#the same commander through to be wayfinder

[sleidog]

don't feel like spreading the poll of the week because theres enough negativity and pointed-ness around, however

[venture4treasure]

"Footnote"

Words: 1065

Premise: Venture and Ex-Talon!Reader talk about history to-be.

Warnings: Scars, Description of violence 

Sprawled out across Venture’s lap with the afternoon sun warming your back is one of the most pleasant ways to spend your down time. You shove your face into the pillow between you and Venture, mind begging for a nap. They rest their hand on your back, tracing down the shape of your spine, you melt into the feeling. Their hand sneaks under your shirt and trails back up your back. You can feel their calluses against your skin, scratching an itch you didn’t realize you had. 

You hear their breath hitch and you lift your head to see what’s caught their attention. Their hand is stopped at the edge of a large scar that tore across your back. The scar tissue is smooth and pale, dipped slightly lower than the rest of your skin. It's also violently jagged and marred, few things could leave a scar like that.

“You can touch it, not like I can feel anything there anymore,” you laugh, trying to bring up the mood. You drop your head back onto the pillow.  

“I did this to you,” Venture frowns, ignoring your comment.

You roll over, turning your back against the couch. Venture’s hand finds its place on your stomach instead. You're a bit annoyed that your afternoon took a turn like this — you could be napping right now. And recalling the story of the scar isn’t nice either, the reminder is enough to make the area tingle with a phantom pain you shouldn’t even be able to feel. 

Nobody forgets how it feels to be on the receiving end of a proper fight with Venture, the tremors and rumble from their drill. The feeling of plates and threads meant for cutting stone against flesh. It’s unforgettable. 

—

You’d genuinely believed you were going to die that day. 

You had been with Talon back then, out in the field to find whatever it was that your commander sent your team out to find. ‘You’ll know when you find it’ was all the details you were given – you’d nearly rolled your eyes at him when you’d been given the order.

The search crossed paths with Overwatch and the Wayfinder Society. It was unlucky that both groups would be at the same site your team was assigned to. You were all ill-prepared to handle Overwatch, much less both organizations at once. You had call the shots, you told your crew to retreat and that whatever consequences Talon had for your cowardice would be easier to handle than if Overwatch had gotten ahold of you guys – despite being Talon-affiliated, your team weren’t bad people and definitely didn’t deserve to be doomed to whatever fate ‘good guys’ wrote for them.

You would’ve gotten away too if Venture hadn’t caught you – your first meeting. They had been mad, screamed and shouted about artifacts and history. You didn’t really register anything about what they were saying, the sound of rushing blood deafened you. You had every intention to put a bullet in their head and book it before any backup arrived. Unfortunately, ever stubborn and skilled, Venture didn’t withdraw at the notion of a gunfight. They fought well with such an unconventional weapon. Impressive in retrospect, but horrifying in the moment. There was no way for you to land a good shot with the way they were moving and defending. No matter how much you backed up, they closed the space between you two faster. 

Too close, you had managed to keep Venture from slamming their excavator into your front point-blank by swinging your rifle at it. The drill sent painful tremors through your arms when your gun made contact – if you had a spare moment, you’d wonder how Venture was even holding it. Having traded your weapon to save your life, you couldn’t do anything when Venture swung again except dive out of the way. 

You weren’t fast enough, the drill ripped through the clothes and flesh of your back and sent you face first into the ground. You had screamed, raw and fear-filled. It seemed to snap some sense into Venture, who shut off their excavator, the silence without the engine was suffocating. They approached you and you could see your own blood drip off the ridges of their weapon. They had a scowl on their face as they radioed their location and reluctantly threw their jacket on your wound and pressed to keep you from bleeding out. They mumbled about how it was the ‘right thing to do’. 

—

“I was on the wrong side of history then,” you shrug, your feigned nonchalance breaking Venture out of their remorseful thoughts. They chuckle a bit. 

“There’s no real wrong side of history,” Venture smiles down at you, their mind now on a different train of thought, “history is written by the winners, and everyone wants to win in the present”. 

You swat at the air, “technicalities and whatever. You think you’re the good guys, no? So, therefore, you should think that I was on the wrong side of history. Simple”.

“Uh-huh,” they say, amused at your logic. 

They watch you with a soft expression, wearing the golden hour sunlight so prettily. Your heart stutters at the sight. 

“Look,” you swallow, “it’s my eternal joy to be able to spend my life as yours”.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Venture coos, unsure where the unprompted affection is coming from, but happy to hear it nonetheless, “I love you t-”

You pull at their shirt, tugging them down to meet them halfway for a kiss. They give into you easily. 

“Sloan- No,” you correct yourself, “Venture”.

Your voice saying their call sign catches their complete attention.

“Venture,” you reiterate, your hand tangling in theirs, “your story was meant for the history books. Venture will be remembered for years and years after we’re all long gone. Venture of the Wayfinder Society, Venture of Overwatch, you’re destined for the spotlight in history. Maybe you’ll even get your own chapter,” you laugh.

“Right or wrong side of history, I’m happy to be just a footnote in your story”, you add softer, “as your lover”.

Venture hisses something in Spanish – you’re certain it’s a swear. 

They squeeze your hand, “Amor, I’ll make sure my story is a good one so you can be proud to be a part of it,” they promise with unwavering conviction. 

“I know,” you breathe, “I know you will, Sloan Cameron”.

Author’s Note: Reader’s fight with Venture was when Overwatch was first building relations with the Wayfinder Society. So, new and inexperienced, Venture mostly fought on instinct and emotion. They aren’t as violent anymore in fights. 

If you made me write out the entire story in my mind, it’s enemies to lovers. Slow burn, but picks up pretty fast once Reader and Venture’s relationship shifts from negative to friendly. During Reader’s time as a captive, Venture is constantly dropping by to share information about artifacts, at first to guilt-trip Reader and later it evolves into a daily routine to share about their day to Reader. Eventually, this relationship convinces Reader to spill what they know about Talon. Venture convinces Overwatch to let Reader go. Now they both live together and fall in love and all that good fun. Cheers! 

Hope it’s not too out of character… I haven’t been able to consume much Venture content lately :( It got harder and harder to get the confidence to write again, so I sat down (reminded myself that I am supposed to be less critical of my writing here) and just wrote whatever I wanted :)

[rosewoodroad]

Rant/Critique/Brain Vomit on the SoTO story updates

I've seen some people expressing their thoughts on the latest SoTO update(s) and it gave me some courage to discuss my own. Overall, my sentiments are the same- I've been getting progressively dissatisfied with how the story is being executed, and I'm not ashamed to say it's because the Commander stopped mattering.

And I'm not referring to the disrespect we got in the main SoTO expansion- because that is the exact opposite of what I'm criticising. I'm referring to the sheer lack of interaction the Commander has had with the world and story since. The immersion is just not there anymore.

To be frank, the Commander is far from the usual MMO player avatar. They actually have a base personality in their own right. What's more, they have a canonical history that we actually played through and saw progress in real time. They are the protagonist character of GW2 and not just a window for us to peer into Tyria through.

This is why I thought SoTO's main expac story was actually pretty fun. The Commander's existing history coloured most of our interactions in the world.

The wizards either hated or loved us- but we got to work on making them fear us less. Some demon lady invades our brain because we died and undied once, and we had to figure out if she was an ally or not. Her big brother kidnaps us twice because being a Dragon Champion smells good or something. Zojja is back and showers us in her friendship angst- all because of this history, which was all great!! It showed that we were actually a part of their world, somebody they could talk to or yell at, we had and continue to have impact!!

We weren't the driving narrative force, but we were at least interacting with and nudging the story forward as a protagonist.

