#ship name: beyond scorched skies

[eboni-napalm]

"There will be a future out there for us- for all of us. And whatever it brings, wherever it takes us, I'll do it all with you, Rusty. We'll do it together."

(artworks done by @parandron and @zeracaeli on Instagram!)

[herald-divine-hell]

A Meeting of Kindness

A/N: So, this fanfic is with @noeldressari‘s Talia Cousland and Amayia as padawans in a Star Wars AU. I’m sorry if Talia isn’t all that accurate to her actual character. I’m really bad at doing that with other people’s ocs asldkada. But I hope you all enjoy!

-

As night gathered in the skies of Coruscant, light flickered awake in a sea of silver and amber, the underglow of rolling clouds burnt with silvery-gold. Streaking smoky-silver and scarlet lines blurred as taxi-pods and shuttles zipped across the air, a constant buzzing hum as clusters of stars peaked and winked in the dark mantle. 

A wind picked up from the north, bringing the scent of a metallic-soaked chilled air to Amayia’s senses, shuffling her thick robes, lightsaber hilt rattling against her thigh. Fingers sprayed across a wide stone surface, one of the few remaining in the metropolis-planet. A white marble that glowed with the orange-gold fires of the sun during the day and the icy silver waters of moonlight by night. 

Coruscant still dazzled her, even though it would have been nearly two decades since she had joined the Jedi Order as a padawan. At night, a new world blossomed from the brilliant glow of the day. Though fires sparkled through countless windows and ledges, as transmission towers flared and in and outgoing ships whined through the atmosphere with the glow of shooting stars, a peace settled onto Amayia’s shoulders; a peace she had not known since she was a child waiting at her mother’s knee to hear some fable story. Only at night did the concerns of the war bleed away from her mind, only at night could she hear the Force settle from its conflict. Light and dark dwindled to a single strung hum, then another, until a melody whispered in her mind, flooded her soul. Thundering battle fled away, the screams of dying men, women, and children fading away until there was only her and the Force, an old ally, and an older friend. 

“You should be getting some rest.”

Amayia’s eyes turned away from the thicket of towering skyscrapers, gleaming silver-white by strands of starlight, the horizon threaded with their soft flicker. Yellow-white light pooled from beyond in the curved archway, lines of columns marching deeper into the Temple like rows of soldiers. A few golden and bronze statues of ancient Jedi flanked the sides of the entrance of the pathway, staring out into the dark city with serene expressions, some with firm, dignified features, others with kindly smiles and eyes. 

Light bathed about Talia’s form as if the Force pulsed off her in waves, lighting a sheen over her long brown hair, shadows scurrying about her features, heightening her sharp cheekbones, softening her shyly smiling lips. Vivid blue eyes glimmered with silver and scarlet and azure, reflections of the city beyond, twirling about like swirling jewels in a sea. In her hands were two porcelain cups with thin plums of white-gray smoke streaming until it faded away into the darkness. 

“I like to take walks before every mission,” replied Amayia, turning a little to face the Padawan that was assigned to her. Tomorrow they would be leaving to take up commands as leaders of two squadrons of clone troopers, in hopes of infiltrating a Separatist base and gathering intel before a full on ground assault and occupation could occur. The first time Amayia was allowed a command of her own without her master’s presence. Any trickle of fear never roused in her heart. She would do what she must. Amayia had learned that a long time ago. 

And yet...she never was partnered with another Padawan, and never alone. Master Or-Lan had always been careful in choosing where Amayia was sent, and who she went with, if he could not attend. A few with Jedi Knights, often in escort missions for departing senators in dangerous sectors. More often with just her master himself and his legion, the 406th. Amayia knew she was not the greatest communicator, never truly able to grasp the understanding of emotions, especially when it was inflicted hard by others. Master Or-Lan did, though, and tried for years to get her to connect, through the Force or not. But she never can. Whenever she did try to touch another’s emotions, the Force skirted away, like water sloshing up against the side of a dam, never able to pass through. She could still sense it, however; the rage and sadness of a mother or father who lost their child from a bombing run. Yet when she tried to ease them, to bring peace to their trembling, rage-scorched hearts, the barrier sprawled like spun webs, thickening into a wall stronger than steel, with no gaps to break through. Worried did not fill her, the Force a soothing, constant current through her veins, but she knew that any comfort to the locals on the planet they would be heading toward will be lost on her. 

Perhaps that is why Master Or-Lan and Master Findrall choose her to be paired with Talia Cousland. She had only heard her in passing from muttering Jedi in classes, frustration mixed with high praise. She was highly skilled in battle, though aggressive, with her sharp and savage cuts, barreling charges, and overwhelming advance. A few whispers from other Padawans muttered how she could hold a whole battalion of battle droids on her own, and from her appearance, Amayia was sure she could. Long, thick, and straight brown hair fell down to the small of her back, a few strands framing her strong jaw, with its chiseled and sharp jawline. High cheekbones reared proudly on a noble face, but there still was a softness to her, at her lips and in her eyes. A faint blush nestled her pale cheeks, puffs of cool air misted past her lips. Northern wind stirred her long locks until it shivered like a banner of brown toward the west, drips of gold glimmering across like waves. Broad shoulders were covered in a thick brown outer cloak, with the loose fitted sandy-brown robes shrouding the sturdy body beneath. High brown boots crawled up to her knees, and a flash of silver glimmered when Talia shifted a little, making her way toward Amayia. 

“That’s fair,” replied Talia, as she strode to her side, her gaze flickering toward the city. “We’re leaving tomorrow, though. Will you be walking again?” 

Amayia nodded and turned back toward the city, returning both hands onto the wide cool surface. “I’ll be meditating in the gardens before we depart after my walk, if you wish to join me, Padawan Talia.” The words felt clumsy to her, even as her voice carried it still in an even tone. Small talk was never her element. 

The blush seemed to grow on her cheeks, the silver and gold wash of star and city bringing it out so brightly it appeared to overwhelm Talia. Her smile grew a bit, one she flashed at Amayia as she rested the two cups on the balcony still, elbows resting as she leaned forward. “I just might. And, please, call me Talia. No need for formalities when we’ll be guarding one another’s backs.”

A touch of warmth tickled Amayia’s cheeks as she dwindled her thumbs together. Despite her clumsy nature with her emotions, a bubble of fire flickered in her heart at the gentle glow in Talia’s eyes, a determined, sweet, and kind sunflare that spun a thousand diamonds with speared light. Her master often joked that Amayia could never smile, but after a sudden realization, she felt her lips curling into one. “Yes,” admitted Amayia, nodding a bit as gaze returned to the light-blurred skies and sparsely clouded skies. “That will be a good endeavor.” 

At the corner of her eye, she saw Talia testing the name in silence, her smile never leaving her even then. Though, her shoulders did seem to lessen its tension with Amayia’s agreement. Was she afraid that she would have said no? The possibility was strong. She never was particularly close with any of her fellow Padawans, even less than any of the Masters, except for her own. But Amayia still saw the practicality of using only their names to communicate. It was less of a mouthful to say, such allowing greater ability for success-

No, she thought, a shiver of anger rustling across the river of the Force which rolled through her. She was only asking for you to treat her as an equal, a partner. It had nothing to do with the outcome of success for the mission, she had to tell herself, her Master’s voice whistling through her mind, tilted with disappointment. 

“Hot chocolate?” asked Talia suddenly, nudging the cup toward her. 

Amayia blinked, torn away from her thoughts, a ripple of discontent skidding across the calming Force. “Hot chocolate?” Her eyes flickered to the silver-glinting cup, the steam still swirling in waning pillars. Grasping the cup in her hands, gloved fingers brushing over Talia’s, she whispered her thanks as she pulled it close to her chest. Raising and tipping the drink, warmth flooded her body, thawing the night’s chill grasp from her bones. Sweetness overwhelmed her, in a way that she had not felt in many years, and she drank it heavily.

“Like it?” Talia sipped hers, a bit more slower than Amayia’s but a touch heavier. Sighing as she pulled the cup from her lips, her smile seemed more calming than shy. “Hot chocolate is one of my favorite drinks.”

“It is mine as well,” admitted Amayia, the smile from before caressing her face, as the embarrassment burned away by the sweetness of the hot chocolate and the soothing sight of Talia’s smile. It was a pretty smile, matching well with her good-humored eyes. Talia would be good to have when it would come to comforting masses, to ensure cooperation instead of resistance against Republic occupation. Even if her emotions swayed her, perhaps that was why their masters pushed them together on this mission. Amayia knew she was cold, knew she was calculating. She was told over and over again she was what a Jedi ought to be. Emotions did not cloud her judgement, and that was the Jedi way. 

But the Jedi way was also to bring peace, and Talia’s smile brought a waterfall of calm washing over Amayia. Was that not also what the Jedi stood for? Bringing comfort and peace to otherwise death-torn, darkened worlds that were tainted by the Dark Side, tainted by slaughter and destruction? Questions swirled in her mind, but what stood as bright as the stars from the gloomy sea, was Talia’s eyes. So bright and vivid, bursting with life, with kindness. The warmth of before came rushing stronger to her cheeks. 

Talia bowed her head. “I should let you get back to your walk.” She drank her coffee, the pink on her cheeks a bright scarlet now, rushing over her features like a fire-burning cloud. “See you tomorrow, for our walk that is.” 

Smiling back at her, Amayia also bowed. “Thank you for the drink, Talia. I will see you tomorrow, for the walk and the mission. It is an honor to be paired with you.”

A little chuckle came from the other Padawan as she scrubbed the back of her neck. “The honor is all mine, Amayia. And the hot chocolate was nothing. Everyone loves hot chocolate, right?” Her laughter grew a bit more, the fire on her face deepening. “But, yeah...It was good to finally meet you!” She stared for a moment, mouth open as if she wanted to say more. “Right, bed. Walking. Um. Well, goodnight!”

The flapping of her cloak filled the air as Talia rushed back toward the entrance way. Amayia’s stare followed the woman’s departing form, the cloak shivering over her broad back, as if straining as the woman walked back a bit hunched over. 

It was only until she departed to her quarters did Amayia realize that her smile never did leave her face. 

[mlpdestinyverse]

Destinyverse: The Dazzlings

"You can't turn away. We'll make you want to stay. We will be adored Tell us that you want us We won't be ignored It's time for our reward Now you need us. Come and heed us. Nothing can stop us now!"  _________________

I said it once and I'll say it again; I really love the Dazzlings. It's mainly thanks to these lyrics from their song "Welcome to the Show" that I've developed many inspired ideas behind both the Dazzlings and siren species as a whole. First! Let's get into some siren Destinyverse headcanons before jumping into the history of our last three remaining pure-blooded sirens; Adagio, Sonata, and Aria. Summary Under The Cut!

THE SIRENS

In the world that once was, now known as the Pre-Equestrian era, the Ancient Alicorn of Mischief, Lugh, breathed life into beautiful beasts she named the Sirens. Based upon the pearlescent shores of the Isles of Anthemosa, the sirens were magical creatures of song and sea, with vibrant flowing fins, glimmering iridescent scales, and enchanting voices that were unmatched by anyone. An all-female species, the members of the tribe had their own means of magic-based procreation. Each family of sirens lived under a single alpha matriarch who established peace and order. Sirens were also granted a long lifespan of over 500 years.

Proud and exuberant by nature, sirens loved the sound of their own voices and music became a part of their everyday lives. A siren's song was thought to be an extension of who they were and was considered one of the most important aspects a siren saw in others as well as themselves. The sirens saw great meaning - even vulnerability - in sharing their music and being heard; sirens would sing to bond with others, to calm themselves, to comfort their offspring, or even to capture the attention of a potential mate. Sirens would often join together in harmonies for fun. Especially bonded sirens could be consistently in-sync with one another, dancing and harmonizing perfectly.

Each siren came into existence with a single gem that was designed to not only allow them to concentrate magic into their voices, much like a unicorn casting spells with their horn, but also possessed the ability to draw in and store negative energy, converting it into extra magical power for their personal usage. This ability did not often come into play for a species as self-reliant and isolated as the sirens were at the time. However, it gave the sirens a reason to enjoy toying around with their prey, consisting of various species of fish and sea mammals. They would draw out burst after burst of fear, and once bored or satisfied, would use their magical songs to make their prey willing targets before going in for the kill.

The gems of the sirens varied in color. Gems of similar color between sirens usually signified some sort of family relation.

A siren's voice was magically-laced and nothing less than powerful. Intentionally or not, their music, when gracing the ears of creatures less powerful than them, never seemed to fail in placing said creatures in a trance-like and arguably relaxing state. While these effects wore off some time after a song ended, this ability - in addition to their proficiency in charm spells - aided the sirens in their hunts and any battles against threats. But the bigger the target, and the more targets present, the more voices and power they'd need to entrance or have their charm spells take effect

Unfortunately, the voices of the sirens did not fall only on the ears of the local wildlife or their own kind. Seafaring ponies and other traveling creatures of flight would venture into proximity of the sirens' territory and unintentionally hear their captivating voices from afar. In their hypnotized states, the accidental victims would then mindlessly draw closer, only to fall to the waters and drown or cause shipwrecks by crashing into the cliffs and rocks of Anthemosa. The sirens were blamed as a result, accused of purposely luring in innocent sailors and travelers. In the aftermath of such annoying and offensive ill-rumors, the sirens stuck even closer to their isles. From then on they chose to scare off any approaching ships or travelers if it meant keeping their peace intact in the face of such egotism.

The sirens did, however, have an allyship with another tribe. They are currently remembered as the Merponies (not to be confused with the Seaponies of the Hippogriffs), created by and once under the leadership of the Ancient Alicorn of Seas, Léon (also noted in history as "King Leo"). The sirens and merponies often came together to hold peaceful and joyous feasts. It allowed the sirens to happily flourish their voices, a fun and relaxing experience the merponies greatly enjoyed. They would even exchange songs, and while the sirens held their own voices in high regard, they respected and could even appreciate the songs of their allies, even if said songs could not quite compare.

_______________________________________________

The Three Sisters

Adagio was the firstborn child of her family within the Siren tribe. Bright-eyed, strong-willed, and assertive even at her young age, the amber siren had a strong voice and an inner strength that had many fondly believing that she had a chance at becoming a future tribe leader in her own right. Such compliments did not fail to get to Adagio's head, and she took great joy in showing off her grand leadership skills every chance she was given, especially when her tribe leader or mothers were watching.

