#sandstorm salvager

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Sandstorm Salvager

Mora didn't want friends, but she didn't mind having someone to watch her back.

Artist: Francis Tneh TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[almostlookedhuman]

[kitkatopinions]

Ruby, sending out a message during the course of V8: "Hey it's me, a random girl that some of you might recognize as a Beacon student that competed in a sport event about a while ago. I didn't go onto my team's 2v2 and I look like a high schooler because I'm seventeen but somebody gave me a badge after I dropped out of my first year of training. And I know last time your regularly scheduled programing was high jacked by some random girl, it marked the fall of a kingdom, but I'm not like that girl I promise. Also a kingdom is falling right now, and you can't trust your government officials. Yes Vacuo doesn't have a lot of resources, Mistral is without defenders, and Vale is still recovering from a devastating fall similar to the one I'm telling you about now, but it's probably too late to save Atlas now too which was previously the only kingdom with a fully functional army and good resources but now all that's destroyed. Also there's an immortal indestructible evil Grimm witch lady controlling all the bad things in the world and she's the one destroying Atlas and she's coming for you next, she's going to attack and again she IS immortal and indestructible, but hey there's probably SOME way we can do something about that if we knock our heads together. I know girls and old artifacts are mind blowing, but I'm sure teachers who have been keeping secrets from everyone can suddenly fill you all in - not Ironwood though, he's evil. And don't feel bad because uh... Unity."

Team RWBYJNOR: *Dumps thousands of auraless defenseless now homeless civilians onto a kingdom that has to be already struggling themselves, with like ten fighters several of which were working alongside bad guys last season, some of whom aren't at graduation age, and all but one of whom worked for the same government as Ironwood the person the world has been warned not to trust. And also they come baring the news that Salem has two powerful world ending resources and is now that much closer to destroying everything.*

The rest of the world: *Somehow miraculously (hand of the creator-y) manages to not panic enough to launch devastating 'Fall of Beacon' level Grimm attacks, pulls together what meager resources they (the hand of the creator) pulled out of their asses to create some semblance of a thrown together army, have somehow (hand of the creator) managed to get the citizens of Atlas/Mantle out of the sandstorm and Grimm attack they were in and now are attempting to feed them, and somehow (with the hand of the creator) salvaged the crashed remains of Amity clear across the world and reconstructed it into a battleship.*

Winter: "Isn't it devastating, you poor perfect martyrs, that we have squandered all the amazing good you've done? The other day I saw a poor person be mildly mean to my blueblooded billionaire mother, therefore all the totally not messy things you did have been tossed aside. She has to wear a little sun hat when she goes out now, isn't it horrible? You would be so disappointed in humanity since we didn't miraculously make everything perfect. Don't come back. It would only hurt you."

Like honestly, what did Winter THINK was going to happen?

Note: I know this scene got cut and might not be a V10 end product we get. I'm just still making fun.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 11 Some sunny day

Chapter 11 of Sandstorm

A/N- Hope everyone likes it!!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, violence, ANGST, death, talks of pregnancy and THERES ALSO CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*KINGS LANDING. A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

There’s no one now; it's quiet inside, and even out in the city.

She has no one now, not even the people; they don’t walk the streets with the debris still covering the streets. It’s like an abandoned city with Drogon keeping watch. Albeit she liked to think it’s peaceful. That people were quiet because they were at peace with what she did for them, after all they had nothing to fear anymore.

However, her own peace is disturbed by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she lets them know and keeps her eyes on the ocean past the city.

The door opens and footsteps walk in, but stop past the door. “My Queen,” she recognizes GreyWorm. “I’ve brought your envoys.”

Daenerys turns to face him and furrows her eyebrows a bit out of curiosity. “Read them to me.” After all she trusted no one else except him now that she locked Tyrion away.

Greyworm clears his throat and without needing to look at the paper he shares the first one. “A Raven came from Meereen, Daario Nahris received the envoy and is now on his way with the Second Sons.”

Daenerys' lips lift to a faint smirk, but all she offers is a nod in comprehension to let him share the next one.

“The next Raven came from the North, Princess Y/N Targaryen has arrived at Winterfell with the entirety of the Dornish army, and she wants to debate peace.”

Daenerys' smile fades, and she finally breaks away from her spot on the balcony to be basked by the darkness that her room is covered in.

“Peace,” Daenerys repeats in a low voice as she brushes her fingers across the wooden desk in her room. “After what she did?” She averts her gaze as she’s filled with the memory of you stopping her as she was raining down fire on the city, she remembers the attacks after, she remembers most of all your smile; your laugh, and all the ways you would make her smile. She remembers all the sweet things, all the comforting hugs, all the family dinners. She remembers being welcomed by you and Rhaenar, she remembers finally being at peace with you, her niece, family.

But with all those nice things she’s also plagued with all the crude things too, most of all she remembers your marriage and the babies you are meant to have, unless…

“Any news on the babies?” Daenerys breaks her silence.

“No, I’m sorry my Queen. All I read is that the Princess has been put on bedrest for some time.” Greyworm breaks the news, making her fall silent again.

If those babies are gone then their can be a chance to salvage what broke between you and her. Albeit there is one factor that can make it worse again, Jon Snow. As long as he’s alive he can produce more heirs….

“Alright,” Daenerys interjects and clasps her hands together. “Tell my niece…” she trails off and meets the man’s gaze. “What is it they’re calling her again?”

“The rising Saint,” he shares.

Daenerys scoffs. “Ah yes, well tell her I agree. Let’s debate peace.”

——

*WINTERFELL*

“He’s gotten bigger hasn't he mother?”

You glance at the orange dragon ascending off the window and smile faintly. “Yes, he has. Perhaps it’s all that food he eats, hm?” You suggest and bounce your eyebrows.

Rhaenar scoffs and peers back over his shoulder. “I cannot stop him from feeding himself now.”

“No,” you agree. “But you can make sure he is feeding on the right things, right?

Rhaenar returns to watch his dragon fly around the room and then interjects. “Yes, of course. Just as you said with Eraxis.” Rather than coming back to his seat by the bed you’re basically tied down to, he wanders off to the table holding the dragon chambers.

When you had first reunited with your son he had shown you the dragon eggs he risked his life to take, the way he got them exactly is a bit hazy considering he was rambling out of fear of what had happened, but he managed to take the dragon eggs from Dragonstone. Just adding more fuel to Daenerys' anger most likely.

“Why don’t you finish reading the book?” You suggest and reach over to the edge of your bed to drag the big thick book towards you.

Rhaenar opens the lid of the blue dragon egg and waits for the steam to clear before he begins to admire it. He’s bored, but he has refused to leave your side since you got here.

“Rhaenar,” you call out.

Yet before he can turn a knock raps on the door, making both of your heads turn.

“Come in,” you say, and right away the door opens and the first person you see is Sarelle, she meets your gaze and shoots you an apologetic look as she walks in. And once you see Jon, Sansa and the other Stark’s, Ser Jaime, and the other lords you know why.

“Princess,” Sansa greets, whilst the others bow their heads.

You sigh and know this won’t be short or pleasant for you so you then look to your son.

“Rhaenar,” you call, “why don’t you go find your aunt make sure she isn’t getting into any trouble.”

Said boy looks around at the crowd that’s forced to meet in your chambers and hesitates because he wants to be a part of this meeting. But you shoot him a pointed look so he covers the chamber backup and waits for Helios to perch back on his shoulder before he leaves. Once the door is closed you face the group gathered around and smile before addressing them.

“How pleasant it is to see all of you.” You clasps your hands over your lap whilst you catch Jon walk over to stand by your bedside. “Have we received word from Daenerys yet?”

The maester shakes his head. “Not yet, Princess.”

You let out a deep breath and nod in comprehension and then glance around all of them with a tightlipped smile. “So who will start first?”

They all look around at each other to wait who would actually step up, everyone with their mouths basically bleeding as they bite their tongue. So as to relieve them of their pain you choose for them and go for who you might have the easiest problem to help with.

“Ser Jaime,” you point out and land your eyes on him. “You’re still here, which as honored as I am, I’m actually quite surprised, I thought you’d be half a world away.”

The knight takes a step forward and meets your gaze to respond. “Well, I probably should be, but well I’m having a hard time saying goodbye. And two, well,” he sighs. “As you may know my brother was imprisoned by the Dragon Queen. I can’t leave without him, nor let him stay there because I know he’d do everything in his power to get me.”

You hum and squint your gaze on him, letting him continue to actually share what he needed to.

“I wanted help to retrieve my brother from the Dragon Queen’s clutches.”

“The Princess cant travel, Ser,” Sansa rebuttals. “Not for some time.”

You swallow thickly and lower your gaze out of shame that you can’t be doing more. And unberthknonwst to you Jon notices your reaction, the feelings that are spread on your face and reaches down to caress your shoulder.

“Yes,” Jaime cuts her off. “But I’m not asking her to come with me. I was hoping I could get some men to help me.”

At the sound of those words you look up at Jon to share a knowing look.

“…I know my way around the castle. I can’t guarantee it will be easy, but I need to get my brother out of there,” Jaime shares his desire, his reason to join everyone in this meeting.

Yet it’s a desire you can’t grant for many reasons. “Ser Jaime,” you interject and let out a deep breath. “As grateful as I am for what you've done, for keeping your promise to me. I cannot give you what you want because unlike you, your brother stayed loyal to his Queen until the end. He did nothing to earn the peoples trust or respect, not like you.” You let him down with an apologetic look. “I am terribly sorry. Truly. All I can grant you is luck and supplies if that’s what you need, but as to the other thing, you may ask yourself for volunteers.”

Jaime averts his gaze and scoffs. “Regardless of what I’ve done, people rather see me die than help.”

“Yes,” Sarella agrees with him. “That much is true.”

You shoot her a pointed glare, and she just shoots him a teasing smirk.

“Well,” you sigh and then flicker your eyes to the Stark sisters. “What are some other concerns?”

Sansa steps forward and shares. “There are some questions as to when you will execute Cersei?”

You hum and share a glance with Jon.

“I think it’s been prolonged long enough,” she adds.

You draw out a deep breath and nod slower before you respond with what you have in mind. “I’m waiting to execute to her.”

Sansa blinks in disbelief and shoots Jon a puzzled look that Jon doesn’t share since it’s something you haven’t told him yet either.

“For what?” Arya cuts in, causing you to drift your eyes to her and see her step forward—“killing her will turn those who still doubt you to your cause.”

“Arya is right,” Sansa agrees. “It’s a first step to completely sparking this war to life.” She argues.

Gods they’re really not going to like this…

“I’m not fighting a war,” you reveal and immediately see all their faces drop. “I’m not sparking anything. Daenerys will want to kill Cersei herself to gain the people’s love, I will let her do it once I get word.” You share a quick glance with Jon before looking at your cousin at his side.

She catches your gaze and gives you an assuring nod that lets you know she trusts you completely.

“You added fuel to that war the moment Daenerys countered your attempts to help save the people,” Sansa argues back with fury. “She almost killed you rather than standing down—”

“She killed thousands of people, your people after the bells rang,” Arya spats back too. “You might’ve not seen the tragedy below but you heard it, you stopped it from furthering. She took that first step against you, against our family, we have to counter and take her off that throne before she chooses to destroy everything and everyone.”

You remain calm even if you want to respond with annoyance to their persistence. “Daenerys lost everyone she knew. Missandei, Visieron, even Rhaegal since he bonded with Jon. Ser Jorah. She let her anger drive her, I can help her. She needs guidance I can provide.”

Sansa scoffs, but Lord Royce interjects instead. “Pardon me my Princess, but there is no saving the Dragon Queen after she attacked her own kin. The people of King's Landing may be horrible—”

Jaime scoffs in agreement at that.

“…but they honor that. You turn and help her then you lose everyone, everything you worked to gain.” He finishes.

As wise as his words are, you remain stubborn. You shake your head and stand your ground. “I will not ignite a war.” You snap back with narrowed glare. “If it’s a war you all want then go ahead, but you will not count on me, Dorne,” you say and gain Sarella’s approval with a nod. “Or my dragon.”

All the people in the room go quiet, they share speechless and upset glances. It seems like neither will talk back, but Sansa does fight back with an icy spirit. “She didn’t only attack you, she attacked your family, the babies, she disregarded all respect she said she had. She chose power rather than standing down to her own kin! She attacked your people! She would’ve killed your son, and you! Given the chance. Will you sit and do nothing! That is your throne, your crown!”

You clench your jaw and narrow your glare deeper. Sansa holds your glare without falter, so you sit up. Jon tries to help you, but you put your hand out to stop him and sit up on your bed yourself to give Sansa what she wants, a fight back.

“Some of us didn't get the pleasure of growing up with our parents. I don’t have the memories of my mother braiding my hair, or giving me warning looks to stop something I’m doing. I don’t have memories of fighting with my mother or my father over stupid things that don’t matter at the end of the day. You know why, you all know why!” You huff out. “I have been fighting a war since my mother and siblings died—no since my father left us….so I’m sorry that all I want now is for my children to grow up with their parents, both of them.” You draw in a deep shaky breath, then breathe out as you drop your head to look at your hands.

You then look over at Jon, and he offers you an assuring look that lets you add on, calmer this time. “Fighting in a war brings no guarantee to Jon’s safety, or mine. I understand everyone’s distrust for Daenerys, but she is Queen now as long as she sits on that Throne, as long as her heart beats. I’m not asking to return to her court, all I want is a pardon so I can just raise my children and live my life with my husband. I’ve lost too much, we all have, I’m not letting her take anything else.”

This time no one argues back, no one steps forward, there’s no passed glances, it’s still, letting you turn to Jaime again.

“If Daenerys grants us the ability to negotiate I can add your brother to the deal. That way you don’t need to risk your life.” You offer him a gentle smile. “Just rest assured, she probably won’t kill him right away, he is still a Lannister, and he might be her chance to get the Westlands to support her.”

Ser Jaime nods hesitantly. “You might be right. I’ll wait then.” He bows his head, letting you look at the others again.

“Now, if there’s nothing more to add, I would like to have a moment with my husband.” You add, causing everyone to leave the room, even your cousin, leaving just Jon and you in the silence of your shared quarters.

Jon breaks away from his spot rather quickly, and you drop your shoulders and draw out a deep exhausted breath. “Ugh,” you groan, “how do Lords and Kings do this all day?” You watch Jon take his cloak off to release weight off his body so he can find some ease in private.

“Well,” he scoffs. “Some Kings don’t actually handle any business.”

You snicker and nod. “I guess you’re right. Did your father handle his business?”

Jon walks over to the table by the window to serve water in a golden cup. “Yes, he did. I wasn’t with him a lot, but when I was he always looked tired, but that’s nothing compared to you,” he points out and turns to walk over to your side of the bed. “Being with child and doing all of this is impressive.” He hands you the cup before he presses his hand on your swollen belly.

You hum softly and watch him with a soft look. “Thank you for coming to me. I mean I could go without going to meetings and handling any business, but thank you for not forgetting about me.”

Jon straightens up and grabs your hand. “You are my wife, we’re partners in this. Besides…you are the princess which does make you higher ranked. It is your duty.”

You shoot him a narrowed glare, and he just smirks before he presses a kiss on your cheek to then press a kiss on your belly.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to sit up more? Or more pillows?” He worries.

You take a sip of water and look out the window. “I could use a walk,” you mumble and set the cup down on the end table beside you whilst you hope to catch a glimpse of Eraxis outside in the skies you wish you can be in, but there’s only blank white skies.

Jon scoffs at your response and follows your line of gaze, when you look back at him you see his smile had faded away and his gaze looked distant and brooding; his mind is churning isn’t it?

“What is it?” You query, even though you know it’s about what was just discussed with everyone else. “Do you think we should march into battle for the throne too?”

Jon blinks and meets your gaze to shake his head. “No. You don’t want it, I don’t want it, it would be an unmotivated battle.” He finishes, making you squint your eyes on him. “And like I’ve said before I trust you, if you don’t want to counter back against Daenerys then we don’t—”

“Then?” You cut him off.

Jon shifts around to face you better, and you stay still since you can’t move. “It’s about your decision about Cersei,” he shares. “In other kingdoms it’s different, every family has different values, but…my father always followed one value, ‘The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.’ You gave the sentence, you took her, it should be you.”

You blink repeatedly and drop your gaze to your hands as you take in his words. “What about Daenerys?” You ask softly in an unsure tone of voice.

Jon sighs. “There are no sides to killing the Queen. Besides Daenerys already has the capitol, she already burned the city, killing Cersei won’t gain their respect or their trust.”

He is right….and if his father did say those words then Winterfell respects them too. And the Lannister’s have hurt your family just as they've hurt the Stark’s, it has to be here, because regardless if you want the throne or not, you still are Jon’s wife, you still need their respect. Killing Cersei will gain that.

“Alright,” you give in and meet Jon’s dark gaze. “I’ll do it. On the morrow. After breakfast.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Door hinges creak, and what was once covered in darkness is invaded by the swaying torch light in your hand.

