#ship under current relay

[apopic]

Ship Current Monitoring Relay (over/ under current monitoring relay on ship electrical system)

Ship overcurrent relays are used to protect sensitive equipment against over or under current conditions. By using current transformers (CTs), these protective relays monitor large AC currents common to large motor starters, circuit breakers, and transformers. Ship current transformers CT which steps down the monitored current to a secondary (output) range of 0 to 5 amps (AC) to power the…

[hellinistical]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 3073

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an: sorry for the wait <3

VI: THAR SHE BLOWS

The raven's piercing caw cut through the chaos, a sharp and chilling sound that silenced the men’s frantic movements for a moment. It perched on the ship's railing, its dark feathers gleaming in the dim light of the storm. Its beady eyes seemed to observe the scene with an almost unnatural intelligence, as though it were relaying everything to someone unseen.

The heavy, deliberate sound of boots against the deck followed. The men turned, parting like waves before the storm, as the captain emerged from the shadows. His presence was commanding, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, dripping with rain. His long coat billowed with the wind, the silver accents on his cuffs glinting faintly in the dim light. The raven fluttered from its perch to land on his shoulder, its caws echoing ominously.

“Grab the nets,” the captain ordered, his voice a low, authoritative rumble. He didn’t shout; he didn’t need to. The weight of his words carried more than enough power to jolt the crew into action. “I want a siren.”

The men hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. One of them, Ryder, finally found his voice. “A... a siren, Captain? You saw what it did! It’ll kill us all!”

The captain turned his gaze to Ryder, and the look in his eyes was enough to silence any further protests. Cold and calculating, they were the eyes of a man who feared nothing—not the sea, not the gods, not even the monsters that lurked in the depths.

“I said,” the captain repeated, his tone sharp as a blade, “grab the nets.”

The crew moved reluctantly but swiftly, uncoiling the thick, reinforced nets from their hooks along the railing. These were no ordinary fishing nets; they were lined with steel threads and barbs, meant to catch and hold the most dangerous of sea creatures. The men worked in tense silence, casting wary glances at the churning water below.

The captain stepped closer to the railing, his raven cawing softly as if in approval. His eyes scanned the dark, roiling waves, his expression unreadable. “Tonight, gentlemen,” he said, his voice steady and cold, “we don’t just survive the sea. We conquer it.”

As the nets were prepared, the ship groaned again, the force beneath it relentless. The men’s hands trembled as they positioned the heavy nets, and the captain stood firm, staring into the abyss as though daring it to strike.

The sea was alive with movement, the dark shapes circling closer. Whatever lay beneath the surface was far from finished. And neither, it seemed, was the captain.

Under the water, the lady siren who had been dragged under was slammed into the hull of the ship by her companion. His nails- no, claws- broke through some of her skin, and scales, drawing inky blood that flew in the current. But just in time for them to avoid getting hit by harpoons- he pushed her out of the way just as one hit the end of his tail, pinning him to the sand beneath.  

The current swirled with inky tendrils of blood as the male siren twisted violently against the harpoon's restraint. His sharp claws scraped against the sand as he tried to free himself, his movements jerky and desperate. The torn fin at the end of his tail fluttered weakly in the water, sending waves of pain up his spine.

He craned his neck, searching for the female siren—Callisto. But the waters were empty save for the debris stirred by their struggle. She was gone, vanished into the depths, leaving him alone to face the threat above. 

A shadow passed overhead. He barely had a moment to react before the net descended, a web of steel-threaded rope piercing the water like a predator's jaws. He thrashed violently, his iridescent scales flashing in the dim light filtering from above, but the net's barbs caught on his flesh and held fast.

The pull was immediate and merciless. The siren’s claws latched onto the seafloor, dragging furrows into the sand as he fought against the force hauling him upward. His sharp teeth bared in a silent snarl, bubbles escaping his mouth as he let out a guttural, underwater roar. It was a sound filled with rage and defiance, but it did nothing to stop his ascent.

The surface loomed closer, the refracted light above shimmering like an unwelcome beacon. His tail lashed against the net, the torn fin sending fresh waves of pain with every movement. He could feel the barbs digging deeper into his skin, his strength waning with every futile thrash.

As he breached the surface, his vision blurred by the sudden exposure to air, the sounds of shouting and heavy boots on wood replaced the muffled chaos of the water. The men on the deck erupted into cheers, their voices a cacophony of triumph and greed.

“Got him!” one of them yelled, his tone laced with exhilaration.

The siren blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh, alien light. His gills fluttered uselessly, burning from the absence of water, and he gasped instinctively, his lungs struggling to adapt. His sharp, pink-and-blue eyes locked onto the captain standing stoically on the deck, the raven still perched on his shoulder.

The captain stepped forward, his boots echoing against the wood as he looked down at the magnificent creature now sprawled on the deck. The net clung to the siren’s body, its barbs glistening with the siren’s dark blood.

For the first time since being dragged from the depths, the siren stilled, his glare sharp and filled with a mixture of hatred and eerie calm. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his claws twitched as though imagining the captain’s throat between them.

The captain tilted his head, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “And dangerous. Exactly as expected.”

The siren's gaze was as cold as the waters from which he had been ripped, his slit pupils narrowing in defiance. His sharp fangs gleamed in the harsh light as his lips curled back in a silent snarl. With deliberate, unyielding force, his clawed hands wrapped around the barbed netting. The metal tore into his palms, dark, inky blood dripping onto the deck, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he pulled against it, testing its strength, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike.

The captain’s smirk deepened, his eyes glittering with amusement rather than fear. With an air of complete control, he raised a hand, a silent command for his crew to lower their weapons. The men hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, their hands still gripping harpoons, swords, and spears.

“Do it,” the captain ordered smoothly, his voice steady and firm. “If he wanted to kill us, half of you would already be overboard.”

The crew reluctantly complied, the sound of steel scraping against scabbards as weapons were lowered. The tension in the air remained thick, but the captain seemed entirely unbothered. He stepped closer, his boots clunking against the wood of the deck. The raven on his shoulder tilted its head, its black eyes fixed on the siren, letting out a single sharp caw.

The siren’s claws tightened on the net, the metal creaking under the strain. His chest heaved, his gills still fluttering weakly, but his glare never wavered. Each breath he took was a fight against the foreign air, yet his defiance burned brightly, a silent promise of retribution.

The captain crouched slightly, just enough to meet the siren’s eyes more directly. “You’re quite the spectacle,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “The stories don’t do you justice. Dangerous, yes, but elegant. A king of the depths, perhaps?”

The siren hissed, his lips forming shapes that were not meant for human speech, a guttural sound that made the hairs on the crew’s necks stand on end. It was a noise filled with raw hatred and the promise of violence.

The captain chuckled softly, his smirk widening. “Oh, you’ll make quite the prize.” His fingers brushed the hilt of the ornate blade at his side, though he made no move to draw it. “But I’d rather not damage you too much. You’re worth more intact, I think.”

The siren’s claws dug deeper into the net, fresh blood seeping between his fingers. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense that it made even the bravest crew members step back. If his gaze could kill, the captain would’ve been reduced to ash where he stood. The captain brought a hand to one of the long strands of the sirens hair. "Beautiful, really," he repeated.

But the captain didn’t falter. Instead, he straightened, adjusting his coat with a casual flick of his wrist. “Bring him below deck,” he ordered, his voice carrying authority that left no room for argument. “Carefully. He’s worth more alive.”

The crew scrambled to obey, but as they approached, the siren let out another low, menacing growl, his muscles tensing as though preparing for one final, desperate attempt to break free.

"Boss, where are we to put it?" Luke asked, his voice uneasy as he gestured toward the thrashing siren. "We don't have a basin big enough to keep it in water." His gaze flicked nervously to the creature, its cold eyes glaring back at him through the torn net.

The captain clicked his tongue in irritation, brushing past Luke with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Just put it in a cell for now," he said, his tone sharp but calm. "We'll watch it for a couple of minutes, see if it starts to thrash." He glanced back at the siren, an amused glint in his eyes. "I'd wager it's got lungs too. Sirens are adaptable, aren’t they?"

The crew exchanged wary glances, the unease among them palpable. Handling the siren felt like trying to cage a storm, unpredictable and deadly.

"Are you sure about that, Captain?" Kieran asked, his brow furrowed. "What if it doesn't? We could end up with a very expensive corpse."

The captain smirked, clearly relishing the challenge. "Then we’ll know for next time, won’t we?" He turned to the crew, his voice rising. "Get it below deck. Secure the net tightly. And mind yourselves—this isn’t some common fish."

The men hesitated for a moment before springing into action, their movements careful and deliberate. As they dragged the siren toward the ship's hold, it let out a guttural hiss, the sound reverberating through the wooden planks and sending chills down their spines.

"You better hope your wager's right," Luke muttered under his breath as he helped secure the creature.

The captain only chuckled, his eyes following the siren as it disappeared into the depths of the ship. "Oh, I’m always right," he said, almost to himself. "This one’s too proud to die so easily."

***

Below the deck, the air hung thick and damp, heavy with the mingling scents of stored fish, preserved meats, and the briny tang of the sea. It was a smell the crew had grown far too accustomed to, one that clung stubbornly to their clothes and hair no matter how hard they scrubbed. The dim light of oil lanterns flickered against the wood-paneled walls, casting dancing shadows that made the cramped space feel even more oppressive.

The siren was hauled in with rough hands, its inky blood leaving a trail across the splintered floorboards. The net dug cruelly into its flesh, but the creature’s cold gaze remained unwavering, its fangs bared in silent defiance. The men carrying it avoided its eyes, their movements hurried and stiff, as though they feared meeting its glare might invite some curse upon them.

"Over there," one of the crewmen barked, pointing to a cell reinforced with iron bars. It was a makeshift holding pen, typically used for unruly stowaways or troublesome cargo. The space was barely big enough to accommodate the siren’s length, and its sharp tail scraped against the floor as they shoved it inside.

"Careful," Kieran warned, his voice low but tense. "That thing’s not done fighting."

The siren let out a low, guttural growl as the net was removed, its claws flexing against the iron bars. Despite the wounds on its palms, it gripped the cold metal with a strength that made the hinges creak, its piercing eyes scanning every corner of its prison.

“Lungs, huh?” Luke muttered, stepping back as if the bars between him and the creature weren’t enough. “I don’t think it’ll matter much if it decides to make those bars into splinters.”

“Shut it,” another crewman hissed, his voice barely above a whisper as he adjusted the lock on the cell. “Captain’s orders. We’re to watch it.”

But the siren wasn’t thrashing. Not yet. Its movements were calculated, its breathing slow and deliberate, as if testing the air in its new environment. A single drop of its dark blood fell from its torn tail fin, splattering against the wooden floor with an audible pat. The sound was almost deafening in the uneasy silence that followed.

Luke shifted uncomfortably, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword. "What do you think it’s thinking?" he asked no one in particular.

“Escape,” Kieran answered grimly, never taking his eyes off the siren. “And it’s only a matter of time before it figures out how.”

***

The siren scanned the room, its cold gaze moving over the damp, shadowed corners and the faint glint of metal tools left haphazardly on a nearby table. The air was stale here, oppressive, and filled with the faint hum of the ship's movements against the waves. His tail tingled, the nerves alive with pain and exhaustion as blood still seeped from the torn fin where the harpoon had struck. Every movement sent faint vibrations through the waterlogged wood beneath him, reminders of his imprisonment.

It was quiet. Uncomfortably so. Quiet and cold. Yet, even in the biting chill, his body didn’t shiver. His kind didn’t respond to the cold in the way humans did; his scales were an armor, his blood colder still.

Still, the absence of warmth weighed on him. His tail curled slightly, the motion sluggish, as though instinct alone was pulling it closer to his body for some sense of protection. The iron bars seemed to loom closer in the dim light, their presence a silent threat.

His eyes grew heavy. The rush of adrenaline that had carried him through the chase, the capture, and the fight was fading, leaving behind the ache of torn flesh and bruised pride. His breath slowed, each exhale a soft hiss through clenched teeth. He blinked once, then again, his lashes brushing against the salt-streaked skin of his cheeks.

The exhaustion wasn’t just physical. It was deeper than that. A gnawing weight pressed at the edges of his consciousness, an animalistic sense of frustration and vulnerability that made his claws twitch restlessly against the wood. But even that faded as his body demanded rest, his instincts betraying his defiance.

For now, he let his eyes close, though not completely. Just enough to feign a sense of surrender.

***

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Kingdom of Chronosia. The gentle waves of the Dark Sea lapped against the shore, their rhythmic dance almost in tune with the soft whispers of the summer breeze. The beach was a stretch of pale, powdery sand that glimmered under the sunlight, dotted with seashells in all shapes and sizes.

A little boy, no older than five, walked hand in hand with his mother. His wide, curious eyes scanned the shoreline, searching eagerly for the perfect treasures hidden among the sand. His mother, a woman with kind eyes and a soft smile, guided him with patience, her own gaze occasionally drifting to the horizon, where the sea met the sky.

“Only perfect ones, my love,” she reminded him gently, her voice as soothing as the waves.

The boy nodded, his small fingers sifting through the sand. He found a shell, delicate and spiraled, its surface a soft pink with hints of iridescent blue. He held it up to the sunlight, examining it closely. The shell was flawless, not a crack or blemish to be seen.

“Look, Mother!” he exclaimed, his voice full of pride and wonder as he handed her the shell.

She took it from him, turning it over in her hands. “It’s beautiful, Rafayel,” she said, tucking the shell into the small woven basket she carried. “You have a good eye.”

Rafayel beamed, his heart swelling with the joy of his mother’s praise. The two continued their walk, the warm sand beneath their feet and the cool sea breeze ruffling their hair. The boy was so absorbed in their search that he paid no mind to the whispers of the sea, nor to the shadows that danced just beyond the water's edge. 

The waves lapped at their feet gently, kissing their skin with the cool touch of the sea. Rafayel giggled as the water swirled around his toes, the sensation tickling him. The boy’s curiosity got the better of him, and he took a few steps closer to the water, drawn by the shimmering depths just beyond his reach.

But before he could venture too far, his mother’s hand tightened around his, pulling him back to safety. “Careful, my love,” she cautioned, her voice firm but tender. “The ocean is dangerous.”

Rafayel looked up at her, a hint of confusion in his wide eyes. To him, the sea was beautiful and full of wonder—a place of discovery and delight. The idea that something so lovely could be dangerous was hard for him to grasp.

“Why, Mother?” he asked, his small voice barely louder than the whispers of the waves.

She knelt down beside him, her expression softening as she tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. “The sea is full of secrets, Rafayel,” she explained, her tone gentle yet serious. “It can be kind, like it is now, but it can also be fierce and unforgiving. There are currents that can pull you under, and creatures that lurk in the depths. The ocean isn’t like the land. It follows its own rules.”

“Mother?”

The waves lapped at his feet- he looked back, and no one was there.

A hand grabbed at his foot and-

The siren woke up with a jolt, his chest heaving. 

“Mother…”

copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Quarantine Breach

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The first the wider universe heard of the plague on Hydraxsis was when traders began returning to their home systems with tales of a massive human fleet hanging in orbit above the world denying all access to the planet’s surface. Transmissions declaring a state of emergency were relayed from the human flagship and stated that the situation was well under control but for the safety of the wider star community no one was allowed to land.

Naturally concerned with this and seeking to offer aid, many civilizations dispatched medical teams and diplomats to open dialogues for relief aid to begin flowing into the system. Yet once again all they were met with were the same transmissions from the flagship that a state of emergency had been declared and travel down to the surface was strictly forbidden.

The stonewalling tactics did not sit well with several of the diplomats, nor did the numerous jamming devices the humans had deployed in orbit above the world to block any communications to and from the surface as well.

When it became known that non-humans had also been trapped on the surface below by grieving families, the governments insisted that the humans open communications and allow relief efforts to be dispatched to the planet.

There was no reply save for the same transmission played again but this time emphasizing the final part with enlarged letters.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO REACH THE SURFACE; THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.

Further enraged and now knowing that several of their own citizens were trapped on the beleaguered world alien fleets began appearing to force their passage through the blockade.

They knew humans were stubborn; it was a core aspect of their primal nature that not even evolution could weed out. Yet it boggled the minds of the aliens why the humans would risk an open conflict over one world.

It wasn’t until a Syndicate Hellbrute Dreadnought, leased to one of the grieving species for a considerable sum, appeared alongside the waiting alien armada did they feel ready to force the blockade.

The two fleets poised against each other as countless weapon bay doors rolled open to reveal their lethal contents. Countless targeting vectors were plotted while missile batteries prepared to unleash a torrent of finite death and destruction when suddenly the human fleet turned.

A lone transport shuttle came racing up from the surface.