In the following years (granted, a single siren year can equate to mere months for the average pony), Adagio was given a younger sister in Aria. An outspoken and stubborn child, the violet-colored siren (not-so-secretly) envied the praise Adagio received. She aimed to receive the same respect and attention as her older sister, often following her around and even challenging her to scuffles. Unfortunately for Aria, Adagio's vocal prowess and slightly larger size would always best her. Despite how much she huffed in the aftermath, what was secret was Aria's silent and genuine admiration of her sister's abilities and persona....though she'd rather die before she ever admitted that to her. She'd never hear the end of it.

A bit more unexpectedly came their youngest sister Sonata, a cerulean siren who...while talkative and lively, proved to be tremendously inattentive and "slower" than the average fish. This lead to some teasing from other young sirens, but said teasing always ended up short-lived. Both Adagio and Aria would rush in to scare off the bullies (and almost bite off a bit of fin). Though their younger sister annoyed them more times than not, and having her around was a bit of a drag, even they could recognize Sonata's struggle to fit in. Adagio - giving a stink eye to any judging face that looked at her sister the wrong way - settled on simply having Sonata stay close and tag along with her and Aria from then on. Aria begrudgingly followed her decision, despite how much she and Sonata would squabble over the smallest of things. An irritated growl or a warning nip from Adagio would usually put them back in line.

As young adolescents with full freedom to roam around the isles, Adagio in her cockiness pondered over the idea of her and her sisters experiencing a hunting expedition all by themselves. Because surely, utilizing the bit of energy they had collected during the last hunt they shadowed, she and her sisters could test themselves and prove their capabilities to the older sirens. Yes, Aria could prove herself. Sonata could prove herself. But well, more importantly, Adagio could prove herself far more than she already had. They could even turn it into a game and see who could catch the most fish! It wasn't hard to convince her sisters and have them join her in swimming beyond the reefs, further than they were normally allowed. And Adagio never foresaw the impact that single choice would make.

Relentlessly churning waters, dark skies beyond the surface, and a quickly clouding sea caught the sisters off guard in the middle of their fruitful hunt. Losing their sense of direction and unable to swim to the seemingly storming, thunderous surface, the frightened young sirens quickly took shelter deeper within the ocean, hiding in the first underwater cave they could find. They waited out what appeared to be a catastrophic storm. Unbeknownst to them, a destructive event in pre-Equestrian history, The Cataclysm, had begun.

When nearly a full day had passed and the faintest traces of sunlight once again shone through the waves, the three sisters quickly made their way back home, the hunt forgotten. But upon their return, devastation greeted them. A half-destroyed home, with dead plant matter, collapsed cliffsides, and scorched sands that once shone like pearls in the sunlight. And no sign of any other siren, aside from the charred remains of scales. The sisters frantically searched around the isles to no avail. And with no other leads or any other place to go, they waited. And waited. For years they waited, with the tiniest sliver of hope that even one other siren had escaped the destruction of whatever had occurred. Maybe the others were afraid of returning. Or perhaps the sisters were afraid of leaving.

Prey became hard to come by. Though their meager hunting skills landed them a few small meals, the destruction had chased away or killed off most of the surrounding ecosystem. When food became far too scarce for Adagio and her sisters to thrive, the amber siren had to make a terrible decision. But a necessary decision. After their long, hopeless wait, Adagio coaxed her sisters away from their home. What was once home. With heavy hearts and survival being at the forefront of Adagio's mind, the three swam off to unchartered waters. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outcasts

Through the years, Adagio, Aria, and Sonata traversed the expansive seas. While they kept an eye out for other sirens, the merponies their tribe once called friends, as well as their own Alicorn Goddess, not a single trace could be found. It was also difficult to seek out answers when other inhabitants of the sea insistently avoided their path. Whether it was lingering fear in the aftermath of the destruction or due to the sirens' reputation of being vicious hunters, nothing brought assurance to the sisters. The seas felt unwelcoming and the tides brought more threatening predators than their level of magic had them prepared for. The young sirens found themselves constantly on the move, as any potential territory was either already inhabited or was far too dangerous for the sirens to settle down in. Besides... nothing compared to the paradise that had once been Anthemosa. Their calls and weak melodies left unanswered, the silent and empty sea was only a reminder of how truly alone they had become.

It was hardest to get Sonata to grasp the gravity of their situation. "Where did everyone go?" she'd ask over and over again. "I want to go home." While frustrated, hearing her sister's genuine confusion and fear stung Adagio deep. Aria's sporadic, angry outbursts towards Sonata - just barely masking her slowly dawning realization and grief - did nothing to ease the sickness in Adagio's stomach. Because while she fought to ignore the prodding in her mind, she knew. It was her fault they hadn't been there when the others fell. And no amount of denial after so many years erased the truth; they were really all that was left of their kind.

They were lost and without purpose. Despite her aggressive leadership and strong front, survivor's guilt consumed Adagio with each passing day. Yet she refused to let her own anguish and hopelessness take her. And as the oldest remaining siren, she wouldn't let the weight of reality take her sisters either. Resilient and determined, Adagio silently planned their next course of action. That's when it came to her: after centuries of their tribe's isolation, maybe it was finally time to leave the seas and integrate their kind with the land dwellers. Why stay put in the silent ocean, already unwanted and forgotten? They had so much culture and history and, most of all, the power and pride of their songs to share.

Adagio, ready for the next leg of their journey and with her head held high, lead her more hesitant sisters onto the shores of Equestria. The curious sights of pastures and towns and land critters overwhelmed them, but the sisters pushed on until they came face-to-face with ponykind. The ponies were a mix of awe-stricken and cautious in their presence. There before them hovered three beautiful yet intimidating creatures, easily towering them in size. With a little time, the sirens' confident demeanors (as well as their relatable sibling banter) drew out curiosity from friendlier folk.

The sisters learned much in the short period of time they spent simply testing the waters: a mysterious storm or entity or force that had been the cause of what they called "The Cataclysm"; the disappearance of the ancient Alicorns; the founding of Equestria, and the peaceful union of the three pony tribes in the past decade. While no amount of information brought the sisters closure to what had transpired, the sirens at the very least felt the promising beginnings of a newfound allyship with the ponies. The very idea of having camaraderie again brought the three a sense of relief and comfort they hadn't felt in the ten years they had wandered alone. And as it turned out, ponies enjoyed songs! Eager to extend themselves and reveal their incredible talents, the sisters offered their heartfelt melodies to their company. As was the natural effect of their voices, the ponies were placed in a relaxed, trance-like state as they blissfully gave Adagio, Sonata, and Aria their full attention. As far as the sisters understood, they were giving an unforgettable, soothing performance deserving of praise. However, those outside of earshot - spectators who recognized the familiar signs they had heard of so long ago of hypnotic voices and doe-eyed stares- went into an absolute frenzy.

The old tales of "ocean beasts with magical voices, coaxing all who listened to their doom" resurfaced at once. And after witnessing it before their very eyes, the villagers turned on the siren sisters. The three were accused of using sinister charms to trick and turn the townsfolk into their next meal. The ponies shouted that their songs were evil, and fearfully grabbed their weapons to chase off the "beasts". Negativity surrounded the sisters, and as designed, all three sirens' gems drew the townsfolk's emotions in. But the spare magical energy did not come with satisfaction or pride. In all their hopeless years, this was never the energy or the mortifying response their longing hearts had wished for. With little time to defend themselves, they were spat at and bombarded with weapons until they were driven out. Though not before being told to leave their land and never return.

Word of the sirens and their "dark magic" spread like wildfire through various towns of eastern Equestria. Rumors of their dangerous intent, rumors that they could very well be the remaining monstrosities of the defeated Father of Monsters, Grogar. No matter where they went, the moment they were recognized, ponies screamed in fear and refused to listen to their voices. Some struggled to cover their ears as they ran away. Others resorted to attacking them on sight in their terror. And some pondered the pretty coins the sirens' glimmering scales could earn them. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria were forced to go into hiding, afraid to even appear in broad daylight less they be threatened or hunted.

The sisters were left humiliated. To have their own voices slandered and rejected was a wounding insult that cut them deeper than anypony could ever understand. With their chances of escaping their isolation dashed, even Adagio was left sickened and whole-heartedly devastated. Sonata angrily questioned how anyone could hate them when all they had done was sing the best songs ponykind would ever hear. It was what they did. It was who they were....right? Aria snarled that they were the worst kind of hypocrite. Glorifying the unity of their own people, then sneering at their attempts to live amongst them? Because their gifts were different and undeserving of their respect? How was that fair? And for the first time, the three sisters were all of the same mind as resentment and animosity took over their thoughts.

Sure, they could have retreated back to the desolate seas and their ruined home. But where was the satisfaction in that? With newfound purpose, Adagio, Sonata, and Aria handled their vengeful hearts as best as three hurt, bitter children could: first, revenge was to be sought. Adagio recalled the stories of newfound peace within Equestria, as well as the negative energy still swirling within their gems. A perfect idea developed within the leader's calculating mind. It started with locating and lingering near both the dragons of the Dragon Lands and the griffons of Griffonstone. Aggressive and distrustful creatures by nature, just as she had overheard, they were a breeding ground for negative energy. Siphoning the energy unnoticed was a challenge, but a worthwhile one as they harnessed just enough for their plan. Next? Turn ponykind against one another

Knowing the strength that came from companionship, the very thing ponykind had refused them, Adagio felt it was only poetic justice to destroy the peace such arrogant creatures had so proudly bragged about. And it worked. Twisting their charm from a spell of compliance to one of bitterness and spite had been effortless when those very emotions were churning within the sisters.

Having never explored the depths of their abilities before, it was surprising, to say the least. A single charm on a town created a constant feedback of negative energy for their magic reserves. Within mere hours, the effect and range of their voices had nearly doubled what it was. Jumping from town to town, creating and absorbing disharmony where they went, the siren's voices only grew stronger. Their notes reached further. And further. And further still. To think the extent of their kind's power was far greater than anything the sisters could have ever imagined. What they were discovering was a potential never before reached by any siren before them. The surge of their growing power was so new, and the sheer child's play of it all exhilarated the three. So why stop? Just how powerful could they get with every new town they conquered?

Adagio realized at the rate they were going, all of Equestria could become their stage. It could become their farmland, with ponykind as their mindless, adoring cattle that they could siphon all the energy they needed to maintain their power and control. They honestly had it coming. If they weren't willing to bask in the magnificence of their voices, then they might as well feed their voices instead. And with their newfound resources, in time...they could attempt to restore their beloved Anthemosa. Power. Respect. Recognition. Rebuilding their beautiful home. This was fair restitution for all of the unjust pain inflicted upon them since the Cataclysm.

Adagio's goals all became short-lived when an attack on one particular village lead to their downfall. As history recalls, the young unicorn Stygian had managed to escape the sirens' control over his village. To save his fellow villagers, the colt gathered the heroes of ancient Equestria, lead by the legendary wizard Starswirl the Bearded. And ignoring Stygian's suggestion that the sirens could be reasoned with, the Pillars of Old Equestria followed Starswirl's plan and worked together to engage the sirens. Starswirl believed that using his magic to banish them to a world without magic was the only possible solution against such a treacherous threat. Little did he know that his theory would only come to endanger another universe's inhabitants. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rise and Fall of the Dazzlings

Starswirl's magic did not only transfer Adagio, Sonata, and Aria to the universe of humankind. The sisters were transported across time, nearly 900 years into the future. Finding themselves in a world without magic, a world of civilizations and advancements beyond their understanding, the sirens were dumbfounded. They were forced into forms completely unfamiliar to them, small and uncomfortable and worst of all, vulnerable. How were they supposed to protect themselves with barely visible fangs and without their powerful hooves? The only relief they had in their dismaying situation were their three gems, separate from their bodies but intact. It was uncertain just how much of their natural magic had been transferred to their jewels in order to function, but at the very least, Adagio could sense that magic still resided within.

In the following near-century of their lives, the sirens continued to draw in as much negative energy as humanly possible. To get by, their voices had to be strong enough to control others into providing what they needed, whether it be shelter, food, or other necessities and comforts. As a result, Adagio grew crueler, more hardened, and mastered the art of manipulation with her sisters closely following her lead. The sirens quietly sowed seeds of conflict where they could, but there was only so much power they could retrieve when the energy in the human world differed significantly from Equestria's. And who else to blame but the pathetic, insignificant lives of the world's magicless inhabitants.

The rate of drawing in and expending energy left the sisters with just enough magic for their charms to affect a small radius of people for a given period of time. Their magic won them enough favor to gain their basic comforts, but with frequently depleting reserves of magic, they experienced far too many close calls with having their spells break. The moment anyone seemed to catch on to their act, the three would flee town, jumping from one area to the next. Through the years they even had to keep track of the human world's development with music, altering their songs as necessary as not to arouse suspicion from potential prey. Living in the shadows day by day, unnoticed and unappreciated by those around them, there was little hope for their miserable circumstances...until one fateful day when Equestrian magic appeared in Canterlot City.

Knowing full well that targeting Equestrian magic would restore their full power, once more Adagio's mind sparked with excitement and ambition. Understanding the magic's origin or why seven teenage girls possessed its essence didn't even matter at that moment. Once they had all the magic they needed, no longer would they have to bend to the laws of the world. The world would bend to them. They'd live comfortably, freely, and no longer in hiding. Once again their music would reach far and they would be adored for the powerful beings they really were. Never ignored, nor rejected. The world would know their names again. Better yet, with no hope of returning to Equestria, they could simply shape the world itself into the home they wanted. They'd rid it of its broken, suppressive systems and live as they saw fit. Their suffering and patience would finally be rewarded.

But it was not to be. The alumni of Canterlot High remember the tale of Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, and their friends rising up to defeat "The Dazzlings", ending their plans forever with the destruction of their magical gems. As far as they understand, the sirens became "harmless teenaged girls" in the aftermath, never to be seen again. Yet no one knows of the fate of the Dazzlings, or how those great heroes had ruined them.

In their hurry to escape in their defeat, only Adagio had been able to retrieve the shattered remains of her gem. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria lost everything the moment their ability to use magic had been ripped away. Whatever sway they had that granted them temporary shelter, whatever influence that helped keep them fed each day, and the pride of their beautiful singing voices that made them who they were? All gone in but a single night. Homeless and left to fend for themselves in a world they never belonged in, the earth-shattering reality was near numbing for Adagio. For the first time, she was lost. All hope was lost. Unable to sing, they weren't even sirens anymore. She would have been willing to lose anything else. Anything but the remainder of their identities. They had been reduced to nothing, all under her watch and lead.