“Good morning,” you greet and push your hand further in the small room to try and see the prisoner kept inside, but she’s not on her bed nor by the desk. Actually her plate is untouched, her bed is a mess, the small bookshelf is emptied out of all the books that once decorated it, and the curtains are drawn to cover the windows and bring that lurking darkness.

She’s being difficult, you’ve heard from Sansa that Cersei has protested against eating and kept herself living like a hermit.

Thus why you let out a deep sigh and look back at Jon to pass a quick glance that lets him know to move your moving chair futher in the room. And that’s when you finally see her balled in the corner behind the door, with the books that are meant to decorate the shelf all over the ground.

Cersei doesn’t even bother to look up at you, nor does she move, she keeps her eyes trained on the ground. You don’t bother to say anything else right away either, you’re too taken back by her appearance to speak. After all it’s the first time you’ve seen her with her hair messy and unbrushed, with her face dirty because she’s refused to let anyone touch her, and in dirty clothes she’s refused to take off since she was taken.

“Sansa wanted you to be taken out in drags,” you interject, but still gain nothing. “But I convinced her otherwise.” You throw her a dress you picked out for her own execution. “Be nice to the handmaidens, they are here to make you look presentable. You were a Queen once afterall.” You look her up and down and sigh before Jon begins to pull you out in the wheelchair they’ve forced you to be on so you wouldn’t move so much.

It’s too much for you considering it’s just your upper body that got hurt, but if it makes Jon happy then whatever. You’ll get pushed around until you heal.

However! The one thing that is distasteful and makes this dreadful is the stares. Regardless if they’re out of disbelief over seeing you out. Then again you do always receive weird stares from the people, even if it’s been some time now since you’ve been here.

Yet there is one stare that you’ll never grow tired of, this one isn’t aimed at you but at the majestic dragons that now roam Winterfell. First, the people you pass by as Jon pushes you towards the field past the castle gates spot Helios flying towards you. He’s small but the people fear him now because he can fly on his own.

“Hello, little sun,” you greet the orange dragon as he now begins to fly by you. “Where’s Rhaenar?” You ask it before you look back and spot your boy running over just as you predicted.

“Mother! Jon!” Rhaenar greets.

“Prince,” Jon greets him back with a smile, whilst you watch him as he falls at your other side and grabs onto one of your wheelchairs armrest to walk at your pace. “Where have you been?” Jon asks.

“I was on a tower,” Rhaenar reveals between pants. “There’s people from the nearby towns that are arriving to see the execution.”

You nod. “Cersei Lannister did a lot of harm to the Kingdoms, her family also did a lot of harm to the Starks—”

“Yes,” Rhaenar cuts you off. “I know. People want justice.”

You hum in agreement and glance around in search of your sisters, but they’re not around. “<Where are your aunts?>” You ask in Valyrian so Jon can learn.

Rhaenar glances over at Jon and shoots him a smirk before responding in the same language. “<Waiting with Sansa and Arya already. They said they wanted a good view.>”

You peer over your shoulder and catch Jon’s perplexed look since Rhaenar spoke too fast for him to fully comprehend everything. And yet before either Rhaenar or you could explain anything, a high pitched cry breaks from the sky. You quickly look up and spot white scales gleaming as they descend from the sky slowly; Eraxis. Poor injured Eraxis.

The people around begin to quicken their pace, others scatter to find shelter as if she would attack, but you beam at her as she now chooses to hover above you as best as she can. And then not seconds later a dark shadow casts over the grounds before the green beauty that is Rhaegal quietly flies past.

“I’m thinking we might be the late ones,” Jon comments whilst he watches his dragon land on the field past the gates.

You scoff. “Or everyone else is early.”

Jon chuckles. “Or that.”

You smile faintly, but that slowly fades as you now get rolled past the gate and see the crowd already gathered around the wooden stake that was built just for Cersei.

“Princess.”

“There she is, The Rising Saint…”

As far as alias goes you’ve heard worse, but this name the people are calling you now after the battle at Kingslanding—or as the people are calling it “The dance of the dragons”, is unnecessary. You’re no saint, not close, just because some soldiers saw you push yourself off the shore as Eraxis was extending her wings behind you means nothing at all. In fact you lost that battle.

“Princess.”

You offer the people who part away to make a path for you a small smile.

“Sister!” Elia exclaims when she spots you, and parts away from Jaime’s side to stride over to you. “There you are, I thought you wouldn't come.”

“It's my duty,” you say and glance past her shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you were pestering the poor Knight. Need I remind he's only enough to be your father.”

Elia scoffs. “We were just talking. Nothing bad.” She smirks. “But if he wanted to then…” she trails off and snickers.

“Gods,” you grumble.

“Then what?” Rhaenar presses innocently, only making Elia chuckle and walk off to be by Sarella now—“what does she mean mother? Jon?”

You peer back at Jon to share an awkward look before you meet your son's curious gaze and assure him. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Now is not the right time.”

Rhaenar sighs deeply and nods. “Alright, but you promise? You say that but you forget sometimes.”

You roll your eyes playfully and assure him. “I will. But if I forget remind me. After all, once I’m back in my chambers I have nothing but time,” you complain.

“Well,” Jon cuts in as he now begins to turn you around so can face the stake. “When you finally can be on your feet, don't come complain’ that you want to be in bed all day.”

“I won’t,” you counter knowing well that you’re lying because you will complain.

Jon scoffs softly and leaves at that now that you’ve joined his family, and Jaime’s side.

“Ser Jaime,” you direct at him now as you watch Eraxis circle the area to land beside Rhaegal. “I’m surprised you’re here. I didn’t think you had the stomach to watch this.”

Jaime unfurls a deep sigh from his nose. “I have to be here. It’s my responsibility.”

You hum softly and blink to steal a quick glimpse; noticing his frown he was trying not to show, as well as that somber look that flickered in his colored eyes. You then glance at Sansa to direct your next word to her and notice the opposite, there isn’t a smirk on her lips, but there is a ghost of one playing there on the corner of her lips. Her eyes are shooting off sparks compared to the dull look in Jaime’s.

Then again you can’t blame her excitement.

“Are you ready?” You ask Sansa.

Said girl glances down at you and nods. “More than you know. If only I could be the one to say the words.”

You return your gaze back to your dragon and catch Rhaegal…tending to her? You can’t be sure you’ve never seen it be done, but he was letting her nuzzle against him.

“You can speak,” you tell her.

Sansa holds your gaze and offers you a stiff agreeing nod. And just as she agrees, commotion amongst the crowd begins to rise; demeaning words begin to be shouted, boos are thrown out, and no one leaves space to see but you know that the guards were bringing Cersei out now.

“Can you get me a bit closer,” you tell Jon.

Without hesitation Jon pushes you a bit past the row you were standing in to wait for Cersei there. You then proceed to look back at Rhaenar as the space beside you is empty. You don’t tell him anything but you do motion the spot beside you with the movement of your eyes.

The boy hesitates, he doesn’t want to be so close when the dragons breathe out their fire on Cersei, he’s frightened, but he is a Prince, he needs to witness matters such as these, as distasteful as they may be.

Thus he slowly approaches and stands beside you just as the guards finally push Cersei out of the crowd, and finally take her up to the stake.

Once she’s tied up Sansa walks over to speak. “Cersei Lannister, I’ve been thinking of this since day the moment I knew who you really were, but now that I’m here I can no longer express the pain you and your terrible son put me through.” She exhales and stops in front of the stake to look up to meet Cersei’s burning glare. “I just hope you remember that gods have no mercy.” She lifts her chin and finally that smirk that had been playing on her lips spreads to a malicious one. “I hope you feel every second of your flesh and skin melting upon your bones as the dragons bathe you in their fire.”

Jon steps over to stand by you, and you both now share a quick shocked glance before you now interject. “I wish there can be words I could say, but I can’t muster a single word from my heart that doesn’t just spew with venom. Thus why, I now say this with pride, Queen Cersei Lannister, first of her name, I Princess y/n Targaryen-Martell sentence you to death on the charges of the deaths of Margaery Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, regicide, mass murder, treason, Arson, abuse of power against the crown, Conspiracy and Usurpation. What are your last words?”

Finally Cersei breaks her glare away from you to look at her lover/brother Jaime Lannister. Her look doesn’t change to sadness to plead for her life, she just shoots him the same glare before she then looks upon all the people. “I hope you all burn in all seven hells! I hope Daenerys burns you all to ash! You will all burn!”

The crowd begins to shout and throw stuff at her, so you lift your chin and have Eraxis cut everyone off with a mighty roar. When they all go quiet and back away from the stake, you look back at Sansa.

Now without hesitation her and Arya walk to the stake with lit torches in their hands that they put under the pyre, they then turn and now stand beside you to watch the flames eat away at the wood below the platform.

All that’s left now is you, so without a moment to spare you draw in a small breath, and then exhale. “Dracarys!” You command out.

Rhaegal steps back, and Eraxis pulls her head back before they both breathe in deeply and then open their mouths to breathe out bright, fiery flames that engulf Cersei and the stake she stands against within seconds.

The Queen resists at first, but when her skin and flesh begins to melt she cries out, filling the bitter air with her pained cries one second, and the next…nothing but silence again. Now all that stood was the still lively flames that ate her body and the wood.

“My Princess,” a quiet voice cuts in by your ear. “My Lord. A Raven came from Queen Daenerys.”

You drift your eyes away from the red-orange flames to look at the Maester by your side. “Call for a meeting at the hall then,” you inform him. “I’ll go there now to read what she has to say.”

——

*LATER*

“You ask for forgiveness after the act of betrayal against me, I will give it to you. I hope you, your new family and all the Kingdoms that are loyal to you remember my mercy…

You sigh with relief and keep on reading the words Daenerys had so elegantly written on the paper.

“Come to King’s Landing and bend the knee. Swear fealty to me and your eldest son Prince Rhaenar will still have his title as heir, you will have a place in my court and in my castle. However, know that when you and your husband bend the knee, you cannot pursue your children’s claim for The North, Dorne, or the crown. The Warden or Wardeness of the North will not seek independence. It is then that you will have your peace. And if any other Lords who are at your beck and call won’t bend the knee, then warn them of my wrath that will await them, tell them that you won’t be there to save them after you bend the knee.” You finish reading and slowly lower the paper and lift your gaze to look at the Lords, and Ladies gathered around the table.

And there’s one specific Lady who glares diggers into you.

“You will have your children be cup bearers and hold banners for the rest of your life?” Sansa argues as expected. “Jon you can’t possibly want that?! You cannot bend the knee to her again. She betrayed you, she betrayed her kin. She betrayed her people and all of Westeros.”

You don’t counter, instead you look up at Jon and wait for his response with no glare to threaten him to back you up, with no unspoken words shared between your eyes, you let him speak his mind. And he knows it.

“It’s not ideal? no, but at least I will still have them. Throwing ourselves into a war risks their lives,” Jon counters his sister. “She would kill them if we went against her if it meant she had no competition to her throne. Or she would kill y/n and me,” his voice begins to rise with anger, and his eyes begin to narrow. “And it’s just as y/n said, I want my children to have their parents, I want to watch them grow up, I want to be their father.” He draws out a deep breath and tries to calm down.

“I also will not risk having my own people have their homes and land burnt down, going against Daenerys guarantees a destructive war. I will not see anymore children burnt.” He shakes his head. “I will not see anyone else burnt to ash. I will go to Kings Landing in Princess y/n’s stead.” He looks down at you to meet your gaze, and you immediately offer him a thankful smile.

“Right now the princess can’t travel, so I will go in her place.” He nods and presses his hands against the tabletop to then look back at everyone around the table. “I can’t ask all the other Lords to do the same, if it’s a war you want you are welcome to it, but we can’t give into our pride.” He sighs. “So if it’s alright with the Princess I will travel as soon as on the morrow when the sun rises.” He then looks back at you to seek your permission.

Before you give him your confirmation you look only to one person, Sarella, your sister.

“Dorne will be upset that we won’t go to war,” she says, but we will follow you,” she assures you.

You draw out a small relieved breath and then blink to meet Jon’s waiting gaze. “Go. Bend the knee for us.”

Jon offers you a comprehensive nod, and you smile at him softly whilst you grab his hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“If it is what you want Princess,” Lord Royce interjects, pulling your attention to him standing beside the table. “I will bend the knee as well.”

��As will the Reach,” a representative for the new Warden of the South adds too.

That’s the South and the East Kingdoms, Dorne will also follow, now all that’s left is Sansa and the North. Knowing that, all eyes fall to Sansa to seek her answer. And she meets Arya’s gaze to share a speechless conversation before her glare turns to pierce into Jon and you.

“If Jon wants then we will follow too.” She says stiffly.

Thank the gods.

“Good,” you breathe out with relief. “Then Jon will travel to Kings Landing at his convenience and bend the knee for me.”

There’s silence, it’s full of tension but everything is dealt with so they can sit in their anger and pride as much as they want.

“Mother,” a young voice cuts in, making you look at Rhaenar standing at your right side. “If it is okay with you may I go with Jon to King's Landing to bend the knee as well?”

He always wants to go to battles, he also wants to be involved and he hardly can. You don’t quite like the idea of him leaving your side with everything so tense, but, well, Daenerys won’t harm him and it might do some good if he goes. She might be less hostile.

“All right,” you agree. “You may go.”

Right away Rhaenar shoots you a proud grin that does make your heart swell.

“Good,” Jon then interjects. “With that resolved. Ser Davos, Rhaenar and a handful of some trusted men, and I will travel to King's Landing on a ship. Going on dragonback will probably just rise tension we want to avoid.”

“Yes,” you agree. “That’s true, good. Now does anyone else have anything to add?” You glance at everyone gathered, and no one thankfully interjects. Now the room is finally dispersed except for Sansa, Jon, rhaenar and you.

“I will ask one more time,” Sansa breaks the silence whilst she walks over to you. “As your goodsister, as your sister…” she pauses and gets close to you to take your hands in hers. “Is this really what you want? She may be the last part of your family you have left, but push that aside for now and tell me if bending the knee is what you want.”

You blink repeatedly as you draw in a deep breath and slide one hand over hers to respond softly. “Pushing that aside doesn’t change my answer if it gives me peace. I don’t care for titles, not anymore. If I could have a piece of land here, beyond the wall, or in Dorne by the glimmering sea where I can watch my children grow, where I can teach them how to further connect with their dragons, where I can fly in the sky and feel the wind in my face, feel the clouds on my fingertips, where I can see Jon drop his shoulders and spread that charming grin of his, then yes,” you nod and smile. “I’ve lost too much, I can’t lose anymore. So yes Sansa I’m sure. I hope you can find that too. And you will on your own time.” You offer her a soft smile and look back at Jon to signal him to roll you back to your quarters since…well this has been a strain filled day.

Thus without adding a word Jon pulls you back, letting you drop Sansa’s hands and face Rhaenar now as he skips over to walk by your side. Once your back is turned to her all you feel is her stare until the door closes behind you.

——

Being vulnerable with Jon was something you could always be. It’s something the both of you never were scared of being. It’s something that not a lot of couples in this world get to be, you count yourself lucky that you can have someone in your life who doesn’t make you keep things in and pile up. You’re lucky to have him.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly as you trace the long wound on his chest. “I…I can’t trust her. Not anymore.”

Jon sighs. “Nor can I,” he admits as well. “The truth is that we never can, not after what happened.”

You swallow thickly. “But if I can’t trust her then what does that mean for the people that follow us. I…I’m risking their lives aren’t I?”

Jon’s arms wrap tighter around you as he stays quiet for a moment that makes your worry heighten. “I think we shouldn’t truly trust certain people completely, I think always being at least somewhat cautious is okay. Otherwise you’re blinded.”

There’s many examples to contradict his saying, there’s many examples to prove him right, especially when it comes to Kings and Queens. But you want him to be wrong about her badly.

Albeit you know he isn’t wrong.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agree quietly and then carefully push yourself off his chest to face him. “You’re so wise. How did you get to be so?”

He begins to smirk. “Livin’.” He quips.

You snicker and then mock him. “Livin’.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you back to his chest. “By the time I come back you’ll be bigger.”

You feign a frown. “What do you mean by that?” You mess with him. “Are you calling me—”

“No, you know what I mean, your belly. The babies,” he quickly tries to correct himself, making you burst out laughing.

“I know,” you let him know, causing Jon to scoff and pull his arm off your shoulders. “No,” you whine and nuzzle your head against his neck. “You’ll be gone for 2 or three months because you won’t go on dragonback. Let me bask in your warmth for a while longer.”

You can basically picture his smile as he wraps his arm back around you. “I’ll come back to you as quickly as I can,” he assures you.

You smile softly and press a kiss on his chest. “You better. I can’t part from you for too long. What if someone takes you from me?”

Jon scoffs in amusement. “Who’d do that?”

You shrug. “Sirens out in the depths of the water.”

“Sirens?” He teases.

You nod. “They’re real,” you counter quickly. “They trap pirates and sailors with their hypnotizing song. My uncle said he saw one, and I’ve read all about them.”

“They’re just tales,” Jon says. “They aren’t real.”