Without a moment’s hesitation the entire human fleet opened fired on the tiny transport; completely ignoring the alien warships before them who in turned retaliated against the humans.

Terran frigates crumpled like wads of paper under concentrated fire and carriers were gutted from the inside as torment warheads detonated inside their ships through open launch bays, yet the human fleet gave no return fire to the aliens.

The tiny craft darted like a humming bird through the blizzard of weapons fire directed at it by the humans. Too small for the larger weapons to hit the craft wove its way through the terran fleet as it desperately made for the alien armada.

It had almost made it to the Hellbrute leading the alien fleet when a terran cruiser broke formation and rammed the tiny craft. Unable to avoid the massive size of the ship the transport slammed into the side of the cruiser and detonated in a fireball of destruction.

While the aliens pondered why the terran’s would so recklessly risk one of their larger ships in such a manner they were only further surprised why the same cruiser that had rammed the transport ship then detonated their own jump drives causing a small super nova to erupt between the two fleets.

A blinding shockwave of energy shot out and sent both fleets reeling in opposite directions. Colossal vessels were reduced to nothing more than logs in a rapid current as they battered against each other before finally coming to a stop several thousand kilometers away from where they had started.

The aliens began to reorganize their fleets for another battle but the humans merely returned to their blockade of the world. Only the flagship of the terran fleet remained and opened a direct communication with every alien vessel.

No words were spoken by the terran commander as he opened up a video file and played it. A grainy feed appeared to be from a street camera of some kind of a bustling city. Many assumed that it was from Hydraxsis and noted that it was dated several weeks prior when the blockade first was implemented.

The streets were full of bustling humans and aliens of every kind carrying on their day to day business when one human began convulsing rapidly while crossing the street.

Collapsing to the ground they spasmed so hard that fragments of bone could be seen breaking the skin. Worried onlookers either began backing away from the human or approaching them to try and assist them when the true horror began.

Emerging from the convulsing humans flesh came a thick swarm of tiny red insects. They moved like a stream of water and darted to those who had come forward to help the injured man. With barely enough time to let out a scream the swarm engulfed them in a red tide, dragging them to the ground as a general panic broke out.

Within moments more and more insects began pouring out of the new cadaverous tripling their numbers instantly and just as before began rushing those around them.

The feed then cut away to several days later of the same street as countless fires broke out amongst the buildings. The street was littered with battered and broken aircars while the roads themselves were paved with uncountable bones of victims.

A lone figure came sprinting down the street looking back the way they had come screaming. They made it three steps before tripping over what had been a human femur and falling to the ground as a swarm of insects filling the entire street side to side came down upon them like an onrushing river. The camera was ripped from its mounting by the sheer mass of the swarm and the feed went dead.

The commander ended the feed and addressed the gathered armada. Analyzing the tiny red insects their name was “Ambrogidus Flaxmaxus”, or more commonly called “Red Death”.

A highly invasive species that burrows into living hosts laying thousands of eggs that can hatch within ten seconds to thirty years depending on as of yet to be determined conditions. Once hatched, the larva will eat the surrounding flesh before digging their way out in search of a new host and repeating the entire process with a new host.

Because of the unpredictable nature of the hatching process victims can sometimes carry larva eggs for years without ever knowing. This has made quarantining worlds or victims all but impossible as the eggs blend in with the host’s flesh making them almost impossible to detect by scanners. Even the vacuum of space could not deter the insects as their shells were dense enough to resist the void while the insects themselves hibernated. This reason alone was why the terran cruiser detonated itself the moment it touched an infected shuttle. It was the only way to be sure nothing survived.

The humans admitted that they had been trying to spare the rest of the universe from this plague to contain potential chaos that could be unleashed. Several worlds ranging from small colonies to distant outposts had already fallen to the insect and there had been no designated counter agent for terminating the insects in sufficient numbers.

With a heavy heart the human stated that the “relief” fleet enroute was not coming to help the inhabitants below. It was a scientific fleet with the sole purpose of using the world as a testing ground on new chemical agents and weapons to try and kill the insects.

Even if there had been survivors below the humans had made it very clear.

No one was leaving that planet alive.

[monstersandmaw]

Male centipede-alien x transmasc nonbinary reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Final commission from my batch of five! For @mongoose-king!

Content: sassy, confident, transmac reader, non-penetrative sex, oral sex, 't-cock' used for human's genitals, no other areas specified/mentioned. Brief threat to life (not from monster), some mention of isolation on a planet. And a giant pet slug. Wordcount: 6749

“Well. That’s… unexpected,” you croaked, staring incredulously at the small screen on the sleeve of your white space suit as it blinked a red and improbable warning at you.

The planet wasn’t exactly hostile to humans, but the harsh sun and arid air made being outside for long periods of time pretty uncomfortable for humans, and the oxygen levels were low enough that it made you dizzy if you didn’t take a gulp from your suit’s mask from time to time at the very least.

You were quite possibly the only other sapient being within about nine thousand miles, but while you were cataloguing obscure and previously unknown kinds of invertebrate, the research team on the literal other side of the world were geologists from Meliikos Prime, and they didn’t speak Galactic Common very well. They’d been polite enough when you’d hailed them out of courtesy when you’d flown in though, and when they’d discovered you were human, they’d beamed over their extensive survey data of the terrain and marked off water supplies too, which you’d thought was pretty nice of them.

Other than rocks and a few cool bugs though, there really wasn’t anything to write home about on this planet; certainly nothing that was going to win you any research accolades. It wasn’t on any of the major hyperspace links, there were no relay stations in this quadrant, and so far, other than a supremely flamboyant species of flatworm living in a toxic geothermal pool near your research ship, and a type of slug as big as a golden retriever that, rather relatably, hadn’t moved in over a week, there wasn’t anything of note here at all.

And yet, the general alert on your space suit had just calmly announced that a heavy cruiser bearing the insignia and codes of the Porphaerian Empire was inbound to your location and all civilians of the Republic were advised to evacuate the planet as soon as possible and make their way to the nearest Bastion. You weren’t even sure where the nearest military outpost was, given that the ever-belligerent Porphaerian Empire had never shown any interest in invertebrates on remote planets before, and this planet in particular sat on the outer reaches of the known universe and was so bloody insignificant that it hadn’t even acquired a proper name. It was still just: OR-2559-B.

“The fuck?” It came out as a little strangled yelp as you looked up into the purple-ish blue of your dear OR-2559-B’s atmosphere to find the silhouette of a huge ship appearing out of the veil of wispy clouds that whisked and drifted around on the upper currents. These things were only supposed to exist in immersive VR cinemas, and only then to get blown up by plucky pilots operating under astronomically small odds. Plucky you might have been, but you were neither a pilot nor currently in possession of anything more powerful than a handheld scanner for identifying the chemical composition of various types of bug goop. Your ship didn’t even have cannons, though there was a small pistol under the console, just in case.

You snatched up the tray of samples you’d spent the last three hours taking from the placid wildlife around the stream and legged it back towards the small and laughably fragile buggy that you used to cover greater distances into the field from your research ship. By the time you’d jounced over the rough terrain of the plateau and yelled at your little buggy to please find a little more juice in her batteries to get you up the hill at a pace faster than a mildly-inconvenienced slug, you saw other shapes flitting like bats around the underside of the huge cruiser. Fighters.

“Oh come on,” you groaned. Your ship lowered the ramp as it detected your approach and you steered the wheezing buggy up the incline and into the cargo hold, tripping over the side of the roll cage as you floundered to exit the darned thing, and raced to the hatch that would lead you up into the cockpit.

Sweeping a week’s worth of papers and vac-packed ration wrappers off the console, you punched in your code and yelled at the ship to come out of its sleepy hibernation state, which it did with enviable efficiency.

“Hostile signatures detected,” she said in that irritatingly calm voice she had under all circumstances.

“Well the fuck aware, thank you. Now, can we get out of here please?”

The brief thought flickered across your mind that it probably wouldn’t help matters if the ship’s AI screamed at you in panic instead of speaking in a monotone if she blew something down in the engine room, but you had little time to dwell on that as a larger fighter roared right past the windshield and a huge energy blast swept over the ship.

Instinctively, you covered your face and closed your eyes, and when the accompanying cloud of dust and debris had finished raining down and clinking off the glass and metal structure of the ship, you realised she had gone eerily quiet. “Girlie?” you exhaled into the relative silence.

Nothing. Hell, you’d take that dull monotone over this any day.

Opening your eyes and lowering your arms, your body flooded with adrenaline when you saw that all her screens were dark, and the lights had gone off. “Oh, you fucking assholes!” you yelled in the vague direction of the enemy cruiser. “You want my bug slime? Fine! Take it! But you leave my fucking ship alone!”

It was strange what came out of your mouth in times of stress, but you weren’t given the luxury of being able to the psychology of a lone human put suddenly under the immense pressure of an unforeseen and life-threatening situation, because a small fighter landed outside and you scrabbled under the console to retrieve the pistol that you’d placed there on the off-chance you ran into something that thought a scrawny research scientist in a space suit looked more appealing than its usual diet.

A blaster bolt battered its way through the hull of your ship and several more created an enormous smoking hole where the hatch had been, and you stood there, wide eyed, as three Porphaerian soldiers appeared like cartoon villains out of the twisting black smoke. They were all wearing black, form-fitting space suits made of some fancy, matte, composite material, and a shiny, black helmet with a blacked-out visor that revealed nothing of their slightly reptilian features underneath. Their three-fingered hands were also gloved, and they all bore a weapon of some kind: the one at the front of the trio had a blaster, while the one to their left — your right — had some kind of bludgeon that zapped with a purple energy at one end, and the other had a net that crackled with the same energy and a trident with barbed points.

“What do you want?” you chirped, hoping you sounded more composed than you felt. You tightened your hold on the grip of your pistol at your side, and glared at them. “And why are you blowing holes in my baby girl’s hull? She’s a scientist. What’s she ever done to you?”

Your words and tone seemed to confuse the leader of the three Porphaerians for a moment, and they froze, tilting their helmeted head to one side. Seven foot tall, bipedal, with four arms and a long, slashing tail that whipped back and forth behind it like a lizard in a tizzy, they should have been intimidating, but you were so damned outraged at the whole situation, it was hard to be fully afraid. The one to their left let out a growl and chittered something in their incomprehensible language. That was just one of the many things that made the bloody Porphaerians think they were better than everyone else: they had the most convoluted and complicated method of communication out of almost all known species.

“Well, what the fuck do you want?” you barked. As if you had somewhere else you needed to be.

With a put-upon sigh, the leader began to talk in Galactic Common, though their mouth full of pointed teeth wasn’t really equipped for its syllables. “You are in… possession of… a substance that is of… interest to our Great and Glorious Empire.”

You blinked. “You guys… really do want my bug slime?”

“Your… what?”

“I’m a scientist. I’m studying invertebrates. Bugs. The slug outside — its name is Goldie, by the way, and it had better not have come to any harm because of you losers — has become a bit of a mascot in the week and a half it’s been resting on that rock.”

“We are not here for… ‘bugs’.”

“Then I’ve got nothing for you, buddy,” you said with a slightly wild grin that was about 99% panic. If you had nothing to offer them, they’d probably just kill you for the inconvenience of a wasted trip. “But if you tell me more about what you’re after, then perhaps I can help?” You had no intention of actually helping them, but stalling them was going to buy you a few more precious minutes to think of a way out of this, so you took it.

“You are… researching… the refractive properties of… a newly-discovered mineral,” the leader said in stilted Common. “Surrender your research and all samples, and we will leave you unharmed.”

Minerals. Shit, that was the nice team from Meliikos Prime.

“I see that you are cognisant of our request.”

“I… what? No.” You stuck your thumb comically towards your chest and grinned, “Bug guy. Not rocks. And that was not a request either. You guys need to work on your Common. Your vocab is seriously lacking.”

One of them twitched their head as if something had come in over the comms, and all three of them tightened their grip on their weapons.

“Seems like you were telling the truth,” the leader scoffed and raised their blaster.

You barely got to duck out of the way before a shot went off, but when you rolled and came up, you saw that the hole where they’d been standing was now empty. A second later, you heard scuttling on the roof of your ship and panic set in for the first time.

The tapping of many legs skittered across the roof and towards the gap in the side, and then at the top of the hole caused by the Porphaerian’s blaster damage, a creature appeared, peering down over the torn and burned edge of the hole. At first, all you saw was a pair of long, caramel brown antennae investigating the space, but a head soon followed, adorned with colossal, mean looking mandibles that could probably punch a second hole through your poor ship’s hull with even less effort than the blaster bolt.

“What the fuck?” you coughed, reeling backwards. You’d never seen any sign of a centipede that size on this planet. When you spotted one of the Porphaerians moving in the limited view outside though, raising their weapon, you yelped and flailed your arms to get it to move, “Watch out!”

In a sinuous motion, the creature looked up, hissed, and slithered on its series of many, jointed legs down to where the Porphaerian was now standing. It reared up, lashing out with forelegs that looked at once deadly and fragile, like alabaster in the strange light of the planet’s atmosphere, and then in a flash, it lunged for the neck of its would-be attacker and closed its steel-jaw mandibles around it. A green fluid burst like an overripe fruit, and you wondered if that was Porphaerian blood or the creature’s venom. The second Porphaerian was caught by the whiplash of its tail and flung into the side of their fighter ship, and the third was nowhere to be seen.

When the centipede-like creature was done decapitating, it turned around and regarded you. It wasn’t just a giant centipede, you realised, as it had more of an upper torso section, with armoured ‘shoulders’ and a couple of limbs at the top that were more like arms with hands than the sickle-like claws that adorned the rest of the legs on its long, segmented, chocolate brown body, and it was regarding you from black, beady eyes with obvious intellect.

Only when it paused, staring at you while your charred ship smoked like something forgotten on a barbecue, did you notice that it had a kind of bandoleer around those shoulders, though it didn’t have cartridges or ammunition that you could see. Instead, there were pockets and some kind of comms device, and… you frowned. “You’re… with the Republic?” you faltered when you saw the insignia.

The alien nodded.

“You have any idea why the fuck the fucking Porphaerian Empire was after my little research ship? Actually, scratch that. They said they were after some funky mineral and — oh God, the geology guys! They —”

The creature chittered something at you, and while you didn’t understand it, you realised it had a distinct air of impatience, with a touch of exasperation thrown in too.

“What?”

Its chitinous shoulders drooped and it scuttled a little closer to the blackened hole in your ship before rearing up and peering in like a dog looking out of a window. You almost laughed, and then realised you were probably a little hysterical from all the adrenaline.

In a rasping, scraping voice, the creature said in Galactic Common, “The team from Meliikos are safe. They told me about you. I came to get you. We need to leave.” Then, after casting a quick, backwards glance, they added, “Now.”

And before you could do so much as grab your favourite pencil from your workstation, the creature had slithered into the ship, scooped you up in its uppermost arms, and was retreating at what felt like a hundred miles an hour out of the shell of your destroyed ship, and out towards the rocky plateau at the bottom of the slope.

As you passed the seemingly-dormant giant slug, you chuckled as it raised its head, eye-stems appearing, and you waved. “So long, Goldie! Take care! I’ll miss our chats!”

“Are you… alright?” the centipede-alien asked, sounding genuinely concerned for your sanity.

Perhaps you’d been alone on OR-2559-B for a few months too long after all. With a shrug, you let yourself be jostled lightly along in their arms and tried not to watch the mesmeric pattern of their honey-gold legs as they rippled beneath their segmented body over the uneven terrain. “Goldie’s been by my side since I got here. I’ve shared most of my research with her. I’m 95% sure she has some pretty nuanced opinions on that comedy military drama thing that came out on earth about a hundred years ago…”

“I will have you checked out by our ship’s medic,” the centipede-alien said as they thundered over the terrain, and you laughed and settled into their arms. Your research had been funded by the Republic, so if one of their soldiers had been sent to rescue you, they could file the reports and figure out what happened next. Honestly, as much as you’d formed an attachment to the community of flamboyant flatworms and the super-gigantic slug, you were suddenly looking forward to an excuse to go off-world and, you know, interact with people again. You just had to make it past the heavy cruiser and its fleet of fighters first.

It turned out that your centipede friend was part of some kind of elite team that made extraction from a hostile environment look like a visit to the archives, and you were tucked away in the corner of their nippy little shuttle while an alien of a species you didn’t recognise, with a crown of antlers and skin like a red nebula, piloted you away from the Porphaerians and out into deeper space. It was one of the roughest take-offs you’d ever endured, but it worked, and it was oddly heart-warming when the Meliikos team all looked around and waved at you in obvious relief when the centipede-alien brought you on board the Republic ship.

The ship’s medic turned out to be really nice, and when you explained that your supplies had all been left on the research ship along with literally the rest of your life in space, they set you up again with your regular prescriptions, and checked you over. After you’d recovered from the aftereffects of the shock, they were happy to discharge you, and you headed out to explore the ship.