Aaand all of this was totally missing in the dribbling updates that followed.

Let's recap- we joined Peitha in Inner Nayos and started punching out demons. And we're still punching out demons. I mean, yeah, that's why we're there in the first place, but what else is there? We find Arina, but she's totally unbothered by us messing up her initial plans and getting quite a few of her men killed. We meet Ramses, but he's 100% chill with us, nice to meet you Wayfinder, let's go kill Heitor. Eparch, the guy who found us 'entertaining' enough to whisper a warning to at the end of SoTO, doesn't even acknowledge us. Nephus, who sounds like their world's version of the Commander, talks to us like... twice. Peitha, the big mysterious sexy demon lady we had fun back-and-forths with, stopped chatting with us entirely (and we also immediately trust her despite the lack of communication).

It's all so... apathetic. You could argue that they just don't know or care about who the Commander is, but then what is the point of us being there when some Other Guy could've taken our place? The protagonist isn't protagonisting anymore and has been relegated to being a transparent sheet of plastic for us to just watch the story unfold by itself, totally hands-off. It's hard to care about a story when it doesn't care about us.

I'm still invested in the story (and Peitha) enough to play through the remaining update, because I love me a good revolution, but I cannot deny that I am officially bored with it too.

[bigsnaff]

Months pass in Nayos, and Cyna experiences a taste of revenancy, to her great chagrin.

I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.

The words don't phase Cyna – she's known this man, this ghost of Ascalon, Merlish Cendigg, for little over a few months. What power do his words have to her? As though they were new to her ears? But she knows that every little word he breathes against her breaks down whatever thin veil of camaraderie that builds. Every time they fought together, every drop of blood spilled of their foes between them. 

It wasn't forced upon her; she had accepted the spear from Isgarren of her own will, though perhaps at the time she didn't fully recognize the weight of it, the value, or the burden. The events preceding their entrance to Nayos were rattling to her mind, a rushing wind past her ears. She accepted the weapon blindly. But now she knows it was more than just another tool like the Heart of the Obscure.

In Nayos, Cyna steps back for once and allows herself to be the one commanded. A foot soldier once again, an expendable sword on the frontline. It's almost a relief to leave the consequences to someone else for once, as Peitha orders her blade here and there — until the guilt weeds its way back into her mind, and she looks over to the ghost at her side and knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

She finds humor in the fact that the otherworldly being who wormed her way into her mind was more amiable than the human from her own world. Though whether that amiability is born from sincerity, she didn’t yet know. In truth, she didn't know who she trusted more. She had slaughtered enough Kryptis at this point that, had it not been in self defense, it could’ve been considered genocide — and Merlish, of course, had witnessed his kingdom’s fall at the hands of her race.

Both of them had enough reason to level her.

She and Merlish are alone so often. She carries the spear with her closer than she carries her blade. Clusters of crystal grow from it with each swing, with each thrust of her power forced through it, though she could not control it. She stands as sentry at the edge of the Ward’s camp, watching as he pries the crystals off the spear and crushes them to dust in his palm. She doesn’t stop him. The spear harbored his soul; was it not an intrusion upon his being? She felt foolish.

“I’m sorry,” she has the gall to say, somehow, though it will happen again and again. The glow from his presence reaches farther than the meager light of the embers of her campfire. It's brighter than the ghosts she would fight in Ascalon, and she wonders why. “...I can’t help it.”

“Then you’re weak,” he says simply, without emotion behind the words. It’s meant to just be a statement, Cyna thinks. But still a low growl rises from her chest. She’d been uniquely patient until now. 

“It’s different magic than you use.”

“The fundamentals of all magic begin and end the same,” he says, holding up the last of the crystals between his fingers. His glow catches within it, scattering it like a prism. She closes her eyes against the influx of memories.

“I’ve been dealing with it for years. It’s dragon magic. Don’t act like you understand,” she tosses back, and it’s the first time yet that she’s ever heard him laugh. It’s louder than she expected, but there's little joy behind it. He twirls the shard between his fingers as she watches mist waft off him like flames – the mundanity of the action contrasting so starkly against what he was.

“Wayfinder–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“...Commander — strike with a hammer with however much force you please, but aim.” He crushes the final crystal in his hand and releases the fragments to the wind. She huffs. It's hardly a lesson. But he's more pleasant than she recalls him being in a while, so she refrains from adding fuel to the flame. Instead she looks away and watches the red leaves of Nayos trees dance in the wind.

Cyna hadn’t pondered as much on Ascalon as she likely should’ve — though she had grown up in Grothmar Valley, distant from the epicenter of Ascalon’s fall, even when she and her warband migrated south to battle the Dragonbrand, the ghosts seemed no more to her than another environmental hazard. During then, she instead turned her focus toward the ever-growing disaster that plagued Ascalon’s East --- not the echoes trapped in endless reverberation. She grinds her teeth at this thought. They were people, once, though hatred shared between their kinds. It’s bizarre to imagine the ghost before her there. Though she had met much older beings, there’s something about Merlish that seemed inherently… antique.

She has watched Merlish as executioner, in her mind’s eye placing herself into a time that she had not yet set foot into the world, when fear and hatred ruled Ascalon, and remarks upon the sorcerer’s savagery. Surely he fought the charr as fiercely as he did the Kryptis. Was he so unlike the ones he claimed to be beasts? The rage in his eyes? Was he so unlike her? 

Angry. The fury forming around them like bars to break away from.

The thought pulses in her head. She turns her gaze back toward Merlish and clenches her jaw. He stares back. To Isgarren, maybe, Merlish had become just a tool, a means to an end. But he wasn’t a slave. More than an echo. She bows her head to him. “...I don’t want to keep you.”

He flares at the suggestion alone. “I am not yours to keep.” 

“I know.”

“You're a fell beast," he spits. "You and your kind. Good that the gods cursed me so, that I might not end all of Tyria in my bloodlust for you.”

“You have what you want. Isgarren doesn't withhold you anymore. You are bound to no one.”

He steps within inches of Cyna's face. A fury in his eyes that never dies. Ascalon eternally burning. “Foresight is scarcely a blessing as often said. My own folly is my jailer.” 

Cyna shoves away a rising growl. As if she, born centuries later, was the mastermind behind all of his suffering. For all he claims that foresight is a curse, she wishes she had enough to not humor him for so long. “Then break the chains.”

“I loathe you,” he whispers aloud, but she hears the words in her mind as well, louder, deeper. He doesn't allow the barrier between them to fall. Like Ascalon’s Northern Wall, he rebuilds it, again and again. “For all that you've done, you personally, Commander, I loathe you so. I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.“

She's known this man for little over a few months, she's watched him spill blood of demons with relative ease, and yet, he steps toward her, blinding spear in hand, nothing between them, and he doesn't touch her. For all that he claims he hates her, he doesn't take the advantage, the vengeance. He never does.

“I’m not too fond of you either,” is all she returns.

Merlish's furious expression remains steadfast — but he steps back from her, supernatural flames tempering. Soon, his spirit dissipates as the spear in his fading hand glows brighter and then spins itself to her. She catches it with one hand and scoffs. The ghost has gone to his room and locked the door.

Cyna closes her eyes and leans her weight against it. Tomorrow, they march to the Midnight King's coliseum, and she wonders if he hates the Kryptis as much as he hates her.

[i-mybrunettelady]

dis moi qui tu hantes, je te dirai qui tu es

Summary: Peitha is processing things. Alysannyra tries to help, in her own way. Content warnings: mentions and slight descriptions of violence. Spoilers: SoTo (specifically Heitor's Gate)

Nayos is quiet, for once. The sounds of battle died down, and the combatants have settled into an uneasy wait, a calm before the storm. And that is a good thing, Peitha thinks. Troops need time to replenish, to rest. The wounded need time to nurse their injuries before they go to battle again. 

