#if you meant my OWn design for him the one with the helmet.. oops

[spiderdotexe]

could you draw swap sans? i really like how you draw him

abso LUTELY. look at this guy. hes ready for combat

[jedipoodoo]

This isn’t really a request but I was on tik tok and there was one where a dad was taking off his babies helmet (like the ones that reshape their head) and now I’m just picturing tech designing his kids helmet to look like a bad batch helmet and I love your tech with baby fics so I thought you might also find this cute

This one-shot does not contain spoilers for season three. Please do not discuss spoilers in the comments.

We all know that the boys would be the best fathers, and Tech would always try to do his best by his kids. And I know that you said this wasn't a request but it's so cute I had to write it.

Cute (Tech x Reader + Baby)

Warnings: None, just fluff. And babies.

It had been years since any kind of fighting or missions by the time you had your first child, so it made you pause when you came downstairs one morning to find Tech's helmet sitting on your kitchen table.

"Tech?" You called out.

Tech threw open the front door, arms laden with bottles of different shades of paint, "Yes, darling?"

"Where's the baby?" You asked.

Tech turned his back to you, and your baby cooed happily, reaching his hands out for you. He looked absolutely ridiculous in the head-shaping helmet that the doctors were having him wear, but he was still your little baby.

"Hello my handsome boy," You took him from the baby backpack, kissing as much of his face as you could, "Did you and your buir have an adventure this morning?"

"He was fussing earlier, and I wanted to allow you to rest as much as you could," Tech explained, dumping his paints on the table with his helmet. He began comparing various shades to the colors on his helmet.

"Thank you," You almost swooned at his admission, "What are you working on this morning?" Usually, Tech was out in his shed at this point, working with a dozen or so spare parts rather than paint.

His datapad rang with the alarm tone that meant you could remove the baby helmet for a few minutes.

"Aha! Just in time!" Tech tickled the baby under his chin before releasing the strap that held the helmet in place, setting it on the table next to his own helmet.

"Oh!" You said in realization. Tech produced a stylus out of one of his many pockets and began to trace shapes in the styrofoam helmet, echoing the shapes and patterns on his own.

"Yes, I thought it looked rather plain. My brothers and I always made our own helmets look unique, so why not do the same for him," He nodded to the baby and selected one of the larger brushes to paint the base coat.

You snorted, "You know, it's not as unique if you're just making it look like your own."

"So we should let him decide? I fear if we were to allow that he would simply eat the paint." Your son cackled out a laugh, as if that were the funniest idea anyone had ever shared.

"Well, you are his father, so he might as well look just like you, but we should try and let him give it his own touch."

Tech shrugged, and selected another brush. "Very well."

You prepared a bottle for baby's breakfast, and started some coffee for yourself and your husband.

"Are you going to put those little lightning bolts on the earmuffs? Those were cute."

Tech spluttered, "They are not earmuffs, they are- wait, did you say cute?"

You giggled, and your son shared your enthusiasm.

"You know, I think they were what made me fall for you in the first place."

Tech's cheeks flushed as he tried to hide behind his helmet. "W-well, I sanded them off after our last escape from Kamino, but...I suppose I could repaint them...if they are cute..."

"Cuu!" Your baby boy squealed. He dropped his bottle to clap his hands.

"Tech!" You screamed, though he was right there with you, "He said cute!"

"I'm not sure that counts, darling-"

"It does! It totally does! Tech, he just said his first word!" By now you were jumping up and down and dancing around the kitchen. You leaned over the table to place a big kiss on Tech's cheek, accidentally knocking over his tray of paint in the process.

"Oops," You froze as the paint splattered all over Tech's lap. Your baby laughed again.

Tech shrugged, "Is this your way of saying you want to help me paint the helmet, darling?"

You burst into laughter again, and Tech stood up, pulling you and the baby in for a hug.

"Tech! You're getting paint all over me!" You laughed.

"That is your own fault, darling," He grinned, kissing your face and holding you closer.

"Cuu! Cuu!" Your baby cooed, grabbing at his father with sticky fingers.

Tech sighed, "Yes, ad'ika, I believe this is what you would call 'Cute'."

[tehuti88-art]

9/15/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." Whew, rather glad to finally get this guy out of the way.

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Obergefreiter (Corporal) Adalard von Staden, with flight helmet and goggles (top drawing), with flight helmet and goggles down (middle drawing), and with garrison cap (bottom drawing). He's a young but skilled pilot whose character I rather abandoned for a while but decided to resurrect; as such he needs a background, though he's already developed a bit of plot in the main story. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, kind of a journey getting here; I looked up flight helmets and drew one, then when I got to the ear section I realized that with his ears I couldn't give it the standard built-in headphones! The part I'd been studying most. Oops. So he wears external headphones. Then after everything was finished I realized--I forgot his goggles!! So I had to tweak the finished drawing to add them, which also meant adding a third drawing.

Now you see why I'm glad to check him off my list.

TUMBLR EDIT: Adalard von Staden's story is still heavily under development and I haven't had time lately to iron out details, though you can see how part of it developed organically in Vischer's entry. That's from an outside observer's POV; now here's what I know so far from von Staden's POV, which is still heavily a WIP.

Von Staden dates to around the second reboot, circa 2000 or so. Here's how he's originally described:

ADALARD "EAGLE" VON STADEN: Cpl.; Nazi soldier captured by the Trench Rats. Appears in sequel

Firstly, note that back then, I casually equated "German soldier" with "Nazi." This no longer holds in the current version; von Staden is in the Wehrmacht (Luftwaffe), but isn't a member of the Nazi Party. Secondly, I kept track of which story the characters appeared in...I'm not quite sure what I meant by "sequel." Since it's considered separate from "current storyline" on the list yet von Staden wasn't intended to appear in Ultima Thule (the "epilogue") as far as I'm aware, I must have meant Reunion, which, although I consider it its own story arc, is still technically "current storyline." So, that's confusing. As well, in the current scenario, von Staden first appears early on in Reborn and then is absent for much of the plot, for reasons that will become clear; so this notation on the list should just be ignored. Finally, the nickname "Eagle." This was likely in reference to his flying skills, though I'll probably abandon it as hokey. Oddly, I'd THOUGHT it was a reference to his first name, but now I see that's impossible--"Adal-" is merely yet another reference to nobility (see Adel, Edelgard, and Adelina Dobermann for other examples); when I Google the German word for eagle, it's Adler. Close, but definitely not to be mistaken for Adalard. So maybe I had a faulty baby names book (how I got names back then), but more likely I just misremembered how he got his nickname.

Von Staden is a young Junker and a low-ranking member of the Luftwaffe (I don't know if they had such low-ranking soldiers in such positions, PLUS, I'm likely getting ranks wrong, as I generalize the Wehrmacht ranks between the branches, so if anyone knows a correction to offer, feel free, I get too confused looking into it myself); he's likely a flying ace. He's not a Nazi, he's uninterested in politics, but he loves his country and he loves the adventure of flying. He doesn't care for killing, though of course he loves the exhilaration of the fight and especially the victory. (NOTE that while one, the Luftwaffe very much did commit war crimes, and two, von Staden is not based on this person, still, his Wikipedia page offers some interesting details on unusual attitudes regarding killing the enemy, which did inspire some of my character's story actions: Hans-Joachim Marseille. Dude even listened to jazz music! *horrors*) He earns awards and medals and looks like he's going places.

He gets shot down near the start of Reborn and is forced to eject near an apparently abandoned village that was recently bombed. He lands safely, though is injured, and wanders into the village seeking medical attention. While there, he spots large shapes looming from the hazy air hanging over the buildings and steps aside in time to witness a bizarre procession: Large dogs with some sort of saddlebags slung across their shoulders and riders in gas masks high atop their necks, more masked figures atop eagles and hawks, a few riding motorcycles, and a large number of them on foot. (Most recently I imagine this scene in conjunction with Within Temptation's "Mercy Mirror." An earlier, alternate version featured Little River Band's "Middle Man." Frankly, the latter makes more sense.) Von Staden watches in awe as the large contingent of Trench Rats, members of the American Allied forces, move past and spread out through the gutted village, presumably seeking survivors, as the Rats astride the dogs have red crosses on their helmets. In particular, he notices one Rat on foot (Turquoise) who slows to a stop and crumples to his knees outside one house, as if nearly fainting; the Rat beside him hooks his elbow around his and carefully helps him up before gesturing at a few others to check inside. They return a few moments later with a couple of injured villagers in tow, and hand them off to a Rat who climbed down from one of the dogs. Then--a motorcycle with sidecar abruptly pulls up beside von Staden and he finds himself staring down the barrels of two guns, a Trench Rat sergeant and corporal both aiming right at him. Von Staden is promptly taken prisoner.

He's restrained, taken to one of the dogs, bustled up and into one of the box compartments, blindfolded, and has noise-dampening headphones placed on him. The ride--wherever--is long and bumpy. When the blindfold and headphones are finally removed, he finds himself in what appears to be a medical ward; a doctor tends to his injuries, though as he's doing so, the Trench Rat corporal arrives and starts talking to the doctor--the two seem to engage in a brief dispute. At last the doctor says to von Staden, in flawless German, "He wants to know if you're willing to answer questions regarding your identity and your mission. I'm not inclined to waste my time. Will you agree to be questioned or should I just tell him to f**k off now?" (Hahaha, for funsies I Google Translated and this came out as "Er möchte wissen, ob Sie bereit sind, Fragen zu Ihrer Identität und Ihrer Mission zu beantworten. Ich neige nicht dazu, meine Zeit zu verschwenden. Sind Sie bereit, befragt zu werden, oder soll ich ihm jetzt einfach sagen, dass er sich verpissen soll?" Actually not bad retranslated.) Von Staden is speechless for a moment before gathering himself and muttering, "Just tell him my name is Adalard von Staden, I am a corporal in the Luftwaffe, and I have nothing else to say." The doctor accordingly translates; the other corporal looks disgruntled, but retreats. Von Staden is silent as the doctor wraps up his wound, then asks, "What is going to happen to me, now?" The doctor, gathering his instruments, replies, "Now you're going to be treated as a prisoner of war."

Von Staden is uneasy, but soon realizes his fears are unfounded; the Trench Rats aren't interested in harming him. He remains in the medical ward for a time, though he's cuffed to the bed. And they're still interested in trying to get information out of him. He quickly catches on that most of the Rats are nicknamed after colors--the doctor is Burgundy, the pushy corporal is Gold, and the sergeant is Black. Neither Gold nor Black seems fluent in German, though Burgundy is, and either he or another Rat without a color nickname always translates; this fourth Rat is even better with the language than Burgundy is, talking like a native speaker, even with a trace of a regional accent. Von Staden spends a good deal of time trying to determine if he's American or German. Gold and Black, meanwhile, are polar opposites, yet both share the same goal, of trying to get von Staden to talk. Gold is quite voluble and rather loudmouthed--"He never shuts up, does he," von Staden says to the unnamed Trench Rat, who looks vaguely awkward before translating this for Gold, who just gets that peeved look again--whereas Black says few words and is soft spoken. He also seems less easily irritated than Gold; although he never threatens or says anything ominous, he conceals his emotions well, so von Staden can't get a read on him, and this makes him nervous.

Either way, both keep trying to get him to answer questions, and he keeps refusing. He wonders just how far he can push them, and though he remains polite and civil toward Black and Burgundy--both of whom outrank him--and toward the other Rat, who is always polite himself--he offers increasingly flippant responses to Gold, whom he views as an equal and thus fair game. Gold's obviously short temper is hard to resist. Gold does frequently look annoyed, and offers insulting responses of his own (Burgundy finally refuses to continue translating their spats for each other--"You'll have to act like children without my aid"--leaving the fourth Trench Rat to do the job instead), but never quite steps over the line. He and Black share a few words one day and Gold makes a dismissive gesture before saying something and leaving; Black nods at the fourth Rat, who tells von Staden that he'll be dealing with him and Black now. Von Staden feels a twinge of disappointment--his verbal sparring with Gold had been vaguely amusing--but says nothing to Black, who soon also leaves. Von Staden gets the fourth Rat's attention before he can go as well.

Von Staden: "You. I don't know your name."

Trench Rat: "It doesn't matter."

Von Staden: "You've been respectful with me so I'd appreciate to refer to you by a proper name, rather than 'You.'"

Trench Rat: *seeming vaguely uncomfortable* "I'm just here to translate, I don't mind how you refer to me." *turns to leave*

Von Staden: *quickly* "Are you German--?"

Trench Rat: *halts* "What...?"

Von Staden: "You speak like a comrade, like you're from the city. Were you born there? Is the Fatherland yours?"

Trench Rat: "I'm American."

Von Staden: *slightly disappointed* "Then I must say your command of the language is impeccable, I thought for sure you must be one of us. Even your doctor doesn't speak with a German accent. How did you learn it so well?"

Trench Rat: *pause* "Immersion." *turns to leave* "I have to get back to my work now."

Von Staden: "Could I at least have your name?"

Trench Rat: *halts again; hesitates* "Weltuntergang." *exits*

Von Staden is left with a lot to think about. The Trench Rat interpreter's codename translates to end of the world. Doomsday. Von Staden knows exactly who he's dealing with now, as well as why he speaks such perfect German. Projekt Weltuntergang is an SS-funded experiment to increase a subject's strength, stamina, and intelligence, the final goal being to create a supersoldier; there's been lots of subdued talk about the perfected serum eventually being used on subjects exactly like von Staden, but the project has been plagued with bugs and this is unlikely to happen any time soon. So far, the project's poster child has been an American soldier who was briefly captured and detained before being rescued upon the formation of the Trench Rats; that's who this is. He wasn't a test subject for long, which is what amazes von Staden even more--during his brief imprisonment, he learned to speak German with a German accent, well enough to fool a native speaker. Von Staden is all kinds of fascinated by Doomsday, and wishes to know more, though the Trench Rat seems uninclined to oblige him.

Black Rat takes notice of this, however, and calls a small meeting with D-Day and Gold. He says that von Staden's obvious interest in D-Day--D-Day is the only Rat he attempts to initiate conversation with--might be used to their advantage, and suggests that D-Day answer the personal questions von Staden is peppering him with. It's quite a long shot, but just maybe von Staden will be a little more open to sharing some information of his own. D-Day doesn't outright object to the idea, but is plainly uncomfortable. Gold is the one who objects: "He could end up compromising himself," he protests. "He wouldn't be sharing any information that the German authorities don't already know," Black says, "the only difference is Herr von Staden presumably doesn't know." He reiterates how there's a slight chance it could lead to an exchange of information--von Staden might even slip up and overshare, or provide a seemingly innocuous detail that proves to be useful--and after an awkward pause D-Day promises to give it a shot, and leaves. Says Gold, "Yeah, well...I still think it's a sh*tty idea, no offense, with too much risk and too little benefit. And frankly I don't think you should've put him in this position." "He had the choice to say no," Black says, to which Gold retorts, "Did he, though...?"

D-Day returns to the medical ward and von Staden, who immediately perks up on seeing him; despite D-Day being American, and the enemy, he sees them as kindred spirits of a sort--they've both been prisoners of war. He asks a few general questions and seems a bit surprised when D-Day answers; yet instead of prying further, he hesitates, then ventures, "You seem uneasy, Herr Doomsday." D-Day dismisses this concern and says he's free to ask him anything else he'd like. "What has changed between today and yesterday--?" von Staden asks, perplexed. This time D-Day pauses before saying, "I've been advised to answer your questions. So, feel free to ask." Yet this comment has the exact opposite effect than intended; von Staden's confusion grows and he says, "Advised?--or ordered?" When D-Day insists he wasn't ordered to do anything, he refuses to believe it, and also refuses to ask any more questions. "I've been terribly rude, and I apologize," von Staden says; "Your life and experiences are none of my business, and it was thoughtless of me to presume they were." D-Day knows he can't press the issue without tipping him off that this was a strategic move, so he starts to leave; before he can reach the door, von Staden adds, "You shouldn't put up with them treating you like some sort of device to get what they want." D-Day stops, turns his head to look back at him. "It's not much different from what we did to you, is it...?" von Staden says, and D-Day exits.