Just as you waved your hand in front of the release mechanism for the medbay door though, it was opened by someone from outside, and you took a step back to avoid a collision. The person on the other side halted abruptly in the doorway — literally filling the doorway — and you tipped your head up to take in the full sight of them. It was your saviour, and you grinned at them at the same time as they made a kind of chittering with their thick, black mandibles and waggled their long antennae.

“Hey,” you smiled. “Listen, thanks for getting me out of there like that. I was kind of out of it on the ride over. I never got your name.”

A series of distinctive clicks and chatters left the creature, and you grimaced.

“You got a Galactic Common alternative? My mouth doesn’t, uh… move like that.” The more you thought about their mouth though, the more interested you were in them. They really were beautiful, with a mahogany brown, segmented body and paler legs, and a head with a woodgrain pattern that you hadn’t noticed before.

The centipede alien nodded and laughed, and then said in that harsh voice like bending steel, “I’ve been called ‘Kerritt’ before by humans because of the sound of my name in my own language. You may call me Kerritt, and I use the human equivalent of male pronouns. What should I call you?”

You told him, and he nodded seriously.

“Are you feeling well? I could show you around the ship, but the First Officer would like to speak with you before we do anything else. She sent me down to see if you are well enough to have an audience with her.”

He spoke in short, stilted phrases and his upper body swayed a little. The majority of his body was like that of a giant centipede, but he had a definite waist section that was different from the rest of the segments of chitin and it rose vertically while the rest of him stayed parallel to the ground. And yes, those uppermost limbs were definitely more like arms, with hands that ended in chitinous points and sections of chitin that were more like bracers and gauntlets. His eyes were glossy black, almond shaped, and huge. The way they were placed far apart on his insectoid head was really rather sweet as he regarded you attentively, his long antennae constantly waving up and down in a slow, mesmeric pattern.

“I’m good,” you nodded. “Bit shaken up, and confused as heck, but I’m good. Let’s go talk to your First Officer. Maybe she can explain why the fuck the Porphaerians mistook the bugs guy for the rocks guys.”

He chuckled. “The Meliikosian team will take offence if you call them the ‘rocks guys’,” he said as he turned around in a sinuous curve and began to lead you up the ship’s gleaming corridor towards the bridge. “They are a proud and reserved people.”

“Nah, we’re cool. They like me. They waved at me when you brought me on board. In their culture, that’s practically a marriage proposal, right?”

Again, Kerritt laughed. “Perhaps. Though if you’re so easy to get along with, why did your university send you to one of the most remote places in the entire universe?”

“Ouch! Actually, the Head of the Department was so jealous of my research that she got me funding for a project that would take me as far from the capital as it’s possible to go…” you said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Really?”

“No,” you snorted. “I have an insatiable hunger for the unknown, and some trader mentioned that a cargo pilot said that a friend of hers said there were weird bugs on OR-2559-B. So, I got funding and headed out.”

“That’s… convoluted,” Kerritt said diplomatically. “You went all that way to study invertebrates? Are there none on your planet?”

You eyed him up and down and watched his antennae pull back a little. Was that trepidation? “Sure there are, but what can I say? I’m a dedicated researcher.”

“Right.”

The conversation with the First Officer didn’t last long. She was a colossal Grummgarian with orange-yellow skin and horns on her chin, and absolutely zero patience. When she realised that the only reason you’d drawn Porphaerian attention was by accident, she informed you that you’d be dropped off at the Bastion and would be provided with transport passes back to your university, before she dismissed you with a wave of her three-fingered hand and Kerritt escorted you from the bridge.

“A bit of warning would have been nice,” you shot sidelong at him as the doors closed behind you with a soft thunk.

“There is no warning adequate for that woman,” he said dryly. “You were better off going in cold. Shall I give you a tour of the ship?”

You nodded and followed him as he helped you get your bearings. “Tell me about yourself?” you asked. “I mean, I’ve met a few different species, but I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“Oh,” he said, and clicked his mandibles. “Do you wish to study me too then? Since I am technically an invertebrate myself, after all.”

“Maybe, if you’ll let me,” you said with a wink and watched his antennae pull back again.

“I think I could be persuaded,” he replied. “I’ve not had much contact with your kind either. I didn’t expect you to be so…” he leaned down and tilted his head “… soft. How did you survive the atmosphere of OR-2559-B? I was led to believe that you require higher oxygen levels for respiration?”

“Space suit,” you said. “It did make me a bit dizzy sometimes, but you know, that can be fun too, under the right circumstances.”

“My sources were right about one thing,” Kerritt said dryly as he drew himself back up to his usual posture.

“What’s that?”

“Humans have strange preferences.”

“Baby, you have no idea,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Come on, let’s finish this tour before I keel over. I’m exhausted.”

The two of you traded light conversation back and forth as he led you up corridors and companionways until that banter devolved steadily into cautious but very much overt flirting, and when he left you at the door to what would be your quarters for the short hop to the Republic Bastion, you said, “If I weren’t so tired that I might pass out before the fun even gets started, I’d invite you in.”

“Another time,” he said with a sympathetic bow of his head. “My quarters are up the corridor, should you need me. I’m off duty for a while now.”

“Nice. And thanks for showing me round.”

Kerritt gave another nod, and then he left.

You watched him go down the corridor to another door, his legs rippling in a sinuous sequence to take him forward, and you remembered how it felt to be carried along in his arms and shivered. Your body was running on fumes, but your brain still liked the memory of that strange, chitinous creature holding you in his arms.

You barely had the energy to shower in the cramped en suite, but once you’d changed into something more comfortable and less singed and gritty than your current outfit, you fell onto the bed and slept for sixteen hours straight.

When you woke and dressed, and staggered out into the corridor, your first port of call was the refectory to silence your growling stomach, but everything was closed since it wasn’t the ship’s mealtime. A diminutive creature with four arms and scaled, purple skin looked up from one of the tables in the empty dining area though and chirped something that sounded like an exclamation.

“Wait, human! Kerritt told me about you!” They had a head like a snake and thick spines all down their back, and although they wore clothing over their top half, their lower half was a thick, sinuous tail that uncoiled as they pushed back from the table and made their way over to you. “You want some food? I’ve never cooked for a human before. There aren’t any on this ship, and I joined the Mantis straight from the academy. I had to look up recipes for you in the species guide! I’m not sure what you’d like, but I made six earth dishes for you to choose from. They’re keeping warm now. I didn’t know when you’d be by.”

Their enthusiasm was almost overwhelming after a sleep that was essentially a fully-blown hibernation, but you nodded and let them lead you into the kitchen where you chose something that vaguely resembled beef chilli, though the beans weren’t the usual ones. They were turquoise blue, but they tasted ok.

You were about halfway through an enormous bowl of it when Kerritt entered the dining hall looking tense. That was, he looked tense until he saw you, at which point he sighed and scuttled over in that smooth way you found so attractive, his body moving like a ribbon between the tables.

“You’re awake,” he said when he reached you. “Are you alright? I had to ask the ship’s computer if there was still life detected in your quarters.”

You laughed long and loud. “Yeah, I do that sometimes. Sorry. Yeah, I’m good. Turns out my faithful little research ship, rest in pieces, wasn’t actually built for long-term habitation, because my god the mattress in my bunk here is like sleeping on a cloud, I swear.” You took another spoonful of ‘chilli’ and asked, “How’s things?”

“The ship is on course to dock at the Bastion in seventeen hours,” he said, apparently not sure quite what you’d meant. “Everyone is interested in meeting a human. They have been asking me many questions about you.”

“Oh? What did you tell them?”

“That I have only known you a few hours and cannot speak on your behalf.”

You smiled at him and shook your head. “Ah, you’re a good soul, you know that, Kerritt? I like you. Tell you what, when I’ve finished this… uh… ‘chilli’, you can introduce me to your friends.”

He nodded. “May I keep you company until then?”

“I’d love that,” you replied. “You can tell me how the Republic knew about the attack in the first place.”

While he was talking, a few people drifted in and approached when they saw that you were there, talking with Kerritt. It seemed like he was something of a hero among the crew himself, and the array of non-humans aboard varied from the reptilian cook with their purple skin to another invertebrate built more like a spider than a centipede, and several humanoid species, though the differences between you and them were marked. Long after you’d finished your chilli, you were all still gathered around your table, chatting and laughing together, and as people left to tend to their duties or head to their bunks for their downtime, you remarked to Kerritt what a tight-knit crew they had.

He nodded. “We’ve seen a lot of action together in the Vith Sector. It has a way of bonding a crew.”

“For sure,” you said, turning more serious. That sector was where the Porphaerians had been making their most aggressive moves in the last decade of their expansion. You sighed and stretched your neck a little.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Mm. Might walk around a bit for a while. Stretch my legs. Wanna join me?”

He bowed his head and scuttled back from where he’d been coiled up on himself while you’d been talking. His legs moved like clockwork parts, clicking on the shiny floor of the refectory, and you bit your lip and ached to touch.

His mandibles drifted a little further apart for a moment, and you got the impression he was scenting the air, but he took it no further and you tried hard to ignore how attractive you found him and his strange body while you walked the ship’s halls together.

Down in engineering, you visited one of the people you’d just met, and they showed you a few details of how the ship’s engine worked, until you started yawning again, and Kerritt took you back up to the corridor with the living quarters.

“You know, I’m tired, but I'm not actually all that sleepy,” you said. “I think it’s just the stress of what happened.”

“Perhaps… you would like to relax in my room? The permanent crew’s quarters are much bigger than the guest room you were assigned.”

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “Thank you.”

He continued down the corridor to his own room and you followed at his side.

“You know,” you said as he tapped a wristband to the reader in front of his door and it opened almost silently, “I never thanked you for saving my life. Those were some pretty badass moves back there. I’ve never had anyone defend me like that.”

His antennae flicked back in what you were now certain was a bashful expression, and he shrugged one chitinous shoulder. “My unit is trained to handle unusual situations.”

“I count as an unusual situation, do I?”

“I… what?”

“You handled me pretty well.”

If his entirely-black eyes could have rolled, you were certain they would have done, but he waved his hand in front of the door panel and it shut before anyone else on the ship could overhear you. 

“You are very… forward, human,” he said, coming closer; close enough to touch.

You reached slowly for his ‘chest’ — or at least, for the section of his body that rose vertically, and which had much smaller segmented parts than the rest of him — and you held your hand out, palm facing him, just a few centimetres from his body. “May I?” you breathed.

He nodded. His own body had gone utterly still. All those mechanical legs holding him rigid as he tilted his head down to regard you, antennae pricked forwards.

Your hand connected with his cool body and a shudder ran through him from head to tail. A second later, lines of neon, bioluminescent green flashed along the length of his body and you gasped, taking your hand away in surprise before pressing it back down and watching the light pulse out a second time. “God, you’re beautiful. Can you feel that then?”

“Yes. Touch is our primary sense.”

You’d suspected as much, but you’d wanted to be sure. You brought your right hand up to meet your left and stood slowly, running your hands up his chest. All the while, his natural bioluminescence pulsed along his body, beginning at the point where you touched him and zipping down the segments of his body like lightning in a regular pattern. The chitin beneath your fingertips felt like glass: smooth and cool and oddly fragile. Your fingers traced the line of one of the segments that sat like armour on his shoulders and he gave another soft gasp and a shiver.

“May I touch you?” he asked.

“God yes,” you laughed, and he brought his clawed hands to your waist then up your torso and neck to rake the points of his fingertips across your scalp. For a second, your soul felt like it left your body and you tipped your head back and moaned.

“You enjoy touch too.”

“Unnfff.”

“Yes?”

You nodded.

“May I pick you up?”

A second and more enthusiastic “unnfff,” left your lips and he chuckled, lowering his mouth towards you for just an instant before he twitched backwards. “Mm?” you asked, only dimly aware that he was actually carrying you across the room towards his wide, comfortable bed now.

“I have to be careful. I have a lot of venom. It’s deadly to humans. Deadly to most species, actually.”

“Oh. I guess that means I can’t kiss you there then.”

“I have to inject my venom for it to be dangerous,” he said, “But I still have to be careful. It’s something of a reflex when I am… aroused.”

“I turn you on, huh?” you slurred cheekily.

“Yes.”

You loved how direct he was, and as he laid you down on the bed and moved his fingers to pause at the fastening of your clothes, you nodded before he could ask permission. He still did, of course, but it was more of a formality at that point. He raked his claws experimentally over your skin, so light it almost tickled, and you arched off the bed.

“I can smell you,” he said when he’d let your clothes fall to the floor. “May I taste you?”

You nodded, desperate to feel his mandibles against your skin. You were swollen and hard and sensitive already, and when he parted his huge mandibles wide to reveal his mouth and a black tongue, you bucked and whimpered and parted your legs for him.

The feel of his tongue exploring up the inside of your thighs was a torture of the best kind, and by the time he closed his mouth around your t-cock, you felt like you might come just from the touch alone. You had no idea what words came tumbling out of your mouth, but he let out a rumbling growl that made his whole body shake and pulse with light again, and you nearly yelled as he dug his claw-like hands into the muscle of your thighs.

You couldn’t think terribly clearly as he got back to work in earnest, practically worshipping your body with his mouth, his onyx mandibles raised just safely enough not to puncture your body but not far enough away that the wicked sharp tips didn’t prick your skin from time to time. His antennae glanced against your waist and shoulders from time to time and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing onto them. They were not horns, and you might even hurt him if you did. It was tantalising and you thrust your head back into the pillow behind you and let out a long, yowling cry of pleasure as you got closer and closer to coming.

Kerritt picked you up again, lifting you right off the bed with ease, and he brought the smooth segments of his lower body to touch yours as he lay down facing you on the bed beside you, encasing you in the cage of his many legs. The feeling of being held and almost immobilised was intoxicating, and you reached a hand up for his head and gripped around the smooth, curved contour of one mandible. He groaned again and you grabbed for the other with your free hand.

“How careful do I have to be with these?” you asked in a rough voice.

They parted and flexed just a little under your hold, but you could feel the immense strength behind them. You’d been right when you’d thought idly that they could punch through steel. One bite from those and you’d be dead.

“Not that careful,” he said, clearly amused behind his growing arousal.

He rubbed his glowing body slowly against you, catching your cock just perfectly with a smooth segment and you wrapped both legs around between two pairs of his legs to adjust the angle and the pressure. He was getting wet from the opening in his carapace, and the combined mess you were making was enough to set your head spinning.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathed as he picked up his pace, fucking against you more wildly with each of your pounding heartbeats. “Oh god, you’re going to make me come.”

“I’m close too,” he said, and you felt his mandibles start to shake and tremble in your grip. “I want to bite you,” he groaned. “I’m going to bite —”

The thick ring of his black mandibles slipped from your hold and in the blink of an eye they’d closed around your neck like a collar. You came with a blinding intensity, bucking against him while his hot tongue pressed against your throat.

A second later, his whole body locked up and he spilled over you in a rush of hot come that went up your stomach and down between your thighs while his whole body spasmed helplessly. His tail curled around you, locking you even more securely in place while his orgasm wracked his entire body, his legs tightening like the jaws of a bear trap against your naked body.

Eventually he stopped and went slack on the bed, and his mandibles opened slowly. All the chinks in his chitinous armour glowed a steady, quiescent green, and his antennae felt and tested at your neck. You nearly laughed at the tickling contrast between the powerful jaws and tender antennae.

“Did I hurt you? Tell me I didn’t hurt you,” he croaked.

“M’good,” you smiled and kissed one black, glossy mandible before he raised it completely out of reach.

He sighed with relief. “I’m sorry. My kind tend to lock in place during… you know. I thought perhaps with you it would be different, but… I’m sorry. It was a risk I shouldn’t have taken with you.”

“S’all good,” you said, your mind blissfully foggy in the wake of the best orgasm you’d had in months. “Come back here,” you said, petting the side of your neck to try and get him to hold you there again with his mandibles.

He did return his grip to your neck, and he slowly coiled his entire body around yours again while the two of you came down together.

“I think you’ve ruined sex with any other species for me after that,” you mumbled a while later.

Carefully, he withdrew his mandibles from you again and nuzzled the smooth top of his head against you, making a soft, crooning noise akin to purr.

“As I think you have for me,” he rumbled.

Without warning, the door to his quarters opened with its near silent sigh of metal on metal, and someone strode in, looking down at a screen in their hand. “Hey, Kerritt, I need you to sign this report for —”

Kerritt drew you even closer to him, masking you completely from whoever had intruded, and he hissed loudly at them over your head like a cobra.

“Shit! Sorry!” they barked, clearly as taken by surprise at the hissing as he had been by their arrival. “You never have company. I just… I’m so sorry! I’ll… uh… it can wait.”