Aria and Sonata anxiously turned to Adagio for some hope, some sign that they would figure things out as they always did. Because even if their older sister could be harsh and bossy, Adagio always had a plan. She always kept things together and she would always make things work out one way or another. Instead, there were no confident decisions. No snarky quips or half-hearted insults. Adagio moved about aimlessly, aloof and apathetic. It was like her very will had been shattered along with the gem shards she still held close. Her sisters tried to snap her out of it; Sonata listing off her worried questions, Aria tensely yelling anything that could to get a reaction out of her. Adagio remained despondent. And for the first time, while Adagio stayed fixated on her broken gem, Sonata and Aria were forced to act on their own.

Aria hunted down abandoned areas they could use for shelter. Sonata worked on finding or winning over food, which she took far more seriously than Aria would ever expect. Watching her sisters fumble about eventually drew Adagio out of her grief-filled daze. The first time their older sister abruptly left them behind without a word, Aria and Sonata sincerely questioned if Adagio had outright abandoned them. Thankfully Adagio had simply decided to pull her own weight, adding her own provisions to their stockpile. While Adagio had returned to giving curt instructions for their survival, she began heading off alone on her own excursions, unannounced and without any explanations on her plans.  Even when questioned, there was very little Adagio was willing to share when it came to what was going through her headspace. And with how little Adagio was speaking in the first place, there was no telling if she was really as 'okay' as she acted.

Due to sheer luck or mercy, and though it took time, Adagio was able to find a means of piecing her broken gem back together. While its power proved weaker than what it once was, it still possessed enough magical essence to draw in negativity and channel spells. There was an immense wave of relief in recovering her singing voice, and in the following years, Adagio swore to never take it for granted. With hard work and the help of a spell or three, Adagio swallowed her pride and was able to land a job at a company. She aggressively worked (and charmed) her way up through the ranks until she became a corporate executive. While she found her work to be exhausting and suffocating, it was the one position that provided her any kind of seat of power in her life. Not only did it pay well, but it allowed her to intimidate her underlings and collect their negativity gradually.

Adagio insisted on being the financial supporter of the family, as long as her sisters continued to provide in their own way. With the amount of free time on her hands, Aria developed an interest in books and eventually found a job at a library. While her favorite part of her work is the peace and silence away from home, she also takes pleasure in telling others to shut up whenever they get too noisy. Sonata...went from job to job without anything really sticking, to put it lightly. So Adagio tasked her with at least keeping their condominium organized and throwing together dinner as long as her recipe didn't risk setting the building on fire. Although there were a few near-incidents, Sonata (somehow) managed.

And as the years went by, that's when Adagio realized...they were aging. For decades the three sirens, with their long life spans, had not once experienced any change to their appearance. But now, the signs of growth, of age lines, were beginning to show. One way or another, their very gems had possessed the magic that had given them their expansive life spans. Perhaps that was always the case. Or perhaps it happened the moment they were physically separated from their jewels. But with their gems shattered, or cracked in Adagio's case, the sirens now faced newfound mortality, a regulated lifespan equal to that of a human's. And in this realization, more horrific thoughts followed.

Adagio, Sonata, and Aria would be forgotten with time, as three average humans who lived simple, meaningless human lives. They'd disappear with little trace of who they truly were. And the siren name would die with them. Their people never existed in this world. The sirens no longer exist in Equestria, either. Their kind's legacy would be left to collect dust, if not erased from history entirely. Adagio realized then that she hadn't just failed her sisters in leading them. She had failed every siren that had come before her, who once thought she'd lead the sirens to a greater future. And that was something her broken pride could not stand for.

In Sonata's and Aria's eyes, Adagio's spontaneous decision to have a child was abrupt and mind-boggling. Adagio - who loathed humans and being "human" more than anyone - was now prepared to have a child with one. Well, sort of. The only tidbit of information Adagio willingly gave them was her plan for artificial conception. Which okay, made far more sense. But even then, they couldn't even begin to understand what had brought on the choice. And Adagio, still intent on keeping her thoughts and weak emotions to herself, decided to keep it that way.

Thus lead to the creation of Forte Fermata, Adagio's half-human, half-siren daughter, and the first small spark of hope Adagio never knew she needed in her life. Adagio left Sonata and Aria to act as Forte's caretakers whenever she became busy with work. It took no time for Sonata to also fall in love with Forte, eager to play with what felt like a new baby sister. Meanwhile, Aria still needed time to really process the fact that Adagio wanted and had a kid, but once they were through Forte's crying-and-diaper-changing years, she decided Forte wasn't all that bad. Better than Adagio's snide attitude and Sonata's stupidity, at least. The sirens are an odd family of tired souls, and maybe not the best at being loving and kind to one another. But they are loyal to each other, and they do their best to make the most of the time they have left.

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EXTRA

While Adagio remains reserved and strict around her sisters, unwilling to show them her weakness again, only Forte has possessed the power to pull down her mother's walls and reveal her true exhaustion and vulnerability. She is the focus of every bit of Adagio's pride and adoration, and in the older siren's eyes, she is everything Adagio is and more.

Adagio, Aria, and Sonata do deeply care about one another. It's why they've stuck together through everything and why no amount of frustration or exasperation has led them to even consider leaving the other two behind. But harsh conditions through the years, along with their pride, made it difficult for them to know just how to express that care. That especially became the case once they lost their ability to sing together and share that special connection as sirens. Secretly, Adagio has reflected on this, silently questioning why Aria and Sonata still follow her after everything she's lead them through. Multiple times she's imagined a day where they'll decide they're better off on their own and will leave. It's a day she's mentally prepared herself for through the years and has contributed to her aloofness. Aria at least manages to catch onto her older sister's thoughts and quells them in her typical indirect, stubborn way.

Aria may step out of line at times to challenge Adagio's leadership and act like she thinks her sister's ideas are dumb. But really, that jealousy she harbored for Adagio when they were kids never quite went away. In reality, if she can't be considered a leader like Adagio (not that Adagio would give her a chance to try), a part of her wants Adagio to at least respect her as a voice worth hearing. She only really makes fun of Adagio when she wants some form of acknowledgment as Adagio's right-hand-woman, consistently one step behind her sister and quick to follow her lead. But she knows Adagio is too full of herself to give her that level of recognition. It's the one thing she truly hates about the older siren.

Sonata may not the brightest, but on rare occasions, she can come up with something genuinely helpful. Such moments honestly impress Adagio and Aria, an example being the cute little crochet pouch necklace she threw together for Forte to freely carry her gem in.

Since the siren sisters were far away from Equestria during the clash of the three pony tribes, they had missed seeing the lost, restless spirits of their siren sisters, mindlessly drawn in by the negativity that once empowered them and continued to do so in death. Equestrian history remembers them as the dreaded Wendigos, now asleep during Equestria's relative era of peace.

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TLDR: Local homeless and rejected teenaged orphans get their revenge and then try to take over the world twice, only to fail without a speck of closure in sight. This took me so long to write out...this was a case of knowing exactly what I wanted to write, but the words refused to come together the way I needed them to. OTL But I'm soso happy to reveal this story, as well as some pretty big puzzle pieces of Destinyverse lore!! Hope you enjoy. <3 These siren designs of the Dazzlings are based on the designs shown on the "My Little Pony: Legends of Magic" Issue 7 cover! Like dude, they're really pretty...!!

[chronicowboy]

Carol Danvers did not expect to get attached to another snarky on the outside but soft on the inside man when she returned to earth. She was simply told that a person, immeasurable in his importance and loved more than he knew, was stranded in space. There was no hesitation in her actions, she marched outside and launched herself into the atmosphere; something she'd done a thousand times but this one felt different. It didn't take all that long for her to find the ship, a man wasting away in the cockpit. For a terrible, agonising moment she thought she was too late, but his eyes — they didn't flutter, no, that's far too delicate a word for what they did — opened with immense force and she breathed a sigh of relief before pushing the ship back home. It was a strange feeling that hung in the air when she laid the ship down. Anxiety, love, curiosity, anger, sadness, regret and comfort combined in a concoction of suffocating agony. The man, Tony Stark, exited the ship and immediately everyone rushed to his aid.

It was hours before Carol felt it appropriate to check on him. What she didn't know was with one simple step into the room and question of his state she'd find a new friend. Pepper, his wife she'd found out, and James, his best friend, had dozed off after he'd finally woken up. A telling off of her fellow captain even without knowing the history behind it was very satisfying, but exhausting for the man who was dying just moments before. He had woken up a while ago and sent his closest loved ones to slumber safe in the knowledge that their Tony was back home, tiring jokes and all. She poked her head in, waving a hand.

"Hey, Carol, is it?" He asked in a stage whisper. She nodded, closing the door softly behind her. "Thanks for saving me and all. Big fan of that whole photon glow thing you have going on-"

"You don't have to do that." She muttered, knowing exactly what he was trying to; she knew it like the back of her hand. "Look, I'm not gonna ask how you are because I know you'll just say you're fine in the form of some snarky comment-"

"So you're me, if I was blonde, female and an alien?" The sincerity in her tone made him uneasy just as all captains did.

"I'm of the human disposition, unfortunately. Survived a blast from the tesseract, absorbed its energy and here we are." An odd sense of pride settled in her heart when he smirked. "I don't know what went on with you guys," she gestured to the captain pacing outside with Natasha, "but I want you to know that I don't give a shit. That rant, that was fucking satisfying as anything. And I know he deserved it." She settled into the empty seat beside Pepper as he chuckled. "I've seen the tapes. Of you fighting," and Tony was struck with the terrible feeling that he was going to be made to question his morals. "You're a good man. You fight for what's right, anyway you can, but you still take more precautions than the rest of them to preserve civilian lives. I think we'll get along just fine." They sat there until the morning, getting to know each other. Carol heard countless stories of Peter Parker, the brave kid from Queens, and his far too loyal for her own good wife whilst Tony heard about the ever-aging family she can never manage to say goodbye to when she leaves and tales about a young, two-eyed Nick Fury. When she left in the morning, a bond had already been formed.

Over the course of a very long half-decade where the skies were embedded with a thick pall of ash that was formerly living loving things, Carol dropped by every now and then. Her holographic meetings with Natasha, a woman she'd grown quite fond of, were nice but that was the only contact she had with earth. Her days spent on the planet were reserved for one small, broken family. Catch ups with the Starks. Baby Morgan, who got older each time and Carol didn't like it, staring in awe at the glowing lady. Pepper, who's smile lit up the room, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Tony, who still mourned the loss of his mentee, bringing her into bone crushing hugs that got ever so slightly weaker each time.

When he died, Carol was lost. She had Maria and Monica and Nick back, but at the cost of Tony's life. It was all tainted, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with the man. She didn't get to see Peter Parker at the funeral, only met him once in the midst of their war. He was a kind boy with a strength almost equal to her own. She instantly found herself vowing to protect him at all costs and she knew that'd mean mentoring him when he was ready to be a hero once more.

☆☆☆

It's a year later when Peter finally finds the strength to go back to the compound. May had called up Rhodey a while ago and asked for his opinion on the subject.

"When he's ready, we'll be waiting. He's an avenger, but we still need time after something like this." James regretted that last part when the kind woman's inquiries into his wellbeing brought tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat.

Peter said he needed a little more time. He thought he should be a normal teenager for a while because,

"It's what Tony would have wanted."

When the day came, May was beyond apprehensive. Peter had been more fidgety than usual, somehow, so much so that she could practically feel the sickening vibrations of excitement and anxiety. She drove him to the compound with tensed shoulders and nervous glances at the passenger seat. Peter smiled at her each time, it hurt to go there with the guarantee of no Tony but he was ready to be back to his normal as can be superhero career. May had to resist the urge to walk him to the door with two strong hands on his shoulders. He could practically see her thoughts and took her hands in his when he was out of the car. She walked him in, greeting Happy with a smile as Rhodey pulled Peter towards the meeting room. They didn't say goodbye. Didn't have to.

"Alright, kid. Now, we're gonna ease you back in. Most of us are away on business, but there's somebody who's looking forward to meeting you. Properly, anyway." He held the door open for him and the blonde lady, Captain Marvel he vaguely remembered her being called in the letters Tony had written for him, turned around.

"Hey, Peter Parker." She smiled. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the small flashback of the battle and let the grin tug the corner of his lips up.

"Captain Marvel?" His words dripped with adoration.

"Please, call me Carol. Captain Marvel is my mother." She joked before backtracking at the incredulous look on his face. "No. Um, not really. I was just joking. All human, you see. Just absorbed the energy of the tesseract so now I can do this," she points a clenched fist at the wall and a photon blast leaves a scorch mark.

"Come on, man. I thought we stayed in contact because we're both the only no nonsense avengers." Rhodey groaned.

"We are, but, James, there's a child in the room. Unlike you, I'm great with kids." She replied coolly, bumping shoulders with Peter.

"Okay, one, I'm nearly eighteen-"

"So still a kid." She interrupted, but was swiftly ignored by the boy.

"And, two, your name is James?" He laughed as Rhodey grumbled something about a headache and walked out.

"Carol Danvers at your mentoring service." She bowed, grinning.

"You're going to be my new mentor?" He asked, shaking off the waver in his voice.

"I mean, I know I'm off world a lot but yeah. I don't see why not. I'm the best influence here. You're basically as strong as me and your webs mean you can fly. Kind of. You get what I mean. The only difference is, I can shoot the power of an infinity stone out of my fists." Peter's eyes widened in awe. The beam on his face ached and he thought it was physically impossible for it to grow anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like this so genuinely. However, the lightness of the air quickly evolved into a serious atmosphere as she sat down and motioned for him to take a seat. He complied immediately, heart freezing in fear of what was to come. "Tony told me a lot about you," and there it was. He sucked in a deep breath and knew his new, out of this world, insanely cool mentor was watching him deteriorate. "Hey, hey. Take a deep breath. Heroes are allowed to be scared. The best ones usually are." She smiled kindly yet sadly. "Do you want me to carry on?" Peter nodded, steeling himself with the necessity of hearing what was to be said.

"I do." He confirmed.

"He told me how brave you are, how strong and kind and respectful. How you'd do anything to please him, but you weren't afraid to stand up to him when he was being stubborn. He admired you more than he'd ever get to admit. Said his biggest regret was not telling you how much you meant to him when you were alive. He loved you, Pete. And, not to make this about me or anything, I knew I would to when you were polite enough to introduce yourself to me whilst holding the doom of the universe in your tired arms." She stood abruptly as her — was that a pager? — pager beeped. "I have to go. Rhodey has your way of contacting me whenever you need me. Whether it's life threatening stuff or you just need to talk, please get in touch." She pulled him into a newly comforting embrace before ushering him out of the door. "I want to meet this 'hot aunt' of yours." He found yet another smile forming on his face.