You scoff. “Yeah you’d know because you’re such an experienced sailor. Giants are real, why shouldn’t sirens be?”

Jon parts his lips but can’t argue back, so you giggle and grow cocky. “Exactly,” you quip and then lift your head to show him your smile before you lean in and steal a kiss from his pink lips. You feel his faint smile, and his hands on your cheeks. You know he’d flip you around if it wasn’t for your wounds on your shoulder, so instead he leans in and deepens the sweet kiss. He savors your taste to remember what your lips feel like when he misses them out at sea, just as you’ll miss him when you’re laying in bed here watching Eraxis fly by without you riding her.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

Jon’s gaze softens and he caresses your cheek as he says it back. “I love you too. I’ll come back to you, and the baby’s.”

You offer him a sweet smile and press your forehead against his one more time, before you pull away and let him climb off bed before you make him stay. And since you can’t move you have to watch him—which isn’t the problem, you like it, you smile, but you do wish you could move.

Nevertheless, once he is done he presses a kiss on your belly and then steals one last passionate kiss from you.

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him.

Jon's smile turns timid. “I’ll miss you too.”

Before he can pull away from the bed you grab his arm to not let him move. “You take care of Rhaenar, alright? Take care of him.”

Jon holds your gaze and nods. “Of course I will. Don’t worry.”

You sigh with relief and then steal one last kiss before letting him go.

“Take care,” you throw out as he walks away.

“You too!” He shouts back, and with a smirk he adds, “Sansa will keep an eye out. Arya will too.”

You feign a grin since having Arya look out for you is the worst since she’s so sneaky and even more pestering.

“Great,” you mutter, making Jon chuckle whilst he opens the door. And when the door is pushed open he comes to a halt, you think he’s going to come back, but instead he moves to the side and reveals your son.

You beam at him. “I thought you wouldn't come say goodbye.”

Rhaenar runs past Jon to reach your side with his trust worthy companion flying in after him. “I’ve come to say goodbye mother,” he says and grabs your hand since he’s too scared he’ll hurt you with an embrace. “I won’t be gone long but still.”

You caress his chin and shoot him a smile. “No, but when you come back I will change. I’ll be big, I’ll be unrecognizable.”

Rhaenar giggles. “Don’t be silly, mother. You won’t be different at all.”

Your smile softens. “No. You’re right. Now go before I change my mind and make you stay.”

Rhaenar holds your hands for a longer moment, and you caress his cheek once more before you pull your hand away before you actually change your mind. “Be careful alright? When you get to the city, stay with Jon, and don’t wander.” You warn him.

Rhaenar rolls his eyes but can’t help his smile. “Alright. Alright. Goodbye, mother.” He says and begins to step back.

You shoot him a small wave and a soft smile. “Bye my sweet boy. And you,” you point to his orange dragon. “Watch him.”

The dragon blinks and then turns to fly after Rhaenar as he runs out of the room, letting Jon poke his head inside one last time. “Bye, my love,” Jon says to you once more.

You shoot him a smirk and wave. “Bye, my love.” You watch him close the door and leave the room lonely now. You sit still and hold your breath to listen to their receding footsteps until you can’t hear the echo of the faint thumps.

However, as you breathe out and sink lower down in your bed to try and sleep some more, the sound flapping wings fills the room. When you look out the balcony door you see half of Eraxis’s face, you spot her bright blazing brown eye, and her beautiful snout gleaming by the light beams breaking out of the sky.

She whines softly as she senses the sadness in your heart after seeing your son and your husband leave.

“Yes,” you tell her. “I do have you. But,” you sigh. “I want you to do something for me. Take Rhaegal and follow them.” You give her a command. “Be discreet as you usually are. And only show yourself if they are in danger. Watch them from the skies, okay my sweet girl?”

Eraxis watches you for a second before she blinks and flaps her wings to ascend to the sky. Due to how this room is facing you don’t see her get lost in the clouds, you just hear her wings flapping in the distance until there’s only silence.

——

*2 WEEKS LATER. RHAENAR.*

“Tell me again what this does,” the old Onion Knight points to a part of the boat.

Rhaenar stares long and hard, jumbles of words come to mind, but he can’t place a name to the specific part. “I…I don’t know, sorry.”

Ser Davos sighs and then opens his mouth to reveal the name, but Rhaenar cuts him off.

“Why is it that I have to learn these things? Once I’m King, Helios will be big enough to ride, I won’t need to sail a boat.”

Ser Davos scoffs and turns with his hands clasped behind him. “That’s what you think, but a good King must know many things. What if your dragon dies and you’re at war? One that requires the use of your fleet? Hm? People respect a leader if they see you putting your life on the line amongst them.”

Rhaenar lips pulls to a faint smile and his gaze travels to Jon across the deck talking to some men. “Like how the Free Folk admire Jon?”

Ser Davos glances at Jon as well and nods. “Aye. Like him. Would you want to be like Jon or like the boy King Joffrey?”

Rhaenar scoffs. “Like Jon of course.”

Ser Davos hums and nods. “Aye so lets go over the stuff again and then you can go off and read your books.”

Rhaenar skips off to a part of the boat he does remember and wants to name a part he does know to make Ser Davos proud, but then the sound of man shouting out from the look out above cuts him off.

“Danger ahead! Unmarked ship incoming!”

Rhaenar snaps his head to the front and sees a large approaching ship the distance. It has no House flag, actually it has no flags at all, it’s unmarked, and now that Ser Davos has taught him stuff about ships, pirates and sailors, he knows that this boat isn’t friendly.

Yet he doesn’t want to back down and hide.

“How can I help?” He asks and feels Helios perch up on his shoulder.

Ser Davos quickly meets his gaze and shakes his head. “No you may not help at this moment. Guards take the young Prince to his cabin and guard him with your lives.”

Rhaenar’s guards agree and march to him, albeit the boy pulls away and looks out for Jon. “Jon! I want to help!”

Said man snaps his head to the boy from where he stands on deck, and then rushes over to him. “Rhaenar you will stay in your cabin until we’ve resolved this alright? With luck we will just pay or trade what we have and move on, but regardless you go to your cabin, be ready for anything and don’t come out unless there’s imminent danger or until I go fetch you, you heard me?”

Rhaenar scowls in protest, so Jon grabs his shoulders and insists with concern.

“Do you understand me? Take Helios with you. And stay in your chambers. Now!”

Rhaenar nods and then pulls away to do as he was told since if he didn’t he’d be dragged away regardless. Even if he knew how to fight like any grown man.

However, as time passed he couldn’t pick up the sound of other additional voices that could come from the pirates incoming. No, he only heard the breathing of his dragon, and the muffled shouts from his crew and nothing else.

And yet what he waited to hear doesn’t come yet, no new voices cut in, instead suddenly something loud crashes in the ship, causing it to shake and spiking the boy's heartbeat.

He jumps to his feet and tries to peek out the small circle window, but he sees only water—Damned low windows!

So once again he’s left only to listen in. And now new voices he had yet to hear join the ship, ruff voices that are followed by cries of pain from others. It frightens him a bit, but Rhaenar tries to remain calm and puts all his faith in Jon; he will solve this, the boy tells himself.

He keeps telling himself that as the ship keeps on shaking with what it gets hit with, he listens to the battle rage on above, and even out in the hall outside his room. He hugs Helios to comfort himself since the dragon is ready to attack what may come, and keeps telling himself that Jon and the other brave soldiers above will handle this.

When the fight now sounds outside his door he jumps off his bed and snatches his spear from the corner of his room. He then returns to stand by his bed and grips onto his spear, he shifts his feet to a battle ready stance, and listens to the commotion in case someone comes in.

As time passes he narrows his gaze and Helios hovers above him ready to fight too. He still hopes Jon will come, he holds onto that hope as the doorknob begins to jingle and then the door bursts open.

When he sees that the man that barged in isn’t Jon, or his Dornish guards, or any Northerner, Rhaenar still clings onto hope that Jon will handle this.

“Helios,” the boy grimaces with his eyes piercing on the pirate. “Dracarys.”

The dragon opens his mouth and gets ready to shoot out fire, but just before he can, the man slams the door shut, causing Helios to instead take back his flames and close his jaw. Rhaenar blinks in confusion and waits there for a second with his spear still in hand, he strains his ear and hears stuff scrape against the wooden floor, and only one pair of feet.

What’s the man doing? He thinks to himself and lowers his weapon to cautiously approach his door. He reaches for the doorknob and just before he can touch the cool metal, something made of glass breaks in front of his door.

“What?” Rhaenar mumbles and slaps his hand on the doorknob to push the door open, however as he pushes the door only opens an inch before it hits against something heavy. He tries again and again and comes to the same outcome, nothing.

He tries to listen for the pirate, but now he doesn’t hear footsteps, he lost track of him when he was banging the door against what’s blocking it. He does, however, find something else in that pirates place, the strong smell of smoke, and the sound of flames eating away at the wood blocking the door.

Now that fear heightens tenfold, it turns to terror that makes him panic and try harder to open the damn door. “Someone!” He yells out for his guards. “Jon!” He cries out for the man he still hopes will come.

Helios senses Rhaenar’s desperation and terror and cries out too, he cries loud and with a high pitched tone. But nothing.

The fire only grows, letting Rhaenar see its bright glow as it peeks through the gap under the door. He tries to open the door again but now the knob burns as the flames begin to eat away at that, causing Rhaenar to hiss in pain and step back.

“Jon!” He bellows out again. “Jon!”

The dragon also cries out, but again, nothing. Not even footsteps in the hall. He just hears clashes of metal slamming together violently above.

Smoke soon thereafter begins to crawl inside the room, bringing tears to Rhaenar’s eyes both from its intensity, and fear that now paralyzes him. “Jon!” He sobs out and keeps stepping back further into the room as the flames now find a way inside his room. “Jon!”

He can’t even try and escape out of the window since it’s too small—

But Helios can. So before the fire can increase, Rhaenar jumps on his bed and quickly opens the window. “Go Helios, find Jon!” He tells his orange dragon. “Find him and bring him here!”

The dragon perches on the window and looks back at the boy, he meets Rhaenar’s fearful gaze and hesitates.

“Go, Helios!” Rhaenar insists. “Go. We’ll see one another again. Get Jon!”

Helios looks ahead and then flies off to do what Rhaenar asks of him whilst the flames only enrage.

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER. WINTERFELL.*

The fresh air from the outside felt a lot fresher, crisp, and more chilly but it doesn’t feel stiff like it does in the room.

God's how much you’ve missed being on your feet! Now all you need is the sun, but here in Winterfell during the winter the sun is timid, it likes to hide most of the day and only likes to tease with glimpses of its rays.

“I want to go back to Sunspear,” you tell Sarella as you both see Elia below training on her horse. “I want to feel the sun and pick oranges and lemons.”

Sarella sighs and leans back on her heels. “Wouldn’t that be a delight? Maybe once the babes are born we can go visit.”

You look over at her as you clasps your hands over the stone railing. “You’re not staying home?”

Sarella shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. Or I might go back to the Citadel.”

A playful smile tugs on your lips. “Ah, will you be the ever so mysterious Alleras again?”

Sarella snickers and nods. “I have yet to be revealed so yes.”

You nod. “That’s good.” You sigh and smile. “Maybe when my family and I travel beyond the wall I’ll send you a Raven so you can come along, would you like that?”

Sarella snaps her head to the side to look at you. “Yes!” She exclaims. “I’d love that! Father went to the wall, I’d love to go too.”

You hum in content and nod whilst you look past the castle gates as you spot distant figures approaching the castle. “I’ll keep you in mind then.”

The guards spot the approaching figures and sound the horn. “Riders!” They announce.

You stand on the tip of your toes and squint your gaze to try and identify what it might be, albeit it does take a while since they are far. But when they get close you see that there’s about five people on horses, and in the middle there’s a horse pulling a carriage.

Must be someone important then! There’s some much needed excitement, things have been so dreadful lately since Jon, Eraxis and Rhaenar are gone, and you could do nothing but lay in bed and let your body heal.

However, once the riders get close you identify two riders, it’s Jon and Ser Davos. And Rhaenar isn’t amongst any of the other riders—perhaps he’s in the carriage?

Regardless, they’re not meant to come home yet, they’re either supposed to be barely arriving at Kings Landing, or still at sea depending how the water is. It’s far too early—unless they decided to take the dragons instead.

“It’s Jon,” you point out to Sarella with a half smile since you don’t know whether to be worried or excited.

“Open the gates!” The guards shout.

You push yourself back from the railing and regardless of your curiosity a happy grin tugs on your face over the fact that your husband and son are back.

“I shall go greet them!” You announce and turn. However, as you do you come to an immediate stop as you hear the thundering sound of wings flapping from the sky, when you look up, only seconds later do both dragons appear in the sky above you. And actually Eraxis chooses to depart from Rhaegal and lands on the tower above the balcony you stand on.

“My beautiful girl,” you greet her.

Eraxis lowers her head to be as close as she can to you. She then growls softly and lets out a huff of air through her nose.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask her and begin to caress her snout. “How are my boys? Huh? Did you protect them well?”

Eraxis whines and turns her head so you'd meet her eye, and that’s when you notice that it’s gleaming with an unshed tear.

“What is it?” You ask now with concern.

And of course she doesn’t answer so you sigh deeply and press your forehead against her to mutter, “I’m going to greet Jon and Rhaenar, okay? Go rest, I’ll see you later.” You pull back and quickly walk inside the castle, catching the sound of Eraxis flying away.

“I never thought dragons could cry,” Sarella points out. “It was quite a sight.”

You hum softly as a response as you’re stuck in thought, and slowly grow more concerned over the men’s early return because you didn’t sense joy in Eraxis, no, her whine wasn’t high, it was soft, long. It was…sad. Why would she be sad?

You swallow thickly and quicken your pace as best as you can, Sarella catches up and matches your pace as you begin to dash down the halls.

Yet before you can reach that last hall that leads to the outside door, you’re blocked off by Arya.

“Where do you think you’re doing?” She quips.

Great, just what you need, a pestering Stark. Yes, they’re worried, it’s sweet! But not right now.

“Jon, and Rhaenar got home,” you tell her, “I’m going to greet them.”

Arya narrows her gaze. “You can greet them from your chambers. Go. You know me I won't move. You just have one more week of bedrest, come on.”

You groan and listen only because she frightens you slightly, and she’d probably use force to take you back to your room. So to avoid that you drag your feet back to your chambers like if you were some scolded child.

“I’m a Princess, you know,” you remind her as you begin to approach your quarters. “I’m higher ranked than you.”

“Aye,” she agrees. “But you’re still on bed rest, you are carrying my nieces, and I truly don’t care.” She scoffs, and when you peer back you catch a smug smirk.

You roll your eyes, but still walk into your quarters and wait with Sarella. You wait and wait. Not much time passes, but it seems like it’s been hours. Eventually, Arya returns to the room, but she only pokes her head in and pulls Sarella out of the room, leaving you alone to wait. Weird.

Your sister takes some time, so eventually your curiosity gets the best of you and you stand up off your bed to slowly creep towards the door. However, footsteps begin to echo from the hall, they approach this room, so you step back towards the bed and wait with your hands behind your back to fiddle with the rings on your fingers.

When the door opens, Jon steps inside.

You push your worry aside and beam at him before you run over to him to throw your arms around him. “Jon!” You greet and inhale, catching a whiff of smoke on his cloak.

“My love,” he whispers, “what are you doing up?” He pulls back and cups your cheeks with a smile that you right away know is feigned. Besides, when you meet his gaze you notice his eyes are gleaming with tears, his eyebrows are low and pulled together, the corners of his lips are also trembling.

“What’s wrong?” You probe and search behind him for Rhaenar. “Where’s Rhaenar?”

Immediately Jon’s lips drop that feigned smile and his eyes lower. His hands slide down to your shoulders, and a shaky sigh escapes his lips. Now that worry you had pushed back rushes back tenfold, and your heart begins to pound slow but hard.

“What is it?” You press.

Jon swallows thickly and pushes the doors closed behind him before he slowly walks you to sit on the edge of the bed. You don’t insist, you wait this time.

“Y/N, my love,” he says and finally meets your gaze with cloudy eyes. “While we were out at sea…” he pauses and exhales deeply. “We were ambushed, they hit our ship with a cannon before they attacked…we tried, we fought hard, but there were losses due to a fire…Rhaenar didn’t make it...”

His lips kept moving as he kept speaking, but nothing else registers beyond those four tragic words. You couldn’t even hear the sound of your heart as it begins to pound within your chest, or the blood as it pumps in your veins, it’s utterly quiet as you take in what he said.

Rhaenar…your son. Your only son…didn’t…make it? He’s gone?

No. No. No. No….no…

He’s not gone. He’s not gone. You can’t accept it. Not your boy.

“I want to see him,” you cut Jon off between shallow breaths. “I want to see him. I want to see my son.” You stand up, but Jon grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him.

“It’s best if you don’t see the body,” he mutters with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

You scoff and pull your hand away in annoyance. “Best if I…” you can’t even finish the sentence and just push past him. When you open the doors, Sansa, Elia, Sarella, Arya, and the maester are outside waiting. And everyone except the Maester have tears in their eyes, whilst yours also remain dry.