You started laughing even before he set you back down on the bed, and by the time he had relaxed enough to draw back from his protective hold on you, your laugh had turned into a proper cackle.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he snapped.

“I’ve never had a partner hiss at someone to defend my dignity,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes and pushing up onto one elbow.

He regarded you flatly, and you reached carefully for the nearest antenna, running your fingertip along it before encircling it suggestively with thumb and fingers until he gave another huge, full-body shiver and let out a little moan, light pulsing again.  

“It’s sweet, that’s all,” you smiled and then asked, “You think you’ve got another one in you, big guy?”

“Keep touching me like that and find out,” Kerritt muttered, rolling onto his back, at once docile and provocative, and letting all the tightly-coiled segments of his body unfurl for you like a fern. That light still darted along him whenever you touched him, flaring to life to telegraph just how turned on he was by you.

This time, you rode him to orgasm, rocking your hips back and forth over his slit until you both came a second time.

Watching a creature as powerful as he was come so completely undone beneath you was probably one of the best sights you’d ever seen.

__

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[nalyra-dreaming]

I'm trying to not be too controversial as i don't want to put you in a position that would allow people to attack you so i won't give any examples but I will totally understand if you prefer not answering.

So here my question,when writing a fic to which degree are we authorized to go ? Because i'm seeing accusations,some are really serious like racism, homophobia etc...but other than that,why do i keep seeing fans that are mad to see a certain recurring dynamics in some writing for certains ships? What I'm confused is a fic is supposed to be out of character since we are not the original authors,so why some writers are being attacked if they portrait something in a way in their fics,do i think most are terrible and they don't understand anything of the characters ?Yes, but it's a fic it's not supposed to be accurate.

I... cannot answer this, because I do not know. (The following answer is under the caveat that I do not know what example you speak of here, I can only relay my own experience.)

I always tag my fics into both show and book universe, and I add a lot of author notes, explaining, and still I get a lot of bad-faith reading and comments. Especially when the fic contradicts current show-only knowledge.

Which should be on the reader.

Ao3 asks for consent before you can read a fic. There are tags. There are universes a fic is tagged into.

If tagged correctly (and even if not) it should be up to the reader to click the little x on the browser button if they do not like it.

And that should be the end of it.

However, fandom (and in fact internet culture) has changed in the last years. It has become extremely performative. People define morality through ships and fictional content. "You are what you consume". Yeah... no.

And it has become a "moral necessity to hate on things and comment" on everything, even if something is clearly not meant for you. Even if you may not have the background, or knowledge, to judge.

It does not work like that in reality, of course. But with social media the lines have been blurring, sometimes for the better, sometimes for worse.

I locked my fics, for AI scraping reasons mostly. I have locked commenting to registered users also.

And, tbh, I can only recommend doing so. Because now I can block whoever is being an asshat on my fics. Not that it has happened since then (surprise!!!).

That should not be necessary.

But since it is, I can only recommend to every author to take precautions - Ao3 has the necessary tools. Use them.

[zahmaddog]

Closure: I. Nightmares of Eriadu

Warnings: SFW Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, nightmares, family drama/trauma mentions

Characters involved: Crosshair x fem!reader x Omega x Hunter x Phee

Word count: 3743

Authors Note: This is a sequel (read the first installment here) using the same fem!reader character and pre-existing relationship with Crosshair. But you don't need to read the first fanfic. This one might be better anyway. This story satisfies my personal needs for closure after The Bad Batch animated series ended. I don't want to give anything away, but this resolves my need for closure around Tech, Hunter's need of an arc, and more character building for Crosshair.

I've been writing it for the past several weeks and am multiple chapters ahead. I just wanted to begin posting it. :) I have some moody watercolors painted for some chapters too. I'll maybe retrofit some art too. I'll probably post it separate so nobody misses it. :) Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list. I mainly wrote this for my own entertainment, but who doesn't love it when others are around.<3 I hope you enjoy.

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

Omega threw the ship’s thruster forward and jumped into hyperspace, narrowly escaping the blaster fire of a few short-range fighters.

“Well, that was fun,” she gasped in slight laughter.

Phee smiled and kicked back into her chair, “Fun indeed.”

Omega spun around in her chair to find you still lying on your back in the middle of the ship. You were exhausted and hadn’t even made it to the bunks before collapsing onto the floor. 

“Are you okay?” She called over to you. 

You lifted your head enough to make eye contact, smiled a little, and lifted your arm enough to signal a “thumbs-up” sign. 

She flashes her white teeth at you and returns a thumbs-up enthusiastically. Her hair had grown long over the years and swept across her face. She kept it tied up with a bright red tie, which was suspected to match Hunter’s bandana on purpose. Physically, Omega looked more and more like Hunter over the years, but had Wrecker’s enthusiasm for abrupt adventure, Echo’s drive for serving others, Crosshair’s tactical abilities, and Tech’s piloting skills and calculating mind.

Omega turned back to the ship’s pilot console and felt Phee’s eyes study her. 

“What is it?” Omega pleasantly inquires.

“You fly like Tech,” Phee shrugs.

“Well, he did teach me,” Omega banters back. 

“I know, but… There are a lot of little moments where I see him in you,” Phee continues. 

“Well, we do share the same genetic material—,” Omega starts.

“See, that’s something Tech would have said.”

Omega smiles back, “I wish he could see me fly now.”

“You have become an exceptional pilot,” Phee nods. “He would have been so proud of you.”

Listening in on their conversation, you smile as you remember young Omega’s piloting skills compared to her current set of skills. She was fast, smooth, calculated, and innovative. Deciding you had enough rest, you stood up in Phee’s ship and made your way to the front. 

“Well, look who decided to be with the living!” Phee prods at you.

You sit down and lean back into the chair behind Omega’s seat.

“Next time you two invite me for a ‘girl’s night out,’ you better tell me it’s actually a four day treasure hunt, nine star systems over, with limited rations and pre-existing enemies,” you relay.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phee chuckles. Omega laughs with her. 

“You two are ridiculous,” you grunt as you pull your hat over your eyes. You hear Phee chuckle to herself, then turn from facing you to the lights of hyperspace.

“You and Crosshair were made for each other,” Phee comments after a small pause in conversation.

“You take that back,” you monotone sarcastically without moving from under your hat, but you felt your lips creep into a small smile at the thought of Crosshair.

“It must be nice,” she suggests happily and threads her fingers around the back of her neck and leans back placing her feet on the dashboard.

You stay silent as you knew Phee still had lingering feelings for the long-lost brother of Clone Force 99: Tech. From what you had heard between Omega, Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair, Phee was a great partner. You both equally wished you had known Tech and that you could tell him that he was not easily forgotten. 

“We’re coming up on Pabu,” Omega broke the silence as the ship was gently thrown out of hyperspace. 

Entering the atmosphere and pushing through the clouds, you lift the brim of your hat to spy the small island in the distance. You sigh a breath of relief as the island grows larger in view.

The spaceport had its usual morning-Pabu hustle with imported goods flying in and individuals leaving Pabu for jobs, vacation, and more. Phee’s ship touches down and the door unseals. Omega picks up her bag and dashes down the stairs in excitement to tell Hunter and Liana about the adventure away and the treasures found.

Phee continues to sit back in the chair lost in thought and unmoved. You rise from your chair and slink into Omega’s piloting seat.

“You okay?” You asked.

“I’ll be okay,” Phee sighed. “There are some treasures in life that you lose, but never forget.”

You knew her mind was still stuck on Tech. She gazed into the oceans of Pabu from the spaceport and let her eyes pool with tears.

“Listen, I’m going to step out of my bounds for a moment, but,” you breathe in deeply and close your eyes for a moment, “I know my way around Eriadu. I don’t think Hunter ever returned to search for Tech.”

“His remains won’t do anyone any good,” Phee looks over to you.

“I know,” you backpedaled. “But if he were– alive,”

“He never contacted us. He couldn’t be alive,” Phee interrupts. You could feel her frustration, so you held your silence.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize for bringing up the topic. 

Phee exhales and wipes her eyes. “I don’t know what’s worse, if he’s alive and didn’t want to contact us, or if he’s gone for good.”

You stood and placed your hand on her shoulder to offer support and to also stage your conversational exit. “Phee,” you began, “You need answers for closure. And you’re good at finding answers. It’s one thing to be afraid of what you’ll find… But if there’s one person to discover what happened, it’s you.”

“I know,” she taps your hand with hers and began to stand. 

“Why didn’t Hunter go back to look for him?” Phee asks.

You shrug, “He’s a soldier; they move on differently than you and I. And you and Hunter are probably right: Tech would have found a way to make contact.”

Phee nods with sadness in her eyes.

You and Phee exit the ship together and walk down the stairs to meet Clone Force 99.

Your pace quickened as Crosshair comes into view. His unshaven face, silver bedhead, and black attire led you to chuckle a little under your breath.

“Well, that was longer than a single rotation,” Crosshair jabs as you greet him with an embrace.

“I should have known better with the present company,” you roll your eyes a little remembering how Omega and Phee talked you into the trip.

“Mmhmm,” Crosshair grunts and as he holds you tighter before softly releasing you. 

“What did you do while I was gone?” You ask.

“I stayed in bed and shot holes in the ceiling,” he deadpans.

You could hear Hunter sigh at Crosshair’s comment. Looking over, you see him bury his head in his hands a little and rub his eyes. You turn back to Crosshair, smile, then stand on your toes to kiss his narrow lips. His hand slides up your back to cradle your head as he kisses you back.

“I missed you,” you smile. 

“And someone’s going to fix those holes in the roof,” Hunter invites himself into your conversation and takes a step towards you and Crosshair. He was so serious. 

Crosshair just stares at him; hardly blinking. He, too, was overly serious. He slides his hand to your back again and you lay your ear against his chest to look at Hunter.

“I’ll fix the roof,” you offer.

“No.” Crosshair rejects your offer and just stares at Hunter.

“I am not going to fix the roof, Crosshair,” Hunter continues to glare. “Not again.”

“Your relationship is so confusing,” you sigh and step back from Crosshair. You wink at him, “I’ll see you at the house, okay?”

Crosshair and Hunter continue to stare each other down.

“… Okay?” You repeat.

“Fine,” Crosshair growls without taking his eyes off Hunter.

“What’s their problem?” Omega asks you.

“I’m not sure,” you scan the crowd, “Where’s Wrecker? Maybe he didn’t feed them while we were gone.”

Omega laughs at your joke, “That’s probably it.”

—----

Dropping your bag into Crosshair’s room, you look up at the ceiling. He shot more than just holes. At some point, the blaster holes turned into bigger holes and the entire roof was practically missing. You felt Crosshair approach behind you. 

“So that’s what four rotations of shooting the ceiling will get you?” You chuckle.

‘Uh-huh,” he looks up at his handy work. 

You narrow your eyebrows a little bit as you inspect the ceiling further.

“Problem?” Crosshair asks.

“I don’t want to be that girlfriend, but—,” you stop yourself as you never asked much of Crosshair. You wanted him to find a more productive hobby, but after all he’s been through, he did deserve to blow off some steam. It was just a ceiling anyway.

“What?” He prods.

“Why’d you stop at the ceiling?” you grin.

“I learned my lesson the last time I tried to shoot a live round into Wrecker’s bunk,” he says as he tosses himself into the bed.

“Where is Wrecker?” You ask.

“Off-world with Shep. Some kind of supply run,” Crosshair shrugs.

“What have you and Hunter been eating then?” You chuckle.

“Oh, you know… Soldier food,” he points to the end of his bed to the pile of ration bar wrappers. You pick up one of the wrappers and inspect it.

“Cross, these expired over three years ago,” you mutter.

“That would explain things,” Crosshair exhales.

“Are you okay?” You sit down at the end of the bed.

“Clearly,” he enthuses. The ceiling gave an audible crack and pieces fell onto Crosshair’s head and shoulders; his expression unchanging. You didn’t buy his answer, but knowing him, he wouldn’t talk much more, especially under pressure. You stood enough just to shuffle to his end of the bed and relax against the headboard, sitting on pieces from the ceiling. You took his hand and brought it to your lips.

“How was your trip with Phee and Omega?” Crosshair asks to change the subject.

“Confusing. It was nice of them to include me, but I don’t want to get into trouble like I used to,” you shrug. “They didn’t exactly tell me what was going on and when we arrived, we were already in a few gun fights with other pirates.”

“Did they get what they were after?” Crosshair narrows his eyes.

“I think so. They picked up a package, we fought over it, lost Phee’s ship, got it back, then flew home,” you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”

“Hmm,” he faintly grunts in response. “I didn’t think you’d get tired of pirating missions.”

“And I didn’t think I’d come home to you shooting holes in the ceiling,” you reply, staring up into the gaping holes. You earned a soft smile from him as he peers up to inspect his work once more.

“True,” he chuckles. 

You and Crosshair stayed in bed watching the stars appear as the sun began to set, painting the sky pink and orange. Letting your hand trace up his hand, arm, chest, and to his face, you felt his scratchy, unshaven face. 

“Sorry, I haven’t shaved,” he apologizes and slips a toothpick between his lips.

“It’s not a bad look,” you comment. 

His silver hair, straight and unkempt, had grown a bit past a typical soldier’s cut everywhere but the scar on the right side of his skull. The sides and back were tapered and faded into the length, framing his jaw. Around his neck he wore a thin chain with engraved plates hanging just above his chest. 

He suddenly sighs sharply. 

“I —,” he starts. You don’t prod at him to continue, but instead start to run your fingers through his hair. “Stop,” he takes his hand to stop yours and he sits up taller, but still doesn’t look at you. 

“Sorry,” you apologize. He takes your hand and holds it in his lap. The silence washes over the moment.

“What’s wrong?” You re-engage with him.

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head a little and looks back up into the stars. You knew something was up with him due to his lack of un-soldier-like appearance and the state of his ceiling, but now you felt concern trickle into your heart.

“Is it nothing?” You ask.

“I can’t sleep when you’re not here,” he admits through a wince.

“You’re not weak for that,” you assure him.

He sighs again and turns towards you. You pull on his shoulder, motioning him to lay down. He rests his head on your arm and the pillow beneath then closes his eyes. 

“The nightmares are back?” You whisper.

“They never left,” he sighs quietly. 

________

Crosshair had fallen asleep quickly. You took the toothpick from his lips and flicked it to the floor. Your eyes grew heavy too as the night sky had settled in. 

________

Eriadu’s summers were warm, temperate, and pleasant. The famous Tarkin compound was familiar as you had spent holidays there with your immediate and distant family. Your mother, Governor Tarkin’s sister, had married outside of the family to a lowly Imperial loyalist. While she was left out intentionally from her parent’s fortune, she was still included in familial gatherings. 

“Are you coming?” You looked up to see your older brother, Crix. His hand extended to you as you realized you may have fallen to the ground. Your clothes, hands, and knees were dirty. Looking into his eyes, you see they’re full of worry. You nod your head and reach for his hand. His hand feels cold. Inspecting it, you turn his hand over in your palm. Looking back up to his face, he vanishes.

“Crix?” You look around, but he’s gone. The silence of the forest overwhelms you as you sense something is wrong. The feeling of doom pools into your stomach, weighing you down. Each step further into the forest weighs heavier and heavier. The sky grows dark and the ground is black. The subtle asphyxiation quells your movement; you fall to your knees.

An old, brittle hand reaches out and grabs your shoulder. It’s nails, cut into your skin. You let out a scream, but no sound left your lips.

You wake, sitting up quickly as your heart races. You breathe in deeply like you hadn’t in some time. When was the last time I dreamt of Eriadu? You ask yourself. Crosshair snores and shuffles slightly in the bed. Your nightmare didn’t bother him in the slightest. You sigh a breath of relief. He was usually such a light sleeper.

The floor felt cold beneath your toes as you slipped out of the bed. The fresh air was a nice touch; maybe you wouldn’t fix the roof after all. Or at least not right away. You tip-toed to the back patio to watch the ocean waves curl into the shoreline. Opening the patio door, you were surprised to find Phee leaned against the railing looking out into the sky.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asks you without turning.

“Not really,” you responded. You sit down into the chair and put your feet up on the railing. 

“Nightmares?” She asks kindly.

“Of home, I guess,” you shrug. 

“Where’s home?” Phee sits down into the chair next to you.

“Here,” you realize out loud, “But no, I dreamt of a place my family would visit for holidays when I was a child,” you admit.

“And where’s that?” She continued to pull your teeth.

You bit your lip and shifted your jaw to the side, remembering your last conversation with her about Eriadu. You supposed that was why Eriadu was fresh on your mind.

“Eriadu,” you sigh. 

Phee’s eyebrow raises in response, “Oh.”

“I dreamt my brother Crix was in the forest there. I reached out to him, but he disappeared. I haven’t seen him in a few years. But he was the closest brother I had,” you explain. 