Happy stopped mid-sentence and looked over May's shoulder. She turned around, fearing the dejected look she was sure to see on Peter's face and the furrowed brow on Rhodey's. Instead, she found her grinning nephew next to a woman who seemed to be glowing. An expression of pure amazement tugging at his face.

"Hello?" May offered her hand. Carol took it, pulling a face of approval.

"You must be the wonder aunt, May Parker. You raised a wonderful boy and the world's safer for it. Thank you." Carol noticed they were still holding hands and blushed slightly as she coughed, retracting her gloved hand.

"Um, thanks?" May asked uncertainly as an inexplicable smile spread across her face.

"No problem. Sorry this has to be an abrupt meeting, but too many planets to save and too little time to save them. Bye, Peter, May." She nodded before retreating to the doors.

"Who's that?" May asked as they watched her shoot off into the sky.

"Carol Danvers. My new mentor." Peter looped his arm through May's and began recounting the wonderfully bizarre encounter he'd just had.

[muses-darling]

A Seduction of the Darkside - A Star Wars AU - CH.1 Alderaan

Arrogance, the downfall of the righteous, Jedi were no different, one by one blinded by it, one by one they fell. They lacked ambition, they lacked vision, and with the guidance of the Emperor, the Sith had swept over the lighted worlds of the Republic swallowing them in the darkness. Heated battles waged over planets, lasers firing from turrets, troops marching to assault, as the Republic attempted to rear their defenses up slow, lazy with bureaucracy and all other trappings that helped to lay it low. Still they put up a decent fight yet one by one each world would fall in a fiery blaze if they had too. The Sith Empire was on the rise, and their numbers grew day by day as more and more were claimed to the dark side. It was the will of the force, for the light to at long last yield to the darkness and be snuffed out. 

Perperations over the last three hundred years were coming to fruition. All that time spent lying in the shadows hungry, patience learned with time growing in power, waiting for the moment their revenge would be at hand. Overseeing it, transferring life, much like their emperor from one vessel to another. The best laid plans were the ones over seen by their maker. Ignis was more than willing to wait, more than willing to seek out all that would bring about the fall of their weakened enemies. The Jedi would never see it coming, and when they did it would be only after the route to victory was assured.

Harrower Class Dreadnoughts entered the space above the tranquil planet of Alderaan. A creamy green of an orb centered in the viewport, a lovely sight, only to be made more so when it burned. Darth Ignis turned, fingers waving sending out the force bringing the comm on, the Sith Emperor sat looking pleased, “My Emperor.” Darth Ignis knelt down if only because he had yet to find a way to over throw the man.

“Lord Ignis, destroy what you must, leave what you can, supplies are needed in winning a war, and this planet is lush. Destroy the Republic’s foothold and bring about a victory. Take prisoners, especially promising Jedi.” The Emperor commanded, before the connection terminated.

“It will be done my Emperor,” Darth Ignis asseverated while rising, crimson eyes pivoting to where the planet, already receiving bombardment. “Ready my ship, I will see to this personally.”

______________________________________________________________

Waves of grass on his home planet of Alderaan waved in the gentle wind as Kit meditated on the force. In the force he could sense the impending darkness keeping his mind on the peace that surrounded him. “I am one with the force, the force is one with me. There is no emotion; there is peace, there is no ignorance; there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity, there is no death; there is the Force.” He fell silent as he became aware of the encroaching numbers, repeating the code as a mantra; a lightsaber lay ready for when he needed it. Let them come...

Sith imperial troopers, warriors, inquisitors, and the like marched on him and the town beyond. If they thought him alone well they were in for a surprise. They had done well in cloaking themselves in the force but not well enough. The hum of lightsabers, a fear tried to rise in his belly. There is no emotion! His nerves steadied with the words of the code- There is only peace- A crack of a fallen branch under foot- there is no ignorance- closer and closer rocks came loose colliding with each other as they were kicked up in the footfall- There is knowledge. His hand moved slowly extending outward as he did so with the force. There is no passion, there is serenity. Rising with the blade in a swift motion, viridescent eyes same color of the blade taking in his surroundings.

“You will die today Jedi.” An assassin purred behind him.

There is no death, there is the force! His lightsaber was a cue, Republic troops came from where they had been deployed between the Sith and Kit cutting them off. 

“Jedi Scum!” An Inquisitor bit out, his final words as Kit brought his hand up the lightsaber flying forward and through the target as Kit leaped into the air twisting and landing his lightsaber to his hand. Igniting his other blade as he brought it out and down through another enemy. The Emerald of the Order was what they called him and he certainly lived up to the name. Blades crackled with energy as they met. Kit used the force to push one of them away from himself as he wheeled a blur of motion. Safeguarding the innocents required he put them to the blade. Ordinarily he would have found a least confrontational manner. However when necessary he found himself able to contend with aggressive negotiations.

________________________________________________________________

Azure peaceful skies choked with smoke turned red with flames that burned brightly through the forests, valleys, and towns. Fire was something that Ignis felt embodied the Darkside well. The Code of the Sith was just as opposite of the Jedi, his lightsaber crackled red, it sliced through them down the middle, Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Flames lit him in a beautiful and grotesque way causing fear in his enemy’s eyes some turned and fled only to be cut down by blaster fire. Through passion, I gain strength. He reached out through the force bringing the fire up in a swirl and at the enemies watching them reduce to ash. Through strength, I gain power. Feeding on their fear gave him clarity to see them his lightsaber through them cutting them like wheat in a field. Through power, I gain victory. Lopping the head off of one of the Trooper Captains. Through victory, my chains are broken. There had been a time where he had been held back by the code the Jedi, the lies they told themselves enslaved to an impossible philosophy. The Force shall free me. Their ways had allowed him an illusion of safety once shattered with the loss of Persephone. The man known then as Jedi Master Hades fell to the darkside consumed in the need for vengeance. That had been long ago... Republic troops crumpled under the might of his army. 

One Republic trooper stood before him holding his blaster out at him, brave one, foolish one, now dead....

Darth Ignis perceived him try to fire only for the force to break the man’s arm, relishing the scream as the man’s mind caught up to the knowledge of his impending doom. The blaster went off sealing his life while Ignis pressing onward passed him. 

________________________________________________________________

Kit’s blades twirled as he sent blaster lasers back at those who shot at him. The air was becoming too hot and thick, flames licked away at the growth coming near. Blades met others, it was in the way they met that told him this was someone not to underestimate.

The Adversary’s face was partially covered with a breathing apparatus scarlet-yellow, hate filled eyes scorched into Kit’s evergreen ones. Savage blows forcing Kit back the dark Jedi clearly drew on the force to augment himself. “Hello pretty Jedi-”

Kit smiled, “Aw darling, shame the same can’t be said about you.” Reaching out with the force he tried to hit the man with a rock, barely missing him.

“Please you didn’t think I would fall for that?” The Sith chuckled. “Certainly not after I’ve seen you use it on another.” He caught the rock using the force to shatter it, the sharp pieces hurtling at Kit blocking with lightsabers destroying all, but one shard slicing his arm. 

Kit gasped with pain his lightsaber locking with the man’s blade narrowly blocking him, stumbling back. 

“You fight well, but see that you fight a master.” The Sith jeered at him, “while you are only a mere knight.” 

Kit reached back with the force stopping his fall as the Sith neared him keeping him from truly finding any real balance. Kit closed his eyes breathing in, Peace, Knowledge, and Serenity. Letting his blades drop using the force to sweep them at the legs moving away from the Sith.

The Sith used the force to push hurtling over Kit and landing behind him. 

Kit turned, lightsabers flying up to meet the Sith’s his hands finding purchase on the hilts. He shut them off feeling the Sith slam into him as Kit used the force to fall backward softly into the tall grass controling his landing, using the hit of his landing to send up a powerful blast.

The Sith was sent flying into a tree hard enough to make him drop his lightsaber. Kit spun rising up, lightsabers arcing around him soaring to the Sith. “Yield.”

“Funny I could ask you to do the same thing.” A voice said from behind him. 

A man clearly a Dark Lord of the Sith nearing him Kit moved a lightsaber to be between each opponent. 

Releasing from the tree the other Sith brought up a lightsaber cutting through the hilt of one lightsaber hovering it at Kit’s throat.

“Darth Vesania, we have a rare opportunity before us, I think he will be of more use to us alive than dead.” The newly arrived Sith Lord spoke.

Darth Vesania clearly sounded bored, “I would prefer him dead, his goodness in the Force makes me sick, Lord Ignis.”

“Then leave and find other’s to kill.” Darth Ignis dismissed him, bringing Kit’s remaining lightsaber into his hand. “This one will live today at least.” 

Kit watched the other leave as more surrounded him looking to the one who had intervened, “If you think I will be your willing prisoner, think again. I will give myself to the force before I surrender.”

“Oh that I don’t doubt but it would be such a waste of a pretty face.” Darth Ignis smiled to him beneath the hood. “Even more of such skill. There are not many who have stood up to Darth Vesania and lived, in fact I think you may be the only one who has.” The voice was regal and clearly used to giving commands. “I have no desire in seeing a flower like you burn, now be a good Jedi and choose the peaceful option. Surrender Just like your precious Republic did this day.”

Live to fight again, his mind offered up as wisdom. Perhaps this was the Forces’ will? To take this Path it wasn’t a clear path and he had no certainty. Uncertainty could lead to fear, to the darkside. There is no emotion; there is peace, there is no ignorance; there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity, there is no death; there is the Force. In the voice of his Master Gabriel the code came to mind again. The Republic had lost Alderaan his homeworld, just like Kit himself as he felt the force repelling manacles lock around his wrists.

[thefeministherald]

Your Ultimate Women-Write-The-Best-of-Everything 2019 Reading List

The Voyeurs (Graphic Novel)

"The Voyeurs is the work of a mature writer, if not one of the most sincere voices of her literary generation. It's a fun, honest read that spans continents, relationships and life decisions. I loved it."—Chris Ware, Acme Novelty Library

"As she watches other people living life, and watches herself watching them, Bell's pen becomes a kind of laser, first illuminating the surface distractions of the world, then scorching them away to reveal a deeper reality that is almost too painful and too beautiful to bear."— Alison Bechdel, Fun Home

"A master of the exquisite detail, Bell provides a welcome peephole into our lives."—Françoise Mouly, The New Yorker

The Voyeurs, was named one of the best books of the year by Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, and the Atlantic.

Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity

In this brilliant, breathtaking book by Pulitzer Prize winner Katherine Boo, a bewildering age of global change and inequality is made human through the dramatic story of families striving toward a better life in Annawadi, a makeshift settlement in the shadow of luxury hotels near the Mumbai airport. As India starts to prosper, the residents of Annawadi are electric with hope. Abdul, an enterprising teenager, sees “a fortune beyond counting” in the recyclable garbage that richer people throw away. Meanwhile Asha, a woman of formidable ambition, has identified a shadier route to the middle class. With a little luck, her beautiful daughter, Annawadi’s “most-everything girl,” might become its first female college graduate.

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me: A Graphic Memoir

Cartoonist Ellen Forney explores the relationship between “crazy” and “creative” in this graphic memoir of her bipolar disorder, woven with stories of famous bipolar artists and writers.

Shortly before her thirtieth birthday, Forney was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Flagrantly manic and terrified that medications would cause her to lose creativity, she began a years-long struggle to find mental stability while retaining her passions and creativity.

Searching to make sense of the popular concept of the crazy artist, she finds inspiration from the lives and work of other artists and writers who suffered from mood disorders, including Vincent van Gogh, Georgia O’Keeffe, William Styron, and Sylvia Plath. She also researches the clinical aspects of bipolar disorder, including the strengths and limitations of various treatments and medications, and what studies tell us about the conundrum of attempting to “cure” an otherwise brilliant mind.

Darkly funny and intensely personal, Forney’s memoir provides a visceral glimpse into the effects of a mood disorder on an artist’s work, as she shares her own story through bold black-and-white images and evocative prose.

The Woman in Cabin 10

From New York Times bestselling author of the “twisty-mystery” (Vulture) novel In a Dark, Dark Wood, comes The Woman in Cabin 10, an equally suspenseful and haunting novel from Ruth Ware—this time, set at sea. In this tightly wound, enthralling story reminiscent of Agatha Christie’s works, Lo Blacklock, a journalist who writes for a travel magazine, has just been given the assignment of a lifetime: a week on a luxury cruise with only a handful of cabins. The sky is clear, the waters calm, and the veneered, select guests jovial as the exclusive cruise ship, the Aurora, begins her voyage in the picturesque North Sea. At first, Lo’s stay is nothing but pleasant: the cabins are plush, the dinner parties are sparkling, and the guests are elegant. But as the week wears on, frigid winds whip the deck, gray skies fall, and Lo witnesses what she can only describe as a dark and terrifying nightmare: a woman being thrown overboard. The problem? All passengers remain accounted for—and so, the ship sails on as if nothing has happened, despite Lo’s desperate attempts to convey that something (or someone) has gone terribly, terribly wrong…

1222

Nominated for the Edgar Award for Best Novel, from Norway’s #1 bestselling female crime writer—a “beguiling” (The Washington Post) “good old-fashioned murder mystery” (The New York Times Book Review) set in an isolated hotel where guests stranded during a monumental snowstorm begin turning up dead. A train on its way to the northern reaches of Norway derails during a massive blizzard, 1,222 meters above sea level. The passengers head for a nearby hotel, centuries old and practically empty. With plenty of food and shelter from the storm, the evacuees think they are safe, until one of them turns up dead. With no sign of rescue and the storm raging, retired police inspector Hanne Wilhelmsen is asked to investigate. Paralyzed by a bullet lodged in her spine, Hanne has no desire to get involved. But when another body turns up, panic takes over. Complicating things is the presence of a mysterious guest, a passenger who traveled in a private rail car and now stays secluded on the top floor of the hotel. No one knows who the guest is, or why armed guards are needed. Hanne has her suspicions. Trapped in her wheelchair, trapped by the storm, and now trapped with a killer, Hanne knows she must act before the killer strikes again.

Robot Dreams

A Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year A PW Best Book of the Year An ALSC Notable Children’s Book A YALSA Great Graphic Novel

This moving, charming graphic novel about a dog and a robot shows us in poignant detail how powerful and fragile relationships are.

Borderlands / La Frontera: The New Mestiza

Rooted in Gloria Anzaldúa's experience as a Chicana, a lesbian, an activist, and a writer, the essays and poems in this volume profoundly challenged, and continue to challenge, how we think about identity. Borderlands / La Frontera remaps our understanding of what a "border" is, presenting it not as a simple divide between here and there, us and them, but as a psychic, social, and cultural terrain that we inhabit, and that inhabits all of us.

Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened

Every time Allie Brosh posts something new on her hugely popular blog Hyperbole and a Half the internet rejoices. This full-color, beautifully illustrated edition features more than fifty percent new content, with ten never-before-seen essays and one wholly revised and expanded piece as well as classics from the website like, “The God of Cake,” “Dogs Don’t Understand Basic Concepts Like Moving,” and her astonishing, “Adventures in Depression,” and “Depression Part Two,” which have been hailed as some of the most insightful meditations on the disease ever written.

Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat: Mastering the Elements of Good Cooking

Now a Netflix series! New York Times Bestseller and Winner of the 2018 James Beard Award for Best General Cookbook and multiple ICAP Cookbook Awards Named one of the Best Books of 2017 by: NPR, BuzzFeed, The Atlantic, The Washington Post, Chicago Tribune, Rachel Ray Every Day, San Francisco Chronicle, Vice Munchies, Elle.com, Glamour, Eater, Newsday, Minneapolis Star Tribune, The Seattle Times, Tampa Bay Times, Tasting Table, Modern Farmer, Publishers Weekly, and more. A visionary new master class in cooking that distills decades of professional experience into just four simple elements, from the woman declared “America’s next great cooking teacher” by Alice Waters.

Monstress Volume 1: Awakening

Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900's Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, MONSTRESS tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers. About the Creators: New York Times bestselling and award-winning writer Marjorie Liu is best known for her fiction and comic books. She teaches comic book writing at MIT, and leads a class on Popular Fiction at the Voices of Our Nation (VONA) workshop.

Persepolis

Marjane Satrapi's best-selling, internationally acclaimed graphic memoir. Persepolis is the story of Satrapi's unforgettable childhood and coming of age within a large and loving family in Tehran during the Islamic Revolution; of the contradictions between private life and public life in a country plagued by political upheaval.

Nobody Nowhere: The Remarkable Autobiography of an Autistic Girl

Donna Williams was a child with more labels than a jam-jar: deaf, wild disturbed, stupid insane... She lived within herself, her own world her foreground, ours a background she only visited. Isolated from her self and from the outside world, Donna was, in her words, a Nobody Nowhere. She swung violently between these two worlds, battling to join our world and, simultaneously, to keep it out. Abandoned from all connection to the self within her, she lived as a ghost with a body, a patchwork of the images which bombarded her. Intact but detached from the seemingly incomprehensible world around her, she lived in what she called 'a world under glass`.

After twenty-five years of being misunderstood, and unable to understand herself, Donna stumbled upon the word 'autism': a label, but one which held up a mirror and made sense of her life and struggles, and gave her a chance to finally forgive both herself and those around her.

The Ice Princess

The psychological thriller debut of No.1 bestselling Swedish crime sensation Camilla Lackberg.

A small town can hide many secrets

Returning to her hometown after the funeral of her parents, writer Erica Falck finds a community on the brink of tragedy. The death of her childhood friend, Alex, is just the beginning. Her wrists slashed, her body frozen in an ice-cold bath, it seems like she’s taken her own life.

Meanwhile, local detective Patrik Hedström is following his own suspicions about the case. It’s only when they start working together that the truth begins to emerge about a small town with a deeply disturbing past…

The Vampire Chronicles: Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and The Queen of the Damned

In 1976, nearly 80 years after Bram Stoker published Dracula, Anne Rice's bestselling first novel, Interview with the Vampire, breathed new life into the vampire myth. Now, in one chilling volume, here are the first three classic novels of The Vampire Chronicles; Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and Queen of the Damned.

Adulthood is a Myth: A Sarah's Scribbles Collection

Do you love networking to advance your career? Is adulthood an exciting new challenge for which you feel fully prepared? Ugh. Please go away. 2016 GOODREADS CHOICE AWARD WINNER FOR GRAPHIC NOVELS AND COMICS! These casually drawn, perfectly on-point comics by the hugely popular young Brooklyn-based artist Sarah Andersen are for the rest of us. They document the wasting of entire beautiful weekends on the internet, the unbearable agony of holding hands on the street with a gorgeous guy, and dreaming all day of getting home and back into pajamas. In other words, the horrors and awkwardnesses of young modern life. Oh and they are totally not autobiographical. At all.

Nimona

Indies Choice Book of the Year * National Book Award Finalist * New York Times Bestseller * New York Times Notable Book * Kirkus Best Book * School Library Journal Best Book * Publishers Weekly Best Book * NPR Best Book * New York Public Library Best Book * Chicago Public Library Best Book

The New York Times bestselling graphic novel sensation from Noelle Stevenson, based on her beloved and critically acclaimed web comic. Kirkus says, “If you’re going to read one graphic novel this year, make it this one.”

Nemeses! Dragons! Science! Symbolism! All these and more await in this brilliantly subversive, sharply irreverent epic from Noelle Stevenson. Featuring an exclusive epilogue not seen in the web comic, along with bonus conceptual sketches and revised pages throughout, this gorgeous full-color graphic novel has been hailed by critics and fans alike as the arrival of a “superstar” talent (NPR.org).

Cultural Anthropology  Barbara Miller

Cultural Anthropology presents a balanced introduction to the world’s cultures, focusing on how they interact and change. Author Barbara Miller provides many points where readers can interact with the material, and encourages students to think critically about other cultures as well as their own. Featuring the latest research and statistics throughout, the eighth edition has been updated with contemporary examples of anthropology in action, addressing recent newsworthy events such as the Ebola epidemic.

Captain Marvel Volume 1: Higher, Further, Faster, More

Kelly Sue Deconnick

Hero! Pilot! Avenger! Captain Marvel, Earth's Mightiest Hero with an attitude to match, is back and launching headfirst into an all-new ongoing adventure! As Captain Marvel, a.k.a. Carol Danvers, comes to a crossroads with a new life and new romance, she makes a dramatic decision that will alter the course of her life - and the entire Marvel Universe - in the months to come. But as Carol takes on a mission to return an alien girl to her homeworld, she lands in the middle of an uprising against the Galactic Alliance! Investigating the forced resettlement of Rocket Girl's people, Carol discovers that she has a history with the man behind the plot. But when the bad guy tries to blackmail Carol and turn the Avengers against her, it's payback time! Guest-starring the Guardians of the Galaxy!

[its-morphin-time-xiv]

Time between the seconds

[Emergency Alert] Linkpearl signal of user Belladonna Slater has been lost. Last known location:[Continent] Othard [Region] Dalmasca Estersand

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Mood]

How does it feel.. my dear?

“..cold.”

As it should be.

But you’ve felt this before... haven’t you?

The gentle shift of stained steel inside the small hyur’s chest caused her muscles to twitch, the muted pain.. so far and so distant from being felt brought a wave of discomfort into her mind as the peering eyes around her loomed over the blood-stained clothes. 

A low rumble of a chuckle echoed into the dark chamber, a ghost from the past, haunting her in every sense of the word. His face, a hollow visage of the man she loved back then. His voice a lingering reminder of the heart-ache she felt as he screamed her name as the transport left. It was an angry sort, the kind that sinks deep into your mind, filling it full with regret and the want to make things better than they could have ever turned out.

The pain dug into her still beating heart, the sadness, the grief, the agony of regret... all of it. His eyes pierced her at every turn, only adding to the muted sting of the blades as they kissed her body, one after the other.. over and over. 

Her world became hollow and silent as it grew slow. The fires of the crashing sand-drifted around her seemed like nothing but a crumbling dream to her as she fell to the floor. Her mind in a daze ever since the escape hatch opened to see... him.

Leon...

She killed him. Left him to die for the broken promises he killed everyone else between. It was the only thing she could have done, to repay for what he had done. But that was then, so many many years ago.. She watched as the voidsent ripped him apart, piece by piece. That was it. That’s all it should have been.

We’re the same, darlin’. You and I. We’ve died.. but they can’t keep us down.. Not matter how much they make us bleed. You.. you learned from Me... and Me? Hells.. baby.. I learned from you.

He flashed a devil’s smile that seemed to rip from ear to ear as his laughter bellowed up, deep from within him. He relished living again.. being able to walk and give every piece of vengeance that he wanted to the woman that left him to die. 

You see.. this.. this Ranger thing, it’s rigged. We’re just the toy soldiers in a long-ass game of war. And I got tired of it, I wished you understood that... I wished you understood it. But you didn’t. And now we’re here, baby.. second time.

The trickle of blood rolling down her body seemed to play with her senses as he spoke. Each little stream gave her a sense of time, the time between the seconds passing, tick by tick they’d go. As Leon spoke, his eyes left his once beloved, looking to the window to watch the ship they stood on crumble to pieces into the sandy dunes of the Dalmascan Estersands. 

A twitch of her body gave her a small glimmer of hope as the spikes along her back twitched, signalling there was still a way to fight back.. to escape. Her tired eye dragged to see one of her pistols, they were discarded and thrown to the side.

Slowly she’d reach for the pistol, it’s magitek circuitry glowing and pulsating a teal-like color. It was loaded and ready to fire.. all she needed to take hold of it with her bloody hands and fire. Ilms... only ilms away, so close yet so far from her armed salvation.

The ship around them began to shudder more, the metal flooring rattling against her body and the bloodied steel piercing her. With a jolt and jostle the entire room shifted left, her pistol jumped into her hand. With a weak whine, her thumb passed over the safety... *click* ... 

There was a roar as the pistol primed itself, refreshing the near empty clip as her arm pulled upward, the trigger finger dragging back. The rumbling air of sand and blood was shaken by the thunder-crack of gunshots echoed throughout the metal chamber. 

A thud and another scream came into the air as Bella’s voice ripped into the auburn colors. Tears were mixing with the crimson stains along her cheeks as she screamed out, anger and fear, agony.. and rage. She needed to leave, she couldn’t bear to see his face anymore.. his body.. his now bloodied corpse. 

His eyes were going dark, the colors draining from his eyes.. the reflection of her own bloodied self was in his eyes and it drove the hyur mad. She couldn’t stand to see him like this again. Bella began to thrash and struggle against the floor, her boots scraping against the cold and red stained steel as she jerked her head back side to side. Her horrid sobs filled the air as she was reminded of all the lives she had left behind, all the memories that have been compounding and mixing into her mind after every thing that she had been through.. every life that she remembers.. every death. 

Belladonna’s voice was rasped and weak as everything that was keeping her alive was struggling to keep her now. Each and every breath was dragged and slow as her hands dropped the pistol, the weapon clattering to the ground as it powered off. Red stained hands began to grip at the blades that stuck through her. Her tears blurring her vision as her mind was racing into the hurting chaos.

The cold steel began to slick itself with blood as she gripped the blades tight. They’d shift and shudder in her body as she tried to pull them up and out of her. Her body reacted violently, refusing to work as the pain registered there but not with her mind. The muted bleeding was nothing to her as she struggled over and over. Bella slammed the back of her head against the cold floor screaming again. Flashes of thought slipped in and out of her mind as she screamed over and over again, her tears never seeming to dry out as she sobbed violently. 

Focus.

Belladonna... Focus.

Find something.. and Focus.

The words of The Creator beckoned to her. He was calling her mind to do just that... focus. Focus and escape, over and over. Bella’s mind fluttered and swarmed the multiple memories and thoughts that piled upon her to find one point that she wanted.. one point that she could....

... Her.

The hyur’s mind began to clamp down on the woman she thought of. The visions and memory of the woman before her brought her comfort as her hands gripped the bloodied blades again. With a grit of her teeth the hyur’s mind began to drift from thought to thought about how this girl brought her happiness.. and how she would fight the world over and over to see her again.  

Bella’s hands despite every cut and gash pulled every blade and grip she could she could away. She was screaming in agony and frustration.. and despair as the blades slid against clattered against the grooved flooring towards Leon’s still warm body. Blade by long blade they were pulled out, her voice was quivering against her sobs as finally her body pushed itself forward upon the Ranger’s instinct to survival. The lack of pain she could feel was nothing but a gods’ send to her.. a curse and a gift all in one. 

The world around her began to crumble, as the ship’s descent collided with the dunes below finally. With a tumble, Bella followed the momentum to get to her knees. There was a groan from her as a hand gripped at her chest, attempting to staunch the blood that would’ve otherwise be flowing. A sniffle and sob from her as the woman reached for her pistol, pocketing it into one of the bloodied pockets.  

Slowly but surely she’d trigger the room’s hatch open, giving her time to drag herself across the ground to the sands that awaited her in this desolate waste. Around her the ship was crumbling to pieces as if it was simply waiting to fall apart by the last individual fiber. The heat of the burning air and the singed sands began to mix, creating a choking aroma cinders that scorched her lungs.

Away from the burning wreckage Bella would escape, blood trailing behind her in every sunken footstep. Traces of green lighting shot across the sands before her, guiding her path to The Creator himself. It seemed as if the time droned on as she followed the path before her, the winding green magic finally began to spark as she got closer and closer. Before her, finally a large shimmering green doorway stood. Tears of sadness rolled down her cheeks as her body, despite the lack of caution began to collapse.. the blood she had lost may have proven to finally be too much. 

Her voice haggard and rasped, she screamed out for him to appear. The whispers and claws of Leon’s.. associates began to reach her muffled hearing. The beasts of the dark practically breathing down her mutated spine. The hyur’s body began to halt, her legs giving way till she collapsed onto the sandy incline.. just fulms away from the portal that would be her escape. Another scream and sob as she kicked up the sand to deter the approaching beasts before her dirtied hand pulled the pistol up. Her thumb swiping across the the safety after the magitek circuitry shimmering once again.

Four shots rang out, one after the other all in quick succession. The snarling of the daemons grew quiet as the beasts dropped one after the other. Bell’s voice would pierce the heavens as the airship nearby began to explode, it’s engines finally catching fire to ignite the smokey auburn skies once more. 

The shimmering green portal visibly pulsated its hues as a man took slow steps out. Bella began to feel aged yet eternally strong arms wrap around her as The Creator folded his arms to form the comfort she needed. With the passing time, the little mutant’s eyes continued to water over as she kicked and screamed her heart out. Her voice growing hoarse till she could lose it and beyond. The Creator... the figure she looked up to, cared for.. prepared her for all this.. couldn’t prepare her for the aching pain that she felt. 

Germán pressed his face against Bella’s head, hiding away the sorrow he felt for his Ranger... He could have told her, he could have given her the signs, the power.. the preparation as he had always before.. But he didn’t. He hid her away, pushed her objectives and timed them right to avoid such a meeting... such a hurt... But he didn’t.  