And the living need time to mourn the dead. 

Peitha isn’t entirely certain she’s grieving for Heitor. She doesn’t feel the ashy taste of grief on her tongue. Yet, when she told Arina and Alysannyra she needed time for reflection, she meant it. When she isn’t occupied with helping her army, Peitha is deep in thought, away from the people around her, taller and bigger than most. She almost feels like a pillar to them, and she knows she is, but the thought of it makes something in her chest tighten. 

What a strange concept. 

On one such day of calm, Peitha retires earlier than she usually does and goes to a little corner of the camp. There, she watches the fogs of Nayos dim the blues and the reds around her. A part of her wonders if the sight of Heitor’s mangled body would have been any different if it was hugged by this tender fog. The Wayfinder - nay, the Commander - is a fearsome enemy. She roared and tore through her cousin’s flesh, unrelenting. Her fingers moved in practiced motions to carve out weapons and chains of light, and not once did she stop to take a breath for more than a moment before she was back into the fray, with the same deadly strength. 

Yet, Alysannyra felt no joy when she walked away from Heitor’s corpse. She was emotionless, but Peitha knows that she wasn’t indifferent. I don’t take pleasure in death, she said later. I’m sorry for having to kill your cousin. 

Peitha told her she wasn’t in mourning. Yet, her thoughts turn to Heitor often, and she begins to wonder if she was being truthful. 

A bat of giant wings tears her from her thoughts. Peitha slowly raises her head up to see the round head of Alysannyra’s skyscale, Maurizia, peek from the edge of a tree. There’s a loud thud of steps as the Commander herself jumps down, freshly returned from her aerial patrol. She says something to her skyscale and the beast makes a happy, satisfied noise. 

“It’s hardly fair to leave all the duties of running this to Arina, Peitha,” Alysannyra says and Peitha hums. A moment too late, she realizes she was joking. 

“She is more than capable, Commander,” Peitha counters, trying to keep an even voice. Alysannyra laughs and steps out into the clearing. 

“You of all people here should know I’m something of a little shit, Peitha,” she says, amused. Peitha stares at her. “Staring isn’t going to deter me either. Stare at me all you like. I am, after all, the most beautiful of all out here.” 

“Be that as it may, Commander–” Peitha says and looks her over. The simplicity of her practical clothes does not take away from the attraction. If anything, it only makes the golden richness of her brown hair stand out against the dim nayosian sun, and she fits perfectly in the paleness of the horizon. “How has your patrol been?” 

Alysannyra squints. “I am a married woman, Peitha.” 

Peitha laughs. “I would be delighted to meet that husband of yours one day. But I am asking about your actual patrol. No ill tidings, I presume, given your.. rather cheerful disposition?” 

“None whatsoever. Eparch seems to be pissing his pants. Or buying time, which is more likely.” Alysannyra’s face grows dark. “He’d do well to be terrified by this point.” 

What an ally I’d found, Peitha thinks. “Heitor was weak,” she says. There’s that strange feeling again in her chest. “Cerus, less so. But Eparch is not.” 

“He too will end up like Heitor and Cerus,” Alysannyra says. “Are you having second thoughts?” She presses her fingers in a fist and takes a deep breath. 

“Me? No. I did not mean to tease your pride so.” 

“I think you did. But that is besides the point.” She releases her fist. “The patrol was uneventful. The only real threat to us right now is this fog, but that’s Nayos, and not much else.” She tilts her head. “Were you thinking of Heitor again?” 

Peitha pauses. “I have,” she says after a moment. “There is a reality where she joins us. There’s a reality in which you didn’t cleave her in half. But that reality is not this one.” 

“There’s also a reality in which I’m still insufferably proud and nineteen. There’s a reality in which I didn’t have to kill my husband. There’s a reality in which my daughter didn’t die and there’s a reality in which I am dead.” Alysannyra’s voice is resolute, strong, akin to a mountain. Her feet make strong steps on the blue grass beneath, and she’s looking at Peitha with her muted, purple eyes. “There is also a reality in which I am alive, both my husband and daughter are alive, and that so happens to be the reality in which Heitor made the wrong choice and died for it. That is also a reality where Irja is dead.” 

“I have been in your shoes, Peitha,” she then adds, quietly, but with no less resolve. “Believe me, I am every time I step before an army and become its face. I think of Irja, Ramses, Arina, and of every other face under my command. That is entirely normal. That means you are not like Eparch.” A pause. “That means you didn’t make the wrong choice, like Heitor.” 

Peitha nods. She knows she would have been Alysannyra’s target too if circumstances were different. That knowledge fills her with relief - that she is not - and also with an odd kind of understanding. Was she herself not digging through Alysannyra’s mind not that long ago? 

“Do you think I would have died, had I made the wrong choice?” Peitha asks. The light breeze carries Alysannyra’s hair to and fro, plays with the ends of her cape, and they stay in a silence that’s as vast as the clearing around them. 

“No,” the Commander says after a while. “Instead, I think it would haunt you. Sometimes, that’s a fate worse than death.”

Does Heitor’s death haunt her? There’s a reality in which Heitor made the right choice. There’s a reality in which Irja is alive, safe in their camp. She looks at Alysannyra once more. She has seen what haunts her. Peitha’s chest aches, and aches, and aches. 

“The right choices sometimes don’t feel good either,” Alysannyra adds, and then, conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t change a fucking thing about my life, actually. But I’m not right in the head. I don’t know what Kryptis consider right in the head, but maybe you aren’t either. And my best advice is to accept that, and to find as much peace in it as you can.” 

What peace? Since when has Alysannyra Ainsaf, the Commander, the Champion, the Wayfinder, the hero, the legend, ever been at peace? Peitha takes a deep breath. 

Does the same fate await her, too? 

“You are a curious creature, Alysannyra,” Peitha says at last. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t more helpful. But I don’t think you’d make much use of empty consolations. We are too similar for that, you and I.” 

Oh, you have been most helpful. Peitha blinks. “I need reflection, Commander.”

Alysannyra calls to her skyscale. The beast trots over happily and nuzzles her mistress’ arm. Alysannyra pets Maurizia’s snout for the effort. As she passes by, Peitha feels a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of the camp,” she says and squeezes. Peitha doesn’t say anything and simply continues to sit on the ground, claws buried in grass. Wordlessly, Alysannyra’s gone, and before long, Peitha hears the greetings of welcome and barks of orders in the camp, and turns to look. 

Does the same fate await her, too? She needs some very, very deep reflection. 

[commander-gloryforge]

somewhere, on some world, some version of tyria, the commander- no, the way finder steps through a rift, and comes out the other side in divinity’s reach, in his very own home that had been destroyed years ago.

the commander, the god killer, the dragon slayer, the prismatic champion, the wayfinder ambrose wolfsheart, grey strands sticking out of his long red hair despite being not even 30 years old just yet, knows that somewhere he must’ve taken a wrong turn, because now he’s in a familiar place, one that had been bombed by scarlet ten years ago. his house still looks the same as it did back then, but more lived in, not to say more chaotic.

he looks into a mirror and sees a distorted reflection- no, it’s not a mirror. he looks through a door frame, and sees another ambrose. his hair is still all red, and both his eyes are still green, and though they look at tired as the commander’s, they’re tired in a different way. he is shorter, a bit thinner, his scars are in different places. this ambrose looks just like the commander, and yet looks nothing like him.

and yet, ambrose wolfsheart knows the two must be the same man, by the way they both instinctively point their gun at each other at the exact same second.