“Y/N,” Sansa says first and steps towards you, but you avert her touch and pity and turn to face Jon following at your tail.

“Where is he?” You ask again. “Take me to him, or I will find someone who can.”

Jon clenches his jaw and glances at the maester, when he gets an approving nod, Jon hesitates but then walks past you to take you to Rhaenar. And with every step you take you fill yourself with hope that Rhaenar is actually alive. It’s foolish to everyone else perhaps to think so, but it’s not to you because he can’t be gone.

Once Jon stops just outside the door to the main hall, he hesitates to open the doors. You however are desperate and reach over, but he pushes them open first and reveals a single wooden table placed in the middle of the hall, over it lays a casket with a small body over it covered with a black shroud. And top of that body lays Helios all balled up.

You don’t hesitate to move, but this time you don’t rush, you slowly walk in as if any sound would wake him. Jon follows behind you slowly, whilst everyone else waits outside.

“Rhaenar?” You call in a shaky voice.

The boy lays still, you look at his chest and see no movement. And Helios, he breathes, but doesn’t open his eyes to see you, he remains there on top.

“Rhaenar?” You call again this time your voice breaks whilst that hope you built begins to break away, bringing back a…agonizing feeling to your heart.

When you finally approach the body you reach for the edge of the shroud. Helios finally moves from his position and snaps his eyes open, he parts his lips to growl, but when he notices it’s you he lowers his head again and closes his eyes to continue laying.

You then continue and begin to pull back the black shroud slowly. The moment you catch only a small glimpse of his forehead however, you quickly halt as you notice his flesh is…burnt, his skin isn’t brown like it was before, some of his dark black hair is gone from his scalp, and there’s bone that pokes through, causing you to gasp and cover your mouth as you’re slammed with the devastating realization once and for all that…Rhaenar…is…gone.

He’ll never come back, he’ll never breathe again, he’ll never smile, you’ll never see him. He’ll never be King or get married, he’ll never ride his dragon like he always dreamed to. He’s…gone. No.

No. No!

“No,” you cry out softly at first and cup his face. “No, Rhaenar,” you whimper. “My sweet boy, please.” You lower your head and press your forehead against his, and just stay there cradling him, letting tears escape out of your eyes, and feeling every second of your heart shatter completely by a sharp and excruciating pain. You feel your chest tighten until it feels like you can’t even breathe. All the world loses its color, and the air is bitter.

The pain grows so intense, it riddles your body, and that feeling like you can’t breathe deepens to the point that all you can do is finally cry out in grief. Whilst in the distance Eraxis loud sorrowful song fills the air at the same time.

“No!” You cry out and grip onto Rhaenar’s body. “No! My boy! My sweet boy! No!” Your legs begin to shake and they give up carrying your weight, however Jon catches you in time and pulls you in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You sob out and fall to the floor with him. “No,” you weep. “Please. That’s my son, that’s my son!”

“Sarella!” Jon calls out for your cousin most likely to use one of her potions to put you to sleep so you won’t put strain on the babies. And you welcome it, but first you turn and grab onto Jon’s collar before you grab his jaw.

“Tell me Jon, tell me please my love…who was it? Who killed my sweet boy? Please?” You beg.

Jon exhales deeply, but doesn’t avert his gaze, he holds it and shares what you asked for with anger in his own eyes. “It was Daenerys….she sent her army, the Second sons undercover to ambush us.”

At the sound of his words, quickly, what accompanies your grief is now anger. Burning, fierce rage.

.

.

.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99

[reneeofthestars]

A Helping Hand

Written for the fanzine @forcefatalezine !

Shmi Skywalker strives to make life better for her young son, all while doing her best to keep him safe.

Words: 1202 Rating: General

* * *

Even encrusted in sand, the memory core was intact. Shmi Skywalker breathed a small sigh of relief as she pulled her dark hair into a knot at the back of her head. She adjusted the repulsors on the aeromagnifier and inspected the piece for any fissures. Even though the casing was hearty, a few grains of sand could scratch or rupture the fragile data crystal inside.

What had started as a favor for neighbors had turned into a paying side-job, much to her surprise. At first, Shmi had offered to do computer repairs for others in the slave quarters because she was good at fixing things, and was able to help. But they always insisted on paying her. Sometimes it was in wupiupi , sometimes in food, or fuel, or a trinket. It wasn’t long before word spread, and one day a stranger strode into Watto’s shop, waved the Toydarian away, and asked Shmi how much she charged for repairs.

She’d been so worried about punishment from Watto – she hadn’t belonged to him for very long at that point – but was relieved when he told her that she could do small repair jobs as long as she didn’t take customers from him. And her excitement when he said that she could keep any money she made…

Shmi brought the memory core up to the bulbous glass of the aeromagnifier – an unexpected gift from Watto – and peered at the coarse exterior. The woman who had commissioned her – an Ithorian food vendor on the other side of Mos Espa – hadn’t properly enclosed her stall before the most recent sandstorm; she’d returned to find all her wares and electronics strewn across the street. She was willing to pay handsomely for the repair of two memory cores, and Shmi was determined to get the electronics working. Not because of the wupiupi; because she could , and she was happy to help the woman.

The money would be a wonderful boon, though. Anakin had outgrown his shoes, and there was barely anything left of them to mend. And dear old Jira was in need of a new blanket, as her threadbare shawls exposed her to the harsh nights. And maybe she could surprise Ani and his new friend, Kitster, with a sweet.

She began scrubbing at the exterior of the core with a fine brush. Part of her wanted to avoid getting anything that wasn’t essential, wanted to live bare-bones to save as much money as she could. And if she did, maybe someday, Shmi would have enough to buy her son’s freedom.

It was a whimsical thought. She would never be able to save up the money, even if she continued getting commissions. Watto valued Anakin’s skills too highly. The knowledge gnawed at her, and her calloused hands tightened around the component. Between Anakin’s affinity for mechanics and his reflexes in podracing, it seemed unlikely that Watto would ever agree to let him go. And even if Anakin were freed, where would he go? He was only a child, and the galaxy was a large, dangerous place. She knew in her heart that unless some grand adventure pulled him away, or unless he thought he could help many people, he would never choose to leave her side.

No; the best thing she could do for him was to utilize the extra income and make his life as comfortable as she could.

The front door opened with a hiss, followed by the shuffling of feet and – sniffling?

Shmi’s heart clenched. She immediately set the memory core on the cluttered desk in her small workspace. Rising from her salvaged chair, she rounded the corner to face the entryway. Anakin stood there, six years old and yet so much older, his blond hair hanging in his face as he ducked his head.

“Ani?” she asked, dropping to her knees and checking him over. His clothes were dirty, and there were scuffs on his palms. Streaks of tears cut through the grime on his cheeks. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head without meeting her eye.

She let out a long breath of relief. “Tell me what happened.”

“I tried to help,” he mumbled.

Shmi waited for an explanation, reaching for a clean rag and dabbing at his face.

After taking another moment to collect himself, Anakin explained, “There was a swoop gang by the shop. They were being mean to an off-worlder – he looked scared. So, I told them to leave him alone, that they weren’t being kind. They just laughed.” He looked up at her then, fresh tears in his gentle blue eyes. Angry tears. His small fists shook at his sides. “They laughed at me, Mom. And then one of them pushed me down, and said to mind my own business. But it was my business, because I was there!” 

Shmi didn’t answer right away; she busied herself with wiping the last of the grime from his rosy cheeks. Her heart ached at how angry he was; his indignation practically radiated from him. But her pulse had raced the moment he said “swoop gang”.

“Anakin. I am proud of you for trying to help someone in need. But, my son –” she took his hands in hers, “– you must be more careful. You cannot put yourself in dangerous situations.”

“No one else was helping him!” Anakin protested, pulling her hands closer. “Everyone else ran away!”

“Because they recognized the danger, and knew they couldn’t help without putting themselves at risk.”

“But they left him all alone! And he was crying. I couldn’t leave him alone! And I knew they wouldn’t hurt me, not really. They were being mean, but not cruel.” He looked away, ashamed. Anakin’s round face twisted into a scowl. “And I couldn’t really help. I tried to get between them. But they just pushed me away, like I was nothing.” 

Sadness rested in her heart. Tatooine was not a place where kindness grew naturally; Shmi could only hope that she could shield her son from becoming hard and jaded. She understood his anger, but she had been working with him to talk through it instead of lashing out. And she had found that he often became so set in his line of thought, he forgot to consider the emotions of others.

“How do you think I would feel if you were hurt?” she asked softly.

His expression opened in surprise. “You’d be sad.  And worried.” He paused, eyes searching her face. “You’re worried now,” he realized. “You were scared I was hurt. You’re scared I’m going to get hurt.” Then, in a small voice: “I don’t want you to be scared or sad.”

“Then I need you to be safe. You can always offer help afterward if something happens. You can come and get me. It’s right to stand up for others and prevent hardship if you can. But you must keep yourself safe first.”

Anakin didn’t argue further. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on her shoulder. “Someday, I’ll be bigger. And no one will be able to push me around.”

She embraced him tightly, holding the back of his head and kissing his forehead. “You have a kind heart, Ani.”

[the-bar-sinister]

Sandstorms and Starfall (3804 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

Chapters: 1/15 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Crocodile/Nefertari Vivi

Characters: Nefertari Vivi, Crocodile (One Piece), Miss Goldenweek (One Piece), Miss Doublefinger | Paula, Mr. 1 | Daz Bones, Mr. 2 | Bon Clay, Karoo (One Piece)

Additional Tags: Romance, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Adventure & Romance, Nefertari Vivi is a Member of the Straw Hat Pirates, Soft Crocodile (One Piece), it's like a disney princess movie okay? ;), Vivi is 20

Summary: When Vivi makes a midnight escape from the palace of Alabasta and flees the country in an attempt to get stronger and rejoin the Straw Hat pirates as a full crew member she finds herself unsure of her path forward. That is until a chance meeting brings her face to face with her former enemy, and former hero, Sir Crocodile who agrees to help her on her quest to find a devil fruit for herself.

It's surprisingly easy to make peace with the former warlord, if not to forgive or trust him. But the longer she spends around him, and the former Baroque Works agents helping her find her way through the Grand Line, the more she finds that the troubles in her heart are not the simple ones that she expected to be facing.

-

The sea wind fluttered through Vivi's hair as she stood, newspaper in hand, on the deck of the merchant vessel she'd acquired passage on. Five days ago she had made her escape from Alabasta, and now the ship was in sight of its destination, a busy trading hub called Espree, where she would have to figure out the next step of her grand plan.

The scent of the salt water tickled her nose as she read the headline again, the bustle of the merchants preparing to disembark with their wares fading into the background as she looked at the photograph of her smiling face.

“Princess Vivi Nefertari Missing! The Desert Princess Stolen Away in the Night?!”

She remembered the day that photograph was taken, and the reasons for its peculiarities that nobody else knew. Why her azure hair was mussed. It was the long run on Karoo to see her crewmates off with a smile as she vowed to one day join them again. She remembered vividly why her smile wasn’t quite as bright as it could be. Why her eyes looked so tired.

Vivi had regretted it almost the moment they sailed away. She was part of the Straw Hat Pirates, the tattoo on her arm a mark of that fact– but they were moving on without her while she’d stayed in one place. Playing princess for a nation she adored at the expense of that rush of freedom and excitement the sea brought with it.

Her father had almost immediately begun talking about marriage and suitors. The demands of the crown grew heavier. She found herself wishing she were still on that beautifully silly ship with her beautifully silly friends.

Friends who needed help more than ever if the papers were to be believed.

To her side, Karoo made a worried trill as she read the article.

“Don’t worry, Karoo.” she murmured softly/ “...they won’t recognize me. And even if they do, nobody’ll believe a princess is way out here in commoner’s clothes…”

Dubious, her stalwart supersonic duck huffed and started sipping at his water barrel in reply.

“Worrywort,” she sniffed with a shake of her head as she turned the page past a story about pirate emperor Red Haired Shanks causing some kind of trouble in the new world.

Vivi hadn't been kidnapped— it was an escape. She fled the palace in the night with Karoo by her side and a vague note to her father.

It was all so she could find them again.

-

The Low Tide Brokerage on Espree Island was the emergency meeting point for Baroque Works agents. When the papers had reported on Crocodile's escape from Impel Down and the disaster at Marineford, all the remaining agents had known that, if the boss was planning to salvage the organization, that was the place to be.

Marianne hadn’t wasted a single moment since the reports of his escape. She’d practically fallen out of her chair at the rebuilt Spiders Cafe in her excitement to show Zala the good news, and it wasn’t long before they’d chartered themselves a ship to rush to Espree as fast as the sails could carry them.

The former Miss Goldenweek had tried, back when the organization first fell apart, to save as many former members as she could– only to be refused by Mr. Zero and Mr. 1. His spark, the colors of his ambition, had dulled with defeat but the thrill that maybe it’d come back from the depths of Impel Down was an excitement Marianne couldn’t pass up, even if she rarely showed it on her face.

She adjusted her wide brimmed hat as she approached the familiar Brokerage shop with her pack on her back. If he really was going to be there– if he really was going to return Baroque Works to something like its former glory– she had to be a part of it.

“I wonder if Mr. 3’s gonna be there,” she murmured as she popped a rice cracker in her mouth. 

The Brokerage was a low but handsomely appointed little building in one of the main shopping plazas of the summer island's city. There was an awning shade over the door, and a discrete mark carved into the lintel just below it-– almost unnoticeable in the shade-– but there if you were looking for it.

She looked up at it for a moment, rice cracker in her mouth as she stared almost right through it. For most, it was the doorway to an information broker like any other, but for her…it was a doorway back into a dream.

Briefly, she entertained the thought to place a color trap on the door to dissuade interruptions-– and cause a little trouble-– but she ultimately just pushed the door open and stepped inside. It’d have been annoying if Zala had gotten trapped in a cycle of apathy instead of some random citizen anyway. 

Inside was the familiar comfortable shopfront, with its plush waiting couches, and the smell of tea and incense filling the air. Behind the desk was a familiar man with a dark complexion, swept back hair, and a rather garish suit. He was a man by the name of Louis Don who had run the brokerage on the organization's behalf since before Marianne had joined.

He clapped his hands together and smiled broadly. "Oh! Welcome!"

“Morning.” Marianne said simply as she walked up to the desk. She was never a woman of many words, not when her art spoke so much for her. Still, she stood at the other end of the desk and stared the man down with expectation. 

He knew who she was– that was obvious. But there was the formality of the code phrase. As he poured a cup of tea he announced conversationally, "I saw a green albatross this morning."

Marianne sighed and pulled out her sketchpad. Quickly, with her sketch pencil and a bit of green paint she formed an image of a green albatross flying over a sinking ship. She held it up, the radiating calm of the green paint’s aura projected through her abilities.

“Bad Omen.” 

Louis chuckled as she completed the code phrase, and offered her the cup of tea. "Welcome back, Ms. Goldenweek. The others are downstairs."

She took the tea gratefully with a nod. 

“Miss Doublefinger is on her way," she warned. “She’s still prickly.” 

Louis chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I'll keep that in mind. How was your trip here? Quiet, or eventful?"

“We had a brief run in with some no-name pirates.” Marianne sipped her tea. “Sunk.” 

"Uneventful, then. You're the first to arrive, you know. Aside from Mr. 1. And the boss. Funny to have that revealed after all this time. Who would have thought?"

“Not me. I thought Mr. Zero would have been someone taller.”

Despite the dryness of her tone as she sipped her tea, she couldn’t help but joke a little. After all, the fact that Sir Crocodile was their boss all along was a shock to everyone except Miss All Sunday— who turned out to be quite the big shot herself.

The Devil Child. 

This seemed to throw Louis for a moment, then he chuckled as he realized the joke, shaking his head. 

"Taller. Good one, Ms. Goldenweek."

She gave him a thumbs up. 

“Thanks Louis. I’d better not keep the boss waiting though. Tell me if Mr. 3 shows up.”

She curtsied to him before grabbing her tea again and heading towards the door. “You can keep the painting. As a friend.” 

Pleasantly– and calmly– Louis waved and thanked her as she headed downstairs.

The basement of the Brokerage was a quite normal looking one, being full of old crates, barrels of wine, and some cold larder items. But at the back of it there was a door hidden by a shelf that was quite easy to move aside, even for someone as small as Marianne.

And behind that door was the Baroque Works meeting room.

She dusted off her hands, and opened the door without hesitation. She was excited— very excited even.

Her time with Zala and the others at the cafe, biding their time and committing minor crimes here and there in service to their band of ruffians, was fun, but there was something about Baroque Works that brought out a lot in each of them. 

The door shifted open and admitted her to the meeting room– a comfortably appointed room like the VIP room of a club, with a pool table, bar, and meeting area with couches and chairs.