“Does he still live on Eriadu?” Phee asks.

“No,” you lament. “He hated it there; more than I did.” You chuckle a little remembering old conversations and shared expressions at the dinner table with your brother. 

“Where is he now?” Phee continues to lay on the questions.

“I don’t know,” you look to exchange your sorrowful expression. “He started chasing spice dreams to escape reality and then I defected from the Empire and my family; I lost track of him a bit after that.”

“Well, I like to believe that all dreams have meaning,” Phee marveled upwards to the sky again.

“You would,” you nod.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, sis,” Phee hesitated. “Since it’s fresh on your mind, would you want to come to Eriadu with me?”

Your heart jumped a little in your chest at the thought of seriously returning. It had been a few years since your last run in with your uncle, Governor Tarkin, but the Empire didn’t seem to care about your existence anymore. Surely someone would recognize you there. But, perhaps your soul had some unfinished business to attend to as you reflected on your dream once more.

“I’ll think about it,” you assure.

A small ship took off from the cave and accelerated into the atmosphere with a soft boom. 

“Was that Omega?” You asked Phee.

Phee nodded, “I figured she’d sneak off here soon.”

“She’s more of a soldier than Hunter wants to admit, isn’t she?” You sigh.

Phee stands and leans against the railing once again. She pulls her binoculars to study the entrance of the cave. “Batcher and Hunter saw her off.” “This house will turn into a mess without her here,” you chuckle. “Mmhmm,” Phee agreed, continuing to watch Hunter and Batcher walk home.

“Well, I’m going to turn in,” you announce as you stand from your chair.

“Think about what I said,” Phee turns to you. 

You give her a silent nod of acknowledgement and head back inside. Walking down the hallway, you pause just outside of Omega’s room. Of course she’d slip out while Wrecker was off-world, you think to yourself. 

Arriving at Crosshair’s door, you slowly enter the room. Feeling relief that he’s still asleep, you slide into the bed with him quietly. 

__________________________

The morning sun warmed Crosshair’s room quickly without the roof to shield. Moving your hands to block out the sun, you squinted around the room to find yourself alone. You shift and swing your legs off the bed to sit upright. You hear the door open.

“I decided I’ll fix the roof,” Crosshair mutters as he walks into the room slowly with his and your morning cups in hand. He was clean shaven again, but continued to leave his hair longer. 

“Did you sleep well?” You smile.

“Yes,” he sits down on the bed next to you and hands you your cup. “Did you?” He asks in return.

“Honestly, no. I got up a few hours into the night and–” You pause.

“I know Omega left,” Crosshair mutters.

“I’m sorry she didn’t say goodbye,” you mention.

“She did, in her own way,” Crosshair reaches into his pocket and pulls out his small money sac that usually had a few credits in it. “It’s empty,” he sighs. “She left a note saying she owes me.”

“You wouldn’t have let her go, would you have?” You ask.

Crosshair sighs, “She’s a better shot than I am these days. She’ll be fine. I’m surprised she didn’t wait until I was also off-world to sneak off.” Crosshair softly smiles as he puts his credit bag away. “But I suppose confrontation isn’t a strong suit of mine either.”

You nod and think back on Phee’s conversation last night. Your vanishing smile catches Crosshair’s attention.

“What else happened last night?” Crosshair furrows his eyebrows together.

“Phee asked me to go to Eriadu with her,” you say into your mug.

“Eriadu?” Crosshair lifts an eyebrow and leans forward into your space. “Why Eriadu?” 

“Well, my family. Some unanswered questions. And—” you pause, not sure how to explain your intentions.

“What?” Crosshair presses.

“Tech,” you lightly shrug and take a long drink from the mug. “She wants to…”

Crosshair moved your mug down from your lips. “What?” He insists.

“Phee is curious if Tech’s remains are there… Or if Tech is… There,” you manage to say hesitantly. 

Crosshair stays silent and drinks his caf alongside you. He turns to face the door and crosses his arms. 

“If he were alive, Tech would have sent us a message,” Crosshair informs you.

“I know,” you nod. “It doesn’t make sense that he’d be alive. I don’t know what we’ll find, but Phee needs closure.” 

Crosshair sighs and stares into his black, undoctored caf, “We probably all do.” 

You and Crosshair continue to sip in silence for a few minutes. You could feel him mull his thoughts over. Even with you, he wasn’t the best talker, but you knew his internal dialog plagued him.

“Will you go with her?” Crosshair breaks the silence and studies your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you slowly elaborate, “It’s been years since I’ve been there, but I’d still be recognized. The only advantage I bring is that I know the planet well.”

“Hmm,” Crosshair takes another sip.

“Would you come with me?” You ask.

Crosshair sharply exhales and rolls his eyes, “You know how I just love unplanned adventures with pirates.”

“So you will?” You squint your eyes at him.

“I can hardly wait,” he sarcastically agrees and finishes his morning drink.

Chapter II: Going Home

++++++++++++++++++++++ taglist ++++++++ @heidnspeak @cloneflo99 @megmegalodondon @tentakelspektakel

[komatsudaya]

RKRN Rikichi & Komatsuda Moments (w/summaries and translations)

While there's a good amount of information out there in English about Nintama Rantarou, it feels like there's much less about the original manga, Rakudai Ninja Rantarou. To help fix that even just a little bit...

…I put together a guide to all the times Rikichi and Komatsuda appear together in the manga, with summaries and translations.

(I've also got a WIP guide to Rikichi + Komatsuda moments in the anime, which I'll eventually get around to formatting so I can post it on here. For now, here's a shameless plug to the current iteration.)

Quick list:

Vol 21, pages 221, 234 Vol 22, page 238 (in disguise) Vol 23, pages 161-167, 205 Vol 27, pages 100-106, 109 Vol 30, pages 76-79 Vol 32, pages 59-63, 81, 86-87, 90-92, 104, 114 (all in disguise), 119 Vol 44, pages 75, 86-90, 111-112, 118, 120, 132 (111-132 in disguise), 134, 143-144 Vol 57, pages 43, 120-124

Summaries and translations

Vol 21

Pages 221, 238

The first time they appear together is this panel, from the same chapter in which Komatsuda is reintroduced as the school's newest employee. They're entirely across the room from each other, but hey, it counts. They also both appear in a panel at the end of the volume, but they don't interact.

Vol 22

Page 238 (in disguise)

This is the first time they're actually seen interacting with each other, though Rikichi is in disguise at the time.

Komatsuda speaks of Rikichi casually, so they must've seen each other at least a few times before this. I'm sure Rikichi got a surprise the first time he came to the school and had Komatsuda chase after him to sign in.

Vol 23

Pages 161-167, 205

Now we're getting to some real interactions! This story focuses on a plot to get a warship schematic to the pirates; to avoid having it stolen by the Dokutake, the plan is to have each student memorize a part of it then have the pirates put all the parts together and decipher it using an encryption chart. Unfortunately, Komatsuda was the person chosen to deliver this chart.

Rikichi meets up with the teachers and students of 1-Ha to relay what happened when he ran into Komatsuda earlier.

From the way he speaks, it seems Rikichi has interacted enough with Komatsuda to have a pretty clear idea of how the boy tends to operate. On his way to the ocean, Komatsuda spots what looks to be a person laying in the bushes and goes to help them. “Komatsuda is such a kind person,” Rantarou says, to which Rikichi replies, "Kind, sure. But careless."

Komatsuda gets a closer look at the body and finds that it's just a doll. "Komatsuda!" Rikichi calls out, emerging from the nearby trees. "Don't pick up that doll!" When Komatsuda inevitably lifts it up...

(Earlier in the story, a doll resembling Yamada was used as a decoy since Yamada originally had the ship schematics)

After Komatsuda falls in the hole, Rikichi loses his trail. Don't worry, Komatsuda is safe and sound! And he even manages to hold onto the encryption chart.

Vol 27

Pages 95-99 (in disguise), 100-106, 109

This story revolves around explosives master Tadadouzen, who was kidnapped by the Dokuajirogasa ninja because he created a new type of artillery shell. Just when it looks like Komatsuda and Shinbei are going to be captured by a pair of Dokuajirogasa, one of the ninja who'd cornered them takes off his disguise and reveals himself as Rikichi… who is then interrupted by Danzou flying in and knocking the other Dokuajirogasa ninja out.

The kids are excited to go on a rescue mission, but ponder how Rikichi knows where Tadadouzen is. After giving them a murderous glare, Rikichi reminds them that the other Dokuajirogasa ninja just blurted it out: Tadadouzen is under the tea room near the back of the grounds. They go and search the room, but pulling the floorboards up reveals nothing. Shinbei gets glued to the wall by his snot, and when Rikichi pulls him off, it reveals…

For once it's not Komatsuda who causes Rikichi trouble, but Shinbei, who trips when getting into the stairwell. Komatsuda is still technically the one hitting Rikichi, but details. They find Tadadouzen and bust him out.

Rikichi carries the sensei, and Komatsuda is tasked with carrying the shell prototype that Tadadouzen made while imprisoned. From there, the group meets up with the rest of 1-Ha and we don't see Rikichi and Komatsuda together for the rest of the chapter.

Vol 30

Pages 76-79

Somebody ordered a case of fans from Komatsudaya, and Komatsuda was tasked with delivering them to the customers at Mushroom Valley… but he left the store before he learned exactly who the customers were. Everyone suspects it might be ninja who are planning on using them to perform the Kasumiougi no Jutsu (where ninja place poison inside a folding fan then blow the poison at their enemies). While in town, the group runs into Yamada and Rikichi.

The kids of 1-Ha ask Rikichi about his work. When Doi chides them, Rikichi says:

This is one of my favorite panels. The framing of Komatsuda staring blankly into the sky while standing behind Rikichi is beautiful.

Rikichi sheds some light on the situation: while investigating the Dokuajirogasa's use of poison for assassination, he found a group of Dokuajirogasa ninja waiting for someone in Mushroom Valley.

There Rikichi goes, zero to sixty in a second flat. I really like the addition in the anime where Rikichi gets caught up in Komatsuda's pace and cheerfully replies “Take care!” to Komatsuda before he yells at him, but Rikichi is too much of a brat in RKRN to say something like that. He's at least enough of a brat to then sarcastically praise Komatsuda, who's a little too dense to pick the sarcasm up.

Rikichi leaves after that.

Vol 32

Pages 59-63, 81, 86-87, 90-92, 104, 114 (all in disguise), 119

A suspicious leaflet advertising ninja work draws a motley crowd of professional and would-be ninja, including Komatsuda and his brother, Yuusaku. Their task is to sneak into a certain castle's outpost and retrieve some hidden documents. Just as they're all about to start the job, Rikichi disguises himself as Yuusaku and takes the man's place without anybody else knowing.

While it's probably the role least likely to draw attention to him, disguising himself as Yuusaku also means he'll be in constant contact with Komatsuda's, shall we say, personality. It doesn't take the usually professional Rikichi long to start breaking character. Luckily for him, nobody else had met Yuusaku before.

Rikichi does get some professional points back for his intel-gathering, as he's picked up some insider info on the Komatsuda brothers. He also helps throughout the job by supplying his ninja expertise, some of which he justifies Yuusaku knowing by saying things like "I make fans, so I have to be good at measuring angles."

Apart from the Rikichi and Komatsuda content, these chapters are great because we get to see expressions on Yuusaku's face that we'd never otherwise see. He makes lots of grumpy and cool expressions.

This is also the only time Rikichi (technically) calls Komatsuda by his first name:

We also learn the extent of Rikichi's skill and/or Komatsuda's obliviousness, as Rikichi was able to stuff an entire matchlock in Komatsuda's clothes without him noticing.

Rantarou eventually catches on that a civilian like Yuusaku couldn't possibly have the skills and knowledge that the man with them is displaying, and Rikichi takes off his disguise. Komatsuda confesses that he had absolutely no idea that his brother had been Rikichi in disguise, and then Rikichi says The Line.

“イライラするんだ君を見ていると!!”

From there, Rikichi leaves the group to complete a task elsewhere. I'm sad that Yuusaku was cut from the anime adaptation of this story; at least we finally got to see him in ninja clothes in season 31.

Vol 44

Pages 75, 86-90, 111-112, 118, 120, 132 (111-132 in disguise), 134, 143-144

Bouta brings news that something is stirring in Kikurage Castle: bad rumors are being spread about the castle's young master, and a beloved new vassal may actually be an enemy infiltrator. When Rikichi arrives at the scene, he spots a group of enemy Tofuntake ninja waiting for a signal to begin an ambush on Kikurage Castle. Unfortunately, when he leaves to bring this intel to the castle...

...he's interrupted by Komatsuda. They fall to the ground, Komatsuda right on top of Rikichi. And why did Komatsuda come to see Rikichi?

The next time we see Komatsuda, he's been captured by Kikurage ninja who found him wandering around the castle and took him for a Tofuntake ninja thanks to a letter that had been hidden in his collar. Komatsuda claims innocence and ignorance.

After the suspected vassal is exposed as a Tofuntake ninja, Rikichi reveals that he'd been disguised as a Kikurage ninja and had given Komatsuda the letter in order to perform the Hotarubi no Jutsu (wherein a ninja uses a fake document to lure the enemy out). Komatsuda, however, had no idea that he was going to be used for such a purpose. So Rikichi went back to "help" Komatsuda by giving him the letter... purely for his own goals. I adore the way Rikichi spins Komatsuda out of his ropes.

After everything settles down, the group departs. Rikichi is about to leave when Komatsuda drops a bomb on him:

Vol 57

Pages 43, 120-124

While running in the forest, Yamada and Shinbei come across a meeting between two ninja from different castles. After they return to the school, Rikichi briefly comes by to give a message to his father and the two of them set out after the ninja they saw, with Komatsuda in pursuit of their signatures. I love, love, love that Rikichi looks like he's having fun being chased by Komatsuda, like he's playing a little game with him.

The two ninja they saw were from Oomagatoki and Kawataredoki Castle, two castles which hate each other. It turns out the ninja are part of a group of Komatsuda's kouhai who graduated from the same ninjutsu school and are having a reunion picnic despite being on opposing sides. In order to throw off the suspicions of a pair of Oomagatoki ninja who came to investigate, the ninja fake a battle between themselves.

After the fake battle, a certain someone who was forgotten in the hustle and bustle returns to finally get Rikichi to sign in and out. Komatsuda almost manages to sneak up on Rikichi, but the man detects him at the last moment and shouts "Who's there?" before Komatsuda bursts out of the bushes wielding the sign-in sheet.

Some people might say that Rikichi was off his game, but maybe it's just a sign that Komatsuda is improving?

The graduate ninja say they don't think they're really cut out to be pro ninja and want to become "amazing clerks just like our senpai, Komatsuda!" which makes the boy in question blush.

And that's it! That's the last time they appear in the same panel!

I like that the manga and anime have different flavors of Rikichi and Komatsuda. Compared to the anime, their interactions in the manga certainly tend to be a bit more… forceful, I suppose I'd say, though much of that lies in how surly Rikichi is in the manga compared to the anime. Despite that one-sided antagonism on Rikichi's part, he shows an understanding of Komatsuda (though sometimes the boy defies common sense). He knows he can get away with being sarcastic with Komatsuda; he knows that to be subtle with Komatsuda is a losing game - except when he can use that obtuseness to his advantage. He even plays around with the boy because he knows that when he runs, Komatsuda chases after.

Komatsuda, for his part, can show a surprising amount of insight about Rikichi at times - except, of course, when it comes to understanding when Rikichi gets angry at him. The biggest example would be in volume 44 when he busts out the real reason Rikichi is avoiding his father. Komatsuda is someone who tends to forget or overlook things, but he also has good instincts. In the same volume, he can also immediately see that the smile Rikichi gives is all business, even though earlier in the series he took Rikichi's sarcasm at face value. Perhaps he'd observed Rikichi enough to be able to spot the difference.

Rikichi gets mad at, well, pretty much everybody throughout the course of the manga, but he shows a special ire towards Komatsuda probably because every interaction with the boy can turn into an exercise in chaos. When Rikichi says "go," he doesn't know if Komatsuda will go or stop or slam right into reverse. They're like oil and water, and Komatsuda is a flood.

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

For completion's sake, two other moments to note:

Vol 22, chapter 8: Both of them appear in the early pages of this chapter and are presumably in the same space, but we never see them in the same panel. Similarly, they both appear throughout vol 27, chapter 4, but only show up together in the same panel once at the beginning.

Vol 43, page 224: Komatsuda brings Yamada a package from his wife, so Komatsuda either a) got it directly from Rikichi, or b) picked it up from where Rikichi left it at the school, which means Rikichi would've needed to sign in/out.

