and explore new musical territory while staying true to his Southern Kentucky roots. Doug and Zeth create beautiful layers of fury in one breath while offering a divine delicacy in the next, a perfect foundation for Angstrom’s madness, stories, riffs and noise. It was recorded in Dave Angstrom’s home studio in the foothills of the Rocky Mountain, mixed and mastered by Jason Groves (Supafuzz/Asylum On The Hill alumni) and assisted by Ty Tabor (King’s X).

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