The two figures in the room were arranged at the pool table, and both looked up when the door opened. Both were familiar, though one of them more so than the other. Daz Bones, aka Mr. 1, a tall, rakish looking young man, broad shouldered with handsome, finely cut statuesque features and close cropped pale hair that contrasted with his tanned skin. She'd worked with him frequently, though indirectly, and he nodded as she entered, a smile curving his lips.

The other was Sir Crocodile-– aka Mr. Zero-– the formerly elusive leader of Baroque Works whose public identity as a famous warlord of the sea she had only learned on the very day that everything had gone to hell. He was wearing one of his signature suits, and the smoke of the cigar in his mouth curled around his head.

He stood from where he'd been leaning over the pool table and grinned broadly at her. "Well, well, look who we've got here."

Marianne saluted with the hand that held her tea. “Miss Goldenweek, reporting in. You look good for a prison escapee, sir.” 

He chuckled, and set down his pool cue, putting his cigar in an ashtray on the rim of the table. "Kind of you to say, Miss Goldenweek. I feel pretty good for a prison escapee too, admittedly."

Daz, meanwhile, headed over to the bar quietly, and started mixing drinks.

Marianne finished off her tea and placed the cup on the bar before she turned to the boss once more with an adjustment of her hat.

“What got you all fired up? Last time I saw you, you asked me to leave you in prison.” She paused for a long moment before she said “if you don’t mind me saying, sir.” 

"No, it's a fair question." He leaned against the table with his arms on the ridge of it, hook dangling. "I probably shoulda taken you up on your offer in hindsight, but the spark was gone. What fired me up? Hah… a chance at revenge, honestly."

“Revenge.” Marianne nodded once before she took off her pack and set it down. “The second best motivator, outside of snacks.” 

Crocodile actually chuckled at that. 

"You got a point there, Miss Goldenweek." He looked over at where Daz was pouring three cocktails, and back at Marianne, his brow furrowed. "Do you drink?"

“Huh?” Marianne blinked slowly. “Yeah. Of course I do. I even help Zala with the bar.” 

"Huh." Crocodile shrugged, but did seem perturbed.

Daz looked up as he handed Marianne her drink. "She's like 20, boss."

"... you're kidding." He stared at her, and repeated, "Huh."

Marianne took the drink and held it up with a nod. 

“Just petite.” She shrugged her shoulders as she took a sip of the drink. “Probably the malnutrition.” 

Crocodile snorted, and raised his drink after Daz handed it to him. "Cheers to that."

“Cheers.” Marianne leaned on the pool table. “Are you gonna put Baroque Works back together, boss?”

"Baroque Works is cooked," he said, shaking his head. "I've got some thoughts about a rise from the ashes, but it's hazy. We'll need a new name at minimum. And so far, you're the only agent who's shown up, so."

“Zala’s comin’ too. we just separated at the port so the law didn’t follow us. The others weren’t so sure about rejoining up just yet. So…” 

"And smarts like that's why you were a top agent, Miss Goldenweek." He nodded approvingly and smiled.. "So Miss Doublefinger's on her way, too. Not bad."

"I told you we just need to give it some time, boss," Daz said, leaning on the bar. "Everybody got scattered to the four winds. News takes time to travel, and so do people. I still think even Galdino might show up."

"He's busy with the clown," Crocodile mumbled.

“.....Galdino’s become a clown?” Marianne asked with a widening of her eyes. “Good for him.” 

"Yeah, good for him." Crocodile sounded much less than thrilled as he sipped his drink.

Marianne wasn’t thrilled herself. It was her fault Galdino had gotten himself captured in the first place, and now he’d gone off to join the circus. 

“I hope he comes back around. Wanted to say thanks.” She put the drink down on the edge of the pool table with a half smile. “...you’ll have to settle for just me until then, boss.” 

"Well, you're the first to show up, so you're the first in line for a promotion."

-

Vivi had spent a little time getting her bearings in the city as she left the port and headed into town. What she needed more than anything else was information. Information, which she knew, was traded in the underworld as a precious commodity.

She didn’t have much in the way of funds, but she had a few snippets of information that might catch the ear of the right sort of information vendor. Her bright eyes scanned the streets, past the meandering townsfolk and merchants as Karoo trotted beside her.

She had to find some sort of broker of information. Someone she could ask for a lead on her biggest step in her plan to reunite with Luffy and the Straw Hats.

Vivi needed a devil fruit. A strong one. Something that would give her the power to stand up to the government that killed her captain’s brother right before his eyes. 

After asking around in the marketplace, Vivi found herself directed to a squat building with a green awning and a sign reading "Low Tide Brokerage". While the shop itself didn't advertise what it brokered, she'd been assured that this was the right place to look for what she wanted.

Vivi took a deep breath before telling Karoo to stay outside. Incognito as she was, she’d adopted a former mode of dress– forgone was the telltale Alabasta style of her homeland in favor of something more like the outfit she’d once worn as ‘Miss Wednesday’ the agent of Baroque Works.

It was unique, yes, but very much unlike anything people would imagine the princess of Alabasta would ever wear. A spiral print corset top with a long blue coat over her shoulders and a pair of hip hugging pants and heeled boots didn’t exactly scream ‘desert princess’.

WIth her hair down in tight waves over her shoulders she was sure nobody would recognize her as she stepped into the office with a confident smile.

There was a tan skinned man with a wide smile and a fancy suit behind the counter, fixing a cup of tea.

"Welcome!" he greeted as she entered. "How can I help you?"

“Hello, sir!” She put her hand on her hip as she strolled right up. “I’m looking for a bit of information. I’m told you’re the guy to talk to!” 

He leaned on the desk and smiled. "I do have that reputation. Usually I even live up to it. What kind of information are you looking for?"

Vivi gently twisted a lock of her hair around her finger with a furrow of her brow. “....I’m trying to track down a devil fruit. Fruits, really. Any leads I can get on the location of one.” 

A door in the back of the shop that Vivi hadn't been paying attention to opened with a creak, and a large figure emerged.

"Now why would the princess of Alabasta be looking for a devil fruit?"

Her breath caught in her throat so sharply she almost choked, her fist balling against her chest as she took a step back and looked up at the figure with panic in her eyes. A cold prickle of terror crawled down her spine as she shook her head.

“No! No I…I …I…” 

The figure who had spoken– the figure who had come out of the door-– was terrifyingly familiar. Sir Crocodile. Mr. Zero. The man who was at the heart of every way that her life had changed.

He stepped toward her as the man behind the counter stepped away.

Vivi felt her world narrow down into a view of the man, his looming visage shaking as her body did the same. She took a step back as her hand slowly moved down towards the pocket she kept her peacock slashers in, biting her lip nervously.

“How are you here? I heard you e-escaped but you can’t possibly be here, Crocodile!” 

Crocodile chuckled, seeming unconcerned. He loomed over her, somehow suddenly quite close. "It's my brokerage, princess. What a funny coincidence."

His brokerage. Of all the shops she’d walked into in the entire Grand Line, she’d walked into one belonging to the man who had attempted to throw her home into chaos and destruction. A man who’d dropped her off the palace without a second thought…

The man Luffy and his friends, her crew, had given their all to stop for her.

She swallowed thickly, looking up at him with a narrowing of her eyes and a cross of her arms.

“Hilarious.” she managed to say. “if I’d known I might have gone to the next island over, or at the very least not walked into here. A-and don’t call me a princess!” 

His dark eyebrows arched and he looked down at her with something like amused curiosity as smoke from his cigar obscured his face. 

"Why shouldn't I? After all, you successfully defended your claim on your kingdom."

Vivi’s fingers curled against the top of her corset as her lips formed a nervous but firm line.

“My father’s claim. Not mine.” She tilted her head up defiantly. “So kindly stop announcing to the world that I’m The Princess of Alabasta, because...I’m a pirate, Sir Crocodile.” she practically shouted it.

It gave her a sting of pride. She was a pirate, she wasn’t supposed to be out there. They’d be hunting for her to bring her home the moment the marines got word. But it was the truth…under all her royal robes, in every ounce of her being…she was a pirate through and through.

“I’d rather you didn’t bring the marines down on me w-with your loose tongue!” 

Crocodile's mouth opened, and he looked like he was about to respond, when suddenly his posture changed, stiffened, and his amused expression disappeared.

"Then get behind me." With a sudden movement like a striking snake he grabbed her wrist and pulled her, whirling around and stepping in front of her. As Vivi's head spun from the sudden change and the grab– she realized she'd heard the door open.

"Ah, navy men!" the man behind the counter announced. "Welcome!"

Vivi’s eyes went wide— her body was hidden effectively by the long and heavy coat Crocodile always had worn even in the desert heat. She pressed behind him, carefully making sure not an inch of her body showed as she dared not to even breathe.

She could only hope Karoo had the sense to run when the navy had come sniffing.

"Yeah yeah," she heard a voice say. "We're here for some info, old man."

"You could stand to be more polite, lieutenant," Crocodile warned.

"Yeah? What's it to you?"

"Uh? Trav? Is that?"

Vivi’s fingers grabbed the back of Crocodile’s coat as her other hand finally hooked through the ring of her spinning blade tucked away in her pocket. She didn’t want to have to fight and blow her cover so soon, but…

She was too early in her mission to stop now. 

Crocodile sighed. "I guess it's too late for the two of you to walk out of here."

"What? No, I–"

Vivi saw Crocodile's shoulders twitch, there was a sudden hiss of sand– and then screaming which was swiftly smothered.

She winced, hissing softly between her teeth as she held the peacock slasher by her side in a tense and ready stance.

She likely didn’t need it…without a doubt Crocodile had taken the two navy men out of commission already. 

There was a soft thump, and Crocodile sighed, dusting his hand off on his pants. "Louis, can you have those two cleaned up, please? If you need Daz, I'll send him up."

"No need, boss."

Crocodile turned to her, and his smile slowly reappeared. "Sorry for the interruption."

He didn't call her princess.

Vivi felt her dark cheeks flush as she bobbed her head in a thankful bow. 

“It's fine! Sorry about the Navy, I ah..” She rubbed the back of her neck. The death of the navy men didn't perturb her as much as maye it should have. After all, she was a pirate— and they would have taken her back home. “Thanks for hiding me. That could have gotten much worse.” 

"You're welcome," he said, puffing on his cigarette. "It could have. So. I shouldn't call you princess. What should I call you? Not Miss Wednesday, I presume. It doesn't sound like you came to get your job back."

“Just Vivi’s okay for now,” She laughed nervously as she looked up at him. “I’m still working on what my ephilet’ll be. As for ‘Miss Wednesday’, I wasn’t aware there was even a job to go back to, much less one you’d accept me in.” 

"It's a work in progress," he said, lifting his chin with amusement. "But it sounds like we shouldn't speak openly of either of our business. If you want information– come downstairs with me. Otherwise, you're free to walk out that door, and I'll pretend I never saw you."

The way his dark eyes sparkled said something– like they were almost daring her.

For a moment she was torn. He was the man who tore her life to shreds after all…and not all that long ago, either.

But he had information…and he absolutely had connections. And he’d already blocked the Navy from her path, despite it not benefiting him in the least.

She pocketed her slasher and huffed. “Lead the way, Sir Crocodile.” 

As the man behind the counter came around to clean up the two desiccated bodies on the floor, Vivi followed the enemy of her people through the door in the back, and down into a dimly lit basement.

With one last look at the desiccated navy men, Vivi entered into the dim, unknown darkness of the former Warlord’s den.

[marierg]

Biscuits and Beskar

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Rated: Teenish (language that's about it)

A/N: Alrighty Folks this is a little intro chapter... an amuse-bouche if you will! So I'm not great at writing the not reader insert stuff so Kaylee is my OC for this but she's written as a reader insert. There's still a little bit of a gap between Kay and Boba, she's written as early 30's. If anyone has any advice or tips please drop me a line! Lemme know if there's any improvements I can do for the next parts.

PS- I should warn you all now that I write slower than molasses going down a pole in January so it could be a bit between chapters, BUT the next one is gonna be posted next week as well. Much love for our Daimyo!

Words:1450 ish

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“Whatever it is the answer is no! Not a chance of ice on the dunes.” Crossing your arms you groused as the group of young people parked their speeders. They were too jovial and your nagging sense of trouble was going into overdrive.

Skad sauntered up to the side of the cart. “Kaylee, mama Kay, my favorite chef... Can't I just order some lunch without you being suspicious?”

“Not when that slemo monger Peel came over here giving me an ear full this morning!” You were beyond ticked off at the kids this time. What hurt you was that they were going to get themselves killed one of these days doing stupid shit like this. “I know he charges a fortune for the water. I know he's an ass. But he could go to the new Daimyo and have you all shot! How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Funny thing that, the new Daimyo hired us on.” Skad put on his most charming smile.

“What, when?!”

“Last night when he came to shoot us.” Skad flinched when the soup spoon made impact on his shoulder. “Hey! Jeeze we came to offer you a job and this is the thanks...”

“What job?” Taking a deep breath you started to put some fresh rolls into a bag. Drash shoved Skad to the side, politely asking for some soup and you couldn't say no to the girl. Tossing back your braid you looked Skad in the mechanical sensor that served for an eye. “As you well know I have two jobs already. Three if you count chasing you kids.”

“Please Kaylee it would be a huge favor.” Drash was beseeching you, big bantha eyes and all.

Narrowing your eyes you proceeded with caution, “What's the job?”

“Well the big bad Daimyo's cupbords are bare and he needs someone to fix that,” Nitro was leaning against his bike looking like some type of runaway senators kid. He always wore that long suit coat like he was going to an important meeting and spoke with the same aloof air, not at all the son of moisture farmers.

“Oh and your poor grumbling bellies had nothing to do with it?”

At your very loud snort Nitro whined, dropping the act, “Awe come on Kaylee we haven't had anything worth eating since you closed last night.”

“A job at the Palace, why should I do that eh?” You busily poured to-go containers with your soup of the day. True you had a soft spot for the kids, but working for a crime boss was a whole other matter. Your life may be miserable, but you still enjoyed being on this side of the surface. “Besides you just started working for the man what, last night? Do you even know what kind of person you're working for?”

Drash rolled her eyes at you, mech arm on hip, “Kay how long can you keep rolling this old cart around the city? It's nice up there, you'd have a whole kitchen of your own. No more sandstorms, no water merchants, no bar fights, a larder as big as the karking mayors office!”

“Yeah and no roundups either,” A shiver went down Nikita's spine at the thought, nervously twirling her hair before tucking it behind the glowing sensors on the side of her head.

“Hey now that ain't gonna happen sweetie, don't even worry bout that. And besides this old cart's gotten me through till now.” You patted the counter top affectionately, salvaged from the ashes much like yourself. “If they wanted a cook they would have put out a listing. Better yet why didn't the mighty man come down here and ask me?”

“Cause he's busy running the city, big job ya know.” Skad piped in, taking the proffered bag of food and settling up the tab. “Come on mama Kay at least come up and check it out. It'll make Drash feel better, all warm an fuzzy like.”

“Kriff off!” Drash gave Skad a harsh look even as you chuckled. Drash owed mama Kay, they all did, and she didn't like unpaid debts. Sighing she tried to think of what could possibly convince you, “I mean we all know it is cheaper to feed us using that droid. Probably just as good as you if it had the right recipes... what's cooking for the Daimyo of Tatooine. You wouldn't want the headache of all those banquets and meetings...”

“Now hold on a minute little miss.” You glared at the young woman, knowing full well that she was pushing a particular button for you. “No damn droid was ever made that could replace a living chef! What in hell do droids know about cooking anyway! Bolts and sensors don't feel, don't smell. Droid can't put love into their work...”

Drash watched as you grumbled and whinged, knowing that she had won. “So you'll come and cook for the Palace?”

Groaning heavily you rolled your eyes at the girl. “IF the Daimyo wants a cook then he can ask me when YOU lot bring me up there tonight after close. Now get back to work, suns burning the day away.”

Drash and the others got on their speeders. That had gone better than expected and if Shand did her part then by tonight a large weight would finally be off Drash's chest.

“You need to eat something,” Fennec drolly commented from her perch near the throne. True none of the food was quite palatable, but necessity made the best sauce. Taking a fresh pally she tossed it to Boba who caught the fruit without even looking up. The boss had been stewing since the encounter with the twins, it wasn't good to be solely focused when there were many who wanted this endeavor to fail. Still first things first, “The Mods brought some soup up from the market.”

“They should be more careful,” Boba looked at the fruit placing it on the plate next to his helmet. Sour stomachs rarely made for sound judgment and his list of enemies grew by the day. The twins being in town added to his list of troubles along with the much needed upkeep and maintenance of the Palace and growing staff. True the younglings were fairly capable, at least in a street scrap, but against professionals? Mok Shaiz, gutless worm he was, had been right. Running a family was not bounty hunting, there was more than just his hide on the line this time. Looking at the steam coming from the mug he snorted, “Soup on Tattoine?”

“Try, it's safe enough.”

He looked at Fennec and the cup in her hand, reluctantly taking it. Well it couldn't be any worse than the slop that kitchen droid tried to serve him. Boba took a cautious sip, pleasantly surprised. The soup was a basic bone broth but the aromatics and vegetable base certainly gave it a hearty flavor. It wasn't overpowering just simple and filling. His churning gut settled with every sip, finally nourished.