So, Black's plan is a wash; he isn't upset by it, though Gold is rather soured by the attempt, and it has plainly bothered D-Day as he excuses himself to go lurk in the wiring tunnels for a while. Von Staden feels a little embittered as well, not so much by the attempted trick as by the fact that even the Americans stoop to such levels. Despite their relatively decent treatment of him, he decides to try to look for an opportunity to escape. He figures his chances are best while he's still in the medical ward; they're likely to transport him to a regular cell afterward, and he isn't sure if he'll be able to escape from there so easily; at least here, the only restraint he has to contend with is the cuff on his wrist. He figures out how to pick it with a tool he steals from a medical tray and keeps concealed, and memorizes the movements of various staff and visitors. He can hear whenever the Rats bring in other captured Germans, but they're always kept carefully separated so they can't communicate and the newcomers never have any idea von Staden is even there. He also decides to take a cue from Black although it chafes him: He'll try to use the electrical tunnels to escape, banking on D-Day allowing him to do so. It's a very slim chance but it's all he has. He makes one request of Burgundy, that he be given back his Iron Cross which was confiscated with the rest of his uniform; Burgundy is hesitant, sensing some hidden meaning in this, yet can't think of any possible mischief von Staden can get into with a mere medal, so grants his request and gives back the Cross. Von Staden spends some time staring at it and wistfully thinking of home, his parents and his older sister, hoping he can see them again soon.

The nurse, Skye, informs him one day that he'll be moved soon as his injury has healed well enough, so von Staden decides it's time to act. He tucks the Iron Cross safely away and waits for the brief period between shift changes when he'll be left unattended; he chooses a shift change between Skye and another female nurse, knowing he could never hope to take on one of the male interns like Indigo. (Indigo is big and strong and f**king scary. And he hates Germans.) The change occurs, the ward goes empty, and von Staden hurriedly picks his cuff and slips out of bed. Grabs a set of pajamas and slippers as he doesn't have time to seek his uniform, tucks them under his arm, and flees. Working backwards, he goes in the general direction he'd felt himself moving in when first brought there, a pattern he's repeated in his head multiple times. He spots a round door set up higher in the wall; judging by the danger symbols on it, he guesses this leads to the electrical tunnels, and hauls the heavy door open and climbs inside, uncertain of what he'll find.

The tunnel is cramped, but serviceable. Von Staden starts crawling. He spots something he'd been hoping to find: A schematic of part of the tunnel layout. It's not the entire thing, but it'll do. He locates what he hopes is an exit to the outside and heads that way.

Before he can reach that tunnel branch, it happens--a torch beam flickers across his field of vision, and a second shadowy shape crawls into the tunnel. Von Staden and D-Day stare at each other a moment, the latter blinking with surprise and confusion. Von Staden promptly turns and goes scurrying, ignoring the Trench Rat's shouted "Hey--!" though he does reach into his gown and pull out his medal, dropping it behind him with a clatter. He can hear D-Day halt briefly when he finds it, but keeps on going. Locates the portal he guesses he's looking for and tries to open it; he panics briefly, thinking it's locked, before pushing rather than pulling--the door lets out a loud rusty groan of protest but nudges open, barely wide enough for him to squeeze out. Finds himself not outdoors, but in another tunnel, too dark to see; swallows down his rising anxiety, feels around, finds a corresponding portal just across from the first, and repeats the procedure. This door is even stickier than the other, and he batters it repeatedly with his shoulder before it pops open. He scrapes himself up rather badly crawling out as it's almost covered with thorny brush and weeds, plus his shoulder is throbbing by now, yet he makes it out, rolls down a short hillside, stumbles to his feet, and glances around. Nothing but woods, all around him. It's cloudy, so he can't tell which direction the sun is in. He takes a breath, picks a direction, and runs.

He doesn't stop until nightfall, and then only after he finds a small hollow to shelter in briefly. Here he strips out of his robe and undergarments and changes into the pajamas (he'd already put on the slippers), wincing and biting his tongue the entire time--he's just about sure he dislocated his shoulder. Still, there's no time to dwell on the pain; he conceals his discarded clothes, rests just long enough to catch his breath, then crawls out and goes running again, short sprints this time to try to conserve energy. He has no stars or anything else familiar by which to navigate, and just hopes that his luck holds and he finds his way back to his own side.

He has to hide again once or twice when he hears voices, determining that they're those of partisans who are likely to shoot him dead without a second thought. He starts swooning from pain, fatigue, and thirst, so that he ends up surprised by a man with a rifle who appears right in front of him, aiming between his eyes. Von Staden stumbles to a halt, gasping and shaking; he expects the partisan to finish him off, yet belatedly blinks and gets a better look at him. The gunman is alone but he's wearing fatigues and a field cap with the Wehrmachtsadler emblem on it--this is one of his own. The sniper looks surprised as well when von Staden tries to salute, exclaiming, "Mein Kamerad!" before collapsing. "My name is Adalard von Staden and I am an airman in the Luftwaffe," he says weakly when the sniper bends down to help him; "my plane was shot down and I was taken prisoner. Take me to the authorities so I may make a statement, bitte." He relaxes and tries to just let himself pass out, but the sniper lightly slaps his face a few times and something touches von Staden's mouth; realizing it's a canteen, he grasps hold of it and starts guzzling the water greedily. He gets a look at the sniper's name tag, is vaguely perplexed that it displays not a proper surname but the word RATTENHUND--Ratdog. "I think you need to see a doctor first," the sniper says, but von Staden shakes his head; he wants to make a statement, while the details are still fresh. They're in the middle of nowhere, and Ratdog has no radio; he pulls von Staden into the undergrowth, covers him with a blanket and tells him to stay put, and hurries off to find the nearest troop. Von Staden finally faints.

He groggily wakes to the faint voice of someone repeatedly calling, "Herr Obergefreiter? Herr von Staden." Drags his eyes open and blinks blearily, grimacing at the cottony feeling in his mouth and the floaty feeling in his head. His shoulder is still throbbing but it's an odd muted feeling he doesn't really care about. Someone in a uniform is standing at the foot of his bed...he's in a medical ward again. "Can you hear me, Herr von Staden...?" the man in uniform asks.

"Ja," von Staden mumbles; then, after being informed the morphine is likely what's making him feel funny, "I wished to make a statement," he complains, and names his commanding officer. "Who is this person?" the uniformed man asks; "He's my superior officer," von Staden says, "and I'd like to make my statement to him." "That's what I'm here for," the uniformed man replies; von Staden blinks again and squints harder until things come into focus. Then furrows his brow, confused. The man's uniform is the wrong color; he's obviously not with the Luftwaffe. There's a skull on his cap rather than a cockade and winged oak leaf wreath, the eagle is wrong, and he has the Sig runes on his collar. Von Staden stares at him for a perplexed moment. He can't think of why the Allgemeine-SS would want to talk to him, they aren't even military. Yet here one of them is, ready to take his statement. "Start at the beginning, bitte," he says; "Where did you crash, and what exactly happened...?"

Von Staden's nightmare officially begins. He outlines his experiences of the past few weeks in full detail (omitting only the empathy he felt for LC Doomsday), having no reason to lie about anything. Yet the SS officer starts asking odd questions that, while not ominous or threatening, make von Staden's unease grow. Why should there even be questions?--he told everything. The officer seems interested in his experience in Trench Rat custody; he was gone quite a while, why?--they wanted to let his injury heal, he replies. His shoulder, did they do that?--no, they didn't hurt him in the least. They interrogated him under pressure, surely?--no, they tried to ask questions but they weren't aggressive about it. He was intimidated or threatened at all?--no, they actually treated him quite well. The officer especially wants to know how he escaped, no Germans have ever escaped Trench Rat custody, how did he do it? Von Staden is reluctant to mention the very slight rapport he felt with D-Day, but otherwise tells the full truth, just as it happened. The officer just stares at him the entire time, and is silent for a while after he finishes. Von Staden fights not to fidget or ask questions himself, though by now he's burning to. Finally the SS officer says, "I notice in your file that you're not a registered member of the Party, is there any particular reason this is so...?" "I've never had any reason to," von Staden says, his confusion growing; "I've served the Reich faithfully, I've sworn allegiance to der Führer and the Fatherland, I've earned awards and commendations--I'm not sure what more I can do to prove my loyalty?" He expects that to be the end of it--he's been loyal and he's been honest--yet the SS officer just stares at him a moment more before saying, "We'll be in touch with you and your commanding officer soon. Feel better, but stay close to home for now, ja...?" and he leaves.

The entire experience has left a bad taste in von Staden's mouth, though he tries to put it out of his mind and get some rest. He's perplexed that his commanding officer never comes to speak with him, but figures the SS officer will tell him all he needs to know. He dozes fitfully and loses track of time, longing to get in a plane and see the sky again. Most of all, though, he misses his family.

A few days later, several SS men arrive and the officer instructs von Staden to get up from the bed. He obeys out of pure confusion; a nervous-looking nurse hands him some generic clothes which he's told to put on, and as he does so von Staden asks, "Where is my uniform--?" "You won't be needing it," the officer replies, and von Staden suddenly finds himself being cuffed and informed that he's being taken into custody for spying and treason against the Reich. "What--??" von Staden exclaims, and starts trying to protest, though the men grab his arms and bustle him out of the room and down the hospital hall. Doctors, nurses, assistants, other patients stand by and watch, dismayed and stunned looks on many faces, and he tries to appeal to a few of them, yet nobody dares intervene. "What did I do? What have I done--?" he cries in bewilderment as he's pulled out of the hospital and shoved into a truck, but nobody explains anything further; the truck door slams, the engine revs, it pulls away. Von Staden continues protesting for a few moments, gets no answers, falls silent at last...not because of the lack of answers, but because the truck is driving to the far end of the city, away from the Wehrmacht administrative building he should be reporting to. His stomach starts sinking though he isn't sure why.

The truck at last pulls to a stop. Everything else happens in such rapid-fire fashion that von Staden barely has time to protest further, though he's so stunned by now he nearly goes mute. There's no way any of this can be real, yet it is. He hadn't been able to get a good look out the window at where they are, but as soon as he's pulled out of the truck it becomes obvious. A gate with a guard station and the words ARBEIT MACHT FREI looms overhead. Von Staden is marched inside; the men with him briefly greet a scowling SS officer standing huddled in a greatcoat; he jerks his head and von Staden is shoved toward a building. He's told to strip out of the hospital clothes he just put on, is pushed into the building, and a shower head blasts him with cold water which makes him gasp and shudder; the minute he steps out, chattering, he's tossed striped clothes, told to dress, pushed into another building, has his photo taken, and a red triangle is affixed to his shirt. Back outside, he has a barracks building pointed out to him--"That's where you sleep tonight"--then is directed to a nearby guard overseeing a group of workers and told to fall in. Von Staden briefly glances at the other prisoners, who glance back with a mixture of dull curiosity and hostility--most are wearing yellow Judensterne, a few are wearing various colors of triangles--but he doesn't get to talk to anyone. The guard snaps an order and the others start to work, picking up and carrying away heavy stones; von Staden gasps when the guard thwacks him across the shoulders and barks, "Get a move on!" He scoops up as many of the stones as he can carry and hurries after the rest of his group.

Von Staden has heard of the camps--most citizens have, by now--though he's never been entirely sure what goes on in them. There are horror stories which he figured were somewhat exaggerated, yet even if they were entirely true, that was none of his business, had nothing to do with him. It's apparently his business, now. He quickly falls into the camp routine of rising before dawn, quickly using the toilets, going outside to get in formation, standing through the grueling roll call, getting his work assignment for the day, breaking for a brief watery meal, getting back to work, heading back to bed on a hard crowded bunk with nothing but his clothes and a threadbare blanket to keep him warm. He soon grows thin and glassy eyed from fatigue, hunger, and shock. Additionally, it's not just the guards he has to look out for; his fellow prisoners turn out to be even more of a threat. Of course the Jewish and Roma prisoners despise him for being a privileged Aryan, one of the same people who have victimized them; they get in shoves and hits and jabs at him whenever they can. Even worse, though, are the other German prisoners. Their risk of being outright killed by the guards is lower, so they're bolder in attacking him, and von Staden takes several brutal beatings--uselessly crying out, "I'm a German citizen!!" the entire time--before he at last snaps and hits back, knowing that if he doesn't start defending himself, nobody will. Every day is spent with his back to a figurative wall, not knowing who that day will try to target him; he becomes suspicious of everyone, rebuffing the few attempted kind gestures he's offered (including a guard's offer to send him to a slightly less strenuous job), and keeps completely to himself. He clings to the hope that this is some awful mistake--it has to be--and that soon it'll be set right--yet days and then weeks slip by, the situation not changing, and his hope begins to waver. Where is his CO, all the protest about such a travesty? Where is his family?

Unknown to von Staden, lots has been going on behind the scenes since he was taken into Trench Rat custody, most of it not good for him. His downed plane had been located not far from the abandoned village; nearby witnesses described seeing the hawks and the dogs heading in, marking an effort by the Trench Rats to find survivors. It's assumed that von Staden would have likewise headed into the village for medical attention, and was likely grabbed by the Rats. He confirms this upon his escape, but this just opens up a hundred more questions. Nobody else has ever escaped the Trench Rats; how did he manage? His assertion that the Rats treated him well, and had nothing to do with his injuries, only compounds matters. The SS promptly seizes control of the investigation from the Wehrmacht and starts digging. They track down Ratdog, the sniper who found von Staden in the woods, and question him; having no idea what's going on, and no reason to lie or suspect their motives, he answers honestly, though his corroboration of the details von Staden gives doesn't help the corporal's case any. They question von Staden's family--though without informing them that von Staden has been found and taken into custody--placing emphasis on checking their faithfulness to the Reich. Did von Staden ever show signs of disloyalty? Apathy? Did he ever speak against der Führer? Why did he never join the Party? Von Staden's peers in the Luftwaffe are similarly interrogated, again, without being told that he's in custody. For all that they're aware, he's still missing. The SS's questions perplex them but they answer the best they can, not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to end up on the wrong end of an interrogation themselves. Von Staden enters the camp system with no one but the SS being any the wiser. There's nobody out there who even thinks to look for him there. Nobody is coming to rescue him.

The months slog by, and von Staden slowly loses hope and goes numb, resigning himself to being a prisoner. He gets used to being referred to by a number and not a name; it isn't tattooed on his arm, that treatment is reserved for the Jews and Roma and Slavs, but it may as well be tattooed on his brain. He reaches a tense middle ground of knowing when to defend himself by fighting back and when to tuck his head down and just take the blows. He does his work without complaint, follows the routine, and speaks only when spoken to. He trusts nobody. And most of all, he doesn't hope, because he knows if he does it'll kill him.

As his luck would have it, it's a complete stranger, and a chance encounter, that ends up saving him. He and the rest of the prisoners are unexpectedly ordered to roll call one day; they drop what they're doing and hurry into the middle of the yard to get into rows. Von Staden stands waiting, not patiently as that implies a choice to wait impatiently, he just waits to be called. The commandant and guards don't seem to be interested in following through for some reason, everyone just stands there at attention as the commandant talks to a Wehrmacht captain, but nobody questions. Von Staden simply stands stiffly and waits to be either called or sent back to work. Then, suddenly, somebody walking by halts in front of him and stares at him. "Excuse me," he says softly; not expecting to be spoken to, von Staden shifts his eyes slightly to look at him. The man is dressed in civilian clothes, is somewhat glassy eyed, and trembles as if he doesn't even notice he's doing it; von Staden recognizes the signs of combat fatigue although he never experienced it himself. This is an older man, though, so he knows they never served together. For the first time in a long time, he feels a twinge of confusion--is this person actually talking to him?--why? He peers at the prisoner to his side, but he's looking straight ahead; peers back at the stranger and sees he's still looking at him; then resumes staring ahead, himself. There's no reason for anyone to talk to him, so he figures he's misunderstood. Then the stranger says, "Ja, you, with the red badge. Could you tell me your name...?"