For Bella’s plight.. of the fall of Rangers wasn’t her burden to bear alone.. The Creator... Germán Valiante too shared the blame for Leon.. He chose them.. the Rangers.. everyone of them. They were his children, the children he always wanted, the ones he cared for time and time again.. Sending them away into the fields for their first.. and their last missions. He remembered every one of them.. and he remembered.. They.. They remembered in the time between the seconds that nothing could have been done.. to save them.

“I am sorry... My dear Ranger...”

“I am sorry, Belladonna..”

[collectorscorner]

CC Blogger - New Arrivals @ Collectors Corner : Wednesday 8/12/20 Collectors Corner Parkville - HQ : OPEN for IN STORE SHOPPING with Strong Safety Measures in Place (Hand Sanitizing Stations, Masks Required for All, Social Distancing Required, Limited Capacity, CURBSIDE Pick Up Optional) - According to Baltimore County Guidelines. 1-410-668-3353. CC Parkville - NEW 2020 STORE HOURS, Sunday 12-6, Mon-Tues 12-7, Wed 9-8, Thurs 11-7, Friday & Saturday 11-8 Collectors Corner - Bel Air Outpost Location : OPEN for IN STORE SHOPPING with Strong Safety Measures in Place (Hand Sanitizing Stations, Masks Required for All, Social Distancing Required, Limited Capacity, CURBSIDE Pick Up Optional) - According to Harford County Guidelines. 1-410-838-1777. CC Bel Air -NEW 2020 STORE HOURS, Sunday 11-5, Monday/Tuesday - Closed, Wednesday 11-8, Thursday 11-7, Friday/Saturday 11-8 Complete list of items shipping to the stores, some items may be limited in availability. If you see anything you want to purchase on the list and are not a subscription member at Collectors Corner, just contact us and let us know if you want an item held at the stores. email - collectorscornermd@comcast.net Subscription Membership & Free Membership Card : Collectors Corner's No Obligation (FREE) Membership Card or FREE (In Store) & ONLINE Subscription Membership saves you 10% Off ALL Bagged & Boarded Comic Book Back Issues, Board Games, Graphic Novels, Manga & Special Orders. Plus Never miss a comic again! Computerized and organized + you can add and cancel titles on your subscription list from home on your own time, or in the store when you pick up your comics at : Maryland's Coolest Stores! Since 2001. 2 Super Cool & Convenient Locations - CC PARKVILLE - HEADQUARTERS 7911 Harford Rd Parkville, MD 21234 & CC BEL AIR - OUTPOST 17 N. Main St. Bel Air, MD 21014 www.collectorscornermd.com PUBLISHER/TITLE/PRICE ABLAZEGung Ho #7 (Cover A Kim Jung Gi), $3.99Gung Ho #7 (Cover B Daniel Clarke), $3.99Gung Ho #7 (Cover C Thomas von Kummant Zack & Yuki Variant, $3.99Mirka Andolfo's Un/Sacred #7 (Cover A Mirka Andolfo), $3.99Mirka Andolfo's Un/Sacred #7 (Cover B Mirka Andolfo Angelina & Damiano In Love Variant), $3.99Mirka Andolfo's Un/Sacred #7 (Cover C Mirka Andolfo Damiano & Angelina With Mom Variant), $3.99 ABRAMS COMICARTSMarvel Comics Mini-Books Collectible Boxed Set, $29.99 AFTERSHOCK COMICSAnimosity #28, $3.99Join The Future #4, $3.99Undone By Blood #5, $3.99 AHOY COMICSBillionaire Island #4 (Of 4), $3.99 ALBATROSS FUNNYBOOKSHillbilly The Lizard Of Rusty Creek Cave (FCBD 2020 Edition), AR AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY PRODUCTIONSZorro Timeless Tales #2 (Cover B Tom Yeates Pulp Variant), AR ARCHIE COMIC PUBLICATIONSArchie And Friends Endless Summer #1, $2.99Archie 1000-Page Comics Spark TP, $14.99Betty And Veronica Jumbo Comics Digest #285, $7.99World Of Archie Jumbo Comics Digest #101, $7.99 ASPEN COMICSLola XOXO Volume 3 #6 (Cover A Siya Oum), $3.99Lola XOXO Volume 3 #6 (Cover B Mauricio Camptella), $3.99Lola XOXO Volume 3 #6 (Cover C Siya Oum), AR AWA STUDIOSDevil's Highway #2, $3.99Old Haunts #3, $3.99Resistance #4 (Of 6), $3.99 BEHEMOTH COMICSGatherer GN, $14.99Osiris Path #3 (Of 3), $3.99 BOOM! 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[suledxn-blog]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

Just a fun little character game. Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS: 01.   Pride 02.   Compassion 03.   Curiosity 04.   Anger 05.   Calm

GREETINGS: 01.   Calm, head bowing. “Hello.” 02.   “Andaran atishan, lethal’lin/len/lan.” A smile on her face, eyes curious. 03.   A look, watchful gaze. A smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. She says nothing, only expects things to be said by the other. 04.   Hands clasped behind her back, back straight. No smile. No read of her emotions anywhere. “Greetings.”  05.  Brow raised, feet on the table in front of her & her chair leaned back. “Ya want somethin’?”

COLORS: 01.   Green of any shade. But, she enjoys seeing the brighter greens. The color reminds her of the forest, of her home and her roots.   02.   Black. It doesn’t stain. It makes her hair pop. It makes her eyes glow. At least that’s what someone told her once. But, Revas also enjoys being able to blend into the shadows now and then. 03.   Golds. Shimmering, shining like the sun. Hopeful but powerful. She wishes her eyes were this color, but it more so reflects what some say about her heart. Golden to the core with too much love and care for her people.

SCENTS: 01.   Scorpion Grasses 02.   Moist, fresh soil. 03.   Smoke & ash.  04.   Fresh cut wood.

CLOTHING: 01.   Flowing coat, leather straps around her wrists with “Justice” & “Mercy” stitched in elvhen along them. 02.   Tall boots with a thick heel. A few buckles over them. 03.   Wrapped cloth around her waist, forming a loose skirt.  04.   Another wrapping of cloth around her chest, leather corset binding it to her form.  05.   A thick choker that flows from under her jaw to over her collar bone. At the front is a small skull, and feathers hanging from other points. 

OBJECTS: 01.   An iron bark staff. Leather coils around it as if apart of the bark itself but only where she holds it. A skull, canine in nature (missing its lower jaw), sits a top of it with wooden tendrils wrapping around and through it. And a blade, narrow but double edged, sticks out from it, jutting out at the end and digging into the dirt often. It is a thicker staff, weighted and heavy but balanced. It towers over her, standing at roughly 7 feet (with the skull.) In the open spaces, theres carvings. Words in elvhen that tell a story of the dread wolf, but ones of hope as well. Of course, this staff is her personal one and its design is made only for her. Crafted by Faron, he named it  Emitha'navir. To embrace death. 02.  A ring, iron bark woven with gold. A single gem sits in the center, surrounded by twists of silver. It is thin, wire like. It does not hold any engravings, no name. It is simply a family heirloom given to the dreamers of her mothers family. Her grandmother gave it to her. She told her that it could be made an offering to Falon’din, for safe harbor in his realm.  03.  Herbs for sleep &  a pipe. While she indulges in smoking elf root, Revas also tends to smoke other herbs to induce her sleep.  04.   A scroll case full of her notes, maps, & various other papers. Generally kept at her waist, or the small of her back.

VICES / BAD HABITS: 01.   Quick to anger. Easily enraged. 02.   Prideful attitude. To a certain point of arrogance. 03.   Drinking to forget or remember. She doesn’t know anymore. It’s not so much a problem usually, but it is certainly a way of coping. 04.   Manipulation of some. Forming trusting bonds for her own gains, even at the cost of lying to those around her.  05.   Hyper-focus. If she’s working or fighting, she generally tends to focus on the subject at hand till it is finished. Neglecting her self care if able.

BODY LANGUAGE: 01.   Regal almost. Poised with an air that demands respect, no matter your origin. 02.   Rigid, hands clasped at her back. Standing like a general over an army. A teacher with their student.  03.   Relaxed muscular arms flowing, moving to tell a story. Her torso moves just as fluid as her arms. 04.   Bouncing whether in place or on the move. Arms swinging free, or tucked at her back loosely.  05.   Muscles flex in her arms, crossed over her chest. Standing tall, imposing, and not willing to back down.

AESTHETICS: 01.   Mountains reaching beyond the clouds. Seas of green in their valleys. Clouds that roll off the sides, weaving between the trees. An open view of all that below from the peak. Sun setting behind the mountains, creating a shimmer to the mountain sides.  02.   Waves crashing against the stone shore. Beaches stretching into cities and harbors. Warm colors decorating the walls of stone, bright and defiant against the gray seas. Gold shimmering off dark skins, smiles and laughs flowing with the sound of the water. Tall men & women with gold and silver coiling around their arms and throats, horns painted with bright orange or yellow. Fish being thrown between merchants. Ships rocking at the docks. A place that feels like a home she’s always known.  03.   Brightly colored flowers moving with the winds. Bright flowers that emerge from the snow, refusing to wilt away or finding new life. Herbs that crawl along stone pillars, perhaps as old as the stone itself. Glowing mushrooms in dark caves, lyrium singing through them. Life that defies the odds and adapts to it.  04.   Heat waves dancing along her fingers. Ashes floating through the air. The flicker of flame before it blazes along her arms. The way it warms but never burns.  The way it scorches the ground, licking at bodies that aren’t hers. The way energy dazzles in the air, drifting with an electric feeling. Waiting and rolling in dark thunderheads. The bolt of energy that courses through her, bright white dancing sparks that strike down from dark skies. Frost that clings to dark leather. Frozen spikes that jut off of her armor. The haze of the frost slowing the blows to her chest. Element dancing, dazzling, and destroying. 05.   Blood dripping from tangled branches. Throats pinned to the ground by large roots, coiling and crushing. Cracks of bone. Crunch of metal. Gasps for life. Waves of energy flooding through the ground around them, leaving corpses in its wake. Roots, grass, and even tree trunks, pulling the corpses through whether into themselves or into the dirt. Living and thriving, feasting on the body’s she’s given them. Nature growing over scorches earth, her magic stronger than their powders. Dead grass turning green as she walks. Thriving plants shriveling as she weeps. The control of the world around her, with whatever cost to herself. 

SONGS: 01.   Hellhounds - Shawn James  02.   Through the Valley - Shawn James 03.   I of The Storm - Of Monsters & Men   04.   Crystals - Of Monsters and Men 05.   The Light - Disturbed 

TAGGED:    @dalathin​ i mean not really but i took it from u i think

[pensarelvirus]

Rethinking the Apocalypse: An Indigenous Anti-Futurist Manifesto

The end is near. Or has it come and gone before? – An ancestor

Why can we imagine the ending of the world, yet not the ending of colonialism?

We live the future of a past that is not our own. It is a history of utopian fantasies and apocalyptic idealization. It is a pathogenic global social order of imagined futures, built upon genocide, enslavement, ecocide, and total ruination.

What conclusions are to be realized in a world constructed of bones and empty metaphors? A world of fetishized endings calculated amidst the collective fiction of virulent specters. From religious tomes to fictionalized scientific entertainment, each imagined timeline constructed so predictably; beginning, middle, and ultimately, The End. Inevitably in this narrative there’s a protagonist fighting an Enemy Other (a generic appropriation of African/Haitian spirituality, a “zombie”?), and spoiler alert: it’s not you or me. So many are eagerly ready to be the lone survivors of the “zombie apocalypse.” But these are interchangeable metaphors, this zombie/Other, this apocalypse. 

These empty metaphors, this linearity, only exist within the language of nightmares, they are at once part of the apocalyptic imagination and impulse.
This way of “living,” or “culture,” is one of domination that consumes all for it’s own benefit. It is an economic and political reordering to fit a reality resting on pillars of competition, ownership, and control in pursuit of profit and permanent exploitation. It professes “freedom” yet its foundation is set on lands stolen while its very structure is built by stolen lives.

It is this very “culture” that must always have an Enemy Other, to lay blame, to lay claim, to affront, enslave and murder. A subhuman enemy that any and all forms of extreme violence are not only permitted but expected to be put upon. If it doesn’t have an immediate Other, it meticulously constructs one. This Other is not made from fear but its destruction is compelled by it. This Other is constituted from apocalyptic axioms and permanent misery. This Othering, this weitko disease, is perhaps best symptomatized in its simplest stratagem, in that of our silenced remakening: They are dirty, They are unsuited for life, They are unable, They are incapable, They are disposable, They are non-believers, They are unworthy, They are made to benefit us, They hate our freedom, They are undocumented, They are queer, They are black, They are Indigenous, They are less than, They are against us, until finally, They are no more. In this constant mantra of violence reframed, it’s either You or it’s Them. It is the Other who is sacrificed for an immortal and cancerous continuity. It is the Other who is poisoned, who is bombed, who is left quietly beneath the rubble. This way of unbeing, which has infected all aspects of our lives, which is responsible for the annihilation of entire species, the toxification of oceans, air and earth, the clear-cutting and burning of whole forests, mass incarceration, the technological possibility of world ending warfare, and raising the temperatures on a global scale, this is the deadly politics of capitalism,  it’s pandemic.

An ending that has come before.

The physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual invasion of our lands, bodies, and minds to settle and to exploit, is colonialism. Ships sailed on poisoned winds and bloodied tides across oceans pushed with a shallow breath and impulse to bondage, millions upon millions of lives were quietly extinguished before they could name their enemy. 1492. 1918. 2020…

Biowarfare blankets, the slaughter of our relative the buffalo, the damming of lifegiving rivers, the scorching of untarnished earth, the forced marches, the treatied imprisonment, coercive education through abuse and violence. The day to day post-war, post-genocide, trading post-colonial humiliation of our slow mass suicide on the altar of capitalism; work, income, pay rent, drink, fuck, breed, retire, die. It’s on the roadside, it’s on sale at Indian markets, serving drinks at the casino, restocking Bashas, it’s nice Indians behind, you.

These are the gifts of infesting manifest destinies, this is that futured imaginary our captors would have us perpetuate and be a part. The merciless imposition of this dead world was driven by an idealized utopia as Charnel House, it was “for our own good” an act of “civilization.” Killing the “Indian”; killing our past and with it our future. “Saving the man”; imposing another past and with it another future.

These are the apocalyptic ideals of abusers, racists and hetero-patriarchs. The doctrinal blind faith of those who can only see life through a prism, a fractured kaleidoscope of an endless and total war.

Its an apocalyptic that colonizes our imaginations and destroys our past and future simultaneously. It is a struggle to dominate human meaning and all existence. This is the futurism of the colonizer, the capitalist. It is at once every future ever stolen by the plunderer, the warmonger and the rapist.