“See not bad.” Fennec would give the kids credit, they knew good food. Even from her own cursory review this little cook seemed safe enough. When Skad had proposed the idea she had been resistant, but given the growing list of the Palaces' needs it wasn't unreasonable to hire a housekeeper to manage things. Sometimes to be a good leader one needed to delegate, “We could use a cook around here for banquets and tribute days.”

Boba looked to his second in command, corner of his lip turning up, “Why, so I can become a lazy slug like Fortuna?”

“Actually quite the opposite,” Fennec walked to the side board and poured herself a drink, “With a proper chef in residence you would be healthier and better able to manage the more... social aspects of this position.”

“No proper chef will settle on Tatooine.”

Quirking a brow at the boss Fennec smirked, “How much would you bet?”

Boba knew that look all too well, the self assured smirk of certain victory. Some days he wondered who was really in charge, “And you think this soup vendor could do the job?”

“Worth a shot. I'll have someone bring them for an interview.”

“Fine.” He hated that Fennec was right. More annoying was that she had managed to so easily solve these types of minor problems when he should be able to manage. As she began her daily report Boba could already hear her cat like grin widening. At least with the Mods patrolling he had more eyes and ears around the city. Yes his enemies grew by the day, but maybe so to would his small tribe of allies. Drinking down the last of the marvelous broth Boba rolled the mug in his hands contemplatively. He would see what this soup vendor brought to the table, fortune or famine.

Tags: @rain-on-kamino @daimyosprincess @pickleprickle @acatalystrising @kimiheartblade

[millionsnife]

He shouldn't be here; normally wouldn't be here.

But there's no where else he can go for this particular need. Ship Three is the only place in the world where any of the seeds may have survived–he'd only glimpsed it last time, but Luida's garden had been well known even by the Doctor, and it's the only one of its kind on the entire planet. Rare, extinct species of flowers, the only surviving source of the flora that had been lost in the Great Fall.

He hates her (and it's mutual; Knives won't kid himself that it's not, that she doesn't hate him right back) but Luida's the only person he can ask now. Knives stares at the sandstorm, knowing the ship hidden beyond won't wait forever for him to come aboard. The worm tickling his neck, grabbed in passing more for vague moral support than any actual need of Zazie's assistance, is what finally jars the plant into moving. Braced against the storm, he forges onward until the storm abruptly ends and the looming opening of the ship awaits him.

(It probably shouldn't feel so much like entering the Doctor's lab as a child. Cold and unwelcoming, threatening–knows it isn't so to those who call it Home. To Vash.)

Knives avoids the gaze (glares) of those awake and aware, wandering the ship and doing their jobs as he makes his way to the garden. It's exactly where their rec room had been on Ship Five–all the ships had had the same layout–so he can find his way blindfolded if he's honest. Nearly does, just to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.

He hesitates at the threshold.

"Stop haunting my doorway and either come inside and ask for what you need, or leave." Luida's the same as he remembers–brisk, professionally cool. Calm. Knives hates it immediately, bristles entirely on instinct before forcing himself to relax.

He's here to beg, and getting defensive won't help. (He still has to rip the words out of his own throat, force them out when he keeps trying to swallow them back down. Nearly turns and leaves twice before he sets a hand on the doorway and digs his fingers in to ground himself from fleeing.)

"I wanted to know if any geranium seeds survived in your garden."

Luida looks up at that, and Knives forces himself to stay still instead of bolt at the way she seems to look right through him. (Rem had looked at him like that sometimes–)

"A few. Why?"

"I–" Red flower, blue flower, Luida, grass, trees his brain recites immediately, an attempt to stave off whatever panic's trying to worm its way in. Exhales slowly, straightens a little and stares at a point just slightly above and to the left of Luida's gaze.

"I want them. Please."

(He leaves an hour later with a packet of three seeds and a warning that if they die he'll have killed the last of h– only remaining seeds Luida had managed to salvage.)

[convexicalcrow]

So I know I've mentioned the Lost Prince AU is part of a larger world I've been working on for like a decade or more, and I wanted to talk a bit more about that and explain some of the backstory and the other novels that are set in that universe. Some of this is going to change though, because I think I can actually salvage the two novels and complete them if I do a bunch of cutting and editing and redrafting. And if I cut out the third novel in the series that was just overcomplicating things too much bc modern setting and wibbly wobbly timey wimey shit that I couldn't figure out how to resolve. So that's gone now and it's made things so much easier. Those 200k words of novels won't go to waste after all! :D

Alright kids, buckle up, this is gonna get loooooooooooong. :D

This universe started life as thinly veiled RPF on 750words.com, little short pieces I was writing just to get the brain working and nothing more than that. It eventually came to be a series I referred to as astrological dystopia, which turned into an original novel titled Pasithea's City.

The setting was a Greek city in the middle of the Libyan desert, Neos Apollonia, an oracle city, where your fate was proclaimed when you were 7 years old, and then the city did everything in its power to make that a self-fulfilling prophecy. bc humans and oracles and wealth and whatnot etc. So the hubris is strong here and the worship of the gods is not. I bet you can guess how Apollon feels about this state of affairs.

The story is about a boy called Andreas, who ended up with a bad fate and was exiled from the city. He's a petty thief, close to Hermes, who has a strong distrust in Apollon and the Oracles for good reason. He's taken in by a couple of women from the desert tribes, who also ran away from their tribe for various reasons of their own.

The catalyst in this story is the Oracle proclaiming an Actual Oracle on the new year's day rituals, proclaiming the destruction of the city bc Apollon is Pissed and will bury them all under the sand bc why the fuck not. The city was actually originally much closer to Kyrini, but the physical drift into the desert matches the internal drift away from the gods. Ruins are left behind as the city moves, and it's where the exiles live, because there's nowhere else to survive out there.

Hermes manages to save Andreas, his mothers, the Oracle and his companion, after playing dice with Apollon, and spares them from the sandstorm that otherwise buries the rest of the city under the sands.

Hermes becomes their guide through the sands, taking them away from the old city and takes them north. Through this, they end up back at the tribe where Andreas' mothers came from, bc healing conflicts and old wounds and making new friends etc. And after a while, Andreas, his new bondmate Meri, the Oracle and his companion, head further north to Kyrini with Hermes bc exploration and seeing the city.

This is big on found family, given the tribe they end up with is build from refugees, outcasts, anyone who doesn't have a home, and who needs one. They're a group of misfits and outsiders who are highly protective of their own, and they've made their own way in spite of everything. They don't always get on with the other tribes in the area as they can be a little too close-minded or unwilling to meet ppl halfway.

But yeah, that's the gist of that novel. There's a lot I've left out of that, but that's the general plot I'm working on.

The second novel, The Black Priest, should really come first, narratively speaking. It documents the priests of Dja fleeing from the country with their gods and the last priests they have left, and heading west into the desert. It's at the end of the invasion of Egypt by a group I'm calling the Sea Peoples, for lack of a better identification and also bc it doesn't really matter who they are bc this is about the aftermath.

It was inspired by this music video by Sparkadia, bc ofc it was lol. I was Obsessed with this song (and this band tbh) back in the day. Most of the characters all had their start in this music video, but they've evolved so far beyond that now. I made them my own.

The big theme in this novel is unification. The Priests of Dja come from Lower Egypt, around the Delta, and the tribe where Andreas' mothers come from have their origin story in Upper Egypt millions of years ago. There are also themes here about religion in diaspora and how gods evolve to be what people need them to be.

So we have the priests of Dja being called back to their ancestral lands with the tribes, to unify the Two Lands. There's a lot to learn from each other, and how to do religion without a King/Kingdom, since much of ancient Egyptian religion relied on their being a King to send the priests into the shrines and temples.

(Yes, this is my way of processing my own Kemetic practice and how to work it in the modern world, with so much information that has either not been found, or has been destroyed, and there are no big temples to worship in, no communities irl to support that religion, etc, no Kings to rely on, etc.)

The timeline being what it is, and yes i have a gigantic spreadsheet with FOUR DIFFERENT CALENDARS in it that I've synced up so I can keep the plot organised, the priests of Dja actually make it to Neos Apollonia some time before it's buried, and honestly bc of that I do think this needs to be the first novel bc of that. There's a ton of world-building that I bring up in that journey that is never relevant to Pasithea's City, and I think it makes more narrative sense for this one to go first. Like, there's a moment where Andreas is found injured in a ruined temple a couple of my priestesses are searching for, and they care for him and heal him up. But that's never really mentioned or alluded to properly in Pasithea's City. Hence, they both need a lot of revision and editing and reworking but they'll be much better for it.

So, how does the Lost Prince AU fit into this? Well. It's set ten years after The Black Priest, more or less. Cub and Scar are in their mid-late 20s, having fled as teenagers. Their names are pseudonyms, but also not, and they've spent the time away from Egypt on the run, as they never really found anywhere to settle, and it felt too uncomfortable to settle in Kyrini as Libyans. Plus, well. Being hunted for [redacted].

They did meet up with the priests of Dja maybe a year after they settled with the tribes, as they sought shelter for a while, but they didn't stay, and moved on quickly. They've basically been nomads for a decade because it just felt safer. And then the gods started calling them back to Egypt, and with great reluctance that's what they're trying to do. There's a lot more to the plot that's coming, but I don't wanna spoil anything so. >_>

Also the identification of some of the nomes with Empires folk is broadly just flavour and not necessarily saying The Oasis Is Actually Pearl's Empire. It IS hers, but it's not Gilded Helianthia. It's Djesdjes, it's Bahariya Oasis, it's something else.

I do have a map of the region up at an old wordpress blog I set up six years ago, but it doesn't have the Copper King's mines on it for obvious it-wasn't-part-of-the-world-yet reasons back then. It also has some location notes there, and some cast lists for both Pasithea's City and The Black Priest.

So yeah. That's the basic gist of the world the Lost Prince AU is working in. If you have any further questions, please ask! I will happily ramble about this AU for hours if you ask nicely. <3

[whispersafterdusk]

Heart of Stone - ch 3

It was one of the stronger, longer-lasting sandstorms this time; it raged all night, all through the following day and night, and finally broke just before sunrise the next day.

A little ball of anxiety had lodged itself in Unsuur's gut when he'd gotten up that first day and saw just how nasty the storm was; for his first storm he'd at least had Wilson with him but Dawn was sitting in that shack by herself.  Would she be ok?  There was no telling how structurally sound that old place would be by now -- if the state of the yard was any indication Mason may not have been diligent in the house's upkeep, and he knew Yan had been keeping her busy so it wasn't likely she'd even had time to inspect and fix anything that might need it.  He hoped nothing bad would happen, and also hoped she wasn't too scared...or lonely, or bored. ((Continued below cut))

Since her house was facing directly into the wind he didn't want to knock and have her open her door into this mess so he settled for checking in on her yard a couple times and was relieved to see the machines were off and appeared untouched and the house still in one piece; that she was keeping her word and staying inside soothed a bit of his anxiety but he kept circling back around to it even as he circled Sandrock on his rounds.

When the storm broke the next morning he convinced himself it was way too early to go check on her so he helped Justice do their usual quick (and a few times, literal) sweep down main street helping to check for damage and they eventually got close enough to the saloon to hear the news about the stage -- the news being that it wasn't there anymore, but Dawn, Mi-an, and Heidi were already there talking with Owen and taking measurements.  He'd thought to stop then and ask Dawn how she was doing after her first storm but she looked pretty busy so he'd continued on and promised himself he'd find her later.

Another thing that had to be done after a storm was to check the bridges for any blockages (a derailing off into one of those canyons would be devastating). Shonash Bridge was clear but he thought he'd spotted a green-skinned geegler scuttling down the canyon wall and disappearing into one of the hundreds (if not thousands) of openings in the ruined buildings that made up the far side of the canyon.  The other bridge itself was clear but on the tracks leading up to it was a stack of splintered wooden crates.

Unsuur could feel the eyes of a half dozen rocket roosters on him as he cleared away the crates; the critters weren't close enough for him to consider them a threat and they in turn didn't attack him so he was able to get the wreckage moved off the track without any trouble.  Not far from where the crates had landed he found a section of broken fencing -- luckily there weren't any yakmel in sight.  Cooper would need to get that fence fixed up quickly to keep them from wandering onto the tracks.

Cooper must have been off doing post-storm inspections of his own as Unsuur couldn't find him; he tracked down Mabel instead and let her know to let Cooper know about the fence, then he headed back toward the train station intending to go check if Dawn was home.

From across the tracks he could see her on the hill outside of the salvage yard.  She was bent over slightly and it looked like she was searching for something in the sand, scuffing her feet as she moved slowly and methodically in a little zigzag pattern -- a pattern that was probably going to take her near those rocket roosters he'd just seen and if she was staring at the ground she might not notice them before she got too close. He jogged over and as she looked up at the sound of his approach her face broke into a warm smile.

"Hello, Unsuur!"

He was noticing she always seemed to have a smile for him, even if it was a brief one when she saw him as she hurried around town.  "Hi.  There's rocket roosters on the cliffs overlooking the tracks over there.  Didn't want you to stumble into them and get hurt."

"Thanks, I'll be careful.  I don't suppose you've seen the Blue Moon's sign, have you?"

Unsuur shook his head.  "Afraid not.  It's pretty big though, I don't think it should be hard to find.  Assuming the wind didn't blow it over a cliff somewhere."

"I hope not," she sighed.  "With Rocky and his group helping tote all the pieces it took no time at all to get the lifts installed so now we're free to get that stage replaced.  I was hoping to find the sign somewhere around here but if it's been buried or tossed over a cliff..."

Unsuur did a quick scan of the area; aside from all the scuff marks Dawn had left behind and a few piles of scrap that hadn't been present before the sandstorm had hit he didn't see anything else out of the ordinary.  The wind HAD been blowing in this general direction so there was a chance it could be around, but also an equally likely chance that it could have been carried over the Paradise Lost fence and was down somewhere at the very bottom of the ruins (and if that was the case there wouldn't be any retrieving it).

She'd gone a few more steps but now was standing with hands on her hips as she joined him in scoping out the area.  "--how dangerous are rocket roosters, exactly?"

"Not very, if it's not an entire flock of them.  Usually.  They shoot little fireworks at you that can leave burns behind but they're easy to avoid.  Sometimes they'll peck and scratch. I guess you want to go look over there?"

"I just wanted to peek, see if I could spot the sign.  How far away are they?"

"I'll go with you," Unsuur said, instead of trying to estimate their proximity (and he still needed to ask her how she handled the storm).   "If you're just wanting to have a quick look I don't think they'll attack, but if they do then I'll be there too."

He got a grateful look in return and walked slowly beside her as they headed toward the sandfishing hole and the roosters beyond it along the bluffs.  She kept scraping her boots along and a few times he watched her flip bits and scraps free of the sand with her toes, leaving them on top for easy collection later.

"Was there any other damage that you know of?" she asked.

"The ranch's fence has a hole in it now but I let Mabel know already.  I just hope the yakmel don't wander on to the tracks before it gets fixed."

She frowned.  "That's an awful thought, I'll have to go-ahh--!"

In the same instant that Unsuur heard a clunk of metal Dawn let out a little yelp and stumbled forward; he darted toward her, snagging the back of her coveralls and keeping her from landing on her face, moving to slide his free hand around her waist to pull her upright and away from whatever she'd just tripped on.  It didn't take much effort to move her because of her small size but she did weigh more than he'd expected (she must be mostly muscle, he assumed -- she'd need to be strong to be a builder).

"You ok?" he asked, as he settled her back on her feet.

Her cheeks were rapidly turning a bright crimson and she covered her face with her hands, letting out a shaky huff.  "Uh huh, y-yes...  Thank you."

Cute, he heard himself say in his head, and then was surprised at himself for it.  Someone almost getting injured wasn't cute.

Unsuur shook his head to get his thoughts back on track and looked behind them, spotting a hint of blue sticking out from the sand and a hollow area beneath it -- if not for that the ground would've looked perfectly normal.  He stepped over and squatted to sweep the sand away, fingers meeting metal.

"Found the sign," he said, looking up at a still very red-faced Dawn.

"Yes, we did," she agreed after a few more moments to compose herself. She was still a little pink in the cheeks when she dropped her hands away.   "Now I just need to get it back to my workshop."

"I'll help.  It's probably going to be heavy."  He began to scoop the sand away in earnest; when it had been mounted on the saloon's roof it hadn't seemed very big but here on the ground in front of him Unsuur was made aware of just how large it was, AND it was buried at an angle as well.  He got the shallow side cleared off but the other half would be easier with a shovel or something.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dawn watching him for a moment before scratching her head and looking back the way they'd come.

"I should be able to manage, let me just..."

She jogged back along their meandering path and returned shortly with some lengths of rope she'd unearthed; he helped her tie loops in the rope and secure them around the protruding edge of the sign then with some firm tugs they managed to get it pulled free of the rest of the sand.