Adalard von Staden meets Vischer, a Great War veteran who just happens to be taking a tour of the camp with his companion, Captain Harald Altermann. Vischer is secretly in contact with the Trench Rats. He's heard of the Luftwaffe ace, a young Junker, who was polite and well behaved yet escaped their custody, much to their consternation, without answering any of their questions. And now here he comes across a German "traitor and deserter" with a Junker name, in a concentration camp. Vischer takes a big risk asking for Altermann's aid in confirming von Staden's identity and getting him out of there, because they know that he's still officially missing, he was never court-martialed, and he definitely has no business being in a camp, wearing the badge of a traitor. Altermann takes a risk of his own and pulls a few strings. The Wehrmacht contacts the SS and presses a little harder than they normally would. After some nagging, then haggling, an officer heads to the camp with a brusque letter in hand, requesting von Staden's immediate release into his custody. A mistake was made, they need to correct it.

The commandant reads through the letter with growing alarm. "A mistake--?" he demands, voice rising. "This is what you call a mistake??" The Allgemeine-SS officer requests him to keep a civil tone; "Civil tone!" the commandant barks, shakes a fist wordlessly, then orders his adjutant to accompany them to his office. Shuts the door, and promptly lays into the other officer. He's PISSED that something like this could've happened, especially coming from an organization that regularly practices such strict oversight--how did this even happen? He doesn't care too much about von Staden himself; it's the way this incident may taint his reputation and the reputation of his camp that truly infuriates him. "Best pray Herr von Staden and his family don't come gunning for you and yours once this is resolved," he threatens, "honestly, if you were not SS, I'd be coming for you myself!" His adjutant says, "I'll fetch Herr von Staden and get the process started for his release," and turns to go; "IMMEDIATE release," the commandant clarifies, and adds, "Make sure you get him cleaned up. Fetch him a new uniform. Make him at least halfway presentable for his family--Gott knows we're going to have more than enough hassle to deal with aside from this!"

Von Staden has already brushed off his brief interaction with Vischer--of course his pathetic attempt would go nowhere, he doesn't even feel discouraged about it--and is busy breaking rocks in the yard. The adjutant approaches, calls, "Herr von Staden." Pauses, but von Staden ignores him, just keeps on working. The adjutant frowns, starts, "Herr von--" then cuts himself off with a shake of his head--stupid, of course he wouldn't respond, prisoners leave their names at the gate--and calls out his ID number instead. Von Staden halts his work, removes his cap, snaps to attention. The adjutant gestures--"Follow"--so he does so. He's brought to the showers, told to strip and go in; he starts shaking but obeys, pretty sure he's about to die as he peers up at the shower head which rattles and bangs before something sprays out of it in a blast--he gasps at the shock of cold water, that's all it is, and shoves down his terror and confusion, scrubbing at himself as quickly as he can and chattering like crazy. He exits, is tossed a threadbare towel to dry off with--that's different, usually they just re-dress themselves while still wet--then is given a fresh set of clothes, not his striped ones, but a Luftwaffe uniform. Now he's beyond bewildered--WTF's going on?--yet bites his tongue, you don't ever question the guards, and puts it on. It's his size--but it's too big for him. The adjutant whistles through his teeth at von Staden's emaciated sorry figure but there's nothing to be done for it; he gives von Staden his cap (which he clasps to his chest, not putting it on--you never wear your cap when addressing a guard) and gestures. "Follow."

While this has been happening, the commandant has called the von Staden home and let them know they have von Staden in their custody and will be releasing him immediately--"A dreadful mistake, most dreadful, I can't apologize enough, I assure you some heads will roll for this outrage." He instructs the von Stadens to head to the railway station where they'll soon be reunited with their son. To his immense relief, they don't barrage him with furious questions, instead hanging up promptly to follow his advice. The adjutant arrives with von Staden, who looks utterly pathetic in his baggy uniform, grasps his hand, and pumps it up and down so hard von Staden nearly stumbles. Again apologizes profusely for the "most outrageous oversight, someone will pay, I assure you"--and tells the adjutant to drive him to the railway station. Collapses in his chair with a gusty breath and puts his hands to his face. "What a f**king mess," he moans...then pulls out some official letterhead and starts writing, making haste to ensure this incident is kept as quiet as possible.

Von Staden looks up at the ARBEIT MACHT FREI sign as the SS car drives him out of the gate. Stares glassy eyed out the window as the city rushes by. He hasn't seen the outside world in months. The seasons have changed, the clothing has changed, the newspaper headlines have changed; he feels like he's in a foreign country and can't connect to anything he's seeing. It feels like he's been in the camp for years, yet also like his life was paused while the rest of the world moved on. He's numb and has no idea what to think. They arrive at the railway station and the adjutant helps him exit the car; he looks around, blinking, before noticing someone hesitantly approaching from a small group of people--an older woman, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth. He just stares at her as she lets out a soft whimpering sound--"Adalard...?" The fuzziness abruptly clears from his head--"Mutter...?" he says faintly. And then her arms are around him and she's hugging him tight--"My boy, my baby boy!"--then his father is there--"My poor son," he says through his tears--and then he sees his sister, Constanze, standing nearby, her lip trembling a little but her face otherwise composed; when his parents let him go she steps forward and hesitates only a second before hugging him. "Welcome home, Adalard," she whispers.

They get on the train. Von Staden stares out the window. Jumps when his mother touches his arm, suggests he take a nap. He tries to doze. They reach the station, get in their car; again he stares out the window, sees the big family estate, the sky overhead. Inside, Frau von Staden fusses over the huge dinner she's having made, all his favorites, he must be starving. Constanze protests: "Mama, don't overdo it! Slow! You don't want to make him sick." Herr von Staden agrees, yet his mother insists. Constanze leads von Staden to his room, suggests he wash up, and she'll fetch him some clothes. He can't bear to use the shower again, so just washes himself at the sink. Puts on his new clothes. Constanze says he can rest again until dinner when she'll come wake him; she pauses, then hugs him again, wordlessly. Von Staden raises his arms, hesitantly hugs her back.

He can't fall asleep, just lies in bed staring at the canopy. Constanze arrives to take him to the dining room. The table is practically groaning with food, all his favorites just as promised; "Mama," Constanze rebukes, "why so much food! I said don't overdo it!" "Look at him, he's skin and bone," Frau von Staden insists, eyes welling up--"How could he not want to eat?" Strangely, von Staden really ISN'T hungry...he thought he would be, considering how painfully little food he received in the camp, yet now that he's presented with this veritable smorgasbord, his empty stomach twists and he has to swallow down his nausea. His mother coaxes him to eat, so he tries. His parents chatter, regular gossip like everything is right in the world; Constanze speaks up only when directly addressed, casting furtive looks at her brother as he gingerly bites at his food. "Go on, Liebe, you've hardly touched anything," Frau von Staden says, and he eats a bit faster. His head starts swimming as his parents and then Constanze begin to quietly argue, Frau von Staden saying they need to accept the SS's apology and move on, Constanze retorting that they're owed far more than that, Herr von Staden asking them both to calm down for Adalard's sake, Constanze reiterating that they're being lied to about something, Frau von Staden insisting you do not question the SS and why would they lie about this anyway, and then von Staden jerks to the side and throws up on the floor.

The other three flinch back in surprise--Constanze stands and comes to his side, while his father exclaims, "Adalard--? Are you all right?" and Frau von Staden calls for the maid. "Apologies," von Staden says as if reciting a script, "I'll clean it up. Apologies," and shakily stands. He always cleaned up his own messes in the camp, or else he'd get a stick across his shoulders. "It's all right!" Frau von Staden exclaims. "It's all right, the maid will clean it up," and "Sit a moment," Constanze murmurs, "you're eating too fast, you have to get used to it--I told you, Mama, I warned you it was too much," and "I'll fetch some ginger ale and crackers," Herr von Staden says, "that should help settle you down," and leaves. "Put them on a tray, bitte," Constanze says, "I'm taking him back to his room. Come on, Adalard," she coaxes, and he allows himself to be led away. Sits with him for a while, rubbing his wrists as he sits and shivers. "You want a hot bath...?" she asks, but he doesn't answer, he doesn't remember how to make a choice for himself. Herr von Staden brings by the tray and Constanze pours her brother a glass of ginger ale; "Here, you at least have to drink," and he manages a few sips. "Try to finish the glass," she says; "don't even think about the crackers right now, unless you want them. I imagine it's going to take you a while to get used to things again." He again apologizes for throwing up; she shakes her head: "Next time it happens, just leave it and call a maid, bitte--she'll clean it up." She moves close, grasps his shoulders so he looks at her. "You don't have to follow orders or be beaten anymore," she says in a firm voice; when he says nothing, she adds, "I know it must've happened. You don't have to worry about it anymore. It's over. You're home." She tells him to get some sleep and she'll fetch him in the morning. On her way out the door von Staden manages a faint "D...danke."

He again sleeps only fitfully. Wakes before dawn, stares confused at the canopy, decides to get up. As soon as he does, however, he collapses with a yelp. Constanze hurries in the door with a lamp in hand as von Staden clings to the bedpost, blinking and gasping. "My legs," he exclaims; "Can you feel them--?" Constanze asks, and he says, "Feel them--ja--but they aren't working. What's wrong with my legs?" She grabs hold of his waist and helps him to a chair, where he sits and rubs at them for a few moments; they positively throb, so he knows paralysis isn't the issue, but he's still confused. Constanze theorizes that exhaustion is catching up with him now that he has the chance to rest: "You were running on fumes," she asserts when he asks why didn't this happen sooner. His brain has normalized pain, so it takes a few moments for him to realize his muscles are cramping; they slowly loosen up and he's able to move his feet and knees; Constanze helps him stand again, and keeps hold of his arm as he takes a few tentative steps around his room. "Why are you awake so early?" she asks; "We always wake before dawn," he says, "or else we're disciplined." And quite belatedly he understands why he was so confused; he'd expected to wake on a cold cramped bunk next to other prisoners, not here. He blinks at his surroundings as the adrenaline wears off.

Constanze urges him to sleep a bit longer, but he doesn't think he can. "I'll draw you a hot bath," she suggests, and once it's done leaves him to sit in the steaming water for a while. It feels good, the best thing he's felt in who knows how long, but he barely notices. He stares mutely across the room and keeps imagining himself breaking rocks. Constanze comes back to wake him a couple of hours later when the water has gone cold, yet sleep and waking feel much the same, every time he shuts his eyes or stops thinking, he's back in the camp. She gives him a towel to wrap around himself, helps him dry off and dress--he's too numb to feel embarrassed--and leads him to breakfast. Frau von Staden meekly offers him dry toast and apple juice. He manages to keep it down.

The next several weeks are a tedious process of slowly getting used to being home. His first weeks in the camp, the prospect had consumed him, was all he could think of; now that he's finally free, he's consumed by thoughts of being back in camp. He's used to routine, to being told what to do; choices make him freeze. When presented with options, he never responds, because he can't remember how; Constanze gently rephrases questions to try to simplify them, then often answers for him after observing his reactions. It's almost like she translates between him and the normal world. He very gradually starts responding to simple choices, though he always adds a hasty mumbled "If possible, bitte, danke," at the end, to counteract the sharp stick-blow he always expects for being so presumptuous. No blows ever come, though; not even angry retorts. Von Staden starts eating a bit more and starts putting on weight. He starts sitting and standing up a bit straighter and making eye contact. His tremor and his repeated apologies fade. He sleeps later and starts choosing things without being asked. He politely responds to conversation again. He never returns to 100%...he's distinctly different from the young free-spirited idealist who flew off on a mission that one day. He remains largely withdrawn and quiet and glassy eyed like the man who visited him in the camp, but his parents seem pleased with the improvement. He supposes that's good enough even if he still isn't sure what to do with himself; he's been placed on indefinite leave from the Luftwaffe, as he's obviously in no shape to go on missions. He spends all his time at home, which normally would agonize him with boredom, yet he's still too numb to be bothered.

And then, one day, as he passes by the parlor he hears soft talking and laughter. Constanze is having a conversation with somebody whose voice he doesn't recognize. He peers into the room to see her sitting on the couch, smiling at a young man who smiles back as he holds her hands. The man is wearing a black uniform; his cap with the little silver skull sits on the table. Von Staden blinks. And instantly, the numbness disappears--rage--pure, consuming, white-hot rage--taking its place. He doesn't imagine the stick slamming down across his shoulders, the automatic ja bitte danke apologies Mein Herr--he imagines wrapping his hands around the officer's neck and squeezing until his eyes go dead. He has to step away from the parlor before he can act, though when he gets back to his room he breaks all of the glass objects on a table and then upends the table itself for good measure--smashes the vanity mirror with his bare hands--then makes himself sit down to take some breaths (after rending apart the pillows that had been on the chair previously), though his fingers dig into his palms hard enough to draw blood and his whole body thrums like a live wire. He thinks about looking for his gun.

Constanze arrives shortly after: "Adalard? I heard glass..." She trails off and stares at the state of his room. "What..." Then looks at him and sees the expression on his face. "Adalard...?" She takes a step toward him, seems hesitant. "What is it? What happened?"

Von Staden: "That man you were with."

Constanze: "Man--?"

Von Staden: "In the parlor. That SS man."

Constanze: "You saw that?"

Von Staden: "How long have you been seeing him?"

Constanze: "That's rather a private matter."

Von Staden: "You bring him in this house, it's not so private anymore."

Constanze: "I wouldn't ask you about it if you brought someone home."

Von Staden: *losing his temper, hissing furiously & clenching his fists* "Do you see me ever bringing anyone home--?" *takes a breath* "I'm never going to bring someone home. Never going to sit and laugh and hold hands and start a family. They took that from me. Do Mutter and Vater know--?"

Constanze: *hesitates* "What does it matter what they know? It's my choice who I see, not theirs."

Von Staden: "'Choice.'" *they stare at each other* "Good to know he lets you have one." *stands up* "I'd like you to go now. While I still have the choice to ask you."

Constanze: "Adalard..."

Von Staden: "Go on. Go away. Bitte."

Constanze: "He isn't one of them, from the camp. He hasn't done anything to you--"

Von Staden: *clenching fists & yelling* "THEY'RE EVEN WORSE! The guards are bad enough but you know what to expect! At least they come at you with clubs! With guns! THESE ones--" *points toward parlor* "THESE ones are the ones who truly ruin lives! Sitting behind desks! Never firing a gun! A rubber stamp and a pen! A rubber stamp and a pen send far more people to the gas than a stick or a gun does. A signature on a paper and a chimney is full of smoke. He doesn't even have to fire one bullet. No trial. Doesn't even need to look his victim in the eye. Sign and stamp. Train. Gas. Oven. Ash. A colored badge only if you're lucky--a slower death. Go ahead...ask him how many lives he's ruined, how many he's killed, sitting behind a desk. Should make for good conversation."

*long silence*

Constanze: *quietly* "You saw all this...?"

Von Staden: "It used to be I did not have to see for you to believe me. But go ahead. Believe what you like. And leave me alone, bitte. We have nothing more to say to each other."