[samsalami66]

Rising Malevolence

New Dreamling au anyone??? I am so excited to post this,,,

Summary: Panic in the Republic!

Rumors are spreading to the furthest parts of the Outer Rim about a new weapon of the Separatists that destroyed dozens of star fleets without ever leaving survivors in its wake.

Senate and Jedi Council send out Jedi Master Dream to stop this secret weapon before any more people can be killed...

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

Dream had a horrible feeling as he stared at the scanners on the bridge of his Star Destroyer. Marked by an unassuming green dot was the arrival of another cruiser in the Abregado System, coming straight out of hyperspace. If his assumptions were correct, and he was painfully certain that they were, his fleet would be faced with the Malevolence in a matter of minutes. Something deep in his gut told him that they were entirely unprepared for what was about to happen, even if their fleet of three Star Destroyers should easily outnumber the enemy. But this weapon had left no survivors thus far. Dozens of battles fought, and not once did someone live to tell the tale. Something was different about this ship, and the fact that they were going into this unaware of that difference left Dream feeling uneasy. 

Perhaps he should give his position to Orpheus, just in case. 

“Master!” called his old padawan as the hologram flickered to life, his voice holding the calm Dream was missing desperately without him. “Any news on the secret weapon?” 

“They are about to exit hyperspace, only a few klicks from here. I wished to relay our coordinates to you, just in case anything goes wrong.” Dream followed his words with their current position, which Orpheus received with a nod. 

“Good luck with the battle, Master Dream!” Orpheus’ padawan, Robyn, piped in, and for a moment Dream felt exceptionally old, seeing the student of his own student standing in full fighting gear. 

“Thank you, young padawan.” Dream inclined his head at the boy and received the biggest smile in response. Next he knew, the alarm of the scanners to his right went off, signalling the arrival of the Malevolence in their system, and the soldiers on the bridge began shouting orders at one another. “Looks like I will need that luck now. I will contact you when the battle is over.”

The hologram disappeared a moment later, leaving Dream to deal with the horrors of leading an entire fleet into a fight without a plan. Orpheus, despite his young age, was considerably better suited for such a task than Dream himself was, and with every day of this war he recognised this fact more and more. Improvisation was simply not his strong suit. 

“General?” One of the clones, with chin-length hair bound into a bun at the back of his head, approached him, and Dream hated that he couldn’t remember the man’s chosen name. “We are measuring an abnormal amount of energy in the area of the ship’s cannons!”

A quick glance to the sensors confirmed the clone’s words. Normal cannons did not need such concentrated levels of energy. Possibilities raced through Dream’s mind, blueprints and statistics of all the weaponry he had thus far encountered or heard of. There really was just one option when the energy levels kept rising above any mark Dream had ever seen and then further still. A blinding light was building on the ship’s flank and Dream rushed to the emergency alarm, panic rising high in his throat. 

“It’s an ion-cannon!” he called frantically as the alarm flared up around them. “Immediate evacuation! Get the men to the rescue pods, now!” 

With those words he himself sprinted for the pods, the soldiers from the bridge hot on his heels. Orders were shouted as the men crowded into the tiny spaces, five per pod, just like protocol dictated. They pushed him into a pod with four other clones, the one that had approached him on the bridge among them, and sent it off right before impact with the blast of the ion-cannon. The pod’s systems immediately went dark; communication, oxygen supply and boosters out cold. Through the window of the pod Dream watched the follow-up laser cannons of the Malevolence tear his fleet into pieces without any deflector shields, and a deep ache in his chest told him just how many lives were lost as the Star Destroyers went up in flames. 

Clones or not, such a number of deaths would always send a ripple of hurt through the Force, for all life was sacred within its bounds. For just a moment, Dream allowed himself to grieve the soldiers that died for their cause, the men he would never get to know, before he inclined his head in respect and turned to the men in the pod with him. 

“Are any of the systems still working?” he asked, his voice somber as he sat heavily on one of the benches provided in the small space.  

One of the clones (bald, with a tattoo on his temple), immediately turned to the console behind him, pushing button after button without much success. Dream could see barely concealed fear written in the men’s faces, a rarity considering the training and upbringing of the clones. But the prospect of being killed swiftly in battle or in the explosion of a ship was different from eventual suffocation. It was a slow and painful death, alight with clarity until the very last breath. 

Dream was not looking forward to it. 

“Scoot over, I might be able to repair some of it,” another of the clones said eventually, his face set in determination. It was the clone from the bridge, the one whose name Dream was sure he had heard before, but couldn’t seem to remember. Deft fingers opened the screws of the panel beneath the console and dove for the machinery inside, all those electronics Dream knew very little about. But the clone seemed skilled in such work, and so Dream let him work and concentrated instead on calming the other men. A calm mind was the first step to a clear mind, after all, and clear minds were what they needed in this moment. 

“Tell me your names, soldiers.” 

The men seemed surprised at such a request from their general, but the clone with the shaved head answered first, after a clearing of his throat. 

“CC-7032, General, Sir.” 

Dream frowned and shook his head. “Not your number, soldier, your name. I do not wish to address living beings with numbers. You are no droids, after all.” 

“...Voss, then. My name is Voss.” the man replied after a moment, and Dream accepted the name with a nod. The remaining soldiers then settled, somewhat, and took turns giving their name. 

“G98-8897, going by Grenn.”

“KT3-1009, Kit.”

The clone that now had his entire upper body buried deep in the machinery of the pod didn’t immediately answer, but eventually reappeared with a pleased grin on his lips and hope in his eyes. 

“H08-1389, Hob, at your service.” The trooper, Hob, turned to the console with a smile  and with the press of a button, the emergency communicator lit up. “And our chances of survival just increased significantly!” 

“Send an emergency signal,” Dream ordered and Voss complied with a sharp nod, repeating a message with their coordinates over and over into the communicator. With a bit of luck, someone would come looking for them and receive the signal and message. Not that Dream actually believed in something as paltry as luck. 

- - - 

A few systems away, Orpheus frowned at the hologram projector of his Star Destroyer with an uneasy feeling. Robyn seemed equally concerned beside him. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when the signal they received came from Coruscant and not the Abregado System. 

“Orpheus?” Jedi Grandmaster Destiny asked with a gravity in his voice that rang all of Orpheus’ alarm bells. “Did you receive any word from Master Dream?”

A shake of his head was all Orpheus could muster at first, the worry overpowering in his chest. 

“No, Master. I think we should organise a search party to look for any survivors of the attack-”

“That might be unwise, considering there have never been any survivors after an attack from the Malevolence so far. And we currently don’t have any troops to spare for such a rescue mission,” Supreme Chancellor Lucifer added with a certain air of disinterest. Orpheus had to bite back a comment, knowing it would be considered disrespectful by the Chancellor and Master Destiny. 

His padawan, however, had no such qualms. Orpheus would have been proud, if the situation weren’t so dire. 

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t any now!” It seemed as no amount of stunned silence could keep Robyn from speaking. “We cannot simply abandon our own men based on such past experiences! If we give up hope so quickly, there surely won’t be any survivors by the time we decide they are worth our time and resources!” 

“Your student oversteps, General Orpheus.” the Chancellor said eventually, and Orpheus inclined his head apologetically. 

“Forgive my padawan. He has yet to learn a thing or two about following orders.” Betrayal radiated from Robyn in waves, and it took everything in Orpheus not to wince at the glare Robyn levelled at him. “We will keep our fleet on course, Chancellor.”

The men nodded, satisfied with Orpheus’ easy compliance. 

“May the Force be with you, young Orpheus.” Master Destiny said in farewell. 

“And with you, Master.” With those words the hologram disappeared and Orpheus could turn to his padawan, who had crossed his arms over his chest and refused to meet his eyes. 

“So that’s it? We are just leaving them to die out there?”

Orpheus sighed, fondly, at the defiance in Robyn’s voice. The boy was far too much like him. 

“Now, I didn’t say that, did I?” He turned to his Admiral, a woman with more patience than Orpheus truly deserved with all the shit he pulled, and grinned. “Jessamy?”

“General,” the woman replied wryly, but with steady professionalism in her voice. 

“The fleet is under your command until we return. Keep it on course.” 

A nod from her was all Orpheus received and he couldn’t help but chuckle as she disappeared to give orders to the clones on the bridge. Robyn beside him looked increasingly hopeful as they made their way towards the hangar and stepped into the Twilight, their M2-unit Matthew beeping away excitedly as it recognised them. 

Robyn laid a hand on Matthew’s head with a soft smile, his eyes alight with fondness. “Hey there, little one. Been faring well without us?” The enthusiastic answering beeps made Robyn chuckle and he gave Matthew’s head a few pats before sitting down next to Orpheus in the cockpit. “So, what are we doing, Master? Chancellor Lucifer said we don’t have the resources for a rescue party.”

“And we are not using any troops, are we? It’s just us, going for a little… expedition in the Abregado System,” Orpheus answered as he flicked the switches needed to start the Twilight. When Robyn only stared at him in disbelief, Orpheus couldn’t help but grin. “Receiving your orders and interpreting them are different things, my young padawan. You will learn, with enough time. Matthew, set course for the Abregado system!”

- - - 

Meanwhile, four clones and a jedi sat in silence, suspended in the vacuum of space in the midst of a field of debris and dead bodies. For the longest time, the five men simply stared out the window of the rescue pod at the unmoving faces of other soldiers, their brothers, friends, and confidants. War was horrific at the best of times, and downright traumatising at any other moment. Dream detested it with every fiber of his being. After all, he was supposed to be a keeper of peace, a harbinger of hope, not the general of a battalion of men that he led to their deaths over and over again. More men died under his purview than his conscience could comprehend, the men outside of the window were just more names on a never-ending list of people Dream had failed.

“Someone will find us.” A voice, quiet but sure, sounded from Dream’s right, a cut through the total silence of the pod. It was Hob, the clone that had fixed the communicator. 

“While I hope that you are right, I do not share your optimism,” Dream murmured in response. “It would be unwise to search for us, and there is no reason why they should suspect survivors.” 

The clone frowned, a stubborn little pout grazing his lips that Dream found unreasonably charming. “But you are a jedi. They would not simply give up on one of your kind. You’re not expendable.”

The way Hob said those words, like they were true for Dream but not for himself, did not sit right with Dream. 

“You are not expendable, Hob. None of you are.” Four pairs of eyes met his, none of which seemed to believe him. So, Dream took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could at least lift the spirits of these men, so they would not die thinking they could be replaced. “No matter the species or gene material, each life is unique within the Force.” Dream hummed and let himself connect to the Force within and around him, let it flow and ebb and touch upon the Force that lived within the clones, allowing it to tell him who these men were. 

“Voss. You are a man governed by rules and order. You see your worth in the fulfillment of such orders and in servitude of your superiors.” The man blinked, surprised, but didn't deny Dream's words. “You are more than your ability to serve. Take breaks, find your own path, and you will see it reflected in the skills you value.”

“Kit. You are young, and afraid. You would much rather pore over books on a quiet outpost in the Outer Rim than fight alongside your fellow soldiers.” A look of embarrassment passed the features of the youngest soldier among them, and Dream placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I cannot fault you for craving a book more than a fight. It would be slightly hypocritical of me to do so.” The man smiled, wryly, and Dream mirrored it. “Courage is not everything. Use your smarts, your books. They will serve you better than the attempt at being someone you are not.”

“And you, Grenn. You judge harshly, and mostly yourself. You wish to be everything at once; faster, stronger, smarter, the ultimate soldier. But your strengths do not lie in killing, and well you know it. Those hands are better suited for a field medic, which might just give you the purpose you are dying to find for yourself.” 

The tension, slowly but surely, seemed to dissipate from the pod. With every man Dream proved to know, to see, the heaviness lifted from their shoulders and made room for hope. Something Dream himself hadn’t felt in far too long. 

“And lastly you, Hob.” Brown eyes looked at him with a hint of a challenge, and Dream met it without hesitation. “You crave time, more than anything else. Your accelerated aging weighs heavily on you, as does the constant struggle to stay alive. If able to choose, you'd want to live forever, discovering the pleasures of living the same life as the people you fight to protect.” The man breathed heavily, but eventually nodded his head. “Take it one day at a time. Worry about the future takes away from the joy of the moment, of which you fear to have so few. And do not lose that spark of optimism I can sense. Such a way of thinking is a blessing only few beings in this galaxy have.

“None of you are expendable. Not to me, and not to anyone else who understands what living means.” 

Hob threw him a grateful smile, his eyes filled to the brim with something Dream could only describe as admiration. It made the parts of him that the war had hardened crack open to reveal something undeniably soft. A part of him started to care for the survival of this clone trooper, who hid hope and optimism behind his breastbone as if it were too dark a secret to have as a man surrounded by nothing but death and suffering. 

“General! There’s another rescue pod!” Kit called from the window and immediately all eyes were following his. And true to his word, another pod floated before theirs. It was turned so that they could not look inside and see if there were any other survivors. 

Dream reached out to the pod with the Force, let it wrap around the metal frame firmly, and then pulled so that it turned in their direction. What they saw sent a shiver down Dream’s spine. The metal showed clear signs of external damage, dents and breaks that were placed too deliberately to be caused by the explosion of the Star Destroyer. The five soldiers floating unseeingly inside had been shot in the head, clearly executed. 

Something was out there, making sure there were no witnesses after the attack of the Malevolence, and it was only a matter of time until they found them. 

“Looks like we’ll have to defend ourselves,” Hob said to his right and Dream nodded. 

“Men, get your helmets! Here is the plan…”

- - - 

“Whoa… this surely doesn’t look good,” Robyn whispered as they arrived in the Abregado System and saw the debris of the destroyed fleet floating in the planet’s orbit. Hundreds of bodies were strewn between the ruins of the ship, but Orpheus couldn’t make out that of his old master anywhere between them. Considering the sheer amount of bodies and debris it might only be a temporary comfort, but Orpheus clung to that small piece of hope nonetheless. 

“No, it does not. Come on, let’s see if we receive any emergency signals.”

Robyn nodded and turned towards their communicator.

“This is General Orpheus and Commander Robyn on board the Twilight, can anyone hear me?” 

- - - 

The hunters found them only minutes after Dream and the clones caught sight of the destroyed pod. It was a handful of battle droids manning the pod hunter, a brute, ugly thing with four appendages that were supposed to hold a rescue pod in place and break it open, so that the droids could kill the men inside. As the ship approached their pod, Dream pushed his lightsaber into Hob’s hand. 

“Stay safe out there, men.” he said before the soldiers made their way out of the pod with the limited oxygen supply their armor provided. Not being able to go out and help them properly wasn’t ideal, but he would have to trust the soldiers to get rid of the droids on their own, since he had no way to breathe outside of the pod. 

Shots were fired just above Dream and a quick look out of the window told him that the clones had already dispatched two of the four droids while the other two were still leaving the ship. With the numbers now on their side the men pushed closer to where the ships were currently connected, Hob holding the lightsaber carefully to cut off the constricting metal appendages. But none of them could predict from where the remaining droids approached them. Dream saw the droids preparing to shoot almost a second too late, but a frantic push of the Force was enough so that the shots went right over Hob’s head instead of through it. Kit and Voss dispatched the remaining droids a moment later and Dream slumped down next to the communicator with a sigh of relief as the soldiers reentered the pod. 

“Can anyone hear me? Master Dream? This is General Orpheus and Commander Robyn on board of the Twilight.” The soft voice of his student’s padawan suddenly sounded from the communicator and Dream had to blink away tears as the eyes of the men around him suddenly lit up with hope. 

“I told you someone was going to come for us!” Hob said with a grin on his face while holding out Dream’s lightsaber to him. “And not a moment too soon, the air in here is starting to get thin.” 

“Keep sending that emergency signal, and let’s hope they catch it before the Separatists notice one of their pod hunters went missing.” 

- - - 

On the bridge of the Malevolence a man more machine than the human he had once been let out an angry growl. 

“What do you mean, one of our units is not responding?”

“Unit PH-7522 does not reply to any of our messages.” One of the battle droids responded and General Corinthian threw it against a wall, where it broke into pieces in a heap on the floor. 

“Didn’t I make it clear that I do not want any witnesses, General?” asked the hooded figure from the back of the bridge, haughtiness and arrogance written into every syllable of its speech. 

General Corinthian growled once more and stared out the front window of the Malevolence, hatred building in his very human eyes. “Yes, Count Burgess.” Then, towards the nearest droid he yelled an order. “Set course for the Abregado System! We will personally make sure that there are no witnesses.”

- - - 

For the longest time, Orpheus and Robyn received no emergency signal as they made their way through the debris field. No matter how often Robyn repeated the message into the communicator, the answering silence seemed never-ending and Orpheus was slowly giving up hope that they would find his old master. He didn’t quite know how to deal with the thought of his master being simply… gone. Dream was the only person Orpheus would consider something akin to family, a father figure more than anything. And while Dream was aloof and serious and weird, he had still taught Orpheus everything he knew, about the Force and the galaxy and even himself. In many ways, Dream was his closest friend. 