After a quick breather Dawn slung her end of the rope over her shoulder and grinned up at him.  "There, see -- won't be too heavy if I drag it.  I can handle this myself."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and began to trudge along, hauling the sign behind her.  "I'm sure.  You've got more important things to do, I bet."

That seemed a bit unfair to try and compare a person's company to a task's relative importance, and besides...one of his self-assigned tasks today was to check on her, right?  Which he still hadn't asked her yet.  He hurried to catch up and grabbed an end of the rope -- it wasn't long enough to throw over his shoulder like hers but he could pull it along behind him just fine with one hand.

She was staring at him, looking surprised; he shrugged.  "Don't worry, I'm doing that important thing.  How did you handle your first sandstorm?"

"Huh?"

"I don't think Mason kept his place in the best shape and I wasn't sure how sturdy it'd be by now, or how much free time you may have had to work on it, or if you'd be bored or scared or anything.  I was worried about you."

She slowed to a stop, staring up at him with a pink tinge to her cheeks again.  "A-ah, um...that's...very sweet of you, actually."

Something flickered across her face, gone in an instant, then back to that familiar little smile; just as quickly she started walking again.

"I was fine," she went on after a moment.  "The old place held up well, except for maybe the front door -- THAT I am going to replace before another sandstorm happens.  The wind was forcing sand through the gaps along the edges...I stuffed some of my dish towels in the worst spots and just kept sweeping it all up every so often.  As for the storm itself...it was just loud.  I can remember how the wind would whistle around the air vent in the roof when I was a kid - Highwind has, as the name suggests, high winds, especially if you live at the top of the valley.  This was more a roar that never stopped.  I hardly slept with all that noise."

"Yeah, they get pretty loud, especially if the wind has picked up a lot of junk and is blowing it around.  I should have thought ahead more because it's not really fun to sit through one by yourself.  So if you need to, don't be afraid to ask for some company.  And it doesn't have to be mine, it can be anyone."

She stumbled a bit and Unsuur reached out in case he needed to catch her again, but this one was just a little stumble.  "I-I wouldn't mind the company, no, but I don't want to bother you.  It's something I need to get used to if I'm going to live here."

"Time feels like it passes quicker if you're not sitting alone staring at the walls.  I say that from experience.  Which reminds me, I need to repaint my walls sometime, but in any case you wouldn't be bothering me."

After a few steps she shyly glanced up at him again, though she didn't lift her head much and was peering at him through her thick eyelashes; Unsuur felt a little twinge in his chest - she sure was pretty...especially looking at him like that.  That stray 'cute' thought from earlier came back to mind.

He didn't get to dwell on that thought for long as she cleared her throat and looked ahead to the workshop.

"Well!  We're almost there.  I'll need to get some metal into the furnaces and start trying to match the paint on this sign -- if you know what color paint you'd like, I could make it?" The words came out in a rushed tumble.

Paint color...hmm.  He was sort of bored of what was in there now; even if it hadn't been flaking off the walls he'd probably have repainted it anyway. "You had a sort of mottled green rock in one of those boxes you showed me before.  Do you think you could match some of those colors?"

"Mottled green...  The feldspar?"

He looked over to her, confused.  "Feldspar is a rusty color."

"Not always - it actually has a few color variations.  I do have some green feldspar in there -- it's technically called amazonite, but it's in the same mineral family.  I also had some jade in there, and some unakite and green jasper.  What other colors were, um, mottled in with the green?  ...actually...hold that thought."

Together they slid the blue moon sign in through the gate and got it leaned up against her workshop tucked between her water tank and the wall ("to make sure it doesn't blow away again" she'd said) then she went to load the furnaces; she seemed to be arranging the fuel in a very specific manner, and was less precise about the raw ore going in.  Maybe it kept the heat even?   Before he could ask she finished and headed over to her door, unlocking it and gesturing for him to follow her.

That...genuinely surprised him.  She was inviting him in.  To her home.  He couldn't think of the last time anyone had invited him in anywhere -- it didn't happen often, and hadn't in awhile.  He felt a little light in his steps as he followed along and headed through the doorway.

Inside was dim and cool; there was a ceiling fan that looked almost brand new spinning lazily above his head and he wondered if anyone in town had actually been inside this place when it was Mason's.

It was similar to his own home in that it was one big room "divided" into areas based on the furniture placement though there was a walled-in area in the back right corner of the place that had a curtain drawn across the narrow doorway - Unsuur assumed that had to be the bathroom as he didn't otherwise see one.  In the corner to his left was a kitchen area with a two-person table and chairs, tiny fridge and a two burner stove-and-oven combination, and some cabinets hung on the wall above the sink.  The back left corner had her bed (neatly made - he usually just pulled the top cover up on his, since he'd be getting into it again later so it didn't need to look fancy) and a wardrobe, and the rest of the space was taken up by a plush couch, a low coffee table, and a bookcase with the polished quartz on display and a few scattered books as well as those familiar wooden boxes he knew held her rock collection.  It felt...cozy in here.  Like he'd walked in to somewhere familiar.

"Let's see..." she murmured, moving from the doorway to run her fingers over the fronts of the boxes on the shelf.  "This one had the feldspar, and jade was here..." She pulled three boxes free and moved to sit on the couch, arranging the three boxes side by side on the coffee table and motioning for him to come over.

He did, and sank down into what turned out to be a really comfortable couch. It was way too nice to be something Mason had left behind. Did she build it herself?  Impressive, if so.

"So this is the green feldspar," she said, flipping the box open and pulling out a stone that looked both a sickly green and also crusty.  Crunchy, almost.

"Definitely not what I saw, and feldspar is not one of my favorites.  I refuse to even acknowledge feldspar as a mineral," Unsuur said quickly.

She giggled and set it back down in the box and closed the lid.  "Fair enough.  Was it the jade or the unakite?"

Out of the other boxes came two stones; one was rough-cut and while it had some lovely green tones in it alongside some warm earthy reds and browns, it also wasn't what he'd spotted.  The other one though...

He reached out to take it from her and turned it over in his hands.  It was roughly cylindrical in shape and fit nicely in his palm, and brought to mind a painting he'd seen once of an ocean except instead of varying blue shades this stone had incredible depths of green tones -- wispy lighter, nearly white lines like silky threads ran through it providing contrast to the deep but dark grassy hues that lightened to an almost mint green at one end.  There were some scattered flecks of black across the face too and he could only imagine how beautiful it would be if Dawn polished it.

Once he had fully appreciated it he looked over to her and leaned toward her with the stone in hand.  "This is the one, and these colors here are what I was thinking of-" he was careful to place his fingernail just so over two shades in the jade, one at a time.  One was a warm, summery yellow-green and the other was part of the darker area.  "Can you match these?"

She leaned toward him too to get a look at what he was pointing to; their heads came close to touching briefly before she noticed how close they were and jerked herself back with a quick, quiet giggle.  "It might take a few tries but, y-yes I think I could."

After another few seconds of admiration he placed the jade back into her hand, feeling his fingertips brush against her palm for the briefest instant, which then reminded him he was still leaning toward her.  Woops.  He sat back against the couch and put his hands into his lap.

"Do you have any favorites aside from the quartz?" he asked.

"It's hard to pick favorites," she laughed.  "It's like you said: you can do so much with these.  At best I can tell you my preferred combination of materials when I'm making a piece."

Unsuur scooted back to the edge of the couch cushion as she stood up and retrieved the rest of the boxes from the shelf before coming back to stack them on the coffee table.

"I did manage to get them all sorted out again so they're not a big mess anymore."

She didn't sit back down; Unsuur watched as she circled around the couch to the kitchen where she took an earthenware pitcher out of the tiny fridge and snagged two glasses out of one of the hanging cabinets.

Then she returned to the couch, sitting the pitcher and glasses down; the pitcher was full of water and as she poured the glass immediately began to develop a sheen of condensation.  She went to slide it toward him but he held up a hand to stop her.

"I'm good," he replied, "But, thank you.  For thinking of me."  That weird feeling was back in his chest.  It was a pleasant one.

"You're currently a guest in my house, Unsuur.  It'd be incredibly rude not to offer you something to drink at least."

She left the pitcher within easy reach (but not so close that they'd knock it over on accident) and took a long drink out of the glass.  Unsuur was looking into the opened boxes but not really looking at their contents; his brain was preoccupied with that feeling he didn't quite have a name for, but he couldn't blame his brain for that since this sort of thing didn't really happen to him.  But...yeah, it was a nice feeling.  He liked this.

He blinked and came back to the present as Dawn picked up one of the boxes and held it between them.

"These I have boxed together because they bead really well," she started.   "They aren't a pain to turn, they don't tend to crack when I drill the holes, and usually I can get decent sized chunks of them for a fair price."

Rocks.  Right.  He knew rocks.  He could focus on the rocks now and figure out the feelings later.

"You have a lot I don't think I've seen before," he said instead.  He looked to her and held up a hand and got a nod of permission; his fingers closed over a pinkish stone with white highlights and he held it up for a better look.  It looked like...soft, rosy cheeks.

"That's pink opal -- an unusually pigmented one, but still opal," Dawn said.  "I love opals for how weird they get when they get wet, or lose water.  This one will end up a different color for sure once it dries out fully in the heat here."

It kind of looked like her earlier, when she'd been blushing.  Unsuur quickly put it back and pulled out a brilliantly blue stone in its place; this one didn't bring anything different to mind, or make his stomach feel weird.  "This one is like a perfectly clear day.  We get a lot of those - don't let that sandstorm fool you."

Dawn giggled.  "That's turquoise.  I love pairing it with silver."

And so on they went through almost every box, until Dawn pulled a pocket watch out of a waist pocket and checked it.  "--shoot.  I'm going to need to top up the furnaces, and I should probably get to work matching the paint for the sign."

Unsuur stood up immediately; he'd been here awhile, hadn't he?  "Sorry.  It's easy to get caught up in things like this.  It's nice to see someone who likes rocks as much as I do." He picked up one small stack of the boxes and followed behind her to return them to the bookcase.

"I can say the same, actually.  My friends and I, in the builder's academy back in Atara, all had overlapping interests but also more personal, maybe even niche ones - mine was jewelry making and I picked up glass blowing too.  There's only so much you can talk about when someone is interested in the subject, but not so interested that they want to actually learn to do it."

"How do you blow glass?" he asked.  He walked along at her elbow as they headed toward the door.

"Well, you take sand or quartz, turn it into a liquid in a blast furnace, and then while it's still pliable you shape it.  It's called glass blowing because you usually inflate a bubble of it and shape something out of it but you can make flat or solid pieces too.  It'll probably be awhile before I have the means to put together a proper furnace, but-"

She paused as they headed outside, blinking at the change in brightness, and after closing the door behind her she swept her arm around to gesture at the desert beyond her back fence.

"-living in a desert has the unique perk of instant access to sand, and Sandrock does seem to have a surplus of it," she went on, grinning up at him.

"It is a true fact that we do have a lot of sand," Unsuur agreed, smiling.  "Most wouldn't see any value in it.  Sort of like how most people don't see any value in most rocks.  But you do.  I like that."

She glanced down toward the ground, laughing quietly.  "I-I should get to the furnaces.  Thank you for chatting with me.  I hope you don't get in trouble for that."

Unsuur shrugged in response - he honestly didn't know if Justice would even notice.  He gave Dawn a short wave and hurried out through the gate.

[themculibrary]

Outer Space/Space Themes Masterlist

Links Last Checked: August 4th, 2024

Ashes to Ashes (ao3) - dirigibleplumbing steve/tony E, 51k

Summary: After regrouping following some surprise time travel, the world's heroes and sorcerers come up with a plan to protect the Mind and Time Stones by taking them into space in opposite directions. The result involves a lot more time loops than Steve would like, but at least they're getting a second chance to stop Thanos. (As well as a third, and a fourth...) And if Steve takes the opportunity to try to reconcile with Tony, too—well, they have the time, and Steve's going to make the most of it.

Catch a Falling Star (ao3) - tsukinofaerii steve/tony E, 42k

Summary: When Tony was sixteen, he got to meet his hero, Captain Steve Rogers, the Empire’s not-literally-golden boy from the Continuity Wars. When he was twenty-seven, the aforementioned Captain turned Pirate picked him up at the outer edges of space. It would have been a good time to appreciate the abundant nudity that came from spending too much time with space colonists, but Tony had bigger worries than even Rogers’ amazing hip-to-shoulder ratio. Something was sending the star-encircling computers that power the galaxy into a tailspin, and it was going to take a lot more than luck and skill to clean the mess up.

Free Floating In Space (ao3) - vassalady steve/tony E, 40k

Summary: Tony runs a small salvaging business in the backwater territory of Outer Centaurus. When scavenging a long abandoned space station leads to an unexpected find, it begins a long journey for Tony, Steve, and the rest of the Iron Bird crew as they stand on the edge of war.

Glow (ao3) - TeamThor bruce/thor G, 1k

Summary: Bruce is working, and Thor is completely and totally in love. AKA two bros chillin' in a space station

journeyman (ao3) - orphan_account bucky/steve/tony M, 5k

Summary: /Old man/Tony thinks, resigned. /This could be my sea. Space, the final frontier./

Steve thinks as hard as he can: come home.

/Not like anyone's waiting for me back on earth, anyways./

Steve puts his fist through a wall.

[alternately: Tony wanders through space while Steve and Bucky listen to his thoughts]

Navigation (ao3) - felisnocturna steve/tony M, 2k

Summary: There are several upsides to being telepathically linked with your own spaceship. Sometimes, it also makes things more complicated.

North Of Gravity (Head Up In The Stratosphere) (ao3) - geckoholic clint/kate T, 4k

Summary: The Hawkeyes pretend to be married. In space. Because aliens, and also Natasha.

Sandstorms (ao3) - aurilly T, 6k

Summary: Loki and Bucky, stranded together in Svartalfheim after the Convergence.

Sing the Space Electric (ao3) - icarus_chained M, 5k

Summary: The SHIELD interceptor spaceship Avenger is under final attack. Aboard her, sitting in his cell, the war criminal Tony Stark gets ready for the confrontation, and the revelation, that he knows is about to come.

Space is for the birds (ao3) - hopelessly_me bucky/clint/steve T, 3k

Summary: Clint gets elected by Tony to travel to space with him to repair a spaceship, and all Clint wants to do is get back home to Bucky and Steve.

Sunrise in Exile (ao3) - Ragdoll (Keshka) tony/stephen E, 384k

Summary: Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by… not confronting Thanos on his own turf.

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Ticket to the Moon (ao3) - QuarkInShiningArmour bruce/thor G, 878

Summary: After travelling the galaxy, Bruce is a little overwhelmed, and Thor has an idea for something that might make him feel better.

to dream of the stars (ao3) - gottalovev steve/tony E, 32k

Summary: Fifteen years after a summer romance at Space Academy that left them brokenhearted, Steve and Tony meet again as astronaut candidates.

Under Stars (ao3) - vulcantastic steve/tony T, 14k

Summary: Commander Tony Stark, just kicked off the USS Expedition for mutiny, finds comfort in an ensign wandering the halls of the USS Quinjeti at 0400 hours. Southern comfort, no less.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? (ao3) - sara_holmes bucky/clint T, 24k

Summary: “What do you mean we left Clint on Mars?”

Cap’s incredulous voice cuts through the stunned silence of the cockpit, loud and shocked. He’s standing there with his cowl in hand, gaping at the holo-screen at the front of the jet. Next to him, Tony is standing with his hands on his head, mouth hanging open in a similar fashion. Over on the other side of the cockpit is Jane, who has both palms clapped across her mouth like she’s trying to hold back hysterical giggles.

For his part, Bucky is just staring at the screen like he can’t quite believe what’s going on.

When The Stars Come Calling (ao3) - lazywriter7 peter/tony M, 108k

Summary: Or, how Tony Stark got his groove back, with the assistance of one Peter Quill.

[crystalelemental]

Sync Grid Analysis - January 2023

Alright, let’s take a look at expanded grids and-BEDE???

Bede No we’re going straight to this one.  Bede, what the fuck are you doing here, bro?  You, like, just came out.  Are you seriously telling me that literally any PokeFair, at any point, is on the docket for expansion?  I don’t like this.  Bede didn’t need help.  He was recent.  He was fine.  But somehow he jumps the queue and gets to have an upgrade before they take a serious crack at Lance or Steven?  Okay buddy.  Sure.

2/5 gets Max Super Powered 1, and Unbending.  ...sure.  That’ll help.  4/5 gets Max Countdown 2, and Recuperation 2.  This isn’t terrible.  Max Countdown salvages a little bit of turn delay issues in CS, while Recuperation 2 is a solid 40% recovery on sync, which isn’t too bad.  5/5 is Max Damage Guard, and another +100 on Max Smite.  Okay.

Let me cut to the chase: as a more modern unit who was already good, and had good tools?  This expansion is worthless.  2/5 offers nothing worth taking, but the 5/5 stuff is stupid.  I’m sorry, what is this supposed to do?  It’s all-in on Max Moves, a thing you can only do once.  This doesn’t fix anything!  It doesn’t change anything!  Bede definitely had limitations that could’ve been addressed, but this is slingshotting off in another direction!  What he needed was gauge control.  What he needed was some consistency.  What he needed was for Cresselia to not be immune to confuse and thus able to ignore him entirely.  Or better yet, Piercing Gaze to not need an evasion debuffer for it.  Bede’s problems exist, and are fully not addressed.  Instead they opted to see if he can tank?  He cannot.  I do not get this one.  Bad expansion.