He turns his back, so Constanze leaves. He'd been starting to trust her--he has no one else to talk to, he feels his parents won't understand--but that's shattered in an instant. And the numb haze is gone with it. He no longer drifts aimlessly about the house and stares off into space; he seethes with fury, pacing the halls in a futile effort to burn it off, doing everything he can not to destroy anything he comes across. He doesn't talk to Constanze anymore, except a terse word or two as necessary at the table; their parents are perplexed, sensing the tension simmering between them, yet say nothing about it. He has thoughts of what he'll do if and when he's allowed back into active service; he has dark thoughts, treasonous thoughts, of strafing Allgemeine-SS headquarters rather than engaging in dogfights. Then again, part of him reasons, he's already been punished for being a traitor...why not follow through with the actual crime?

He has no intentions of acting on such thoughts, though they help soothe his spite a little bit. It always flares up again the moment he sees Constanze, who keeps hinting she wants to talk to him, though he does a good job of leaving the room and keeping separate from her. Frau von Staden tries a couple of times to get them to talk but he declines. Oddly, he never sees the SS officer again, though he figures this is just Constanze's effort to get on his good side. He's allowed back to work, though spends most of his time behind a desk--even though he knows now exactly what kind of havoc can be wrought from such a position, he behaves himself. He tracks down and goes to visit Vischer, the man whose actions ended up getting him out of the camp, so he can thank him; there he also meets Captain Altermann, who acted on Vischer's request to free him. He can tell Vischer understands, even if only somewhat, what he's going through, and asks if the anger ever goes away; Vischer replies that it might always be with him, but now he has a choice how to act on it: "They can't take that away from you anymore." On his way out, Altermann asks for a word in private. Von Staden had mentioned that he felt like he owed them a debt; if he means it, then Altermann could use a favor: "I don't have anything in mind just yet, but there might come a time when I need your help." Von Staden readily promises his assistance, any assistance, whenever he should require it; his gratitude to them is such that he doesn't ask any questions. Whatever it is, he'll do it.

Constanze finally attempts to confront her brother one day; he tries to avoid her, not liking to think of what he might do if he gets angry enough, but she follows him to his room. They argue briefly, von Staden again bringing up the SS man, Constanze again seeming to defend him, and again von Staden insists he's as much a part of the problem as any camp guard--"You don't understand, you'll never understand, what that was like, to be punished for something you never did. Or to be punished for absolutely nothing at all!" For, as much as his red badge chafed him...at least it was a charge that made sense. He never really understood why a Jew needed a yellow star or a Zigeuner needed a black triangle when all they'd done was exist. He hasn't consumed all the propaganda the Party puts out, so it never occurred to him to think about it too much, one way or the other; his time in the camp gave him a good look at things. Even with his status as a traitor, he was never treated quite as poorly as the non-Aryans, and he got to see exactly what they were put through, and who most often was sent to the room with the fake showers. Fuming, he turns his back on Constanze--"I thought once that we knew each other, I guess it took being in that hellhole to prove me wrong--now go away--I don't have anything else to say to you"--and retreats to his bed, lying down facing away from her. The room is silent for a moment before he hears footsteps then hears the bed creak--Constanze lies down on the other side of the bed behind him. Von Staden clenches his fists and grinds his teeth hard enough to hurt.

Constanze: *long silence* *quietly* "I don't love him."

Von Staden: *halfhearted snort*

*long silence*

Constanze: "...I hate him, and his, for what they did to you."

Von Staden: *furrows brow* *pauses, then pushes himself up & turns to look at Constanze, who does the same* "What are you talking about...?"

Constanze: "They told us you were still missing. When they came to question us, about your loyalty, about our loyalty to the Reich. They never told us they'd found you. I knew they were lying about something. Knew they wouldn't be asking those questions unless they knew where you were." *pause; swallows, lowers voice* "I didn't know where you were. If I had, I would've yelled it from the rooftops, to get you out of there. But even I didn't think they'd go that far, do something like that to someone like you."

Von Staden: *pause; quieter* "What do you mean?"

Constanze: *moves closer; nearly whispering* "Almost everyone's heard the rumors about those places, what really goes on. Mama knows, but doesn't want to believe. Papa believes, but doesn't want to know. You, you confirmed it. The last time we talked."

Von Staden: "Confirmed what?"

Constanze: "The stories they tell. The trains, the gas, the chimneys. Tell me, were there shower rooms...? Shower rooms that weren't shower rooms. Were there men who carried away the dead and then they disappeared, too...?"

Von Staden: *long silence* *whispering* "How do you know about that...?"

Constanze: "You confirmed all the rest, this is true too, ja? So you've seen it. They tried to make it seem like it's not so bad and like whoever is there, deserves to be there. Yet you! You never deserved to be there, not even by their laws, and that's why they're trying so hard to pretend like it never happened. They're not investigating how you ended up there, they're trying to cover it up. Because they have excuses for everything else but not for this. You, you were there, you know you did nothing to deserve it, and I can tell you know nobody else there deserved it, either. Ja...? I'm right...?"

Von Staden: *silence*

Constanze: "I can tell from the look on your face that I'm right. Before this you didn't have an ounce of hate in your heart. You don't have any for them. You know they belong there just as little as you do." *pause* "I wanted to get information. Information on you at first, though after you came back, still, information on what's happening in those places. I didn't know how. I didn't have any connections, I don't know who I can trust. I thought, maybe if I can get one of them to like me. It's not such a big price to smile and flirt a little, if it helps me find you and helps me find out what's going on."

Von Staden: *blinks* "What--?" *under his breath* "What are you thinking--?? Are you mad? Information? Flirting! You have no idea what these people are capable of--!"

Constanze: "I have EVERY idea! They took you away! When all you did was serve the Fatherland like you promised!"

Von Staden: "This wasn't your place to do! What if they'd suspected? You could have put Mutter and Vater in danger as well as yourself!"

Constanze: "Stop acting like I'm a baby! I'm older than you! You honestly think I don't know how to look after myself--? No one else was doing anything. I thought you MIGHT be a little more grateful!"

Von Staden: "Not if you end up getting yourself caught or killed!"

Constanze: *scoffing* "Bitte! It's not even like I'm all on my own! I have connections now too, you know!"

Von Staden: *confused* "What...?"

The two of them huddling head to head like they once did as children, Constanze finally tells him: She's working with the resistance. They started watching her shortly after she first smiled and batted her eyes at an SS officer and he responded--though she had no idea at first. It was only after they'd parted ways one afternoon at an outdoor cafe and she'd retreated to an alley to smoke a cigarette--hands shaking so much she couldn't strike a match--that they'd tipped her off. She'd jumped a little when somebody offered a lighter--she blinked at the woman holding it out to her, stylish and sophisticated and definitely a product of the city rather than the country. She even wore makeup, something frowned upon by the Reich. Constanze held out her cigarette to let the woman light it for her and took a long drag before the woman said, "Looks like you couldn't bear another moment in his company, Liebe." "That obvious?" Constanze muttered, to which the woman had snapped the lighter shut, paused briefly, then said, "If you insist on going through with this foolishness, perhaps I could give you a few tips, for your brother's sake. That is why you're doing this, ja...?"

The woman works for the Diamond Network, a resistance movement that the SS has declared a terrorist organization. Von Staden has dimly heard of them, but never paid much attention. They've been interested in him, though. While the SS was busy covering things up, the Network was busy trying to dig things up; they know von Staden was briefly in Trench Rat hands before disappearing. Now, here was the SS showing inordinate interest in his family. They'd suspected that von Staden had been found and taken into custody and something about this had triggered an investigation. Like the SS, they have ways to find personal information that the average citizen has no access to, and everything they found pointed toward von Staden being a loyal German citizen. Suspecting a smear campaign and coverup was in progress, they began spying on the von Stadens themselves. Constanze's sudden interest in dating an SS man raised a flag that she was trying to gather information as well; after seeing her obvious distaste, the Network operative currently watching her decided to make a move. Constanze has been effectively recruited by the resistance, and now that von Staden is back home--and very plainly pissed off by his experience--she wants to recruit him, too.

Von Staden is shocked and dismayed to learn of his sister's actions; he worries that she'll end up imprisoned "Or worse," and doesn't think such work is the place of a woman; and even though Constanze retorts that she can handle herself just fine, still, the situation doesn't sit quite right with him. Despite his horrible mistreatment, he still feels loyalty to the Wehrmacht and the Reich; it's the Nazi Party, and the SS specifically, that has sparked his ire. They're all hopelessly intertwined, and while he thinks nothing of messing with the Schutzstaffel, he really doesn't wish to be a traitor or to be removed from his beloved Luftwaffe. Result, it takes a lot of coaxing and convincing on Constanze's part to turn him, and even then he's terribly reluctant to commit. He doesn't want to do anything that directly conflicts with his military duties, or that could endanger his fellow soldiers and airmen. Constanze suggests that, rather than actively fight, he be a messenger or courier. He already has the perfect means to assist them: His airplane. Von Staden is still hesitant, but Constanze slowly brings him around; as a simple go-between, his actions won't directly endanger anyone else, he has no reason to directly interact with the enemy, and although under German law it's still considered treason, "They already consider you a traitor, and they've already punished you for it," she says; "how much worse is this? And remember all those others who never once betrayed our country, who are still in there, and have nobody to fight for them to be freed. If you could help them, would you...? Remember how you felt, waking up every morning with that red badge on your chest, going to sleep with it at night. How easy it was to earn it and how hard to have it removed."

And there, that appeal to von Staden's fury--all that seething, bottomless rage without an outlet--that's what turns him. He accepts his first mission, delivering medical supplies to a group of partisans located in the countryside; he buzzes the treeline in his plane, ejecting several boxes with small parachutes attached, then heads back to his regular route. It takes mere moments, yet he has to take a few deep breaths to steady his rattled nerves as he flies back; he knows all the tricks, how to evade detection and make up for lost time, but his heart is pounding and his throat is dry anyway. He goes about the rest of his duties without a peep. The partisans, meanwhile, are beyond confused at first, for a fighter plane to buzz them before dropping what looks like cargo and then flying away; they cautiously approach the nearest box, gingerly poking at it with their guns, putting their ears to it to listen for any suspicious noises, before finally prying it open. And exclaim with surprise at the contents--bandages, plasters, stitches, antibiotics, alcohol, medicines, vitamins, ointments--they hurry to track down the other boxes (one needs to be pulled down from a tree) and find even more supplies. They'd been informed they would soon get a delivery; they had no idea the Luftwaffe would be bringing it.

It's a few days before the word gets to Constanze of the successful delivery, and she lets von Staden know by giving him a big hug when he returns home for the day; "What is it--?" he exclaims, to which she excitedly replies, "You did it! It got through. I told you you could handle it. You've done excellently, kleiner Bruder!" Von Staden has to sit and have a stiff drink; he'd been wound up the entire time, not knowing if the mission had succeeded, and now that he knows it did, he really needs a rest. "I'm not sure about this," he mumbles, feeling nauseated; Constanze rubs his shoulder and reassures him that he always has the option to back out--"It's your choice, I won't ever hold it against you"--yet she also throws in a small mention of the SS, and sees von Staden's eyes darken and his fingers curl. He swallows down his nausea. A couple of days later he again buzzes partisan territory, this time to drop a parcel of personal communications. They learn to identify his plane so they don't accidentally shoot it down, though they do take a few shots to make things look less suspicious to any observers.

So this is the state of affairs that continues throughout the war: The Diamond Network hands over the necessary items for transport to Constanze, Constanze passes these and the mission info along to her brother, and von Staden delivers the items via an airdrop. After a few missions he instructs his sister to keep him in the dark regarding what exactly he's delivering--"The time and the place is all I need to know." Constanze knows that in the event of him needing to deliver weapons, he'd rather not be involved; so being ignorant of what he's dropping off means the possibility of running more missions. They space out the deliveries and the times to coincide with times and locations when he's expected to be in flight--he never takes his plane out unplanned--so nobody ever thinks to question why he was there or what he was doing. He's skilled at making quick detours when needed, dropping off, and returning to his route with minimal disruption, and the Luftwaffe accepts whatever excuses he comes up with when needed. "Go figure," he grouses to Constanze after she brings him a drink one evening (von Staden's never been a big drinker, yet needs one to settle his rattled nerves after every mission), "when I'd done absolutely nothing they put me in a camp, yet when I'm running enemy missions right under their noses they don't even say a peep!" He never gets comfortable with the thought of what he's doing--it always feels wrong to act subversively against the government--yet his fury toward the SS overrides his unease, and Constanze's encouragement, including rare news about the ways in which his actions may have aided their other victims, keeps him going.

One day, von Staden receives a telephone call at home--it's Captain Altermann, the Wehrmacht official who, along with Vischer, helped launch the investigation that got him out of the camp. "I'm heading out to Herr Vischer's place," he says in a subdued yet urgent tone, "and I have reason to believe we're going to be dealing with some disagreeable Party members." "SS...?" von Staden asks; "Nein, not SS," Altermann clarifies, "which is why I'm a bit reluctant to ask for your help...yet I'm pretty sure they're with the Party else they wouldn't be interested in us. I'm not sure what they plan to do, but Herr Vischer's out there on his own. You said you felt you owe us a debt...? You don't have to come, and I won't hold it over your head. But if you're on board, I could really use an extra hand right now." Von Staden promises to meet him at Vischer's house, though it'll take him a bit to get there; "Drive as fast as you can," Altermann urges, "and don't even bother to knock!--just let yourself in!" Von Staden wishes he could inform Constanze of where he's headed, yet she's gone at the moment, presumably communicating with the Network--the Allies are said to be close to the city, and order is rapidly breaking down, even way out here in the countryside--so he jots down a quick note to her and his parents, grabs his pistol, hurries out to the car, and speeds off.

What happens next is covered here.

Von Staden chafes at the thought of being taken into custody again, yet the situation has obviously taken a turn--Altermann mentions how the SS has attempted to implement martial law in the city, with mixed results, as word reached them of the Allies' approach. Nobody is sure WHICH Allies--it could be the Americans, though the Red Army is more likely--and Altermann and von Staden don't like the thought of what could happen if they fall into Soviet hands. The Trench Rats promise their protection, and Vischer trusts them, so the other two go along. Altermann is badly wounded and requires medical care; von Staden, suffering only minor injuries, accompanies him. Feeling rather listless and extraneous, and wishing to distract himself from his worries about Constanze, he gestures at the nurse and summons up what limited English he knows: "Have medical...training? Ein bisschen...small medical training. Ich würde gerne helfen...helfen...help? Would like to help. Bitte." The nurse, obviously frazzled, admits they could use the assistance; she uncuffs von Staden from his bed and says, "Scrub in...you know what that means, yes...?" "'Scrub in,'" von Staden echoes; then, "Ja," and he hurries to the sinks. He spends the rest of the evening helping Nurse Skye tend to the various injured Rats and partisans who pass through the ward; it's hectic, bloody work, yet he handles it like a pro, without complaint, and the process moves along much quicker than it otherwise would.

Not long after, a Trench Rat enters and asks his name; upon being told, he says another von Staden, a young woman, has been taken into custody along with a group of resistance members; "Constanze--?" von Staden exclaims; "May see?--bitte?--is Schwester. Ich vermisse sie so sehr!" Constanze is accordingly brought to the medical ward where brother and sister throw their arms around each other and kiss each other's forehead, exclaiming aloud. ("This is the one with the plane--?" another resistance member who's been brought in to have his wounds tended to asks one of the Rats; "Ein Verrückter! You never saw such a thing.") Constanze explains how she had to take shelter with the others as it was too unsafe to head out on her own; they were found by the Trench Rats and brought to Headquarters to make sure no Nazis were hiding among them. "This man then comes and says, 'Your name is von Staden? I believe we have a von Staden here already, in the medical ward.' I was so afraid! Afraid you were hurt, or worse! And it turns out you're helping stitch up everyone else's wounds--of course!" Von Staden rebukes her for endangering herself by taking shelter with the resistance, to which she retorts, "Take a look at you, you're a prisoner of war! Again!" Which he really can't deny. She unfortunately has no idea where their parents are; they'd been in the city, and now they're missing: "We're going to have to find them." "We have each other till then," von Staden says, and though the Rats cuff him back to his bed ("It's not so bad," he reassures his sister when she bristles at this), Constanze is allowed to stay with him, while Altermann and Vischer doze nearby.