This has always been about existence and non-existence. It is apocalypse, actualized. And with the only certainty being a deathly end, colonialism is a plague.

Our ancestors understood that this way of being could not be reasoned or negotiated with. That it could not be mitigated or redeemed. They understood that the apocalyptic only exists in absolutes.

Our ancestors dreamt against the end of the world.

Many worlds have gone before this one. Our traditional histories are tightly woven with the fabric of the birthing and ending of worlds. Through these cataclysms we have gained many lessons that have shaped who we are and how we are to be with one another. Our ways of being are informed through finding harmony through and from the destruction of worlds. The Elliptic. Birth. Death. Rebirth.

We have an unknowing of histories upon histories of the world that is part of us. It is the language of the cosmos, it speaks in prophecies long carved in the scars where our ancestors dreamed. It is the ghostdance, the seven fires, the birth of the White Buffalo, the seventh generation, it is the five suns, it is written in stone near Oraibi, and beyond. These prophecies are not just predictive, they have also been diagnostic and instructive.

We are the dreamers dreamt by our ancestors. We have traversed all time between the breaths of our dreams. We exist at once with our ancestors and unbirthed generations. Our future is held in our hands. It is our mutuality and interdependence. It is our relative. It is in the creases of our memories, folded gently by our ancestors. It is our collective Dreamtime, and it is Now. Then. Tomorrow. Yesterday.

The anti-colonial imagination isn’t a subjective reaction to colonial futurisms, it is anti-settler future. Our life cycles are not linear, our future exists without time. It is a dream, uncolonized.

This is the Indigenous anti-future.

We are not concerned with how our enemies name their dead world or how they recognize or acknowledge us or these lands. We are not concerned with re-working their ways of managing control or honoring their dead agreements or treaties. They will not be compelled to end the destruction that their world is predicated upon. We do not plead with them to end global warming, as it is the conclusion of their apocalyptic imperative and their life is built upon the death of Mother Earth. 
We bury the right wing and the left wing together in the earth they are so hungry to consume. The conclusion of the ideological war of colonial politics is that Indigenous Peoples always lose, unless we lose ourselves.

 Capitalists and colonizers will not lead us out of their dead futures. Apocalyptic idealization is a self fulfilling prophecy. It is the linear world ending from within. Apocalyptic logic exists within a spiritual, mental, and emotional dead zone that also cannibalizes itself. It is the dead risen to consume all life.

Our world lives when their world ceases to exist.

As Indigenous anti-futurists, we are the consequence of the history of the colonizer’s future. We are the consequence of their war against Mother Earth. We will not allow the specter of the colonizer, the ghosts of the past to haunt the ruins of this world. We are the actualization of our prophecies. This is the re-emergence of the world of cycles. This is our ceremony. Between silent skies. The world breathes again and the fever subsides. The land is quiet. Waiting for us to listen.

When there are less distractions, we go to the place where our ancestors emerged.

And their/our voice.

There is a song older than worlds here, it heals deeper then the colonizer’s blade could ever cut.

And there, our voice. We were always healers. This is the first medicine.

Colonialism is a plague, capitalism is pandemic. These systems are anti-life, they will not be compelled to cure themselves. We will not allow these corrupted sickened systems to recuperate. We will spread.

We are the antibodies.

+ + + +

Addendum:
In our past/your future it was the unsystematic non-linear attacks on vulnerable critical infrastructure such as gas utilities, transportation corridors, power supplies, communications systems, and more, that made settler colonialism an impossibility on these lands.

Our organizing was cellular, it required no formal movements.

Ceremony was/is our liberation, our liberation was/is ceremony.

We honored our sacred teachings, our ancestors and coming generations.

We took credit for nothing. We issued no communiqués. Our actions were our propaganda.

We celebrated the death of leftist solidarity and it’s myopic apocalyptic romanticism.

We demanded nothing from capitalists/colonizers.

*

Fuente: http://www.indigenousaction.org/rethinking-the-apocalypse-an-indigenous-anti-futurist-manifesto/

[Publicado 19/marzo/2020]

[eboni-napalm]

🎤 for Rusty, Xander, and Mishra?

~Jasper

JASPER YOU'RE WONDERFUL thank you for always sending something in <3 🎤: Describe your f/o’s voice! Rusty- His voice is this smooth, yet still somehow slightly raspy mid-low tenor that just... makes your heart happy? It's laced with constant warm undertones and it always sounds like he's smiling whenever he talks to you. Rusty's words are a warm hug, a soft, soothing ray of sunlight that lifts your spirits the instant you hear them leave his lips. Xander- Raspy, slightly scratchy from age, a mid tenor range. There's a faint accent in the lilt of his voice when he speaks, laced with a mix of various tones- elegance, mild snark, wisdom, and complete and utter charisma. Xander's words drip with blood, silk, and honey, and he is fully aware of it, no doubt taking full advantage of the way his words have an effect on people who are helplessly drawn in to anything and everything he says.

Mishra- A high baritone that's the perfect mix of clean and crisp with a bit of a bite to it. Mishra's voice carries, confident and full of pride and energy, but when angered, becomes akin to a snarl. As a whisper or even just hushed, it's tender and encompassing, a harsh contrast to his usual tone- the mask he puts on, the front he feels he has to put on can wither away, and the softness is anything but unwelcome.

[wizardsnwookies]

The Story Thus far: A Fistful of Credits

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away...

It has been 3 Months since the Battle of Yavin and the Galaxy is still in turmoil. The Rebellion has seen its first real victory against the Empire and already they are making plans to move with the forward momentum. Meanwhile the Empire is doing its best to swiftly regroup their efforts in the aftermath of such a devastating loss. Suddenly planets are seeing that the Rebel Alliance may not just be a ragtag group of idealists, they might actually offer some change.

In this turbulent time, people like the Gungan Rugor, the Wookie Graalbar, and the Mrlssi Virssl are just trying to make their way in the galaxy, and the galaxy isnt’ exactly cooperating. In a set of holding cells at the reception center for the infamous Kessel Prison, the three scoundrels find themselves pitted against the Empire and forced to join forces with the human Lady Kara and Ithorian Erd if they are to have any chance of escape.

Graalbar’s fearsome strength takes out a monitor guard and gains him access to the security datapad as well as his side pistol. When they use the codes to escape into the hallway they are met with an Imperial officer and a squad of stormtroopers who arrived ton inspect the new meat. Laser bolts flew through the air, Graalbar threw several troopers around as if they were rag dolls before being gunned down, but it was a frag grenade borrowed by one of the Stormtroopers belt that allowed the band to escape.

Finding their belongings in a storage closet the made way to the hanger where they commandeered a corellian Freighter and made the jump to hyperspace. While in Hyperspace Lady Kara introduced herself as a fellow scoundrel, a smuggler mostly, but she also has a knack with droids. Whatever lines her pockets. Since they were so kind in helping her escape she returns the favor by bringing them to Nar Shaddaa, smuggler’s moon, where she promises to find them a very lucrative job.  Having gotten to know their other ex-cellmate Erd more, the group decides they don’t like him very much. Erd is twitchy, overly nervous, and apparently is quite addicted to the Sabacc tables. It’s decided between the other four he is a liability and is to be ditched as soon as they get planetside.

While on Smuggler’s Moon, the three managed to find themselves in the middle of a political squabble. While in a small cantina just outside Huttown, they were hired to help free a local politician from an imperial outpost. Polski Maar, incumbent planetary representative to the empire was accused of rebel entanglement by an anonymous message sent to the local imperials. Our three anti-heroes made quick work of the outpost, using a combination of Virssl’s guile, and good old fashioned brute force. While there Rugor and Kara managed to break into the computer and find the incriminating message, downloading a copy for themselves, before wiping the computer clean and returning Marr to his safehouse.

Back at the ship they managed to trace the message to Marr’s political rival Traad Araan. The group decides that this information could be played against them both and send an encrypted ransom demand to each of the politician. After their attempts to ditch Erd at the hanger failed, Kara creates a hidden trail from the ransom demands to Erd for one who looked hard enough. Should things go south, at least they won’t take the fall for it.

Graakus the Hutt not only is a notorious ganster of Huttown, but is also an avid collector of jedi memorabilia. He has received word that there are rumor’s floating around the Sickseen system that there is a strange cave that may be of interest. They are to investigate the cave and bring back anything they may find of value, for which they will be paid handsomely.

The trip to Sickseen is not without it’s bumps. Halfway there the newly dubbed MINNOW is pulled out of Hyperspace by a carefully laid gravity trap and brought face to face with an Imperial Star Destroyer. This hyperlane has been used for rebel activity as of late and they are stopping any and all craft who may pass by. Virssl attempts to sweet talk one Captain Darwyne of the NEFARIOUS while Rugor continues to fly the ship as casually as he can towards the edge of the gravity well. Virssl freely offers their final destination to the Captain, hoping the casual and unassuming nature of the planet will let them slide. However the MINNOW had already been flagged as stolen and Captain Darwyne sends two TIE fighter’s to escort the back to the Star Destroyer for boarding. Thankfully a last minute disablement of the speed regulator gives them the last push they need to get beyond the gravity well and resume the jump into Hyperspace.

The MINNOW lands in Valaak City, a tourist town circling around and down a mountain in the middle of one of the planet’s massive Jungles. After getting some food in their bellies, the group spends all of their funds from the Polski Maar job in the market on supplies as well as a shiny new medical droid by the designation of B0N35.

As they make their way down to the base of the mountain they ask the locals about the cave and get a collection of superstition and lore. At the jungle’s edge they found that they had no money to purchase Varactyl mounts to traverse the jungle. However they do get a first hand account of the cave from the stable owner. When training one of the new Varactyl’s the Sullastan camped in the cave for the night before falling ill and feeling overcome with a heavy darkness. He never returned to the cave again, but could easily direct them to it.

On the way through the jungle Rugor noticed a tail, a small group of hired thugs who upon discovery chose to blast their way out of trouble. While they managed to capture and question a Duros thug, his partner, an Aqualish managed to get away. The only information the Duros could offer was that they were hired by an anonymous patron to follow them through the jungle, find out their destination, and transmit the coordinates.

Once the Duros was dispatched the journey continued to the cave, where they immediately felt a sense of unease. Lady Kara stayed behind to cover the entrance just in case the Aqualish returned. 

The three scoundrels made their way through the cave and it’s oppressive atmosphere. Every chamber offered a new challenge, a Tra’cor hidden within a glassy lake, a vibroblade stuck in a stone, a dark chamber and an unlit torch, twin decrepid battle droids from the clone wars era...all leading to a chained chest. If the inexplicable oppressive cold haunting them wasn’t enough, in each room, scorched into the wall was a phrase of verse...

“Peace is a Lie, there is only Passion.  Through passion, I gain strength  Through strength, I gain power  Through power, I gain victory  Through victory, my chains are broken...”

Using a key they found hidden within one of the battle droids, they open the chest to find the final verse burned into the lid...

“The force shall set me free.”

...and within the chest they find a dark hide bound book and a strange looking amulet.

---

Back outside they are greeted by twin bowcasters held by towering wookies flanking them on either side, and Lady Kara held at blaster point by a tall, dark human with a wide brimmed hat. Next to him stands the Aqualish who had escaped them earlier.

“Nik the Dick” as Lady Kara refers to him, is an old rival who simply wants to steal their findings and return it to Graakus himself. But the group is not giving up without a fight. Blaster bolts send debris flying through the air as missed shots hit trees and earth. By the end, B0N35 is tending to a scorch hole in Kara’s back she received from the Aqualish as she tried to escape Nik’s grasp. “Nik the Dick,” is a steaming crater in the ground. During the confusion, Virssl crep up behind him with a pack of flex-taped grenades and planted it on his body. The Thermal Detonator in Nik’s pocket did the rest.

With the Nik’s wookie bodyguards reluctantly in tow, the group make the return journey back, exiting the jungle and looking up to unobstructed blue skies again. At least, that’s what they thought. Instead, although looking like a day star, they see the unmistakable visage of a star destroyer in orbit. Tie fighters and Lambada class shuttles can be seen in the airspace around Valaak city. The empire has made it to Sickseen.

When a preliminary scouting mission shows that stormtroopers are regularly patrolling the city, it’s decided to try and contact Erd to swing by for an emergency pickup. Just to be safe, they first use pieces from datapads recovered from Nik and his goons to create a web of transmission signals to route their call through. This precaution proves to be well worth it, Senior Officer Brand of the NEFARIOUS answers and demands their surrender.

With few other options, they contact Nik’s pilot via the datapad and negotiate a pickup and delivery to the next nearest settlement, Joonpa, until they can figure out their next steps.

Unlike Valaak City, Joonpa is a small settlement, who’s hanger mostly serves as a rest spot for weary spacers and freighter pilots. In fact, when they enter the cantina attached to the loading bay they find the place filled with all sorts of working class folk of all species, their business grounded by the no-fly orders issued by the orbiting NEFARIOUS. The large mass of pilots and ships could be just what they need to make a run for it, but they’d have to win the crowd over first.

The cantina bartender, a surly and battered human female by the name of Nileen agrees to help plead their case in exchange for a favor. There’s a Kel Dor in Joonpa who services the local biotech, Nileen’s prosthetic arm is malfunctioning but no one has seen the Kel Dor for days although some have reported strange voices answering the door comm.

The group don’t fair much better when knocking politely, a humanoid voice dismisses them promptly. Graalbar decides he’s not patient enough to wait for Rugor to hack the air lock open, and destroys the metal door with his vibroaxe. As the air pressure equalizes the group is confronted by three strange humans, or at least they appear human. After one final warning to leave shots begin to fly in the cramped quarters. When the dust settles, scorch marks reveal not flesh but metal underneath a plastic skin. Replica droids.

They feel a rumble below them as a hole is blown through the basement wall, leading into the sewer system. After tracking the final replica droid and her hostage through the twists and turns Rugor manages to talk her down. They never wanted to hurt the doctor, they just needed some repairs, but could not afford to be caught. Rugor allows her to leave, but not before she gives him coordinates and a name...”Puppetmaster”...with the simple statement that he needs to be stopped at all costs.

With the Kel Dor doctor back safely a plan is forged between the scoundrels and what pilots Nileen managed to convince in joining the venture. They’re going to make a run on the Star Destroyer, but not without some firepower behind them. Virssl rigs up two spare escape pods with what explosives he can find and jerry rig. Once in orbit the small group of freighters and shuttles ignore all transmissions of warning by the NEFARIOUS, firing the two escape pods at the Star Destroyer, creating enough debris as to block the launching of TIE squads.