An excited beeping noise pulled Orpheus out of his thoughts and a moment later the communicator blinked a bright green, the voice of a clone filtering through the static. 

“This is H08-1389. We’re in rescue pod 2259, General Dream is with us. Requesting immediate evacuation, our oxygen supply is running low.” 

“Matthew, get us to wherever that signal is coming from! And be quick about it!” Orpheus ordered and Matthew immediately navigated the Twilight towards the source of the signal. With the help of a tractor beam they pulled the pod into their hangar, and Orpheus and Robyn were on their feet and running towards it the moment it passed the energy barrier of the ship. Out of the pod stumbled Dream, unharmed, followed closely by four clones whose legs gave out under them the moment they stepped out of the pod. 

Orpheus quickly ran up to his old master and pulled him into his arms, making sure the other man didn’t collapse on him. “I’ve got you, Master. Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?” 

Dream shook his head and gestured towards the clones behind him. “I’m, I’m fine, but my men, they should be looked over by a med droid.” 

“Robyn is on it. Come on, I’ll get you to the cockpit so we can leave this place.” 

But Dream did not allow himself to be moved until he saw a medical droid scan the soldiers and he asked, with hesitation in his voice. “Will they be alright?”

“Their oxygen levels are low, but with medical attention they should be back to full health in a few hours.” 

Tension seemed to flood out of Dream at the med droid’s statement, and he slumped into Orpheus’ arms as if the strings holding him up had been suddenly cut. It was… unusual to see his old master care so openly for the survival of his soldiers. Usually the man kept a careful distance between himself and those that fought under his command. Something about these men must have been very special. 

Orpheus helped his old master make the way back to the cockpit, where he saw one of the scanners blink, signaling the arrival of a ship coming out of hyperspace. Dream immediately stumbled towards the cockpit's console and started powering down the ship, which Orpheus helped him with without asking questions. However, Dream seemed to sense his confusion. 

“They cannot know we're here. The secret weapon is an ion-cannon, the biggest I've ever come across. If they get any power signal on their scanners they will shoot.” 

A chill ran down Orpheus' spine at his master's words, the implication that Dream's fleet had been hit by such a weapon, leaving them entirely defenseless against the laser cannons of another ship. That they had managed to send out any rescue pods at all before the impact was a miracle. 

To their right Matthew let out a series of nervous beeps and Orpheus hastily turned to the little droid and cut his power off with an apology. 

“The med droid!” Dream called as he stumbled back towards the door, but he was too weak to run, his legs like jelly beneath him. “We, we have to shut down the med droid!” 

Orpheus ran past him and down to the medical chambers as fast as his body would allow, but as he turned the corner he saw one of the clones slumped over a deactivated medical droid, chin-length hair falling around his face and almost hiding a cheeky grin. “No worries, General. Turned the droid off when the lights went out.”

A sigh of relief escaped Orpheus’ lips. “Good work, soldier. Good work.” 

- - - 

When the Malevolence arrived in the Abregado System, General Corinthian watched their energy scanners with bated breath, ready to order the ion-cannons to shoot at the smallest of signals. But seconds passed, then minutes, and no signal appeared on the scanners. Nothing. 

“It seems like the survivors are gone, General,” a battle droid noted eventually, and General Corinthian turned to the offending piece of metal with anger burning in his eyes. 

“Yes, I am not blind, droid. We will retreat to plan our attack on the Kaliida Shoals Medical Center. And make it quick.” 

- - - 

The moment the Malevolence re-entered hyperspace, the Twilight’s systems came back online and one certain M2-unit calculated a course back to Orpheus’ fleet, where he and his padawan would explain to the jedi council and the chancellor why they had blatantly disregarded their orders. But they also had information that could be used to destroy the Separatists’ secret weapon, which should be enough so that their little misstep might be overlooked. 

But before any of that could happen, Jedi Master Dream made his way down to the medical chambers of the Twilight, looking for one very specific clone trooper. 

“Hob?” Dream called into the chamber, and the soldier looked up with bright eyes and an easy smile. 

“General.” 

“When you’re back on your feet, join me onboard the Negotiator, Commander.”

And with those words Dream left the Twilight and newly promoted clone trooper Hob, Commander of the 663rd, behind. 

[department-of-landing-strategies]

So I saw a tumblr post on tiktok about Trevor (Neville's toad) being pulled out of the cup as "Trevor Longbottom" and like a totally sane Percy fan it got me thinking, what if Percy was also involved in this.

We start before the champions are chosen. Barty Crouch Jr manages to mess with the cup that's choosing the champions and puts Harry's name in. Meanwhile, a group of Gryffindor 7th year students joke about putting Trevor into the cup under Trevor Longbottom. Let's just assume that the magic involved in the cup means that it knows what students are in the school at the time the tournament is being hosted. Someone then puts Trevor in as Trevor Longbottom sometime between Harry's name being put in and the champion choosing. Since Trevor is a pet and not a student, it only gets registered as a possibility because of the meddling needed to make Harry's name come out as a 4th champion.

Cut to the champion choosing with Crouch Sr watching Dumbledore read out the champions that got chosen and Bagman in the side chamber that the champions go to. Since Crouch Sr is there, Percy is also watching Dumbledore read out the names the cup chose. Everything is going smoothly. Then the cup chooses a 4th champion, and turning out to be a 2nd Hogwarts champion when Dumbledore reads out the name "Trevor Longbottom". Obviously the teacher are confused and questioning if Alice and Frank had a 2nd boy. Majority of 3rd years and younger don't know who that this and some are curious who that is because the thing to remember is that Percy's to Ginny's years at least is small compared to the usual Hogwarts year size due to the 1st wizarding war so it's a lot easier to remember who's in what year if you really tried. The 4th years and up are either curious as to who it is or having varying reactions to the fact that Neville's toad just got chosen as a champion. The latter's mostly the Gryffindor table but it can be seen on the other tables such as Luna (a 3rd year Neville's friends with) and Penny (a 7th year whose heard about Trevor's antics from Percy) on the Ravenclaw table. Neville's just sat in shock because he's sure he didn't have anything to do with Trevor's name being pulled besides Trevor being his pet but he's going through his memory as quick as possible in case he did have something to do with Trevor being a 4th champion. Percy, meanwhile, very quickly gets over his shock of Tervor being pulled and gets to work trying to convince his boss to move on without mentioning the fact that Trevor is a toad for reasons I don't have the energy to come up with rn before Neville has to bring his toad up to the teachers area of the Great Hall. Crouch Sr having had a son concludes that Trevor is a friend or lover of Percy's that's currently sick because why else would his assistant cover for someone that failed to show up for a mandatory feast. Ultimately, he moves on while entrusting Percy to relay the rules of the tournament and the contents of the magical contract binding the champions to their participation in the tournament (which Percy later offers to share with the 3 human champions chosen) to this Trevor person.

Cue a Percy and Neville centric A-Plot of this au version of GOF featuring a friendship forming between Percy and Neville, Crouch Sr finding out that Trevor is a toad sometime between Rita's interviews and the First Task, sirens going off in someone's head about Percy being put in charge of the tournament and the consequences of Trevor being entered into the tournament for both Percy and Neville. The B-Plot is Harry just having a semi regular school year while Crouch Jr is coming up with ways to get Harry into the graveyard to resurrect He-Who-Only-Feared-Dumbledore. If we want to add shipping for Percy, then I would say the main four options are the champions and Penny. Obviously, there are other options, but I think the champions and Penny are the most obvious. We can maybe even throw Neville having a crush on Percy that could maybe turn into something post-Hogwats depending if we go past GOF into the shipping pot as well

[ahollowgrave]

There was a post asking RPers with moon-worshipping characters how they handle the moon's revelation, especially with Endwalker. But! I am too shy to reblog that with my actual answers so instead I will post this two page rambling under a cut. (:

Okay, so I look at it through two lenses: 1) How much does your average citizen know about the big wide star and everything our beloved Warrior of Light gets up to in saving it all the time?

There are things in the real world I don’t know and things I am shocked to find out other people don’t know!

The history of the Star is vast and dense and no one can possibly know every crumb of it. 

2) Faith requires a sort of peace in knowing you don’t and won’t know certain things. If you have all the answers to all your questions, you don’t need faith.

The asking of questions is vital, here. If you are not curious about the world around you how can you possibly come to love it and those it shelters? If you believe for a second that you have all the answers to all the questions then your curiosity dies. 

That said with Odette and her convent it really boils down to:  They don’t know!

Odette is young, she may not have been alive during Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s defeat. I’m not really sure because time bubbles and I’m very vague with her age because time is my mortal enemy. When the moon started its fall the convent probably took it to mean: gods mad. Who wouldn’t? Even the faithless might pray under such a thing, no?  But the convent is secluded and news is slow to reach them and what does reach them is often embellished or outdated or just untrue. They must pick through the stories they are told and find the truth of the matter - which is subjective, as well! What is true for one might not be true for another. 

It is a bit of a chore, is what I am trying to say, and unreliable narrators are aplenty.

Currently, the Convent believes that earlier scripture naming Dalamud as Menphina’s Loyal Hound were written by Spoken who were trying to make sense of the world around them. They got it wrong, but no doubt there are things we get wrong even now with all our knowledge. 

The point of their faith is not to get things 100% right all the time but rather to meet the star and her denizens with hearts full of love. They don’t allow dogs at the convent, however.

The news out of EW is another matter since it still feels very fresh and new. Odette has stepped into the role of Nun Errant and she does relay information back to her Convent, either in person or via letter. I don’t know if the news of the WoL fighting the 12 made papers and so far it seems that most of the Loporrits that stayed star-side are in Old Sharlayan to learn! A big ship did go beyond the moon but that was… beyond the moon! So, like the nuns, I don’t know! They are but Spoken creatures, they question, yes, but it is difficult for them to see the grand picture being as small as they are.  It should be noted that Odette is not the warrior of light. I try very hard for her to not know everything the warrior of light gets up to in the MSQ because she, realistically, would not know. She’s just some nun! What I CAN say is that if Odette knew everything that I, the player, know she would still worship the Moon and Menphina. Imprisoning Zodiark before more needless death, setting the Loporrits to building a fallback and escape plan, reincarnating her closest and most trusted allies to serve as deities and make sure he cannot be freed? That’s love, baby. Of course, Menphina, the deity of Love, would be the keeper of the moon and its secrets! Also, almost none of this answered the secondary questions but… This is already very long but I could go on about the dark side of the moon, what it means to love, and all that but I’ll end it with this: It is okay for your characters to be wrong and make mistakes, IC! Let them have harmlessly bad and factually untrue opinions. 

BONUS: I recall a question about how a manmade moon might effect a god or goddess who is tied to it! But -- prayer and belief is were deities get their powers.

Well, the 12 as we know them are kind of ‘manmade’ themselves. Yes, Venat sort of reincarnated her most trusted allies, however… It was shown that prayers have the power to change them! We know that this altered Halone in some ways and I believe that it altered Menphina the same. Basically: Enough of her worshippers thought Dalamud was her ‘loyal hound’ and so she got a loyal hound. So, why should the moon(s) be any different?

[stillstuckin2000spunkrock]

We Need to Talk About Mouthwashing.. 🧼👄

So recently I’ve been seeing a lot of YouTubers play Mouthwashing. I had heard about its storyline and the dark, yet important, message it delivers. Yesterday I watched a complete walk through of the game itself. I fell in love with the complexity of the characters, but also was captivated by the story itself. The plot dives into topics and behaviors that society tries to ignore or brush under the rug. I personally believe that the message of “Take Responsibility” also is a message to the player, saying how people need to take accountability for their actions as both an individual and as a society. Those that are guilty are not just the ones that complete the physical act, but also those that didn’t try to stop it. Similar to the game, this can be found in many SA and abuse cases. 

However, I’ve also noticed the fandom receives a lot of hate, so I did some research as to why. I must be on the opposite side of the fandom because until now I wasn’t even aware people shipped Anya with anyone. I believe the whole point of Anya’s story is to raise awareness for women that feel like they are expected to be attached to a man due to societal expectations and pressures. Anya’s story is about her struggle of not being heard, and feeling unable to trust someone to talk to about what Jimmy did to her, due to society often favoring the men and leaving the women to blame. The fact that people actually ship her with either of the men is insane to me. The poor woman was r@ped for crying out loud! 

I see a lot of hate for Jimmy, which is definitely warranted because he’s a terrible human being, but without him the story wouldn’t have relayed the message that it did. He’s essential to the plot whether you like it or not. Jimmy was by far an asshole, but he was also there to represent the horrors that happen in everyday life. Lately it feels like a common theme in reality, to see men victimizing themselves when on trial of SA or r@pe, and it often leads to other men taking their side. This then influences why victims of SA or r@pe feel unable to open up about what they went through, which leads to a major drop in mental health and can often lead victims to depression and/or suicide.

This is more or less a personal opinion but I’m not a fan of the media trying to portray the crew as some dysfunctional family. I know we all want a happy ending for our favorite characters, but we cannot pretend everything is good or make up AU’s. The point of the game is to show the characters flaws and struggles. By making media that portrays it as brain rot or a dysfunctional family, it completely destroys the point of the game and the characters themselves. Like I said, this is a personal preference and normally I can admire AU’s and trying to make light of a situation, but I believe serious topics like this shouldn’t be turned into jokes. It honestly defeats the purpose of the message the game was trying to say lmao. That being said I do enjoy fanart and illustrations that symbolize and represent the true nature of the characters, and yes even some of the memes are funny, but when it comes to shipping characters or making it seem all “quirky” it just gets old. I am not targeting anyone specifically and I do not mean to discourage fanart, just please make it respectful to the developers intentions for the characters. I also heard things about artists getting death threats, which is insane and unwarranted. I get that art can be serious and portray heavy messages, but death threats for fanart of a game is just crazy to me💀.

Like I said, I do like the game (probably a current hyperfixation) but I wanted to know your guys opinions and thoughts about it, and if I count as a part of the controversial fandom (because I don’t think I am, but I overthink and worry about everything😅). 

[ratwhsprs]

Sewers. They were always a place for strange or illegal happenings. Syndicates used them to ship contraband, move unseen, and do other more nefarious acts under the noses of GPD and the city's local vigilante. So too did the cities' rogues - and something that was distinctly... foreign.

Heavy steps echoing with muted tones off of cobbled walls, a large creature made it's way along the twilit gloom. Fiery, ember red gaze panned to and fro as ears perked for wayward sounds, ever cautious of the presence of man. Gotham was a foreign big city to a troll who was instead used to Arcadia; and with twice stolen vehicular engines the Gumm-Gumm hoped he could slip away as unnoticed as he'd come. [ @crystal-grotto ]

Electricity was the main thing he was picking up from his rats. Otis could only think that maybe something had happened to one of the electrical relays that powered the sparse lighting around the immediate maintenance areas...

He just couldn't work out what the animals meant by “moving stone”. That was a new one. He rounded the next corner and froze in his tracks at the looming figure ahead of him.

Croc was the biggest thing Otis could think of that frequented Gotham's sewers. With the size and tail, that would have been his immediate assumption. He would have been content to head on his way with that thought… except Croc was currently in Arkham. 

And with the horns and fur? This guy wasn't him. Otis took a step back.

“... you're not gonna try and eat me, are you?” Came the anxiety-driven waver of his voice.

@crystal-grotto

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 3, exploring and Priority: Palaven:

-Broadly speaking, many planetary descriptions are the same as they are in ME1 or ME2. Some have minor differences.

It’s disappointing. The descriptions have always been an excellent opportunity for world building and ME3 barely utilizes them.

Harsa

-Khar’shan – It’s implied that the reign of the Hegemony is over. Whatever the future may bring, the batarian government will be different.

It’ll be interesting to see if the next Mass Effect game holds to that or not.

Annos Basin

-Sur’kesh – The salarians avoid overpopulation by careful breeding rules.

I suspect part of their frustration with the krogan is the krogan’s refusal to do the same. After all, both species lay eggs. If the salarians can maintain a steady population, why not the krogan?

I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but the salarians likely consider those bits irrelevant.

-The salarians are noted as an amphibious species.

Trebia

-The turians classifying information about their moons is amusing. I’m sure records already existed in other species’ systems; did classifying them actually accomplish anything?

Also, how hard is the information to refind? We calculate information about solar bodies that we will never reach in our time. Surely doing so for Palaven’s moons is even easier when you can just swing by a mass relay to observe them first hand.

-Menae – Shepard has no dialogue choices on the shuttle but speaks plenty.

I don’t plan to mention this every time it comes up, but the lack of control of Shepard in this game is grating.