They remain with the Rats for a while; von Staden eventually has his cuff removed, once more details are provided regarding his role in Vischer ending up among them (Vischer had aided the Trench Rats himself), and when it becomes clear he won't be returning to the Luftwaffe. The von Stadens and Altermann listen as the new Trench Rat sergeant, Gold, fills them in on the situation (Altermann translating for the other two): "The Reich has fallen," Altermann says, subdued; "the city is under Allied control and der Führer has taken his own life. Soon there will be no Wehrmacht for us to return to." He asks Gold about the von Stadens' parents, but Gold has no answers; he does provide a detail that seems to give Altermann a bit of hope, and he turns to the other two. "He says it was the Americans who took the city--Gott sei Dank! I dread to think if it had been the Red Army. Your parents stand a chance, at least. Hold up your heads and hold hope you'll find them well, I'll hope along with you."

American military officials arrive to question Altermann and von Staden. Constanze again flares with indignation--"My brother is not a Nazi!"--but oddly, for once he's the one to try to calm her down: "They're doing their job, better to ask me some questions than to let a criminal go. I can handle it, I've handled worse." Frankly, by now he's just exhausted and is running on fumes again. The army officials don't trust Altermann to do the translation, so someone else is brought over to handle it: Doomsday Rat. Von Staden perks up a little on seeing him again, though he refrains from pestering him with questions. D-Day translates the military official's questions and von Staden's answers; it soon becomes clear they're concerned about his loyalty to the Reich. Von Staden tries hard to hold his temper as he replies, "I am and will always be devoted to the Fatherland, mein Heimatland, until the day I die. As for the Nazis, I spit on them. The two are not the same. I don't know how I can explain to an American." "I understand Heimatland," D-Day says, "I'll explain," and he does so. The military officials seem skeptical, yet some further comments from him, Altermann and Vischer, and others in the hospital ward soon appear to convince them that the von Stadens have no direct ties to the Nazis. The resistance member who had called von Staden a madman appeals to them especially, describing how he'd delivered supplies with his fighter plane. "That was this guy...?" the official asks D-Day; turns out stories about von Staden's exploits had even reached past enemy lines. They tell the von Stadens not to go far for the time being, but they're effectively cleared and free to leave. Von Staden offers his hand to D-Day.

Von Staden: "You've been far more civil to me than is warranted, Herr Doomsday. Danke sehr."

D-Day: *shakes his hand* "Just D-Day, please."

Von Staden: *slowly, with an American pronunciation* "'Dee Day.' This has a meaning...? Personally?"

D-Day: "Not so much a personal meaning, no. I just prefer it over Doomsday."

Von Staden: "Do you mind me asking why...?"

D-Day: *pause* "Doomsday's the name of something that hurt countless people. People who didn't deserve such pain. I'll always be connected to it, but I'd like to keep as much distance as I can." *pause* "I'm not sure if I can explain it properly."

Von Staden: "Nein...you've explained it perfectly. I apologize, Herr D-Day."

Altermann and Vischer wish the von Stadens farewell--"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Altermann reassures them, though von Staden makes sure to appeal to the Americans on his behalf--and the two head back home. They wander the empty house (all the staff have been dismissed) disconsolately. "I hope they're all right," Constanze murmurs, "wherever they are." "We should try to stay in touch with those Rats," von Staden muses, "in case they find anything out." He disappears upstairs for a while--Constanze can hear him banging around in the attic--before bringing something back downstairs: A portable radiotelegraph machine. "Maybe this will be more useful than a telephone," he suggests as he checks it over and then sets about getting it up and working. Constanze is skeptical, especially when no one answers the first tentative messages he sends out, yet leaves him to it as she prepares them something to eat. They sit in the dim parlor and eat their simple dinner in silence, contemplating this strange new world they've been thrust into.

After a few days of sending messages, von Staden receives a reply. Constanze hovers nearby as he hurriedly transcribes. Someone claiming to be a former member of the Wehrmacht tells him that many German citizens from the city have been detained by the Allied forces to try to root out any Nazis--apparently, some members of the SS tried to escape detection by blending in with the local population. The von Stadens were almost certainly caught up in the sweep, as the person on the other end says he heard von Staden's earlier messages and checked with what sources he could get to respond; it's not 100% certain if they're still there, but he's fairly certain someone with that name was listed among the detainees. If they can get into the city, they might find their parents. Von Staden asks the name of who he's corresponding with and is told simply ADEL. Adel, whoever he is, wishes him luck.

Von Staden and Constanze head to the city. They're faced with multiple questions, checkpoints, and language barriers; von Staden repeats his name and "Mutter" and "Vater" multiple times in hopes of being understood. The Americans finally seem to get the point, but as an interpreter tells it when he arrives, they aren't sure that they can help; they can't confirm von Staden's identity, and the two of them forgot to bring their papers. Frustrated, von Staden starts to lose his temper and argue with them as Constanze tries to convince him to calm down and they'll just return home to fetch their IDs; "It took us over an hour to get here!" von Staden fumes, "After everything else I'm hardly leaving without even finding out if they're here or not!" His ire just grows and the situation starts looking ugly until somebody passes a message to the interpreter, who passes it on to the officer von Staden is arguing with. He nods, and the messenger departs. The interpreter tells von Staden that somebody showed up to vouch for him. Confused, von Staden asks who; someone named Herr Adel, the interpreter replies. "He knows you...?" Constanze asks; "I don't know how, I've never met any Herr Adel aside from on the radio!" von Staden replies, bewildered.

The messenger returns with Herr Adel and von Staden blinks, for he DOES know him after all--it's Ratdog, the sniper who confronted him in the woods after his escape from the Trench Rats so long ago. His real name is Adel and he's a Junker, same as von Staden. "Figured they might give you trouble," he says when von Staden asks why he's there, "nobody knows who anybody is right now." He himself is relatively well known, as he'd aided the Trench Rats himself toward the end, and has offered his assistance getting people in touch with each other. He confirms von Staden's identity, confirms that he's been cleared of Nazi ties, and gets them in to find their parents. Herr and Frau von Staden are being kept in a cell with some others; Frau von Staden jumps to her feet--"Constanze! My Constanze!"--and hugs Constanze through the bars when she appears, crying, "Mama--! Papa!" Herr von Staden joins them before Frau von Staden exclaims, "Adalard--!" and reaches her arms out to her son, who's standing back. "Mutter...?" he murmurs, hesitantly stepping forward; she grips his arm and pulls him close. "Vater," he says, and a moment later all four of them are embracing and crying.

There's a bit of hassle trying to get the Americans to release the von Stadens--von Staden refuses to leave and insists he'll stay outside the cell as long as he has to, memories of his own imprisonment making him obstinate--it takes Herr Adel losing his own temper and taking it out on the officer to convince them to let the von Stadens out. By this point the Americans are just glad to be rid of them. Von Staden thanks Herr Adel profusely for his help; "Try to stay out of trouble," Adel says, "I can't always be waiting by my radio to bail you out," and the von Staden family finally heads back home.

They remain for a while, though things are subtly different. The news comes that the territory they live in will be turned over to the Soviet Union; although they have enough connections that they're likely to remain safe, still, "I'm not sure we should take the risk," Herr von Staden explains, having called them all together to discuss the situation. He admits that he's been stashing away foreign money--he started doing so following von Staden's release from the camp: "I knew they were lying to us about something. If they could do that to you, they could do it to anyone. I figured it would be best to plan as if they'll come for the rest of us any day." He leads them into the cellar, digs out a box, and shows them the money. Constanze and von Staden gape. Frau von Staden says sheepishly, "I suppose this is as good a time as ever," and she goes to another part of the cellar and digs out an envelope--within are some foreign bills. The siblings both exclaim in surprise at what their parents have been up to. Herr von Staden says he's been asking around and is pretty sure he'll be able to secure them a residence in the west of Germany, should they head out soon; they'll be guaranteed safe passage. He feels they'll be safer there rather than dealing with the Soviets, who've dealt quite harshly so far with the German citizens they've encountered. He doesn't want to take them away from there, however, without making sure they're all on the same page--that means especially von Staden.

Herr von Staden: "I know you feel safest here, at home, and I wouldn't take that away from you. If you want to stay, then we can stay. The one thing is I doubt they'll take you back into the army, should they rebuild it. You'll have the option to serve again in the west, it's only that the west isn't our home. I leave the choice to you."

Von Staden: *pause* "Honestly...I'm tired. I don't think there's a place for me anymore in the military. I just want us all to be safe. We can do that in the west."

Frau von Staden: "Are you sure, Adalard? We'll have to leave behind our home and start over."

Von Staden: "I'm used to starting over. As long as we're in Germany, we're home."

The von Stadens settle it; they'll pack up their most important belongings, and travel west. Von Staden makes sure to let Vischer know he'd like to remain in touch--the older veteran has helped him immensely in dealing with his anger--before telling him, Altermann, and the Trench Rats goodbye. He does hesitate briefly when the train arrives at the station, though Constanze takes his hand, and he takes a breath. The family boards and they take their seats; von Staden peers out the window as the train slowly pulls ahead, and watches as his old life is again left behind. After a while, his hand still tightly clasped in Constanze's, he falls asleep.

[Adalard von Staden 2023 [‎Friday, ‎September ‎15, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:11 AM]]

[Adalard von Staden 2023 2 [‎Friday, ‎September ‎15, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:24 AM]]

[Adalard von Staden 2023 3 [‎Friday, ‎September ‎15, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:37 AM]]

[silvermoongirl10swfics]

I trust you with my life

For @codywanweek 2021 Day 3: Lightsaber.

You can also read this fic here on A03.

No warnings. This is written as a 4+1 fic.

1)

Cody tiredly dragged his feet towards his tent, it had been a long day of fighting and finally the day had ended in a win. Obi-Wan was reporting to the Council and then needed to comm Skywalker about what they needed to do tomorrow. Unfortunately, the 501st were on the other side of the planet so Cody couldn’t spend any time with Rex. But that was probably for the best considering the exhaustion pulling at his limbs and his tiredness making his eyes feel like they were burning.

Sighing in relief as he pushed his way through the tent flaps of his tent, Cody rubbed a fist over his eyes. After taking his armour off on auto-pilot, Cody turned to his sleep cot when he slowly realised something was different. After pausing for a moment, so his exhausted mind could spot what was out of place, he noticed perched innocently on his pillow was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. With a resigned sigh, Cody carefully picked up the lightsaber, muttering mockingly under his breath, “this lightsaber is your life Anakin. Hypocrite.”

He sat on his sleep cot, holding his cyare’s lightsaber in his hands which were resting on his lap. Through force of will, Cody managed to keep himself awake, his head would dip forward as his eyes closed, but he was able to jerk himself back into alertness. Cody wasn’t sure how long he ended up waiting, but despite Obi-Wan having been given his own tent, Cody knew Obi-Wan would make his way to Cody’s tent to sleep, and sure enough the tent flap opened to reveal an equally exhausted looking Jedi. Whose robes were creased and covered in dirt, his copper hair looked brown due to the dirt smeared into the locks and Obi-Wan had dark circles under his eyes to match Cody’s. Obi-Wan stopped and stared at Cody, evidently surprised to find Cody still awake.

“Cod’ika? What?” Obi-Wan stumbled out, unable to ask anything else when Cody just held out a hand, a hand that held a lightsaber in it.

“Misplaced something cyare?” Cody asked in a voice that dripped in fake innocence.

“Um…well yes apparently,” Obi-Wan stuttered out, his face turning red out of slight embarrassment.

Taking pity on his exhausted Jedi, Cody stood up and helped Obi-Wan take off his outer robes and belt, but before they both settled on the cot that was technically designed for one person. Cody smirked as he placed the lightsaber in Obi-Wan’s hands, “this lightsaber is your life.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and then turned to place his lightsaber on top of his robes. “Yes, well…I will love you even more if you can refrain from telling Anakin about this little slip.”

“You can love me even more?” Cody joked with a raised eyebrow and a grin. The both of them laid down, Obi-Wan wrapping himself around Cody like a clinging tooka kit.

“It is not a hardship,” murmured Obi-Wan in a tired voice. Cody smiled and kissed his cyare on the forehead, Obi-Wan’s breaths already slow as he drifted into sleep. Once Cody closed his eyes, he was soon following his cyare into a dreamless sleep.

2)

Cody and Ghost company were jogging through a dried-up ravine, knowing that somewhere above them, jumping over the cracks and rocks was their Jedi. It made Cody relax, he didn’t like not knowing what could be in front of them, but they needed to meet up with the rest of the 212th and with Obi-Wan close by, he knew he could trust his cyare to let them know if danger was close.

The only sounds in the ravine were the soft crunching noise the men’s feet made on the sand beneath their feet, their helmets blocking out the sound of their breathing. Then a loud clacking sound, brought everyone to a stop, all on their guard they pointed their blasters behind and in front of them. Until an exasperated sigh broke the silence, “stand down men,” ordered Cody.

He bent down and retrieved the offending item that had knocked against his shoulder pauldron. Cody sighed again as his gloved hand enclosed around the item and stood back up, while activating the private comm channel he had with Obi-Wan. “I believe you are missing something,” he sighed.

There was an evident pause and then a sheepish, “ah. Yes, I do believe I have misplaced something.”

“That something, being your life?” snarked Cody, attaching the lightsaber hilt to his own belt, he then gave the order for Ghost company to start moving out again. “How many times cyare? Am I going to have to tie your lightsaber to your hand?” he added pointedly. This was not helping his stress levels, his cyare’s primary (only weapon), was consistently ending up in Cody’s possession and Obi-Wan detested using ‘uncivilised’ blasters, leaving him unprotected.

“I am sorry,” grumbled Obi-Wan.

Cody retorted, “try better.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath to answer back, but was interrupted because apparently Cody served with nosey busybodies who had apparently learnt to hack his private comm channel. “Mother and father are fighting!”

“Boil!” snapped Cody, because it could be no one else saying that.

“Hey! I’m just looking out for my poor vod’ike. Wooley will be upset if you and dad divorce,” sassed Boil.

Cody just sighed and as he was about to reprimand Boil for hacking his comm channel, he heard titters of laughter letting him know the entirety of Ghost company were listening. Obi-Wan just had to join in. “Why am I the father in this Boil?”

“Because Cody is always trying to keep you alive and gives off mama loth-wolf tendencies towards you and us,” Boil commented innocently.

Cody eyed up the rocky sides of the ravine and just pictured knocking his own head against the rocks and slipping into sweet unconsciousness and escaping the insanity. Unfortunately, he had to get Ghost company back to the remainder of the 212th. Shame.

3)

It was beginning to get ridiculous now. Not only had Cody lost count of the number of times he had ended up with Obi-Wan’s lightsaber in his possession, but his cyare was also dramatically throwing his outer robe off and just leaving it strewn on the floor. The first time Cody had found a brown Jedi robe fluttering along the ground in the breeze, he had picked it up to return to his General only to discover Obi-Wan had already put on a different robe. So, Cody just started to leave the robes he picked up in a box in the main storage cupboard on the Negotiator for anyone who wanted a robe as an extra blanket. He wasn’t sure if Obi-Wan knew about it, but considering how many spare robes his cyare seemed to pick up when they were on Coruscant (as he never ran out of robes), Cody wasn’t sure.