[mistfallengw2]

3, 11, and 13 for Aurelia!

OC ask game ✨

3. Are they an outsider? Do they feel like one?

She tries not to think about it much, but it's difficult not to feel like an outsider after going through things she's not even able to comprehend, let alone remember or explain. Heck, with the whole temporary memory loss, she felt like an outsider to herself!

As for actually being one... probably? It's hard to belong when everyone keeps putting her on a pedestal. She doesn't consider herself above others, only feels like a cat stuck on a tree too high to come down from, you know? -

11. Obligation or initiative, why do they do what they do? Is there something/someone specific that motivates them? (bonus: has their motivation changed over the years?)

All she ever wanted to do was to keep those she cares about safe.

Sometimes it's an obligation, sometimes it's on her own initiative, but that's the reason behind everything she did in the Legions and everything she has done and keeps doing as a Commander, Godslayer, Champion, Wayfinder or whatever they'll call her next. Always, from the moment she promised her sire that she'd keep her family safe, because that's all that matters. -

13. Is there anyone they'd like to be closer to than they are?

She has a vague feeling of not being there enough for everyone, but most of all? Tocchix. She wants to be closer to him, but... it's awkward.

For starters, what is he to her exactly? Her son was adopted by his family and is now his brother, so does that make Tocchix her son as well? That doesn't feel right, as she knows he had a mother he loved very much and Aurelia feels wrong to just... try and nudge herself into that role, especially when she wasn't that much of a "mother" to her own cub. And how should she even behave? She struggled with non-charr customs for a long time, and he's an asura raised by his father and his sylvari partner, there's no way she'd be able to fit into whatever idea of appropriate motherhood they'd have!

Still, Adamas had told her how he was the one responsible for pulling him out of his lowest point, so she's grateful to the point of being open to it, and over time she did start feeling mathernally protective towards the young asura, but at the same time he never overstepped boundaries with her, so she doesn't want to overstep either. Burn her, Adamas had to tell both of them to stop referring to each other with titles and formalities, it must be awkward for him too!

He's a kind, outward and solar kid who wants to help others and is good at what he does, she can at least quietly respect that, and he seems to get she what she means because he says her name without awkwardness for a time. And yet, when he goes through some heavy stuff that feels familiar to her in all the painful ways, she is one of the first to notice how much the light in his eyes faded away and he has closed in on himself, and she can't do anything about it. She wants to help him, but she just... doesn't know where to start, she's not good with words. And when finally she tries anyway, he rejects her offer to be an ear that could listen to him, she wasn't even able to say she'd help him go to the bottom of it if he asked. Her son's brother asks the Commander for space, and Aurelia gives it to him. And then too much happened for her to be able to be there.

Years later, she is thankful the light in his eyes came back, that he smiles as he leans against his brother, that he calls her by her name again.

[moth-tea-merchant]

It's about the beauty of two women despite looking vastly different to one another in terms of what their society has deemed attractive, finding the beauty and love in one another. It's about the fact that these two have grown up in a world that has never been gentle and kind to them, and despite one of them not fully being able to experience emotions the same way as the other, exercise that ability to be gentle and kind to the other.

We know Kryptis don't experience emotions the same as Tyrians, many of them don't come naturally. And for higher kryptis (Peitha, Cerus, Deimos ect) to learn these emotions they needed to possess Tyrians. We can even see Peitha still learning through her possession of the commander/wayfinder. So for Peitha, it is during her possession of Zafira that she learns just how emotionally repressed this woman is. And having already possessed Tyrians before, realizes this isn't normal/good. So she attempts to mimic what she's seen. She shows her kindness and gentleness after intimacy (back when they were simply allies with benefits) she asks her about her feelings towards her children. And while some of these things Peitha is only doing bcs she logically knows they work and will benefit her, she enjoys them. The feelings don't come naturally but that doesn't mean she can't feel them in her own way.

And then for Zafira, her lack of showing emotions is because after her memory wipe, she keeps to herself bcs she doesn't trust anyone who isn't Largos or Isgarren. She only gets to explore more vulnerable emotions when she gets kids. Bit even then she isn't directing those emotions towards herself. So when Peitha, a Kryptis, starts showing her this kindness and respect and comfort, it breaks down her walls so fast due to the shock of a Kryptis showing her kindness that she becomes a big golden retriever around her.

I just love it when women lift one another up and are also deeply in love and kiss each other regularly

I keep thinking abt the idea of Zafira laying in-between Peitha's legs with her head on her stomach, eyes closed and snoring while Peitha runs her fingers through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp with her long nails.

[amyhayanora]

EDIT1: Someone pointed out in tags that tumblr compression makes it hard to read. Since opening the images I can see better quality both on desktop and mobile, I think they referred to the dialogues in Terra’s scene. on black background, coloured as who is speaking, and lower opacity. it was intended to be like a echo, a memory. They are dialogues extracted from that Fregmentary Passage scene in which Aqua and Terra are able to talk for a moment through the connection between their hearts and their darkness. The physical zine was intended to be printed on big format and it’s easier to read, so I’m putting here a clearer version, hoping it could help. I’ve also spotted a grammar mistake, thank you 

it’s impressive for how long I can forget to post my zines stuff. You know, keeping enthusiasm in check to avoid spoilers during all the process, then getting so used to keep everything in the box that having the freedom to post is almost surreal. Most of the times a years or more passes and there’s more mistakes then you remember, and... dunno, just doesn’t feel right 🤣 so I’m about to update here with a bit of old zines stuff. Starting with @wayfinderzine​ , this is the comic I did for Beneath the Same Stars, a wonderful fanzine dedicated to wayfinder trio. placed during KH3 labyrinth battles, 4 pages of angst with the trio realizing that being finally reunited again doesn’t mean everyting is fine, but only that is time to start healing from their traumas, together. For this zine I was allowed to do some merch too, I had so much fun with these die cut stickers. yes, command board is one of my favourite minigames ever.🤣

and the thank you-doodle at the end of the zine

EDIT: found the original sketch cleaning the folders, I thought it was interesting see a wip of the comic and how it changes in the process. I usually add more small panles to help the flow later. and realize that a zine is bigger than a manga book and I can do smaller balloons and give breath xD

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here ��with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o��� days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[ray-gt]

Fermi Paradox (Pt.1)

Two astronauts stationed at the Saturnian moon Enceladus are the first humans to encounter extraterrestrial life. Exciting right? Yeah, maybe not.

Continuation of this post.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / 

CW: mentions of death, swearing.

Part 1: The Man (and Woman) on the Moon 

Day: Cycle 31 Location: Cassini Uno Research Station (Rover Charging Station) Mission: Project Wayfinder (Enceladus) 

Technical Officer Dr Maggie McBride stared out into the unhindered sky to where she thought Earth would be looking back at her, distant and dim and unremarkable against an infinity of bigger, brighter stars. How do you spot one little planet in the midst of a universe? 

She looked for it all the same, because that one little planet, spinning somewhere 1.272 billion kms away, was her home. It had been all her life. It had the tall pines that she loved, and the beaches with water so clear it looked like liquid glass, it had breeze and movement and life - who knew the great expanse of space could feel so damn claustrophobic? But more than anything else, it had 9 billion people moving about it, sleeping and laughing and fighting their way through life, totally unaware that she was watching from afar. It had a million problems but, for the life of her, at that moment, Maggie couldn't remember even one. She seemed to have left the memory of them far behind her. Back where there was soil, and cities, and thunder. Back where there was an apartment with an old cat that had one eye, that had tomato plants growing on the balcony, and a girl crossing off days on her calendar until her girlfriend came home from space. 