Cynthia Why?  No really, I’m asking, because this doesn’t actually seem like a net positive.  Just like every other goddamned time this comes up, Cynthia does not have the free energy to do this!  Especially not with prior expansion!

Like okay, let’s say you don’t take Fierce Entry 1 because it blows, and you ignore every other grid node but the sync damage and the other three from the original expansion.  Right?  Great.  2/5 gets Burst In (which is atrocious for her) and Surging Sand 2, both for 7.  That’s 20 energy left to pick two of the 5/5 nodes.  At 4/5, she gets...Slash Crit Strike 9.  No, really.  That is actually what it says on this datamine.  Okay, maybe her energy is fine.  Because the other is Dust Kicker.  And that fucks.  Cynthia can set her own Sandstorm now.  Consistently.  Literally every sync.  5/5 then offers First Sync Defense -2 on all foes which is cute but unnecessary, and...Sand Alert 5.  The madmen actually did it.

Okay so I’m gonna backtrack a bit.  Without knowing placement, this could be either a disaster, or the best grid expansion to ever exist.  It depends entirely, and exclusively, on placement.  If Dust Kicker and Sand Alert are right next to each other, we win.  If they aren’t, energy is a problem and you can only pick one or the other before you have to give up other essential tools.  I’m also really, REALLY hoping that Burst In is the node above the lower sync damage one.  Because you need Sand Shelter, which can circumvent that tile.  It saves energy for free.  But if you need to take it, now you’re kinda wasting extra to be immune to your own demanded weather.  I’m really, really nervous.  This is either an apotheosis, or a curse in disguise, and I’m not sure which yet.

Diantha Wait, Diantha gets an expansion too?!  Baller.  Whatcha got for me, girl?  2/5 gets On a Roll 1 and Speedy Entry 1.  I’ll take it.  60% chance to debuff her needed devastation multiplier stat, and +2 speed with mega evolution is very nice for someone as gauge hungry as she is.  4/5 gets Recharging Stri-holy shit.  Okay, so Dazzling Gleam now pays for itself, that’s a hell of an upgrade.  She also gets Satisfied Snicker, which is effectively Snarl effect on all moves, but specific to attacks, unlike Satisfied Snarl which can work on debuffing status moves.  So okay, honestly, 4/5 looking hella worth it.  Free CS action in Dazzling Gleam combined with a guaranteed -1 special attack.  I like it.   5/5 grants Propulsion 9 on trainer move, which is basically just “Yo SS Wally, catch,” and also...Initial Synchro Healing 1.  Why Initial?  Just let her constantly regen HP for the team, this didn’t need to be initial.

5/5 seems pretty useless.  I know, I know, fast ramping and all that, but Diantha’s needed sync nuke requires a slower process given that nothing can rapidly debuff special attack well enough for a turn-3 sync, and initial healing isn’t as useful as consistent.  But that 4/5 upgrade is stupid good.  2/5 isn’t bad either, though I’d probably skip On a Roll 1 if you have Satisfied Snicker.  Well done, Diantha.

Wally Oh hey, Wally’s the general pool expansion!  That’s cool, I like Gallade even if it’s not Gardevoir, I’d love to see this thing back in action.  Let’s see, +20 atk and sp atk, to be expected.  Here I Come: Ferocious Moves, gives +1 to both offenses.  Okay.  Critical Eye 2 on Dire Hit, now that’s special.  Capped crit in one move.  Speedster Sync 5 is alright, based off speed, so all he needs is something to buff his speed reliably, and he’s golden!  And...HP +50.  ..........where’s the speed buffing?  What do you mean one of his special tiles is +50 HP, he’s a Striker.  He doesn’t need HP.

Listen, I’m not here to shit-talk Wally, but I am here to shit-talk this expansion.  Are we serious with this?  I appreciate his trainer move now being +2 to both offenses, and immediate crit in one turn, even if it still takes 4 turns of setup.  But Posthaste 2 requires him to take hits, and that’s not something that happens reliably or consistently.  Not all stages play that game, and Wally’s sync is fully reliant on speed.  I recognize his move damage is fairly high, but his multipliers for move damage are shit, and he didn’t exactly gain any help there either.  Also I somehow blocked from my mind that his natural sync nuke is fucking Cakewalk, because he doesn’t have access to Close Combat until after he mega evolves.  Prior it’s just Low Sweep, which also got no utility.  This...feels bad, man.  Wally really didn’t get what he wanted.  Full disclosure, self-sufficiency was the wrong way to go with Wally.  His needs are just way too high everywhere else for this to feel all that useful.

Marlon Common Grid War Act...14?  Is it 14?  We’ll say 14.  Is underway!  Marlon gets First Aid 4, Barricade Buddies on X Def All, Team Pinpoint Entry 1, and some sync effects that he’ll never use because no EX.  Marlon’s not going to be great.  But I also have a strange affinity for him after the first Gauntlet where he salvaged a run with Lysandre and SC Jasmine.  Self-applied Endure isn’t bad, and defense buffs with potential immunity to debuffs is okay.  I don’t think he’ll be exceptional, but he’ll at least be tolerable.

Blaine Get Winona’d, chump.  No MPR.  Just one application on first sync.  Which he’s likely never taking.  Blaine has some advantage over Winona in that his sync gets naturally more benefit from his weather, but is otherwise worse because Air Slash’s 60% flinch rate rules and Hurricane is real DPS.  I think what hurts the most is Hostile Environment 2.  Like okay, he has HE1 by default, but only a 40% burn rate?  Marley got 50%.  His sync multipliers are Solar Flare 5, and Interference Sync 5.  Which are pretty synergistic with his kit.  Don’t know why they gave Fire Spin Flabbergast 4, but sure.  And he got...Follow Through on trainer move.  I guess to limit his support needs?  I dunno.  I don’t think it’s working.  I imagine Blaine can work to similar effectiveness as Winona when supported, but Blaine also can’t reliably buff his own attack.  Meaning he needs that kind of support.  Which SS Morty can’t provide.  SS Kris blends beautifully with Winona, but Blaine does not reap the same rewards.  It’s tougher for him.

Marshall Ah, the weak link of the Unovan E4.  On a Roll is guaranteed defense drops, into Relentless for a fun sync multiplier.  Staggering 2 is legitimately hilarious.  That might just be his best utility.  Like he can accidentally flinch off either a guaranteed defense drop, or a healing move.  That’s funny.  Especially in Gauntlets that don’t gain immunity to flinch.  That’s really funny.  Safety Tether and Tough Sync 3 are there.  Safety Tether in particular isn’t too bad either.  Sharp Entry isn’t bad, Berserker on trainer move is designed to avoid needing X Atk MPR.  Marshall has some funny tools, but I hesitate to call him good.  Mostly because...his defenses are complete crap.  Like, special defense barely breaks 100 at 5*.  That’s atrocious.  Safety Tether can help you take a hit, but sync will kill you.  His physical defense isn’t much better.  So while he has recovery in Drain Punch, he��s not functionally going to be able to use it.  His self-sufficiency tools are also just too slow.  Hitting -6 defense on a foe by himself is a six turn process, with four turns of setup.  He requires a lot of help.  He’s effectively a glorified Tech support to debuff defense for a more capable ally, but if you wanted that, just use Brawly, who has better bulk and a full-ass Potion for the team.  You don’t need Marshall.

[mirrorworldmagazine]

The Ever Given Incident: How the Suez Canal Blockage Shaped Global Trade

The Suez Canal, a man-made waterway in Egypt, is one of the world's most critical trade routes. Connecting the Mediterranean Sea to the Red Sea, it enables ships to bypass the longer, arduous journey around the southern tip of Africa. Since its inauguration in 1869, the canal has been a cornerstone of global commerce, facilitating nearly 12% of the world’s trade.

However, in March 2021, this vital artery of international trade was brought to a standstill by an unprecedented incident involving the "Ever Given", a massive container ship.

The Ever Given Incident: What Happened?

On March 23, 2021, the "Ever Given", a 400-meter-long container ship operated by Evergreen Marine, ran aground while navigating through the Suez Canal. Strong winds and a sandstorm reduced visibility, causing the vessel to veer off course and wedge itself diagonally across the canal. The ship’s bow and stern lodged in the canal's banks, the canal was completely blocked.

The blockage had immediate and far-reaching consequences. Hundreds of ships, carrying goods ranging from oil to livestock, were stranded on both sides of the canal. This disruption delayed billions of dollars' worth of trade daily and highlighted the fragility of global supply chains.

Efforts to Free the Vessel

For six grueling days, teams of engineers and salvage experts worked tirelessly to dislodge the "Ever Given". Using a combination of dredgers, tugboats, and excavators, they removed thousands of cubic meters of sand and mud to free the ship's bow. Finally on March 29, 2021, the ship was refloated and the canal was reopened to traffic.

The successful operation was celebrated worldwide, but it also prompted discussions about improving the resilience of global shipping routes and the Suez Canal itself.

Lessons Learned and Lasting Impact

The "Ever Given" incident underscored the importance of the Suez Canal and the vulnerabilities of global trade networks. In response, Egypt has since initiated expansion projects to widen and deepen parts of the canal, aiming to prevent similar incidents in the future.

Moreover, the event highlighted the need for diversification in shipping routes and better risk management strategies. For businesses, it was a stark reminder of the interconnected nature of global commerce.

Conclusion

The "Ever Given" incident in the Suez Canal was a dramatic event that showcased both the challenges and the resilience of global trade. While the blockage caused significant disruptions, it also spurred improvements that will ensure the canal remains a vital link in the global economy for generations to come.

[thelorehold]

Rhea Dustwalker

Class: Wasteland Ranger (Variant Ranger)

Race: Human

Description:

Stature: Rhea is lean and weather-beaten, with sun-baked skin and dark, windswept hair that often obscures her face. Her eyes are a piercing amber, hardened by the harsh realities of the wasteland. She moves with a predatory grace, her movements economical and efficient.

Style: Rhea's attire is a patchwork of salvaged materials, scavenged from the ruins of a fallen world. She wears a tattered leather duster over layers of worn cloth, offering protection from the elements and the dangers of the wasteland. A battered wide-brimmed hat shields her face from the sun's harsh rays, and a worn bandanna covers her mouth and nose to filter the dust-laden air.

History:

Rhea was born into a nomadic tribe that roamed the vast expanse of the wasteland, eking out a meager existence in the unforgiving environment. From a young age, she was trained in the arts of survival, learning to track prey, scavenge for resources, and defend herself from the dangers that lurked in the shadows. When a catastrophic sandstorm decimated her tribe, Rhea was left to fend for herself. She wandered the wasteland alone, honing her skills and developing a deep understanding of the harsh realities of her world.

Personality:

Rhea is a hardened survivor, her spirit forged in the crucible of the wasteland. She is fiercely independent, preferring to rely on her own instincts and resourcefulness rather than seeking help from others. Rhea is a woman of few words, her silence a testament to the harsh realities she has endured. Despite her tough exterior, she possesses a deep empathy for those struggling to survive in the wasteland and will often offer aid to those in need.

Voice & Mannerisms:

Rhea speaks in a low, gravelly voice, her words often clipped and direct. She rarely wastes time on pleasantries, preferring to get straight to the point. Rhea moves with a quiet efficiency, her footsteps barely disturbing the dusty ground. She has a habit of scanning the horizon with a practiced eye, always on the lookout for potential threats or hidden resources.

Motives & Goals:

Rhea is driven by a relentless determination to survive and thrive in the harsh environment of the wasteland. She seeks to uncover the secrets of the fallen world, hoping to find a way to restore balance to the shattered ecosystem. Rhea yearns to create a safe haven for those who have been displaced by the cataclysm, a place where they can rebuild their lives and find hope in the face of despair.

Beliefs & Values:

Rhea believes in the importance of self-reliance, the power of resilience, and the inherent value of all living things. She values resourcefulness, adaptability, and the ability to find hope even in the darkest of times. Rhea holds a deep reverence for the wasteland, seeing it as a testament to the enduring spirit of life.

Reputation:

Rhea is known as the "Dustwalker," a solitary figure who roams the wasteland, a survivor of countless hardships and a master of the harsh environment. She is respected for her knowledge of the wasteland's secrets and admired for her unwavering resilience. Rhea's reputation precedes her, inspiring awe in those who have witnessed her survival skills and striking fear into the hearts of those who would threaten her.

Quirks & Flaws:

Rhea can be overly cautious and distrustful of others, often pushing away those who try to get close to her. She struggles to express her emotions and can be emotionally distant, masking her vulnerability with a stoic facade. Rhea also has a weakness for salvaged trinkets and a tendency to hoard rare resources.

Secret:

Rhea is haunted by the memory of her lost tribe, the faces of her loved ones forever etched into her mind. She blames herself for their deaths, believing that if she had been stronger or more vigilant, she could have prevented the tragedy. This guilt fuels her relentless determination to survive and create a better future for those who remain.

Allies & Contacts:

A grizzled old scavenger who taught Rhea the art of survival in the wasteland.

A wise and compassionate healer who helped Rhea cope with the trauma of her past.

A network of wasteland traders and nomads who share information and resources.

What's in their pockets?:

A worn leather pouch containing a handful of precious seeds, a symbol of hope for a brighter future.

A shard of obsidian, a remnant of a fallen civilization, a reminder of the past's fragility.

A small, hand-carved wooden whistle, a gift from her lost tribe, a connection to her heritage.

Character Synopsis:

Rhea Dustwalker is a survivor, a wasteland ranger hardened by the harsh realities of her world. Her resourcefulness, resilience, and unwavering determination make her a valuable asset to any party. Rhea's enigmatic nature, hidden vulnerabilities, and secret guilt add depth and intrigue to her character, making her a compelling addition to any high fantasy campaign.

[offkeyed-reason]

non-exhaustive list of arc 1-ish changes relevant to the river flows in us:

oakblue is out, crookedblue is in. i'll get into family trees late at some point, but just know that their kits -- silverstream, mistyfoot, and stonefur -- have ancestry in every clan.

the cats fireheart and graystripe found when they were sent to bring windclan back was the "core" of the clan. deputy, medcat, leader, plus a handful of other cats.

that being said, a lot of cats did die in brokenstar's war against windclan, but some were simply separated from their clan after being driven out in the middle of the night. there were some attempts to find their scattered clanmates, but eventually enough time passed where it couldn't be expected to find anyone else.

brokenstar's reign over shadowclan lasted a while. it was just a slow dive down into tyrannical abyss, starting with the elders' exile, then the gradual training preparations kits were given prior to apprenticeship, only to move onto the child soldiers.

many of the cats who went with brokenstar in his exile chose to be with their friends [there's actually a shadowclan-exclusive term for the specific relationship but i won't get into that here]. there's a distinct difference between following a monster and staying with the cats you promised to be there for, but it only makes sense to shadowclan.

sandstorm's first apprentice was actually cloudtail! after he was abducted by twolegs and rescued, she managed to convince bluestar to give him to her, citing fireheart's increasing stress as her reasoning. [really, she saw how he was just driving cloudpaw away just like with graystripe and figured she could salvage their relationship if fireheart wasn't forced to be with his nephew every day.] we still end up with our loveable haughty king, but with a bit of extra sass thrown in.

[youandme-and]

Now, being stuck with people you've known for ages is usually rather a nice experience, because it doesn't have the unpredictability prison has. You only had to worry for a few things, and most times, people minded their business, unlike those solid walls of captivity. Today kept them indoors due to a sandstorm; everything was battened down and covered, from the windows to the cracks in the door. Occasionally, the vent blew out a cloud of dust. Thinking out loud had gotten to criminal levels, apparently. And true enough, he was agitated from the loss of not being able to chain-smoke what he did have. A cigarette a day was keeping them all from choking on monoxide. " Profoundly strong, but you'd lose that bet."

Another pack revealed from his inside pocket, and quickly ferreted away.

"Maybe if we hadn't barricaded out the bedroom, " He gestures to the nailed down door flippantly. Broken roofing tile hadn't made it salvageable. There were bits falling off every day, taking out the windows on lower floors. "You two could figure out your tension. Fight, or something. Goemon'd probably want in on sparring, if he were here." Jigen murmurs as he picks at something in his teeth, dryly swallowing. " Hell, I could take care of mine,"

It was day 2 since unexpectedly getting stuck shacking up here with the three of them. Two days too long. The fact this circumstance is out of her control especially irks her. By now, Fujiko had seen and heard enough of the boys to drive her to irrational irritability. Jigen's aimless musing being one of the many.

She glares at him from across the room, visibly unamused, yet bored enough to engage. "I'm going to take a wild guess and bet on.. I don't know, that last pack of cigarettes you finished off this morning?" she tilted her head, shooting him a pointed look, "Yeah." her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Profound."