So, it was not surprising in the midst of a battle. When General Grievous made his bi-monthly drop-in/actually a gate-crash of a battle he had no reason to be involved in, a part from the single aim of driving Cody’s blood pressure sky high when Obi-Wan would inevitably torment Grievous with his witty comebacks and nearly get killed in retaliation for Grievous not having a sense of humour and taking offense. Obi-Wan spotted his favourite foe to torment, a foe the men had started to call The Runaway General. Named after the romantic comedy film the 212th had illegally watched on the holonet called the Runaway bride. The men had watched the first ten minutes of the film and all decided the bride who always ran away from her weddings reminded them of Grievous. So, now Cody was unable to ever watch that film again as his brothers had thoroughly spoiled it for him. He had tried to watch it again once, but instead all he could imagine was Grievous running away in one of the lace sleeved, A-line dresses the bride wore, veil included. A truly nightmarish image to be stuck in one’s head.

Anyway, The Runaway General made his usual wheezing entrance, if it was anyone else Cody would suggest they should see a medic for that ear grating, hacking cough. But Grievous could go and suck on a bucket of sour sweets for all Cody cared. Obi-Wan’s ocean blue gaze locked in on his favourite foe and Cody just felt the urge to cry, because Obi-Wan had that look in his eyes, the look that meant he was going to enjoy tormenting the ever-living kark out of Grievous and Cody was going to have to try and not have a heart attack. You know, situation normal.

Obi-Wan dramatically threw his outer robe off his shoulders, causing the brown material to swish majestically in the slight breeze, billowing out into an arch above the Jedi’s head and then delicately flittering down to the floor. The Jedi then charged forward, his blue lightsaber held aloft, towards Grievous, a sarcastic quip already on the tip of his tongue.

Cody just sighed.

Then over the comms he heard:

“Ooooh, solid effort that one. Best I’ve seen. I’d say a definite 10/10.”

“I have to agree with you Wooley. That was probably the best robe drop I’ve seen the General do.”

“What is wrong with you Wooley and Waxer? You have clearly forgotten the robe drop on Atollon. That was a far better robe drop. If this one is a 10/10, Atollon has to be a 12/10 at least.”

“That is a very good point Boil. Atollon was just chef’s kiss.”

Cody gritted his teeth and growled. “Focus on what you are supposed to be doing. And stop blocking the battalion comms!”

“Oops. Sorry Commander!” called out Wooley, his tone apologetic. Wooley had clearly been spending too much time with Waxer and Boil.

“Thanks for listening to today’s Dramatic Jedi Robe Drop Scoring. Tune in again when either The Runaway General, Never Had A Bad Hair Day, Kenobi’s Evil Grandfather or Obsessive Hate for Kenobi Kept Me Alive turn up to try and kill our General. See you then folks!”

“Waxer!” shouted Cody, scanning the battlefield for the Lieutenant. Fortunately for Waxer he wasn’t in Cody’s eyeline. Cody just sighed again. It was one of those days.

An hour later, when Grievous had done his usual running away technique, Cody waited by the gunships with Obi-Wan’s robe draped over one arm and his cyare’s lightsaber held in his other hand. Cody also had his helmet clipped to his belt, so he was able to give his cyare an unimpressed looked, raised eyebrow included. Which, when Obi-Wan made his appearance, his cyare directed a sheepish look at Cody.

Once Obi-Wan came to a stop in front of Cody, he took his lightsaber and clipped it onto his own belt and put on his robe. “Ah, thank you cyare,” Obi-Wan said, with a bright smile on his face.

Cody rolled his eyes. “Must we do this during every battle?”

Obi-Wan plastered an innocent look on his face, knowing full well Cody was going to mock him with ‘this lightsaber is your life’ lecture. So, instead Obi-Wan shrugged and said. “This really is a compliment, Cody.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Cody just shook his head. “Suuureee, it is.”

4)

Yet another battle the 212th had been sent to, another battle where they were fighting against impossible numbers. However, the 212th were holding their ground and Cody felt victory would soon be in their grasp. Obi-Wan had even manged to hold onto his lightsaber, miracles of miracles. Cody had also heard on the comms, that Obi-Wan had dropped his robe to go against some tanks and apparently this robe drop scored a 7/10.

But then a loud explosion ripped through the air, Cody turned, his cyare was stopping the tanks not to far away and sure enough the explosions were coming from the tanks. Then Cody frowned, there was a silver item spinning through the air as it headed straight for Cody.

Seeing the sunlight glint off the item, Cody changed his HUD settings and sighed, “not again.” He had apparently spoken too soon. Flying through the air was his cyare’s lightsaber.

As the lightsaber got closer, Cody lifted up his hand and caught the lightsaber and immediately clipped it to his belt.

“Ooooh. Nice catch Commander!” yelled Waxer over the comms.

“A definite 10/10!” added Wooley, with awe in his voice.

“We should really start adding the Commander’s lightsaber catches to our scoring commentary,” stated Boil.

Cody just sighed, apparently his sigh could be heard over the comms because a voice suddenly rang out over the comms. “That wasn’t my fault, Cody!” Obi-Wan burst out in self-defence, his voice cracking slightly on Cody’s name.

“Somehow, I’m not entirely convinced,” Cody retorted dryly. He ignored the titters of laughter over the comms and smirked to himself.

+ 1)

The 212th had been sent to an Outer-Rim planet, for Obi-Wan to try and negotiate peace between to warring tribes on the planet. It was a nice change for Cody and his brothers, the tribespeople, of both tribes, were very friendly towards them. Nicer than many citizens on Coruscant, which said a lot to the men in the 212th. Obi-Wan was needed for his negotiating skills and it gave Cody the opportunity to see his cyare as the peaceful Jedi he should be, not the General he was.

Cody couldn’t go into the hastily contrasted hut, built on neutral ground by both tribespeople as a sign of wanting to end the hostilities. Obi-Wan had to go in alone with the Councils of both tribes. Cody didn’t mind, he didn’t get hostile vibes from the tribes and it meant he could watch as his brothers ran around and played with the children of both tribes. A sight that he could see soften the most hardened warriors of each tribe, leading to the female and male warriors to intermix with the opposing tribe. The Council members saw this and Cody noticed the tension in their shoulders fade away, he turned, feeling someone come and stand beside him.

“I believe my job has just been made easier,” Obi-Wan stated with a bright smile on his face. The Jedi held one of Cody’s hands, and smiling to himself, Cody squeezed his cyare’s hand in response.

“Amazing what children can accomplish,” replied Cody, watching as Waxer, Wooley, Boil, Longshot, Gearshift, Trapper, Meteor, Blackeye and Flycatcher began a game of chase with a hoard of children.

“And your brothers,” Obi-Wan admonished lightly. Cody felt his heart swell with love, knowing how deeply Obi-Wan cared about his brothers, made it even easier to fall in love with the Jedi.

“As I said. Children,” retorted Cody, humour plain in his voice.

Obi-Wan shook his head as he chuckled to himself. Hearing the Council members state they were ready for the negotiations to begin, Cody squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand again, and then let his cyare’s hand go. Obi-Wan turned to face him fully and gently pressed their lips together, before either one of them could be tempted to deepen the kiss, Obi-Wan pulled away. He then placed something in Cody’s hand. In confusion Cody lifted his hand up to find himself holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. “I can’t take weapons in with me to the negotiations as is custom, so I leave my life in your trusty hands,” stated Obi-Wan.

Cody felt his throat tighten with emotion and he nodded as he swallowed heavily. “Always.” With one more smile and kiss, Obi-Wan was walking away and towards the waiting Council members. Cody smiled to himself as he looked down at the lightsaber in his hand, he clipped it to his belt and taking a leaf out of his brothers’ book. He ran to join in the game of chase, the delighted squeals and laughter of the children and his brothers filling his heart up with joy.

End note:

My mum was watching the film Runaway Bride and I couldn’t resist writing Grievous in a wedding dress, I wish I could draw this image (Cody is probably glad I can’t) but I can’t even draw decent stick people. So I hope my descriptions of Grievous in a wedding dress make it seem funny, I was giggling to myself as I wrote it.

Trying to come up with nicknames the 212th would have made for Ventress, Dooku and Maul was actually harder than I thought it would be ����

[tsarisfanfiction]

Melt III

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Scott Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy

Part 3 of my entry for @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Smell. Part 1 | Part 2

So I decided I was not going to do more than basic research for these SensorySunday fics because they’re supposed to be quick little things.  Ended up in a two hour Q&A with a paramedic-in-training I know about how he/his team would handle this scenario and dumbed it down/handwaved half of it after all that.  Oops.  Very interesting discussion, though!

When he was thirteen, Scott had burnt his hand on the stove.  Dad had been at work, and Mom had been busy with a fussy Alan, so he’d taken it upon himself to get started on dinner.  It hadn’t been his first time in the kitchen – far from it, with his mother determined that he would not inherit the Tracy line’s lack of cooking ability (their Dad might cringe from his mother’s cooking, but with the exception of pancakes he was no better), Scott and his brothers had been subjected to many a cooking lesson.  Even little Alan was learning to throw flour around when they baked cakes.

It had, however, been his first time in the kitchen unsupervised, and with a five year old brother running into the room and pretending to be an octopus – got your legs, Scotty! – the young teenager had stumbled and made the dangerous mistake of not looking at where he’d put his hand to brace himself.

That had been the last time he’d screamed, summoning a frantic mother and several brothers to where he was being assaulted by a tearfully apologetic younger brother – I didn’t mean to hurt you, Scotty!  I’m sorry!  Gordon had learnt a lesson about playing in the kitchen, and Scott had learnt to watch where he was putting his hands.

The urge to scream now was strong.  Scott had suffered many injuries, some serious, in his life, mostly through his work for International Rescue, but there was nothing that could quite compare to the all-encompassing, overpowering burn of hot metal.  It seared through his suit, pressing the neoprene against his skin and channelling agony all the way across his chest and abdomen, where the metal sat, immovable against both his and Gordon’s best efforts to move it.

Through the haze of pain, he heard Gordon shout for help, almost a scream in its own right.  He sounded hurt himself, but Scott couldn’t focus through the excruciating pain of his flight suit – designed to protect him, but not from this – enough to see what had happened to his brother, how badly he was hurt.  He couldn’t even ask, reduced to rasping his brother’s name over and over again with a throat restricted by pain.

And then the rumbling began. Scott knew that rumble, heard it in his nightmares, sometimes imagined a phantom of it on snow rescues.

This wasn’t a phantom. This was real.  This was the same monster that had torn their mother from them, and it was no doubt coming straight for him.

“Run,” he rasped, begging Gordon to go, to find some escape or at least better shelter than the burning remains of a HeliPod.  If Gordon replied, he didn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears and the ever-increasing thunder approaching.

He felt a grip on his wrist, a desperate tug that yanked him partway from under the metal and elicited a cry of pain, and then everything went black as the snow hit.

While he knew what an avalanche sounded like, what it looked like, he’d never been caught in one himself. The one that had stolen his mother and made a good go at his younger brothers had passed him by, travelling a different slope to the one he’d been naively snowboarding on.

There was a lot less being tossed around than he’d thought, the snow slamming into him with less ferocity than expected.  It didn’t even free him from the metal, although the frigid cold doused him, leaving part of his body numb.  Numb was, for the moment, better than pain.  It let him think.

“Gordon?” he croaked. There was no response and terror gripped him.  “Gordon!” The grip on his wrist had gone, and snow encompassed his vision.  He pushed at the metal again, breaking the numbness on his hands as searing hot metal once again came to contact with his already burnt and blistered fingers.  Around him the snow was melting, giving him a greater hollow to manoeuvre in and finally letting him slide from underneath the metal.

Almost immediately he slammed into something else hard and unmoving, gasping as the movement and subsequent sudden stop jarred the snow-numbed area.  It didn’t seem hot, as best as he could tell, and Scott awkwardly pushed against it, trying to get past it.  He needed to find Gordon, and this lump of-

He got a good look at it and another gasp that had nothing to do with pain tore itself from his lips. It was metal, a silver that was as familiar to him as his own hand, but-  That couldn’t be possible.  He followed the metal, pushing and pulling his way through the snow until he reached something big.  Something that shouldn’t be there.

Buried in the snow, immediately up the slope from them and clearly the reason Scott hadn’t been jumbled halfway down the slope, was his precious Thunderbird.

The how and why could wait.  His Thunderbird had – somehow – shielded him from the worst of the avalanche but he was still buried, if in a decent-sized air pocket beneath her extended wing, and Gordon was still missing.

In an avalanche.

It was as though he was fourteen again.  The snow-numb parts of his body meant nothing as he turned away from the silver hull of Thunderbird One and dug his way through the snow downslope, ignoring the red streaks from where his damaged hands swiped the wet stuff out of his way.

Gordon.  He had to find Gordon.

“Gordon!” he shouted. They’d both been wearing their helmets when they’d crashed.  Gordon had a better knee-jerk reaction to keeping his helmet on than Scott did, and as Scott was still wearing his that meant Gordon probably hadn’t removed his, either.  There was no response and he scrabbled harder, following his ‘bird’s wing and praying the Thunderbird’s protection had extended to Gordon as well.

The wing was slanted down, at an angle it would never be if landed properly with landing struts extended. Scott could even see the strut, still in its housing inside the wing.  In the back of his mind, the section not occupied with thoughts of Gordon, must find Gordon, he realised that however Thunderbird One had ended up buried with him, there was a high chance that she wasn’t going to be flying out of there again.

Red-stained snow parted in front of him to reveal blue, and he dug all the more ferociously, ignoring the pain starting to make itself known through the numb again as he uncovered the crumpled form of his younger brother.  Gordon had been caught rather more literally than he had by Thunderbird One, with his back cushioned by the wingtip.  It was obvious immediately that Gordon’s left leg was broken, although Scott had no idea if that was from the crash or the avalanche.

More pressingly, despite wearing his helmet, complete with rebreather in place, Gordon’s eyes were closed and the aquanaut was clearly unconscious.

“Gordon!” he called, fumbling for his shoulder but unable to get a hold on the neoprene.  Red streaks marred the blue from his attempt.  There was no response and he tried to dig further, to completely expose his brother, but the pain in his chest and abdomen flared up with a sudden intensity that drew another sharp cry of pain from him and had him collapsing in a heap over Gordon’s unmoving form.

He heaved for breath, but each inhalation hurt as it pulled on the parts of his body subjected to the burning metal.  Attempts to push himself up failed, the adrenaline that had pushed him to find Gordon ebbing away now that he had, in fact, found Gordon.  Apparently his brother’s unconscious state wasn’t enough to give him that additional kick to get him moving again, or maybe being under the protective wing of his Thunderbird was making him feel safe, despite still being buried.

Alternatively, his body had decided it’d been ignored enough and was collecting its dues.  He hadn’t looked at his uniform to see the damage, was now in a position where he couldn’t.  Slumped over the top of his brother, he just couldn’t get his breathing under control from where it kept hitching in pain.

They had to get out. Survival rates dropped dramatically after fifteen minutes, and even with a Thunderbird buried alongside them, Scott wasn’t naïve enough to think that that rule wouldn’t apply to them, either. Not Gordon, unconscious as he was, and not himself, with blood staining everything he touched and undetermined damage from the crash.

They had to get out, but his body wasn’t responding, his strength sapped by the cold, cold snow and before that the flaming hot metal.  He could still feel the heat, getting closer and closer…

Wait, what?

A white-hot tip burst through the snow near him, quickly followed by the familiar dark green of a Sherpa Pod.

“Scott!  Gordon!”  Virgil leapt out of the pod and hurried over to them.

“Virgil,” he replied, voice still a shaky rasp.  “I’m- I’m okay.  Gordon’s… unconscious… broken leg.”  He tried to push himself back up, off of Gordon so Virgil could get to their younger brother, but his body refused to co-operate.