With a grin and by the skin of their teeth, the group makes their way back to Nar Shaddaa with a new ship, a new pilot, and a chest of strange artifacts to deliver to Graakus the Hutt.

[casualarsonist]

No Man’s Sky in 2017 - A First Impressions Review

I think I’ve made mention before of how I often find myself drawn to or intrigued by certain games that, despite critical histrionics, manage to garner themselves a cult following; games like Homefront: The Revolution, and Watch Dogs. Perhaps this is because I like the idea that some products don’t necessarily wear their value on their skin, that it is within some kind of niche that a game offers the best of its experience. And so it was that one of my favourite Youtubers - hbomberguy - with this video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4DhaUe6y-Co - convinced me to look into buying No Man’s Sky. Because here’s the thing: I didn’t care about the game before release. I didn’t listen to the hype, I didn’t read up on it, I wasn’t interested. It’s only after things blew up that I even really began to register what No Man’s Sky was supposed to be, and it’s only after watching that video that I wanted to experience it for myself.

In trying to do consumer research for a game so contentious, it’s borderline impossible to find a review that is current, in-depth, *and* untouched by emotion; it was extremely hard to find an appraisal of whether the game was a better buy on PS or PS4 that took into account all the updates and performance tweaks made since its release, as well as to find a qualitative evaluation of the game that didn’t mention whether Hello Games had or had not ‘redeemed’ themselves. In the end, I took into account that PC players seemed to have often have problems with frame-rates, as well as the overwhelmingly more-positive Metacritic rating of the PS4 version (and the fact that it’s £6 cheaper in the PSN sale than the PC version) to buy this version, and as such, this article pertains to that version only. Also, as this is a huge game and the consumer experience no-doubt changes as your experience with the game’s mechanics increases, it’s important to note that I’ve played about 20-25 hours so far, and only ventured two star systems from the beginning, so I’m still going to refer to this as ‘first impressions.’

***

No Man’s Sky is an independent first-person space exploration and survival game developed by the UK’s Hello Games. Upon release, it received arguably the largest consumer backlash in the history of video games after their vague, hype-led promotional campaign revealed itself to be anywhere from wafflingly distracting to outright deceptive, and the level of fan expectation pre-release had, at least somewhat independently, mutated into something absurd and unhealthy. In any case, Hello stirred up expectation by promising not just the world, but the universe - literally quintillions of stars, each with their own unique planetary system, and each planet with its own unique landscape and blend of flora and fauna, and to be honest, for the most part, it delivers on that part of the promise, at least to a certain degree. There is some credence to the remaining complaints about the game, but honestly, I think that even if these issues were resolved, some people simply won’t like it for what it is, so my intention here is to give you a feeling of what it was like for me, playing the game with near-enough of a blank slate.

I woke up on a freezing snow planet. My ship was wrecked and surrounded by some boxes with a small amount of basic resources. Activating a nearby terminal, I was given a mission to repair my equipment and the rest was up to me. Venturing out on foot, I found the planet to be pleasantly populated, with a fairly regular smattering of non-hostile creatures, a dozen or so different types of plant-life, and relatively abundant resources. The world looked gorgeous – icy plains and some light hills, dotted with trees and bushes and mineral outcrops, all delivered in a beautifully simple, but not plain, graphical style. Nearby planets dominated the skyline, beckoning me temptingly from across the expanse. I noticed little pop in, and most of the ‘fading in’ was tasteful and non-invasive (although after a number of hours of playtime or on particularly densely detailed planets the fading in became more laboured).

Scanning the area I noticed that there was a point of interest within a minute’s walk that turned out to be small abandoned outpost with a number of supplies. From there, another point lay about 2 mins away again, and from there another, until I’d reached about six different places. Along the way I found holes in the ground that led me through intricate cave systems that, while pretty and adorned with all kinds of stone and plant formations, largely held nothing of practical value for me. After getting my ship up and running I explored the planet through the air, finding more ancient alien monuments and occasionally populated bases, as well as completing the initial missions that seemed to be aimed towards getting me aloft into the stars. I was constantly aware of small robots - Sentinals - that buzzed about the areas of interest, as well as the near-constant presence of noisy spaceships flying overhead. I met a species of alien – the Gek – and spoke and traded with them, learning a small amount of their incomprehensible language, as well as encountering outposts that contained systems holding cryptic messages or puzzles that I had to solve in order to unlock the rewards within. 

I spent about four hours on this planet (maybe more) before venturing to the next, drawn by a waypoint that led to an ancient ritual site. Travel from one planet to the other was seamless – taking off from the ice planet (which I have forever designated the name ‘Smegmanius’), I was out of its atmosphere in seconds, and blasting towards the soon-to-be-titled planet ‘McBulgin’. The detail on the planet surface faded rather smoothly in before me as I approached, and as I landed near the site I hopped out of my ship onto an arid, barren surface dominated by areas of toxic haze and harsh outcrops of dry rock and minerals. The difference in climate was palpable as heat audibly simmered the grey rock (although the overall effect on my environmental protection was roughly the same as the previous planet, just hot instead of cold); this place felt truly alien. This feeling was only enhanced by the fact that it was entirely devoid of sentient life, and the points of interest were stationed much further away from one another compared to those on Smegmanius, so exploring the planet was a much more lonely experience, but, interestingly, made me far less nervous and jumpy. In any case, the tangible loneliness aroused by this hostile planet simply through replacing snow with rock, introducing jagged geological geometry, and removing fauna from the equation, had me enraptured.

In exploring the rest of the system and beyond I’ve found planets with vast lakes and squidgy terrain, ‘paradise planets’ with green skies and green rivers that run through deep canyons, desolate moon-like planets with tall mountains, mushroom planets with toxic atmospheres, and barren planets with little to see or do besides mine the abundant outcrops of valuable minerals. I’ve seen creatures enormous, tiny, cute, and horrifying. I’ve seen haunting monuments to civilizations long-dead half-buried in the middle of nowhere, and bizarre arcing bands of shining minerals streaking out of the ground. I’ve seen soaring peaks and deep ravines and scorched, featureless plains, and strange floating islands peppering twisted purple landscapes. I’ve been hunted through snowy forests by predators that make my skin crawl, and fought off pirates in asteroid belts above the looming spectres of ocean planets. I’m a couple of dozen hours in and while there is a certain definite degree of repetition in aspects of the worlds I’ve been to (because this is an indie game made by a small team of human devs and not the Holy Grail made by Jesus Christ himself), I’ve not lost the sense of wonder when first setting foot on a new planet. I have no doubt that there will be a point where I feel as if I’m just going through the motions, but I haven’t hit that point yet, and for £10 I certainly feel like I’ve got value for my money. I’m also certain that I’ll pick the game up again after I’m done with it for the first time, as there is simply so much to see, not to mention the fact that Hello Games keep adding content for free and thereby increasing the amount available for people to do.

It’s just my opinion, but concerning an independent game in which 100% of the players will likely explore less than 0.001% of the available worlds, there is no place for the expectation that everything one experiences will be different every time. Part of the reality of creating something both near-infinite *and* user friendly is that there needs to be a balance allowing the systems to be creative without letting them break the game for the player, or risk leaving them with nothing to see and do – landing on literal bald rock, or a gas giant that kills you just for venturing into it, or an ocean planet with no life (because let’s not forget that, thus far, most of the real observable universe is devoid of life) would lack emotional impact and certainly be disappointing if they were anywhere near as prevalent in the game as they are in reality. And a consequence of this balancing within the procedural generation system is a subsequent degree of homogenisation amongst the experiences. In saying that, I think that they’ve got that balance pretty close to being just right – every planet is its own experience in one way or another; some fill you with feelings of wonder, others with a hyper-awareness of your existence as a lone speck on an otherwise forsaken landscape; some can intrigue you for hours, others for mere minutes. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t welcome additional content in terms of plants and animals and terrain variations (I’d even go so far as to say I’d pay for them), but honestly, while better-regarded games like Elite: Dangerous and its ilk give you the cool feeling of being a space pilot, No Man’s Sky gives you the cool feeling of being a space explorer.

Now don’t get me wrong, I know that there have been significant additions to the game since launch, such as more biomes, vehicles, and narrative additions, and it’s not entirely fair of me to criticise the opinions and reactions of those that pre-ordered the game for full price and played it when it was an inferior state. But the continued vitriol of the most vocally negative commentators doesn’t seem proportionate to the game as it exists in its current state. No Man’s Sky is the one of the few games I’ve played that has actively engaged my girlfriend to the point that she wants to join in with me. We spent 8 hours together the other day exploring the solar systems and passing the controller back and forth amidst mutual expressions of fascination. The controls on-foot and in-flight are simple enough for everyone, and at the time of writing she hasn’t texted me back for 3 hours, so I can be pretty certain that she’s enveloped in the new game that we started up for her this morning, and when we both get home from work today she’ll have stories to tell me of things that I have never experienced, and will likely never get to witness myself. The feeling that you can be playing the same game as someone and know that the things they’re seeing will likely never be looked upon by another’s eyes is truly breathtaking.

However, the truth remains that the game will not be for everyone. Some will object to the gameplay itself and the fact that the core actions of the player are far less expansive than the in-game universe. Many won’t have the patience for the experience and may perhaps wish that NMS was more Mass Effect than Minecraft. And there are still bugs to be found, and items that seem to have an unfinished purpose, although personally I’ve found these to be a rarity. But if those who haven’t yet played can rid themselves of expectations, or (if you’re lucky) not have any expectations to begin with, what you may find is a space exploration and survival game unlike any other. For decades developers have released games that focus on the feeling of piloting a ship throughout space itself and of engaging in various forms of space combat, leaving the planets themselves standing starkly out of reach, but for the first time that I know of, Hello Games have created a product that aims to bridge the gap between the land and the sky and place the player both in the cockpit and the walking boots of a galactic traveller. Much is streamlined about the game, and it is certainly about far as one can get from a space simulation, but No Man’s Sky, for all the faults of its launch and whatever of those still remain, offers a sensation of wonder in exploration that I’ve never experienced before - a feeling that is exciting to share and paradoxically exquisite in how unlikely it is that you will share the experience with someone outside of a person sitting next to you.

[eboni-napalm]

1, 2, 5, 8, 15 for the one giving you brain rot atm

Brain rot, you say? Have no fear, my newest addition Rusty is here! ❤️

1. Gush about your F/O's style/sense of fashion!- Rusty has this straightforward, rugged badass sort of look with how he dresses. He's always in cargo pants and combat boots, usually with a slightly loose tank top or a skin-tight turtleneck bodysuit paired with a leather bomber jacket. It's super fitting for him, and he always pulls it off so well. Helps that his muscles sometimes like to strain against the sleeves of the jacket.

2. Gush about your F/O's voice!- OKAY BUT FOR REAL? This man probably has one of the hottest voices of ANY of my F/O's, if not just one of the hottest voices I've heard in general. It's a high baritone, with the faintest hint of a rasp and drawl whenever he talks. I swoon so hard whenever I hear his voice and have to resist the urge to not go FERAL-

5. Gush about the little things your F/O does when they're thinking really hard about something!- Rusty always has this far-off look in his eyes whenever he's deep in thought. You really get to see how pretty his eyes are at that moment; they're this almost icy grey-blue. If his hands aren't linked over his mouth, he's usually drumming his fingers on his thighs. If he's SUPER deep in thought, sometimes I'll find him with a cigarette dangling from his lips with that far-off look present. 8: Gush about how your F/O acts/looks when they're flustered!- He looks so handsome when he's flustered, honestly. If his eyes aren't very gently closed, there's this sparkle in his gaze as he looks at the floor and rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he lets out this low, breathy chuckle- it's so sexy and it will almost fluster me, too. 15: Gush about your F/O’s love language!- Rusty's love language is without a shadow of a doubt Words of Affirmation! He's heard countless times about how I was always put down and ridiculed for very little reason, if any reason at all, so one of his biggest things is always making sure I feel validated in any way he possibly can, and I adore him so much for that.

[eboni-napalm]

✍️+ 📝+☕️, for you & rusty

-@remedy-ships-it

OH HEY LOOK AT THE CLOCK IT'S TIME TO GUSH ABOUT RUSTY AGAIN <3 ✍️: Overall, how does the fandom trait you? Are you a beloved character, or hated? Are you popular, or a minor side character? Anything in between? -I'd say I'm a pretty well-liked character amongst the fanbase! While I'm not a MAIN main character, I'm definitely popular and very enjoyed. 📝: How would your story in canon go? How would you influence the events of the original story? -So my character is actually one of the Vespers under Arquebus Corporation, and that's how Rusty meets them when he goes undercover for the RLF. Neither of us expect to get attached to each other the way we do, but over time, we end up truly falling in love- which ends up actually becoming a hard thing for both of us, as Rusty never planned to stay with Arquebus, and my character is unaware of the horrors that the Vespers plan on reaping upon Rubicon- so we have to make a choice. Fortunately, after everything is revealed to me, I do end up choosing to sever ties with the corporation and follow him, which also gives Rusty a little extra fuel to fight to stay alive and help save Rubicon.

☕️: What are the most common plots of shipping fics between you and your f/o? -The non-NSFW ones mostly focus on whatever moments we had that helped to build up our relationship that weren't outright revealed in the story, whether through comm logs or whatever else.

[eboni-napalm]

All of the emojis with blue in them for Rusty

YESSS IT'S TIME TO GUSH ABOUT MY NEW BOYFRIEND REEEEE 🌦️: Would you be accompanied by mostly fluff or angst fanfics? Both? Explain why. -Honestly, I think there'd be an even mix. Armored Core isn't exactly a world or universe where fluff can thrive without angst or drama, so if there were fics with Rusty and I as the main pairing, the fluff would be accompanied with elements of angst, or vice-versa. 💘: Why would people love your ship? Why would people dislike your ship? How might it start debates? -I think people would be fans of our ship because of just how much Rusty and I are in love with each other- the amount of emotion and care in our voices, the intimacies in our actions... you can tell what we have is special and meaningful. On the other hand, people might hate the ship or start debates over it because of how Rusty is (very wonderfully) friendly to 621/Raven, and people would much rather want to ship Rusty with the main character instead- fans would argue over who makes a better "other half" for him without a doubt. 💌: How would your dynamic be portrayed? What might people focus on most? Any misconceptions? -Mine and Rusty's ship dynamic is portrayed by fans about the same as it is in the game- hopeful and passionate. They'd probably really latch onto the nickname/pet name he gives me, too- with how much everyone loves how they call the main character "buddy", they'd probably lose it at him calling me "babe" and draw SO MUCH art of me getting flustered/blushing at it.