She left it all back there. 

Maggie looked out for that little blue planet, but couldn't find it. Maybe it was just too dim, or maybe she wasn't looking in the right place. Most of the time Saturn was blocking it - the planet was huge and striking, seemingly cut asunder by its icy rings, it commanded the view so that all else seemed uninteresting by comparison. But not tonight. Their small moon was placed in such a way that their base would be directly facing home. But for whatever reason, when she looked up into the crowded void searching for a face she recognised, she saw only strangers. 

And suddenly it felt so unbelievably lonely to be a speck on a lifeless moon - too far away to reach, too distant to hear. Profound and all-encompassing, and not quite heavy enough to be dread but far too grounded to be transcendence, it felt like standing on the curb outside a house party that everyone in the entire world had been invited to but you. 

If a woman on the frontier of the human endeavour sings out to the vacuum of space, and nobody hears her, does she really exist? 

"Country road," She croaked, in a weak and warbled voice, for reasons she couldn't place. "Take me home." 

The words didn’t get far, sounding out and echoing back, bouncing off the dome of her spacesuit helmet, making her feel like she was submerged in water. She could have kept going. It might have been an old song - like really old - but it was one of her dad's favourites and the only one he knew how to play on guitar. However, it seemed her voice had abandoned her and she couldn't fathom making another sound ever again. 

It was quiet on Enceladus. 

Very quiet. 

It always was. 

"You coming in, McBride?" 

Oh, and Daksh was also there. 

His voice, crackling through her radio, was a rude awakening from her existential pondering and it pulled her from spiraling deep into some black hole before she was too far in to be saved. Not that she was thankful for it. She'd left the base specifically to get away from him. 

It wasn't that she didn't like Daksh, or that Daksh didn’t like her, it was that being stuck on a distant moon for 12 months with only one other person for company was much more of a psychological weight than she'd ever anticipated. And, a month in, they were short on conversation and patience. 

Today they'd both woken up in a Mood™. However, Maggie's mood and Daksh's mood were on totally different ends of the spectrum. Maggie was homesick and struggling with the conflicting feelings of being crushingly isolated and yet never alone. She'd been served a morning cocktail of wonder, and derealisation, and sonder, and FOMO, and it was thick and unpleasant and didn’t sit well in her stomach. The 'Earth Clock' on their computers, which worked to let them know the various times on Earth, how many sets of 24 hours (or 'Cycles') had passed since they'd arrived, and any other information they required the Earth standard for, had let them know that they'd been on Enceladus for a month now. 

Happy anniversary! 

However, the notification of how much time had passed only made her all the more aware of how much was left to go. 

Daksh though had awoken with renewed spirit. Apparently, the notification had made him realise how spectacular the opportunity was. They'd gone further from home than any other human in history and it would be such a waste to spend it drowning in misery. He'd expressed this to McBride over breakfast but the idea had only made that cocktail of emotions churn more violently and she had to excuse herself shortly after. 

She sighed. 

"Coming." 

She took one last look at the stars, hoping to get a glint of blue, but found nothing to console her. And, like a castaway marooned on an island in the middle of an unforgiving sea, she buried her hope in the sand, and made her way back inside the base that would be her home for the next 11 months. 

Daksh was waiting for her on the other side of the airlock. He had an amused look on his face that she usually didn't mind, but today, grated on her. 

"What?" she asked, taking off her spacesuit and returning it to storage. 

"Nothing," He replied with a shrug. He followed her into the lab like an infuriating shadow. "It's just - were you singing John Denver before?" 

Maggie stopped. She'd reached her lab station but halted before logging onto her computer to record her daily log. Her hands pressed down on the surface, leaving foggy handprints where her skin met the cold metal. Her face became hot. 

"No." She said quietly. 

From behind her, Daksh hummed. 

"I mean, I heard you over comms, so?" Maggie turned around, leaning back on the desk and he continued, either totally unaware of her mood or very aware of it and basking in the opportunity to worsen it - with Daksh, either were possible. "I know I framed it as a question, but I already knew the answer." 

"Then why'd you ask it?" She crossed her arms. 

Daksh squinted at her and a smirk pushed its way to one side of his face. 

"To see if you'd admit it." He said before turning and exiting the lab. "West Virginia! Mountain Mama!" He sang in an exaggerated Southern accent as he made his way back down the corridor. 

Maggie shook her head. 

11 months. 

 *** 

Technical Officer Dr Daksh Malik Age: 28 Log No.: 32 Cycle No.: 32 Year: 2199 (Earth Standard) Location: Enceladus, South Pole, Outpost Cassini Uno 

It was a balmy 85 kelvin today at Outpost Cassini Uno which, if you didn't know, is about negative 188 degrees Celsius. A fun little conversion for you. 

You know, when they'd first told us we'd be stationed here, I distinctly remember the words "heat", and "warm", and others along those lines being thrown around pretty recklessly. Ok, I didn't exactly expect to be sipping a sex on the beach with my feet in the sand, but 85 kelvin is not warm. No rational person says 85 kelvin is warm. 'Warm' should be banned from the Saturnian vocabulary. Then again, I willingly applied to be shot into the void to hang out on a hostile moon a billion kms away for a year, so I don't know if I can really comment on rational thought at this point. 

And look, I know that the South Pole is "relatively" warm compared to the rest of Enceladus - 85 kelvin against the temperature of Deep Space? Sitting pretty in the sun. But still. That's the kicker isn’t it? Everything's always "relative" to everything else. Nothing just is in space. 

And you know what? Even after the years of training, of climate adjustment exercises, of adaptive technological invention, of endless gruelling testing, you're never really prepared for how cold 85 kelvin actually is until you're there, deep in Death's arsehole. 

Granted, I haven't actually experienced 85 kelvin either. I wouldn’t be making this log if I had. I’d be a stunningly handsome ice cube left to be the most macabre memorial of human stupidity there ever was. McBride probably wouldn't mind that though, it'd give her something to laugh about. 

 - What? No, McBride. Yes, I said your name. I'm making a log! I know it's not a diary. Ok? Ok. - 

Sorry about that. Where was I? 

Oh yeah, it's fucking cold. 

Cassini Uno does a good job keeping things survivable, but it's not like I can crank the A/C whenever things get chilly, can I? The ice is thin on the South Pole, because it's just so warm, so so so warm, really cosy - ugh, ok, I'll let it go. The ice is thinnest here because the South Pole has the most activity. It's where those gigantic gas plumes of water, and hydrogen, and methane shoot out into space from the sub-surface ocean like a big cosmological fart. 

Lots of activity on the South Pole - exciting right? 

McBride is studying how the ice layer encasing the entire moon acts like the tectonic plates back on Earth, and how that could be the answer to the mystery behind all the heat that everyone is so obsessed with. And Cassini Uno is the best house in the best neighbourhood apparently. (I mean, it's the only house in any neighbourhood - the next 'house' is over 600 million kms away on Europa, but don't tell Cassini that). But in order to get in close to the action, it means that we're currently sitting on an ice sheet that's about 2km thick above a deep, dark ocean. If I think too much about it, I'll puke. 

But if you don't think about it's fine. You just can't have a base generating a whole lot of heat when a thin ice sheet is the only thing separating you from the swirling depths of an ocean you'd never be retrieved from. 2km might seem like a lot but it's not. It's definitely thicker than the North Pole back home, but you don't want to test it. 

We also don't want to leave a huge footprint here. 

Enceladus has been marked as a potential host for life. We're here to observe, to study, to collect samples and then get the fuck out. (We're also here to act as a defensive outpost, but honestly, no one really believes that. McBride and I are military-trained, but I can't say we make the most intimidating first defence.) 