-The turians are under attack and scraping by, so of course Shepard will loot multiple weapons and mods. I’m sure they won’t mind.

-Speaking of, the interaction sensitivity in ME3 is turned down way too much. You have to get very close to an item for it to alert you. The sensitivity in ME2 was much better.

-You should be able to speak to General Corinthus after the initial dialogue with him.

He could provide a lot of additional information and lore on the turian military and current situation. Huge missed opportunity by Bioware.

-Why are the primary enemies husks?

The Reapers are actively fighting the turians. Palaven is right there. We should primarily be fighting marauders.

-You get no additional information on what Taetrus is or why Victus was there, so if you’ve never read up on the Cerberus Network screw you. Figure it out by context.

I’m actually okay with that part – Shepard should know what Taetrus is. However, Bioware could easily have tweaked the dialogue to make it more clear for players and should have added a codex entry on the Taetrus war.

-I’m puzzled at why Victus’ actions on Taetrus are considered so radical.

He let the separatists and the salarians wear each other out, then swooped in and took both out.

Isn’t that what Palaven did during the unification wars?

Palaven remained neutral, let the colonies wear themselves out fighting each other, then swooped in and forced them to make peace and rejoin the Hierarchy.

If anything, Victus’ actions should be considered traditional.

-What’s the point of sending Liara back to the Normandy because it’s behaving strangely?

She’s not an engineer. She’s not even especially good with technology. She sent Shepard to hack those terminals in ME2 on Illium because they’re better at it than her.

I suppose that after the Collectors invaded the Normandy in ME2 it’s not unreasonable for everyone to be a bit jumpy and want a strong fighter on the ship.

-How do the turians feel about Garrus so easily falling in line with Shepard?

He’s clearly high ranking now, but he recognizes Shepard as a superior and accepts their orders.

Sure, Shepard’s a spectre and a war hero but that must still seem strange.

-As many have said, the image of Victus facing Palaven as he processes that he’s the primarch now is powerful.

-On the way to Victus, James mentions the lack of batarians and krogans at the war summit. They should be there as strong fighters.

The batarians are out of the picture because the Hegemony is effectively destroyed. The krogans hate turians and salarians and therefore won’t attend.

Then Victus immediately says the krogans will be needed.

Good foreshadowing on Bioware’s part, and Victus has already been established as a loose canon so it feels natural.

-What is Garrus’ title while he’s on the Normandy with Shepard?

He continues to be Victus’ advisor so there’s presumably some formal arrangement between the Hierarchy and Alliance that Shepard doesn’t care about.

Ambassador? Seconded? Detached?

Normandy

-Hackett acknowledges that everything he does is just a delaying action to build the Crucible. The war will not be won head on.

-Once again, the dangers of building the Crucible when nobody knows what it does is raised. However, there aren’t any better options so build it it is.

And they wonder why the other species are reluctant to join in?

-Hackett says that Cerberus does not have humanity’s best interests at heart.

Considering that Arrival is supposed to be played last in ME2 and it ends with Hackett saying that at least Cerberus is doing something about the state of the galaxy, that’s quite a turn around.

It feels like the writer of ME2 and ME3 were working from different scripts. Which is bizarre, because they’re mostly the same writers.

-Shepard mentions that TIM wants to control the Reapers. Hackett dismisses it; the war will end with dead reapers.

This is what I mean by the endings are not a natural extension of the game. This is the perfect opportunity to hint that Control might be viable – either by Hackett suggesting that TIM might be on the right track or Shepard pushing back that they think it may work.

But the way the scene plays out, Control is treated as failure state. Of course players reject it as valid choice. The game tells them it isn’t one.

Codex

-The Codex says that Reaper capital ships are created from one species each cycle.

It also says the Reapers have lost multiple capital ships this cycle.

That must be extremely heavy losses for them.

-The entry for krogan ancient history mentions Kalros to explain why krogan architecture can withstand vibrations despite Tuchanka not having many earthquakes.

Once again, good foreshadowing by Bioware. This is mentioned well in advance of Priority: Tuchanka.

-Why is Garrus referred to as a combat engineer? He’s an infiltrator.

[sentinelcole]

"Attention crew, we are aware that you are currently locked out of systems and unable to complete your tasks regarding the impending collision between Delia II and IV. Be aware that engineering and command is addressing the issue. Please relay any communications via courier as the ship's computer is under the control of the sentient Moriarty hologram. The holodeck is also off limits until further notice. Picard out"

It’s like every week something weird happens.

[bradan-writes-stories]

How Rice Sank the HMS Ibis

The HMS Ibis gracefully glided through the azure waters, guided by the skilled hands of Captain Rocklin Balo and his experienced crew. Their mission was to embark on a journey to the rice-growing regions of Southeast Asia and secure a trade route for The King.

Captain Balo gazed across the bustling harbor of Bangkok, renowned for its abundance of rice, his weathered eyes scanning the array of ships and cargo. The warm tropical breeze carried with it the exotic scents of spices and trade.

The ship’s crew diligently prepared the vessel, ensuring it was seaworthy and ready for the long voyage ahead. The HMS Ibis was a majestic two-masted brigantine built to withstand the treacherous seas and renowned for her remarkable speed, even while under a load.

Meanwhile, Captain Balo accompanied by his first mate Anthony ‘Jolly’ Hailey ventured ashore to negotiate the purchase of precious cargo. They met with local rice merchants, who offered an assortment of rice varieties, each boasting its distinct aroma and flavor.

After careful consideration, Captain Balo chose a prized selection of fragrant jasmine rice. The ivory grains shimmered like pearls in the sunlight, promising a bountiful feast for The King. A deal was struck and the HMS Ibis’ hold would soon be filled to the brim with loose grain.

“Don’t you worry about the load shifting and capsizing us?” Anthony Hailey asked under his breath — careful to avoid eavesdropping ears.

“Not at all,” Captain Balo said with perfect composure.

“There’s no sacks nor barrels to contain it. They’re throwing the rice about as if it were bilge water.”

“Do you trust me, Jolly?” Captain Balo asked without turning his gaze from the hardworking men on his ship.

“Of course, Captain,” Anthony said lowering his gaze.

“Your concern is understandable. Many ships have been lost to Davy Jones but rest assured, I’ve planned for that,” Balo explained and placed his hands on the sleek wooden railing of the ship. “If you load the hull to the brim, and I mean to the brim. Fill every nook and cranny down below then tell me. Where can the rice go?”

“It won’t have anywhere to go,” Anthony said as his eyes began to light up in understanding.

“Precisely. Overload the ship to properly accommodate the cargo. That’s why we shed weight back in Singapore by selling some cannons and other un-unnecessities.”

Anthony stared ahead in wonder, amazed by his Captain’s knowledge. Balo laughed and clapped his first mate on the back.

“You have to take chances in life, Jolly. You’ll learn which ones are worth taking and this is one of them. We’ll be renowned for bringing home far more grain in a single haul than any other ship in his majesty’s fleet.” He paused for a moment to hold out a gold coin, “And that’s why we’ll be paid more than any other ship.

After the final preparations were made, the HMS Ibis departed Bangkok. The majestic ship sliced through the waves, guided by the stars that adorned the night sky, as it embarked on its homeward journey.

The return voyage was not without its challenges. They navigated the maze of islands, skirting dangerous reefs and unpredictable currents. Days turned into weeks as they ventured deeper into the heart of the Indian Ocean.

As the sun began its descent below the horizon, casting an amber glow across the restless sea, the crew of the mighty seafaring vessel prepared for the night. Unbeknownst to them, lurking beneath the dark depths, a monstrous force stirred.

Suddenly, with a thunderous crash, the sea erupted in a tumultuous frenzy. Towering tentacles breached the surface, coiling and writhing like serpents on a rampage. The Kraken, a colossal creature of myth and legend, had emerged from the abyss, its massive form dwarfing the ship.

“Ready the cannons!” Captain Balo shouted as he sprinted for the ship’s helm.

“All hands on deck,” Anthony relayed the captain’s orders, “Ready the cannons!”

The crew gasped in awe and terror as the Kraken’s behemoth arms descended upon the HMS Ibis, grappling with the masts and ensnaring the hull.

“Fire!” Balo shouted over the chaotic frenzy.

As the sea-born terror crashed against the weathered hull, the ship’s cannons roared to life, unleashing a thunderous volley. Billowing clouds of smoke and the acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air as each cannonball propelled forward, soaring with deadly precision.

The iron projectiles arched through the air, leaving trails of white foam in their wake before punching holes through the Kraken’s body before crashing into the churning sea, creating geysers of spray that briefly competed with the surging waves. The cannons’ resounding blasts echoed across the water, sending shivers through the hearts of the crew as they fought for their lives.

Seconds felt like hours to the souls aboard the HMS Ibis. The Kraken’s malevolent eyes gleamed with an insatiable hunger, threatening to drag the ship down until a well-placed shot blew apart the beast’s eye. Mucus and fluid rained down on the ship as the creature yielded and descended into the murky depths below.

Tensions were high as all eyes were plastered to the choppy waves, waiting for the next attack that would test their mettle and the strength of the ship. When no sign of the Kraken presented itself they rejoiced in safeguarding the cargo, and more importantly, their lives against such a force and made haste to flee as quickly as the wind would carry them.

Davy Jones had no plans for an easy voyage for the crew of the HMS Ibis and plotted to send them to the depths of his locker. Dark clouds amassed on the horizon, heralding the imminent arrival of a tempest. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as gusts of wind intensified, whipping through the sails and rattling the timeworn rigging.

The peaceful sea transformed into a turbulent abyss, with towering swells rising and crashing against the ship’s hull. Rain poured in torrents, obscuring visibility and drenching the weary sailors to the bone. Thunder boomed overhead, its deafening roar matching the relentless pounding of the waves. The ship creaked and groaned, strained under the onslaught of nature’s fury.

“We’re not going to make it,” Anthony shouted over the roar of the storm.

“As long as I’m still breathing we’ll be fine!” Captain Balos yelled, blinded by the ocean’s spray.

Lightning illuminated the chaos, briefly revealing the harrowing scene that unfolded. The crew, clinging to ropes and desperately securing loose items, battled the elements with unwavering determination. Fear and adrenaline coursed through their veins as they fought to keep their vessel afloat amidst the raging storm, praying for respite.

The HMS Ibis careened precariously to the port side as Captain Balos fought to maintain control of his ship. Each wave that crashed against the hull threatened to capsize the ship.

“Hailey, take the helm,” Captain Balos commanded.

Once relinquished of his duty Rocklin fought his way across the ship and descended below deck. To his confusion much of the rice within the hold had gone missing, creating space for it all to shift to one side of the vessel.

What he didn’t realize was that the constant buffeting of the waves and their prior Kraken attack had caused the grains of rice to settle. The vibrations urged the individual grains to fit more efficiently and now threaten the ship’s stability.

Above deck a mighty wave, like a titan rising from the depths, loomed over the ship, casting a shadow of impending doom. Its towering crest glinted with an icy menace under the gray skies. The colossal wave crashed upon the ship’s weathered deck, overwhelming it.

Helpless against the sheer power of the ocean the vessel, already tilted precariously, groaned in agony. The crew, caught in a maelstrom of chaos, clung desperately to any available purchase, their hearts pounding in their chests. But the relentless wave proved merciless, its immense weight capsizing the ship with an inexorable fury.

The once-proud vessel succumbed to the wrath of the sea, its keel breaking free of the surging waters, sending the crew and its cargo, plunging into the churning abyss. The ship disappeared beneath the tumultuous surface, leaving only scattered debris and the lingering echoes of a devastating tragedy in its wake.

Although the story is a work of fiction the dangers of hauling grain by sea-faring vessel are very real. Typically grain ships are required to have a lower point of gravity with allowances given to vessels specifically designed for such cargo, like beveled edges in the hold or vertical baffles.

Images used created by Nexneedsanewpen, Midjourney, and myself.

[shizuu-chann]

OC: Kaetus Rix (a short-ish bio)

Name: Kaetus Rix* (pronounced KAY-tus**) Age/Birth year: 27-31 (from ME1 to post-ME3), b. 2155 Romantic partner: Ezri Shepard (Once again, my Shepard's younger sister.) Occupation: Commander in the turian 43rd Marine Division--Special Forces, captain of the frigate THS Impera, became a Spectre in 2182. Works with Ezri in a kind of joint Turian-Alliance military/ambassadorial "task force"--basically two frigates that form a team that are equal parts military and diplomatic in nature, and work with the Hierarchy, the Alliance, and the Council. (I'm still working out the logistics, etc, but this is the general idea.) Homeworld: Digeris colony; Apien Crest, Castellus System

Current place of residence: sizeable apartment on the Citadel, Zakera Ward close to the inner ring/Presidium; lives with his bondmate Personality: He's very easygoing and loves to laugh. He's not big on formalities, and is a self-proclaimed "bad turian." He jokingly chocks this up to growing up with a human best friend and taking on human mannerisms/attitudes and points of view. He's clever and witty and fond of unconventional military tactics, but he's not impulsive, nor is he likely to abandon traditional turian strategy if it remains the best, most efficient and useful option. That being said, he's often unapologetically receptive to Ezri's whims. Loves PDA, thrives on it, in fact. Physical appearance: Very tall, 7'3", with amber eyes, dark charcoal colored skin/carapace, and purple facial tattoos. He has a small, jagged scar under his right eye (not pictured, it's on the other side), extending from the lower socket edge and slightly through his face tattoo. His crest is on the long side, something he takes pride in. Family/Connections: His family is somewhat large, and is generally well known for being excellent soldiers and lifelong military. Both his parents are still alive, and he has three siblings. His relationship with his father is strained, but he gets on very well with the rest of his family.

His eldest sibling, his brother, is Avitus Rix. They are very close, he became a Spectre because his brother inspired him to accept the offer, and was disappointed but understanding when Avi left the Spectres after the Saren fiasco. Kaetus is still torn up about his brother leaving with the Andromeda Initiative.

His mother, Valaena (pro. vah-LAY-nah), still serves in the military as an engineer. She is incredibly intelligent and loves ships, tinkering, and making funky gadgets to entertain her children (when they were young) and just for fun. She had an initial dislike for humans, much like Marcelio, and held onto those beliefs until they moved to the Citadel. Closer proximity to humans moving to the Citadel lessened them, and when a 6-year-old Kaetus announced he was now best friends with a human, it really helped her realize those prejudices were silly. She adores her son's best friend and lover, and frequently chastises Marcelio for being ignorant.

His remaining siblings are his sisters, Nyra (second eldest) and Karas or "Kara" (pro. CAR-ah, and is the youngest child). They're both currently serving in the turian military and are very happy with their positions. Nyra plans to be lifelong military like Kaetus and their parents, and is the XO on a different frigate. Kara is biotic and is still adjusting to being moved to a Cabal unit, but she is thus far quite happy. They're very close to each other and Kaetus

His parents both served during the Relay 314 Incident/First Contact War, but only his father, Marcelio, actually fought on Shanxi as a soldier. He was honorably discharged from the military after a severe injury three years after the R314I and moved his family to the Citadel (Kaetus was 6). He worked as a military attache for the Hierarchy to the Council, due to his experience and expertise, until Kara (the only child born on the Citadel) went to bootcamp at age 15, then moved the family back to Digeris. He still makes frequent trips to and from the Citadel, as he is still a military advisor. --He still has a grudge against humanity, outwardly dislikes humans, but isn't aggressive about it and generally keeps his thoughts to himself. Before his character growth, Marcelio hated that Kaetus was best friends with a human for most of his life, and frequently tried to convince him to find a different friend, but was severely outnumbered within his own family because everyone else is fine with humans and adores Ezri. Fun fact: The last real conversation Kaetus had with his father was yet another instance Marcelio made his opinion of Ezri known, and Kaetus ended the conversation with something like "Well, I'm going to ask her to marry me, so sucks to be you, I guess." (I love him because like I said, he goes through a lot of character growth, and really he's just kind of old and crotchety, and battles with his own pride. Like, he's moved on from those grudges, but is too proud and generally doesn't know how to say that he doesn't actually dislike Ezri--or humanity--anymore. It all comes out during the Reaper invasion, though >:))

I really could go on, but I'll leave it here for now. This will probably happen again, lol. Kaetus is MY OC, and the art was commissioned and payed for by ME. Please respect that and DO NOT STEAL!

*I headcanon that his name is fairly common among turian males, like Chris or James for native English-speaking humans--ergo, it feels like every other turian is named Kaetus sometimes. **His name is definitely inspired by Kaetus from ME:A, but it is pronounced the way I believe it should be based on previous Mass Effect name pronunciation conventions. Come on. If Haestrom is pronounced like HAY-strum? Idk who tf decided it should be pronounced "KAI-tus", but I want to smack them, because it doesn't even make sense.)