“Like hell are you okay,” Virgil responded, crouching down beside him.  “Come on, let’s get you-” he stuttered to a stop, and Scott could see just enough of his face to see that he’d paled.  “Shit,” he hissed.  “Have you seen yourself?”

“No?” Scott offered, his attention still on Gordon even as warm hands gripped him and guided him off of Gordon, laying him down on his back.

“That’s probably for the best,” Virgil muttered.  Scott was relieved to see him assessing Gordon, splinting his leg before moving him into the cargo bay attached to the back of the pod.  “Gordon’s okay.  Broken leg and wrist, but nothing else.  You, on the other hand.  How the hell are you still conscious?”

“It’s not that bad,” Scott protested, once again trying to move.  It hurt, but he was conscious.  “Gordon-”

“Will be fine,” Virgil repeated, and Scott let out a pained gasp as he found himself being lifted. His vision fuzzed around the edges and threatened to grey out entirely.  “I’m more worried about you.”

Scott made to protest again, but just as he opened his mouth his vision cleared again.  From his new position in his brother’s arms, he could see his body for the first time and bile surged.  The entire right side of his uniform, from shoulder to leg, was blackened and looked almost as though it had been melted.

He shut his mouth again, fighting back the nausea at the realisation that a large part of his uniform had been fused to him.

“We’re getting out of here,” Virgil said.  “John’s keeping an eye on the snow stability but the less time we spend here the better.” Scott wasn’t complaining, hissing as the pod started to move and the harness knocked against his right shoulder.

“What about Thunderbird One?” he asked, realising they were leaving his ‘bird behind.

“Lives first, machines second,” John butted in, hologram appearing in front of him and looking concerned.  “I’ve still got her location signal, and no-one else knows where she is.  Thunderbird One will be fine until we retrieve her.” That made sense, as much as part of Scott protested at leaving his damaged ‘bird buried under snow.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass as they broke the surface, showing a beautiful white vista of snow.  Scott couldn’t appreciate it, though.  Not now.

Thunderbird Two was ready and waiting for them, three climbers in a vibrant orange that Scott had almost entirely forgotten about despite them being the reason they were out there in the first place hovering inside the module.  They were saying things, babbling apologies, but Scott couldn’t respond as he was lifted back out of the pod and placed on a stretcher to more temporarily-greying vision.

“Gordon,” he insisted as engines hummed into life and the green behemoth took off.  Virgil sighed.

“He’s secure in there. John’s keeping an eye on him.  Now let me have a look at you.”  Scott didn’t have the energy left to fight as Virgil cut off his uniform as best he could, trying not to think too hard about the fact that a large part of it still remained where it was firmly stuck to the skin. Virgil’s face did not look reassuring, and to Scott’s internal horror he was approached with a needle.

“Is that really necessary?” he asked.  Virgil rolled his eyes and pawed at his left arm.

“You know it is,” he said as the needle went in, and Scott scowled.  “Let’s get you warming up and hydrated, then I’ll see to Gordon.”

The unsaid message was clear.  The less fuss you make, the faster I can look at Gordon.

Scott swallowed any and all urges to make a fuss.  Despite Virgil’s reassurance that the aquanaut would be fine, he was still worried, but he knew when he was facing a losing battle.  With his compliance, Scott found himself soon warming up and relatively pain-free, despite the cool water running over his burns.

“Stay right there,” Virgil warned, John’s hologram now appearing by the stretcher.  “John is here if you need me-”  Scott had no intentions of needing anyone until Gordon was awake “-and I have three volunteers here to make sure you don’t move.  I’ll be back to deal with those burns of yours in a minute.”

With that, Virgil headed for the pod, leaving Scott with his immediate brother in holographic form, and three nervous climbers for company.

Part 4

[unnecessarygayfeelings]

Finished my Farafey fanficton! Here’s a link to it on ao3, but I know not everyone uses that, so I’ll post it here under the read more. No content warnings (there’s a small mention of alcohol, but no one is intoxicated), just 2k words of fluff. This is for the Farafey micronation especially @aquilamage because she has epic content that inspires me a lot.

Lavender Lip Gloss

It was new year's eve and Kay was going to be late to the party because her roommate was hogging the bathroom.

Kay should be used to this, really. Ever since she and Sebastian decided to rent an apartment together at the ripe old age of nineteen, she became well aware of her friend's quirks. But she could handle the misplaced pens, loud classical music, and endless pacing at ungodly hours of the night. She would be a hypocrite if she judged him, though. Half of the pens they owned were probably on her desk, and in the early mornings she liked to sing her favourite pop songs in the shower. They argued about who was the cause of their the noise complaints every time they received one.

They've been roommates for years now. Kay was used to Sebastian's habits... except for one.

"Seb, leave the goddamn door open when you're just fixing your hair! I need the hairspray!"

It took a long time for Sebastian to break the habit of placing barriers between them when it wasn't necessary (Kay had grown up in a home with open doors and open hearts; she wants the same for Sebastian), and eventually he stopped locking the door behind him every time he entered a room. Kay respected Sebastian's need for privacy. But she also respected their friendship, and that's why she knew that what she was about to do was not only expected, but acceptable in their tiny apartment. She took a step back, lifted her leg and opened the door with one swift kick.

There was a high-pitched yelp from Sebastian, who had styling gel on his hands, a strand of hair sticking up on his head, and an unimpressed expression on his face as he saw Kay's triumphant smile. "I-I was almost done!"

"You always say that, and then you end up taking another thirty minutes," Kay replied, grabbing her hair spray and securing her high ponytail right there. Sebastian's face scrunched at the smell. She sprayed a little bit of the product in his hair, too. They both laughed, doing the finishing touches on both of their party looks together.

After a final once-over from each of them ("The green button-up was a good choice, right, Kay?" "Yeah, but what about this silver skirt?"), they were ready to go to the new year's party. It was at Miles's house this year, and if they both weren't used to bothering him at every location possible, it might have felt a bit weird to party at the boss's place.

When they arrived at Miles's house, the host himself greets them. Although he does look genuinely pleased to see them, his smile turns strained when Kay tells him to "prepare for trouble, and make it double". While Sebastian is making small talk with Edgeworth, Kay lets her mind trail elsewhere— to the reason she was so eager to get to the party in the first place.

Maya Fey had been in Kura'in for a while now. Despite their friendship being long-distance, they were still very close. Their bond was just as strong as Kay's with Sebastian, although she felt very different about Maya than him. Kay's heart soared every time her phone dinged with a new message. She circled dates on the calendar with a violet marker whenever they planned to video chat. The time difference was brutal, but Kay would gladly stay up late just to hear Maya's voice.

"Waiting for s-someone special?" Sebastian's teasing voice broke Kay out of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized that Miles was long gone. The only one next to her was her best friend, who was looking extra smug. Of course Sebastian knew about her crush. He was the one Kay would go to at one in the morning, bombarding him with texts and asking him if he thought there was a deeper meaning to them. The deeper meaning, he would tell her, is that you both like each other and it's only a matter of time before one of you make a move. He was being ridiculous, of course. Just because Maya called her pretty and laughed a little too loud at her jokes and had a purple heart emoji next to her contact name didn't mean anything.

Okay, it definitely meant something, but Kay wasn't going to take the first step and confess or anything because... she was shy. Ugh. She wasn't used to being shy. Sebastian was the shy one, not her. But Kay hadn't seen Maya in person in what felt like forever (it had been six months), so who knows. Maybe she would make a move.

"Hey, there she is!"

Kay's head shot up, pure enthusiasm with a twinge of anxiousness filling her whole body. She looked to where Sebastian was pointing, and there she was.

Maya Fey was here. Maya Fey was looking around the room. Maya Fey was making eye contact with her. Maya Fey was walking towards her.

"Hey!" Maya Fey's voice sounded so much more real when it wasn't through a speakerphone, all light and chipper. Kay wasn't sure how she'd survive the night, let alone make a move.

"Hi, Maya!" Sebastian greeted, holding out his arms and allowing a brief hug. Maya showed her affection through touch: high fives, hair ruffles, and hand holding. Kay was the same which was one of the reasons why their long distance communication was difficult. You couldn't embrace someone through a screen.

Then Maya turned towards her, arms outstretched, and Kay found herself being pulled in like a magnet. Maya's hugs were warm and welcoming. She didn't miss how they both lingered, the hug lasting many seconds longer than a hug Kay would have with any other friend, even Sebastian. But eventually they had to (slowly) pull away.

"It seems like forever since I've seen you!" Maya exclaimed, looking up at Kay with a big grin. "You look great! I love your skirt!"

Kay's brain seemed to short-circuit. Maya was wearing a cute pink party dress and her long hair was in its usual style, decorated with sparkly hair clips. Her lips were shiny with a purple gloss. It was a light shade, like lavender. Was this weird, just staring at her lips? She needed to respond before it got weird. "Thanks! I love your lip gloss!"

Okay, so now Maya had solid proof that she was staring at her lips. Oops. But Maya just smiled at her. "Haha, thanks! Do you guys want a drink? I saw Miles bought the good champagne."

Had he? Kay didn't even notice. Sebastian nods and then a minute later Maya is offering her a drink. Kay takes the glass, and tries not to think about the brush of Maya's fingers against hers too much.

Conversation is easy. Maya asks what they've been up to since the last time they talked. Kay feels like this question is more for Sebastian, since her and Maya just talked this morning on the phone. Sebastian tells her about his latest case (not a murder, thankfully), and Kay includes details from her perspective as the detective assigned. She's sure she had mentioned this case to Maya before, but Maya seems very interested anyways.

When they ask what news Maya has, she perks up tremendously. "I've finally mastered the bowl without falling on my face!"

Recently, Maya has taken up skateboarding while in Kura'in. Pearl has been the one teaching her; she was very talented, and had a cool skateboard with a flame design on the sides. Kay had been blessed with many cute selfies of Maya in her skating gear (lavender knee and elbow pads, and a florescent pink helmet that could probably blind a person if they stared too long at it) and ten second clips of her skating around in sunglasses, striking poses at the camera. Maya was a beginner but she refused to give up, despite the constant complaining of bumps and bruises from falling all the time.

"Really?" Kay gasps. She's received many texts about the bowl, and according to Maya it was one of the most difficult things to master in her life. ("It's harder than channeling spirits, Kay! Stop laughing, it's the truth!") Kay had never skateboarded before so she felt like she couldn't judge but it certainly didn't look easy.

Maya quickly pulls her phone out of her dress pocket. "Let me show you. Pearly got it on tape! Proof that I'm not making it up to sound cool or anything."

Kay believed her. Maya wouldn't need to make stuff up to sound cool. She unlocked her phone (Kay felt herself blush at the lockscreen— it's a selfie that they had taken the last time Kay was in Kura'in, a trip that was impulsive and expensive but she didn't regret it one bit) and pulled up a video of Maya on top of the bowl. Pearl can be heard off-camera shouting encouragement. Then Maya adjusts her helmet, balances herself on her board, and slides down the bowl in one swift movement. She skids to a stop once she's on the ground. The last thing they hear before the video cuts out is Maya and Pearl screaming with excitement.

"That's so cool!" Kay exclaims, genuinely impressed.

Sebastian's eyes are nearly bugging out of his head. "Whoa! You look like a pro-professional skateboarder!"

"Yeah, this makes all the times I fell down on my butt worth it," Maya says, grinning from ear to ear. They talk some more before Maya goes to mingle with an old friend.

"Hey, do either of you know where Nick is? I want to bug him before the year ends."

Sebastian points Phoenix out across the room, where he is currently distracted by his daughter Trucy pulling an comically long scarf out of the tiny pocket on her blouse. A mischievous smile, a wave of her hand, and Maya's off.

There's a brief silence as they watch Maya leave. Sebastian turns to Kay with the same shit-eating grin he has when he's about to say something clever. "Kay? I diagnose you with gay. Lesbianism, if you want to be specific."

Kay groans. "I know, I know."

"Well, it's clear that she likes you, too, so I don't see what the con-conundrum is."

Kay believed that she was a relatively logical person. Her field of work made use of that trait, tested it. And now she was being presented with more evidence and a restless witness. The pieces fit together perfectly— Maya Fey liked her. The only question was what she going to do with this information.

"Was I... obvious about it?"

Sebastian raises his eyebrow. Takes a long sip of of his drink. "Is that a trick question?"

Not everyone Mr. Edgeworth invited was at the party, but the house is noisy regardless. Friends and acquaintances are talking in groups, there's music coming from an unknown source, the television is playing a new year's special, and Kay's heart is beating up a storm. Despite all of the activity, Kay thinks her heart is the loudest thing in this place.

Sebastian is tapping his fingers against the table next to them. Another noise, although it's muffled by the black gloves he's wearing. "Well, I know you don't like champagne."

Kay looks down at the drink Maya gave her, still full. The condensation from the glass mixes with the sweat on her palm. The feeling of Maya's hand brushing against hers lingers.

In the distance, Maya nudges Phoenix roughly in the side, and his drink splashes on his shirt. Maya laughs and then points at the stain, exclaiming loudly that it kind of looks like the Blue Badger. Phoenix seems to push his annoyance aside to carefully examine his sleeve. Maya calls other people over to look, a light yet determined expression on her face, and Kay can feel herself fall a little more in love.

...

The flashy countdown screen on the TV lights up, signaling the last minute of the year. Kay smiles and swirls the untouched champagne in her glass. She's lost in the way the tiny bubbles cling onto the sides of the cup until something distracts her. Or more accurately, someone.

"Hey," Maya says, placing her own glass on the table in front of them.

"Hey," Kay echoes back intelligently. She places her glass next to Maya's as her friend (she ignores the tightening in her chest when she calls her that; she's not sure there's a single word in this world to describe what Maya is to her) sits down next to her.

There's a moment of silence between them. Maya smells like jasmine and nostalgia. Kay wants to look but she's glowing like the sun, so she decides to play it safe and stare ahead. She sees Sebastian and Klavier talking about something, but she can't concentrate enough on their voices to know the topic.

Maya's voice snaps Kay out of her trance. "Happy new year."

For a split second, Kay thinks she miscounted the seconds, and missed the celebration. She checks the television quickly, and sighs with relief. "You're about thirty seconds too early, but I appreciate your enthusiasm." Then she had to use all of her strength to resist the urge to kick herself for sounding so weird.

"Oh." Cheeks flushed red for sure, Kay risks a glance at Maya. She doesn't regret it. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing Maya smile. "Happy new year's eve, then?"

She barely pulls herself together before responding in a passably-normal-although-probably-too-eager tone. "Yeah! Happy new year's eve!"

Maya laughs at that, and Kay can physically feel her heart soar. She knows it's bad to look at the sun but she can't help it, and within seconds she's pretty sure she could map out all the freckles on Maya's face. Kay stares too long to pass as normal and she knows it. But Maya is staring, too.

"TEN SECONDS!" Kay doesn't recognizes whose enthusiastic yelling the voice belongs to, but she doesn't even bother tearing her eyes away from Maya.

Ten.

Maya is sitting so close to her that their thighs are touching. How did Kay not notice that until now?

Nine.

Maya hesitantly reaches over and touches Kay's hand with her own.

Eight.

Her hand is shaking slightly. It's sweaty, too. Kay doesn't complain. She's probably the same.

Seven.

Kay curls their fingers together. She can't seem to stop smiling.

Six.

There's no denying it. The walls between them tumble down to reveal something a bit more than friendship, a bit more than just simple attraction.

Five.

Kay wants to say something, anything, but she's been rendered speechless. She's pretty sure she looks ridiculous. Ridiculously lovestruck.

Four.

Maya's other hand reaches over to brush Kay's hair out of her face, and her touch lingers near her cheek.

Three.