I'm rambling. 

Point is: we don’t want to be fucking around with the climate if there is life somewhere here. Any life that's evolved here has evolved for these exact conditions - depressing as it may be. 

And I know what you're thinking, why is the astrobiologist so anti heat on a distant moon that's covered in water? I'm not. That part is so fucking exciting. The combination of liquid water, sub-terranean vents, the compositional make-up of the plumes, plus 'heat'? I mean it's the biological lottery! It means there's a real possibility we might actually find something here. Though, by 'something', I mean a single-cell microbe. There's not much else that could really thrive at 85 kelvin, no matter how much water and methane there is. 

How insane would that be though? I could be the first person to discover life outside of Earth! I mean, the Atacama Colony on Mars has life, but they brought it with them years ago and manufactured it. No terraforming here! Just good ol' fashioned discovery. That would be amazing. I've already been thinking of names - is that narcissistic? Oh well. 

We've been here a month and I haven't found anything yet. However, all our data indicates that, if there's life here, it's at the South Pole. And if there's life here, I'm going to be the one to find it. 

So yeah, that's Cycle 31 for you. Does anyone actually listen to these? I mean, I submit my formal notes everyday, do I really have to do a daily voice log as well? McBride says I do, but I'm not so sure. Well, if you're out there, I hope you enjoyed whatever this was. 

I can't really think of anything else to say. Everything's the same as always - cold, exciting, terrifying, and incredible. McBride's homesick but pretending she isn't, I'm hungry, and I've got a stupid John Denver song stuck in my head. It's been 200 years, why do people still like it so much? Let it die! 

Thanks, McBride. 

Signing off,  Dr Daksh Malik 

 *** 

Day: Cycle 40 Location: Cassini Uno Research Station (Laboratory) Mission: Project Wayfinder (Enceladus) 

Daksh looked at the slide under his microscope. 

Nothing. 

Well, not nothing, just not what he was hoping for. Once again, he looked through the lens only to find the kaleidoscopic, crystalline pattern of hyper-magnified ice staring back at him. It was beautiful in a harsh and jagged kind of way, but Daksh didn't want jagged - life had a funny way of being rounded, vaguely blobbish if he were to speak technically. It tended to squirm and was a little weird to look at. Ice wasn't like that, it was pretty and still and boring. There weren't even clues of life left on the ice. He'd tested for any evidence of activity, like respiratory or waste traces, the most likely being methanogenesis, but found none. 

It wasn't the first time that he wondered if it were the lab itself that was hindering him. Maybe something about the rapid transition from Enceladus to the conditions in the lab required to sustain human life - survivable temperatures, a strong and stable atmosphere, high nitrogen and low UV - were all the things killing any potential life he'd want to study. Though, it'd be pretty remarkable that the shift would remove all traces of life - it was still cold enough in the lab to maintain the ice structure. 

Daksh wondered if he'd have better luck examining samples outside the laboratory. If that were the case, he'd have problems - trying to examine microscopic life through a small microscope lens while wearing a spacesuit out on the surface of Enceladus? He'd have better luck just going and asking if life were out there and waiting for a response. There was also the risk too that his equipment could accidently bring along a few hitchhikers from the base which would not only contaminate the findings, but the moon. 

He sighed and removed the slide from the stage clip and recorded his findings, or lack there of. 

Sample 165 - bust. 

He stood up and stored Sample 165 in the lab's cryo freezer alongside all the other pretty but useless ice slides in his collection. He closed the door and sighed. He didn't like it, but if he was going to find evidence of life, it wasn't going to happen by quick sample runs followed by long hours in the comfort of Cassini Uno. If life was out there, he'd have to go out and find it. 

Just not right now. 

They'd soon lose direct sunlight, and if you thought navigating a hydrologically active ice moon with no atmosphere, hostile conditions, and moving ice sheets was scary, try doing it in the dark. It was the one thing he and McBride had agreed on - no suiting up after dark, unless there was some kind of catastrophic need. They were both hoping that the need would never present itself throughout their station and so far, it hadn't. 

He returned to his desk and held his pen between his fingers, spinning it absent-mindedly as he thought. If he was going to do in situ testing, he'd need to map out when he'd do it, where he'd need to do it, what equipment he'd need, and whether or not it was feasible to actually get the equipment to where he needed it. 

An hour later, he heard the airlock decompressing, and it wasn't long until McBride was marching back through their shared home. 

 *** 

"That sucks." Maggie said, scraping her fork along the bottom of her bowl. The food rations GWSA sent with them were definitely full of all the right amounts of protein, and carbohydrates, and fat that they needed to maintain a healthy diet while on assignment, but they still hadn't managed to make it not taste like shit. She was starting to get used to the bland taste and off-putting textures, but that didn't mean she looked forward to meals. 

Her girlfriend used to make pasta by hand. 

What she wouldn't give for glass of pinot noir and a bowl of homemade ravioli. 

However, despite the disappointing food, her spirits had lifted in the last few days. She'd made some interesting progress in her research and, just the other day, witnessed a plume eruption first hand - both incredible and heart-meltingly terrifying at the same time. She'd managed to will herself to move just enough to take photos and transmit them back to Earth. 

From what Daksh was telling her, he'd been less fortunate. 

They sat in the Mess, Maggie at the small table in the centre of the utilitarian kitchen and Daksh lounging on the bench, one leg dangling and the other drawn up to his chest. 

"Yeah," he said, a little distantly. His long, black hair fell in a chaotic mess around his face as he ran his hand through it, and his eyes, usually gleaming with some kind of joke or conspiracy, were heavy and tired. "So what do you think?" He asked. "About joining you on your research expeditions?" 

Maggie snorted, "Is it really an expedition if you're going less than 20km away from base?" 

Daksh shrugged, "We're on Enceladus, McBride. At this point, taking a shit is an expedition." 

She laughed at that and returned her bowl and fork to the table. Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment before she nodded. Daksh's current method clearly wasn't doing anything but driving him crazy and depriving him of sleep - neither of which are great traits for your only company for half a billion km. 

"I think it'd be good to try." She said. "Clearly, this isn't working. And it'd be nice knowing that there's someone around in case something goes wrong." 

"If something goes wrong, McBride, you're on your own." 

She rolled her eyes. "Noted. I'm taking the rover to the southern-most tiger stripe tomorrow, if that works for you, you're welcome to join." 

Lovingly named the 'Tiger Stripes', Enceladus had four long, parallel vents from which the iconic plumes escaped into space from the South Pole. They were a mystery, and Maggie was keen to uncover their influence on the hydrologic and geologic functioning of the moon. Luckily for Daksh, if he were going to find evidence of life, the vent entrances would be the best place to look. 

He nodded, "Sounds good." 

They sat in an easy silence until Daksh decided to turn in for the night. 

 *** 

Technical Officer Dr Margaret McBride Age: 28 Log No.: 41 Cycle No.: 41 Year: 2199 (Earth Standard) Location: Enceladus, South Pole, Outpost Cassini Uno 

Due to the proximity of Enceladus to Saturn, it's difficult to tell if the moon just has a stronger libration or if it itself is active. However, you only need to spend a few hours at Enceladus' South Pole to confirm it's activity. It's very active. 

 Dr Malik and I left at dawn this morning for TS - 4 today. It was a productive trip. I placed a few seismographs at key locations around the vent openings, and a couple approximately 5 kms away in each cardinal direction. I've done the same at TS - 1, 2, and 3 already, and I'll be interested to see what they report over the coming weeks. It's slow work. Something that would take half a day on Earth takes at least double that on Enceladus - the topography and the temperature, combined with extra weight and sluggishness of a spacesuit means that everything is incremental. I was originally expecting TS - 4 seismographs to take at least 2 days to place, but when Daksh was done, he gave me a hand. I'm glad it's done. The scale, frequency, and consistency of activity will be an important factor when compiling a comprehensive understanding of the moon. 

Daksh was also fairly busy. Doing what - I wouldn't know. If I asked, I probably wouldn’t have understood it anyway. Rocks and oceans are more my thing. His spirits seemed to lift once we were in the rover though. Frankly, I don't think he likes going out much. He prefers the lab. I don't blame him - every time I leave the airlock, I wonder if I'll ever walk back through it again. Enceladus might be the shiniest moon in the solar system, but up close, it's a different beast. If I could do most of my testing inside and only have to do a few quick sampling runs every now and then, I'd spend as much time in the lab as possible too. However, I agree with him that he should undertake more environmental testing and, if I'm honest, I was grateful for the company - knowing that there's someone within walking distance from you makes the whole affair just that little bit less daunting. Even if he spends the entire time filling the comms channel with constant rambling. 

We won't go out again tomorrow. Projections say it'll be cold with little visibility - apparently a passing object has a trajectory that will block out the sun during crucial transport times, so best not to risk it. I had a look and the computer can't seem to identify what the object is. It looks big and it's moving fast, but it's no threat to us - it'll pass at a safe distance without issue. I'm thinking of turning the external cameras towards it, might be something the folks back home would be interested in. 

 Daksh says we should play a boardgame while we wait it out. Might not be a bad idea. 

 (-I thought you said it wasn't a diary, McBride -) 

 - Ugh Daksh! I thought you were asleep - 

This is Dr Maggie McBride, Cycle 41, signing off. 

 *** 

Both Maggie and Daksh had heard the, 'but they're so young, why not send a crew with more experience?' line before. They'd given up arguing that, 1) both were experts in their respective fields, fields that were particularly relevant to the Wayfinder Program; 2) both had military and engineering training; and, 3) both wanted to go. (The third might seem odd, but you'll find that the volunteer lists for Europa, Ceres, and even Venus were much longer - Enceladus is a long way from home if something goes wrong.) 

Fundamentally, all those arguments were useful evidence to support the main reason for their selection. 

 They were chosen because they were younger. Older human bodies, don't bounce back from light speed travel the way younger bodies did. After they'd arrived, it'd taken a week for both of them to fully recover. Apparently, humans hadn't evolved to being put into the equivalent of a giant centrifuge and flung into the depths of space at impossible speeds. Enceladus was far, further than any other manned journey humanity had made so far - the pressure it would place on the body was too much to risk their older crew on, even if it came at the cost of less experience. As a result, the Gaia's Way Space Agency had cut-off the age allowance to 26 - 30, and Malik and McBride were the lucky two to make the cut. 

That was the other reason the willing candidate pool was so much smaller than other missions - GWSA were only sending 2 crew members. Weight is always a huge issue for space travel - the more you have, the more fuel you need, and the further you're going, the less weight you want. In the future, they'd send larger crews, but on the whole, for a data and research collection mission, a two-crewmate team and their equipment was all they were willing to send. 

The whole trip to Enceladus had taken a little over a hour. 

Since humanity discovered how to achieve lightspeed, everything was a lot faster. At least, within the small suburb of the solar system. It still cost a shit ton of money and wreaked havoc on the body, but it meant that the journey of over 1 billion km was over within the span of your regular office lunch break. 

 So much for the grand tour of the solar system - though Maggie'd been told it was mostly just dark, so maybe not such a bad thing to skip. When they were about to launch from Earth, she and Daksh had been put under and housed in special pressurised sleep cells before being flung into space at light speed, using the gravity of Earth like a giant lasso and supplementing with engine power once everything got going. 

There was a lot of maths involved she was told but if a gun were put to her head and she had to explain it, she'd just say shoot. Daksh could explain it, but if a gun were pointed at Maggie's head and he was asked to, he might just say shoot too. Really depended on the day. 

Today, he'd say shoot. 

 The board game, apparently, was a terrible idea. 

"You got 'Kugelblitz' on a triple word?" Daksh rubbed his forehead in frustration. 

Maggie nodded making no effort to conceal her smug glee. Now he'd regret pushing for technical jargon to be allowed in the game. 

"I believe I did," She said, reaching her hand into the canvas letter bag to replenish the five she'd spent building off 'blitz'. "Do you mind counting the points for me?" 

He squinted at her, brows low and gaze daggers.  "Why are we even playing this dumb game?" 

"You only say it's dumb because you're losing." 

"Yeah, well that's the only metric that matters." 

Maggie snorted and watched as Daksh tallied up her word and added it to the score sheet, muttering to himself the entire time. He then put the pen down and rested his chin on his palm, drumming his fingers against his mouth. His eyes scanned the board and then returned to his letters, frowning in concentration. With his free hand, he moved the letters around but, from Maggie's point of view, it just looked like he was stalling. While she waited, she stood up from the mess table, Daksh barely acknowledging her movement, and poured herself a coffee. 

"You know," She said. "We could just call it there? I mean, it's not like you're going to be able to make up the difference at this point." 

He pulled a face. "Gloat all you want, McBride. It only proves you have no humility in victory." 

She took a sip, "Mhmm, and you have no honour in defeat." 

Before Daksh could retaliate with some snarky response, which he no doubt already had locked and loaded, a shockingly loud alarm began blaring from the central systems hub of the outpost. Maggie jumped and dropped her coffee, the sound of it crashing on the floor lost in the swirling chaos. Around them, all the regular lights had shut off and only the emergency alarms were lit, pulsing and bathing the interior of Cassini Uno in a dark and ominous red. 

Though difficult to see in the low light, McBride stole a second longer to look at Daksh - a combination of disbelief and dread was awash on his face. Whatever comment he'd been preparing, whatever animosity or tension had been brewing between them, evaporated in an instant. 

 A moment longer to sit in the shock before they both came back to themselves. 

"Holy shit!" McBride said, running out of the Mess and down the corridor towards the central hub. She could hear Daksh following at her heels. 

The hub was alive with a panic of high pitched whining, flashing screens, and alarm notifications - it was such a chaos that, for a moment, Maggie didn’t know what to go to first. From behind her, Daksh came striding forth, heading straight for the main observation computer, it seemed to be making the greatest fuss. 

"Ok," He said in a serious tone, devoid of any jest or humour. His brow was low and eyes focussed. He had to raise his voice over the wail of the alarms. "None of our internal systems are down, which is good. O2's fine, atmospheric pressure is fine, no issues with electronics or water reticulation -" 

"CO2?" 

"Fine." He said, scanning through the reports. His eyes widened when he found the root of the issue. "It's outside." 

His voice was light and breathy, cut adrift and floating. Maggie shook her head, dread hitting like hard cement in her gut. She struggled to maintain her breathing, like her lungs were filling with water - which was a real possibility if it were an external threat on Enceladus. 

"What? Is it the ice?" 

Daksh just shook his head and pointed to one of the screens. On it was a simple electronic celestial cartograph - it showed where Enceladus was in relation to other nearby bodies in the Saturnian System. There, amongst Saturn's outer rings was their little moon, comfortably orbiting the gas giant. But heading towards it was an object that was so big and moving so fast it wasn't like any natural object they'd ever observed before. As it got closer, the alarms blared louder and yet, the space in Maggie's head was totally silent. She'd seen that object the other day, she'd directed the camera's towards it. At the time it was heading in the total opposite direction from them. How did it pivot like that so suddenly at that speed? 

"What the fuck is that?" Daksh said. 