There's a line that they haven't neared, trying to maintain their friendship. Maya is standing at the edge of it, threatening to cross over.

Two.

Maya tilts her head, leans in, and closes her eyes. Kay can't hear the music over her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

One.

Kay closes her eyes, leans in, and unconsciously holds her breath.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Their lips met, and Kay smudges Maya's lavender lip gloss.

[sachiel21]

Ch 16 - First Date - More Than Meets The Eye

A/N I haven’t posted any writing on my tumblr for a looong time so here goes nothing. Link to story found here ffnet and ao3

Me: *Cracks knuckles and prepares to write fluff*

+Come out tonight?+ Blake looked at her phone and smiled at the text. The trip to LA was an emotional roller coaster for her and it had been about a week since they got back. Yang was being so patient with her, giving her space to decompress which she sincerely appreciated, but Blake was starting to miss the fiery blonde though. -What did you have in mind?- The reply came back almost instantly: +It's a surprise ;)+ -Well I guess I can't refuse then- +Pick you up at 5 :)+

Blake could hear the hum of Yang's motorbike before she stepped outside her door. The blonde had her helmet on and was grinning up at her through her aviator sunglasses. She got off the bike and took off her leather jacket, placing it around Blake's shoulders. "It might get a little windy." "What about you?" Blake asked. Yang was just wearing a long sleeved yellow T-shirt and the scarf she got her Christmas. "I'm used to it." She handed her a black helmet with a red rose design. "I hope you don't mind wearing Ruby's helmet. I promise she doesn't have cooties." Blake laughed and put the helmet on. She got on the back of the bike and hesitantly put her arms around Yang's waist. "So what do I do?" It was her first time riding on a motorcycle. "Just hold on tight," Yang said with a wink.

Despite Yang promising her that she'd take it slower, Blake found herself desperately latched on to Yang and shutting her eyes for most of the ride. They weaved in out of traffic. Blake tried to lean in with Yang for every turn like she instructed even though it made her feel like she was about to fall. Finally they arrived at their destination downtown, Tom McCall Waterfront Park. "Do you want your jacket back?" Blake asked as she dismounted the motorcycle. "Nah, it looks better on you," Yang replied. And she meant it, the black and yellow leather jacket was slightly big on Blake but it hugged her in all the right places. They started walking on the park path by the river. It was April and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom with a bright shade of pink speckling their branches. It was beautiful. The spring air smelled crisp with a hint of rain and the green scent of new growth. They walked with the sun at their back, the golden light from the late afternoon sun creating long shadows in front of them. Yang affectionately shoulder nudged Blake, smiling as she took her hand and laced their fingers together. Blake felt lighter as she walked, like the dark cloud hanging over had finally dissipated. She had Yang to thank for that. "What?" Yang asked, noticing Blake was looking at her carefully. "Nothing… You just look really pretty in the light." Yang beamed at her and slipped her arm around her waist, pulling her close as they strolled along. When they approached the two monuments of Friendship Circle, Blake drifted toward the steel railing and started watching the river as it went by, a roiling ebb and flow. She felt strangely comforted by the notion that the rivers would continue to flow and the world would go on no matter what terrible things happened in the past. That things could get better and there would be new opportunities to make things right. Maybe all was not lost after all. As Blake was silently contemplating, Yang walked over and gently wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind. Blake closed her eyes and leaned back into her, knowing Yang would never let her fall. They stood there for a long time watching the river together until the sun started to set. "Hungry?" Yang asked, bumping their cheek bones together. "Starving." They walked back to the motorcycle and went to a fifties diner that was close by. When their order arrived, Blake opened her burger and carefully pulled out the raw onion slices. She saw Yang looking at her oddly. "I just don't want to taste onions all night," Blake explained. Yang smiled and started pulling out the onions in her burger as well. "Yang, you don't have to do that, I know you like them." "Yeah but you don't. Compromise is important in a relationship," Yang said with a laugh. Truthfully, her thoughts were alight with the possibility of a kiss at the end of the night. Onion breath would be a turn-off. Yang took a bite, humming appreciatively as she relished the rich taste of ground beef with the tangy pickles, ketchup and mustard. "Have you… Have ever dated a girl before?" Blake asked tentatively. "No, first time," Yang replied, taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. Blake quietly sipped her strawberry milkshake, remembering the time Coco and Yang kissed at the party. It seemed pretty easy for Yang to do it. "I mean I've had crushes before but nothing… But nothing quite like this…" the blonde said, meeting her eyes briefly and blushing a little. "Have you?" Blake shook her head. She had only been in one relationship before she met Yang. "How's your dad doing?" "Good," came the automatic response, but then Yang caught herself. She realized she didn't need to pretend with Blake of all people. "He's… He's drinking less lately." They took a few bites in silence, an unpleasant tension settling around them. "My dad's not a bad person," Yang said suddenly. "… I know…" "It's just that… After mom died, a part of him seemed to die too... It took him a while but he's doing a lot better now than he was before…" Blake nodded. She was sorry she brought it up, seeing the sullen expression in Yang's eyes as she picked at her fries. "What was she like?" A smile came to Yang's face as she fondly remembered. "Summer? She was like super mom. Baker of cookies and slayer of giant closet monsters," she said with a chuckle. "She always gave me and Ruby so much love, even when we were bad and we didn't listen..." Even when I wasn't her own flesh and blood. "She sounds like an amazing person," Blake said. "She was... She was the best…" They finished their meal at a comfortable pace, talking about lighter subjects; if Jaune was going to get the guts to finally ask Pyrrha to the dance, which Ivy League school Weiss was applying to, and Ruby's latest engineering project. It was around eight when they left the diner, late in the evening but too early for bed. Neither of them wanted the night to end yet. "What do you want to do now?" Blake shrugged. "What is there to do?" Yang tapped her chin, trying to think of a place to go. As underage highschoolers, there weren't that many things to do at night. She had a feeling that Blake wouldn't enjoy sneaking into a loud club with her fake ID. "I've got it!" Yang announced suddenly. Uh oh, Blake thought. Yang had this look in her eyes, like she was up to something, but her smile was so bold and tempting that Blake couldn't resist. They rode to a different part of town and pulled up to a building with a red neon sign of a bowling pin. "Bowling?" Blake asked dubiously. "It'll be fun!" The bowling alley was dimly lit except for the lanes, a few of them were in the dark and lit up with neon colours for glow bowling. Blake's nose wrinkled at the astringent smell of spray disinfectant and musty pine. "Give it a chance," Yang said. They got their footwear, flat soled and slippery bottomed with blue and red patches of leather that reminded Blake of clown shoes. They were assigned Lane 18. Yang entered their names into the rudimentary computer so it would show up on the screen above the lane. She put down 'Firecracker' for herself and Blake picked 'Blake', a safe but respectable choice. The raven haired girl was up first. How hard could it be, Blake thought as she picked up her ball and walked up to the foul line. Apparently very hard as the ball slipped off her fingers on the swing and landed backwards with a loud thud on the wooden planks. Oops. Yang did her best to stifle her laughter but it was just too funny. "C'mon. Let's go pick out a different ball, one that won't slip off your bony fingers." "They're not bony…" Blake grumbled as she followed her to the ball shelf. Even with a ball with holes that fit her fingers better, Blake had trouble hitting even one pin, rolling gutter ball after gutter ball. Yang was definitely kicking her ass, rolling a few strikes and spares. Blake brooded on the hard plastic bench. She didn't show it very often but she had a competitive streak. She hated to lose. The only upside of the situation was she got to watch Yang as she bowled, the way she gracefully bent her long legs in position, and how her back curved when she released the ball. She was an athlete in every sense of the word and it showed. Luckily for Blake, halfway through the game they just stopped keeping score, grandma bowling the ball between their legs and tossing it backwards with colourful flare. Yang whirled Blake around by the waist when she somehow got a strike without trying at all. Blake's laughter rang high and light, a sweet melodic sort of sound that Yang wanted to hear more of. When she set her down, the effect was decidedly different than when she manhandled Ruby and her other friends. Blake had her arms around her neck and their faces were flushed, panting slightly from the exertion. Yang thought she saw something akin to desire in Blake's eyes when her gaze flitted down to her mouth, but the raven haired girl just pulled away and smirked in a way that was both enthralling and maddening. It was at that moment that Yang knew she was in trouble. She was falling hard but she couldn't find it in herself to care. "Did you have a good time?" Yang asked as she helped Blake off the bike. They were outside her house. The night air smelled like damp grass and soil, it felt cool against her skin. "It was wonderful." They slowly walked to the front door, taking longer, more drawn out steps than usual. It was the end of their first date and Yang started to feel nervous with anticipation. "Well… Goodnight…" Yang said, running a hand through her hair. Blake smiled softly, looking deeply into her eyes. Yang hesitated for a moment and then made up her mind as she gently cupped Blake's cheek and pressed her lips to hers in a soft kiss. Blake twined her fingers through Yang's golden hair and pulled her even closer. The kiss was slow and measured at first. Blake thought she could feel Yang holding back ever so slightly, like she was worried about coming on too strong. She wanted Yang to stop thinking. Experimentally, she ran the tip of her tongue across the line of Yang's lips and was rewarded with a surprised gasp that allowed her to slip her tongue fully into her mouth. It was her turn to let out a satisfied sigh when she felt Yang's tongue responding in-kind, sliding against hers in slow massaging strokes. It wasn't their first kiss but it felt different than the two they had shared before. The first was rough and impulsive. The second was tearful and consoling. This one was full of hunger and desire and both of them craved more. They paused every once in a while to take a quick breath but they always returned, faster and deeper than before. Eventually they had to stop completely when the need for oxygen became too great. Yang rested their foreheads together. "Wow…" "Yeah…" Blake agreed as she lightly brushed her lips against Yang's, coaxing her into another long drawn out kiss. As much as Yang wanted to keep going, she knew that they should stop or they'd be out there all night. She reluctantly pulled away. "See you tomorrow?" Yang ran her fingers over Blake's hands which were cradling her face. Blake nodded. "Yeah… Tomorrow," she said slowly. Yang chuckled at her breathlessness. "Goodnight, Blake." "Goodnight, Yang."

[rachel-alderson]

The Dinosaur Knight

I'm just going to start this post by saying that I've been posting the wrong name for this game all along! Well, it's not completely wrong, and it's not that I didn't know what it was called, but because I have a few client jobs I always just use something simple and easy to differentiate each project, so for this project that was 'Fusion Earth'. So just to clear things up, it's actually called 'Escape from Fusion Earth' which makes much more sense and something that should've clicked when I wrote the first post! Oops, sorry Riley! 

I hope that you guys are enjoying these posts introducing you to the Escape from Fusion Earth world and characters whilst also showing you the process behind the 2D art in the game. I feel like this project and the client have really encouraged me to push my creativity, ideas and techniques to take my work to the next level, which is always exciting because I felt at a stage in my work where I really needed a challenge and this project has been perfect for that. The project as a whole has challenged me and each character design has challenged me in it’s own way too, and the Dinosaur Knight was tough in areas that others weren’t and because of those obstacles it’s turned out to be one of my favourite illustrations I’ve done to date. So let’s get into it!

Now, anyone that knows me or has been familiar with my work for the past 2 years at least will know that I absolutely adore dinosaurs, I have always been fascinated by them since I was a kid, but only about 2 years ago did I start drawing them, this was when I finally got my head screwed on a bit and realised that I should be drawing what makes me happy, not what makes other people happy or want to give me likes on instagram. The dinosaurs I’d been drawing is partly what landed me the chance to work on Escape from Fusion Earth in the first place, and because I am so genuinely passionate about dinosaurs, I’ve always been into learning about them, new discoveries, reading about their defence features etc. which means that I had already built up quite a lot of information and sketches to give me a starting point for this particular card. However, as you can tell from the title, the dinosaur wasn’t the only character for this card, there was another character that needed to be designed, and that was the Dinosaur Knight himself.

When I started sketching the character, he was actually listed on the Escape from Fusion Earth document as ‘Dinosaur Savages’ (I’ll explain the name change later in this post). So I started to think about what this guys armour and weapons would look like, how would he protect himself? What kind of weapon would he have? What tools would he use to craft his gear? How would he sew the armour together? etc. It’s helpful to ask all of these questions and create a backstory for the character because it 100% helps you get a better idea of the character and who they are, how they should look, and it also helps to create a character story for the viewer, leading the viewer to discover through the design of the character how they got to where they are now. I sketched down quite a few ideas based off the brainstorms and thoughts that I’d had, and kind of felt in my element. Although both I and the client were happy with the character designs, there was just something not quite right.

It took us a while to work it out, but after a lot of sketching and ideas, my client, who is also a creative in the industry which is always super helpful when you need a fresh set of eyes, suggested that he was too similar to the Zombie Viking. On the surface people might not see that, but I completely got what he meant, when you’re a character designer, you know that the most important element of a successful character design is the silhouette. So even though the Dinosaur Savage was unique, I could instantly see without even creating filling in his silhouette that his shape and build was too similar to the Zombie Viking, so it was back to the drawing board! My client came up with the suggestion to have the human character as more of a knight, which would immediately create a much more unique character and create a bigger contrast between him and the Zombie Viking. I’ve never drawn a knight before, so I spent a couple of days researching real knights and knight armour, but I knew that I also wanted this knight to have a more stylised look, so I also got a lot of reference from games such as Heroes of the Storm and League of Legends, along with rooting through old sketchbooks for ideas.

I drew up quite a few ideas, and really liked two of the more refined ideas. I think that the one on the left still tied into the savage idea a little, his armour looked handmade and he looks like he has used a lot of found items, which wasn’t a problem now that he was clearly a knight. The one on the right looks a lot more gritty and dark, which wasn’t the direction I intended to take but after sketching him up I really liked the way he looked. The client was happy with both, and happy for me to go with which ever I felt was best. I was very keen on going with the knight on the left, but I knew that I wanted to try something different and felt like the guy on the right looked a lot more threatening, and I could imagine that if he was coming towards you, you’d feel a lot more worried. I also realise that he has no way to see through his helmet, but I kinda like that because I think it gives it a fantasy feeling, sort of as if he’s this cursed knight who just rides around and always hits his target.

Obviously now he needed his dinosaur companion, I was pretty confident in my ideas and where I wanted to go with it, so just drew up some rough sketches. Initially I drew up the dinosaur above, but the client made a good point about the card being portait so it would be better to have a bipedal dinosaur. I started thinking he either needed a big chunk dinosaur with a lot of power, like an even more bulked out T-Rex or a fast dinosaur such as a super sized raptor, I’d also drawn this dinosaur a while ago, sort of based on a T-Rex but with a really over exaggerated strong looking jaw which has loads of teeth sticking out everywhere, which was the one I decided to go with in the end. Of course he had to have a little skull helmet too!

When it came to designing the actual card, it was a little tricky getting the composition right as the client had a really awesome idea and wanted to make it look like the dinosaur was about to attack the viewer. After sketching up a few rough examples, I realised that it was difficult trying to fit such a pose on a portrait illustration, if it was landscape it would’ve worked perfectly, but these cards are portrait so I had to try something else. Instead, I went with a pose where the dinosaur is sprinting along and the knight has pulled him back as if to stop the dinosaur or slow him down. I felt like it fit in the frame better but was still a powerful post at the same time. The colouring of this piece was pretty straight forward, I used one of my dinosaur books to get a reference idea for the pattern on the dinosaur and then changed the colours up a little, using complimentary colours for the dinosaur and the knight. I’ve recently started learning more about digital painting and concept art for games, I obviously use a lot of line work in my work but I’m interested in trying to pull away from that a little and get a more concept art feeling across in my work, so painted in the birds just to try something new and feel like they give the illustration that extra pop and make it feel a little magical.

Cheers for reading guys, I'll be sharing another card next week, there's something a little different about the next character though....