Maggie projected the cartograph as a hologram in front of them and zoomed in on the mysterious, deadly object. They couldn't get a read on it. The blue-white light of the hologram lit up the horror on their faces. 

"No." Maggie said. "No-no-no-no-no-no. How? It wasn't meant to be coming our way. Why is it coming our way?" 

Daksh just shook his head, "It's moving fast." He moved over to another desk in the central hub and unlocked another screen. "I'm calling evac." 

Maggie just stared, watching as the hurtling object got closer and closer to them with each passing second, moving impossibly fast. Doom settled over her in the midst of mayhem, cold and detached and devastating. 

"It won't come in time." She said. 

Daksh stopped typing and turned to face her. 

"What?" His voice was harsh and guttural. 

She didn't look at him. She just watched the projection and shook her head. 

 "It won't come in time." 

At the bottom of the screen a 'Time to Impact' alert was flashing obnoxiously at her: 30 minutes. 

She knew that the nearest emergency transport was at Europa. The GWSA didn't station an evac vessel at Enceladus - it was too close to Saturn's rings, there were far too many objects that could hit or damage it, plus the volatility and scale of the plumes could wreak havoc on the ship's systems. The thinking was that if there were ever an issue at Cassini Uno, it would take the evac vessel 40 minutes all told - launch, travel at lightspeed, crew evacuation - to leave Europa and get McBride and Daksh out of trouble. 

You might say, 'well, that's a long time in an emergency!' and that would be fair, except that the GWSA had accounted for the crew's safety, modelling an infinite number of scenarios where they could survive whilst awaiting evac. If Cassini Uno had a leak, each room of the outpost could be totally locked down and sealed. If the O2, electric, or water systems failed, they had back-ups, and back-ups for the back-ups. If there was a sudden burst of geologic activity, and the ice cracked below them, the rover had been modified to float on the surface of Enceladus' ocean. All these measures and more, alongside advance predictive security systems meant that the Cassini Uno crew would be notified well in advance of an emergency and would have the systems in place to manage it until evac arrived. They'd even tested it in their first week stationed on the moon. It was efficient, and organised, and the most expensive trial in human history. 

It took 40 minutes. 

40 minutes in space is no time at all. 

40 minutes when you'll die in 30 is a lifetime. 

Eventually Maggie managed to pull her eyes away from the projection and turn to her crewmate. In the pulsing dark red, his eyes shone like twin moons and she watched as the realisation of their impending doom washed over him. His hands went limp at the keyboard. 

They sat there, drowning in the moving lights and the screaming alarms. 

They both knew it. 

This wasn't the kind of collision you survive.

(Ok, so this was a long post without any actual gt in it - but it’s all about that *context* baby. Daksh and McBride really have no idea what they’re in for. Let me know what you think! - ray xx)

Part 2

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Party on Pasaana

Plot: Poe, Y/n, Finn, Rey and the rest of the gang journey to Pasaana to try and find the Wayfinder.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: I’M BACK! This is by no means my best or favorite chapter but it moves the story along and boy, is there a lot coming...Hopefully you’ve stuck around this long and if not, I’m not offended. Hope you enjoy!

----

Despite the fact that I’d spent my day fixing the Falcon, me and Chewie still ran every diagnostic possible on it before even thinking about taking her up. She was too temperamental to be treated any differently.

“You know I love flying with you, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to come with, Chew,” I said, closing up the last panel on the underside of the ship, “This one isn’t going to be a simple supply run.”

Chewie groaned in protest at my offer to let him stay on base, reminding me of the promise he’d made to Dad. That he’d protect me and he didn’t intend to stop doing that anytime soon.

I conceded to the Wookiee and emerged from underneath the Falcon. I found Rey finishing her repairs as Poe stood nearby, patting her on the arm, “We’re going with you. Chewie, you get that compressor fixed?” “No, I did,” I answered, dusting off my hands on my pants. The two of us still hadn’t spoken since our fight earlier in the day. “What do you mean you’re coming with us?” Poe separated from Rey, revealing Finn and the droids behind him, and led me to the side of the Falcon. He kept space between us, probably because he didn’t know where we stood after our fight.

“Do you honestly think we’d let you guys take this on by yourselves?” he asked.  

“Poe,” I shook my head, “Rey and I don’t even know what we’re walking into, I don’t want to throw you guys in the line of danger.” “So it’s too dangerous for me to risk my life but not you?” he asked with raised brows, wedging me between a metaphorical rock and a hard place, “Y/n, we’re a team. If one of us goes, we all go.” I hung my head in frustration, these were the type of situations that I hated the most. I couldn’t protect everyone, that had been made clear, and I certainly couldn’t justify to Poe why it was okay for me to charge headfirst into a fight but not him. Though I’d try every time, even if it was bound to end in failure.

“Fine,” I relented, shrugging and letting my hands fall against my legs, “But I’m flying us there.”

“Understood,” Poe agreed, pulling a corner of his lip up in an almost smile, “I am sorry about today, y’know…It was stupid of me not to think about how much the Falcon means to you.” “Me too,” I sighed, remembering all the harsh words we had flung at one another in contrast to the white flags me were now waving. This wasn’t the first makeup we’d had lately. Not by a long shot. Poe and I had been fighting more than usual, tensions were high with all that was going on and our relationship wasn’t escaping un-scorched. There was never any doubt as to whether or not we still loved each other, but we needed to find better ways of dealing with our stress rather than taking it out on each other. “Chewie told me there was only one escape route and you took it. You guys coming back alive is more important than anything else.”

Where there should have been a kiss or intertwined fingers, there was only silence and our best attempts to smile. There was so much lying underneath the surface that we didn’t ever have time to deal with.

“I wish you’d tell me.” I tried my hardest not to look phased, “Tell you what?” Poe swallowed as he stared into my eyes, “Whatever it is you’re keeping from me.” Every hair on my body stood to attention and fear shot through my veins. I knew he’d become suspicious of me but we hadn’t addressed it out loud before. Once the words of distrust hit the air, it became a true issue. The bottom line of it all was if Poe knew I had been in contact with Ren, he would never trust me with anything ever again.

My tongue peeked out to wet my lips as I nervously shifted my weight to my other foot, “I need you to trust me that what I’m doing, I’m doing for the good of the Resistance.” “We don’t keep secrets from each other, Y/n,” he shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, “That’s not us.” “You wouldn’t understand it, it’s Jedi stuff.” He bit his lip and nodded sarcastically, “Oh, so because I’m not a Jedi, my little average brain couldn’t possibly understand whatever problem you’ve got? Thanks for clearing that up.” “Poe,” I took a step and reached out to grab his forearm, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just please trust me. Everything I do, I do it to keep us safe.” I watched the emotions flicker in his eyes, changing from confusion to anger to desperation to hurt. The thought of confessing to him came through my mind at least ten times a day, but it wasn’t possible. Selfishly, I didn’t want to watch him learn of my betrayal. He would never look at me the same way and I wasn’t ready to lose that.

“I trust you more than anyone,” he finally said, stiffening his voice to hide his emotions, “I just wish you felt the same way about me.” He shrugged out of my hand’s hold and made his way up the ship’s ramp. I chewed on my bottom lip and leaned my forehead against one of the Falcon’s legs. There was nobody on any planet in any galaxy who I trusted more than Poe. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me and the fact that he was beginning to doubt my trust in him was a sucker punch. This time he wasn’t at fault, he only wanted to help me shoulder the burden. But there was nothing he could do to aid in the mental torture I was inflicting on myself.

I turned on my heels to go find my mother but froze at the sight of her and Rey locked in an embrace. I could sense the sadness in Rey that came with leaving her, the only mother figure she could remember having. Watching as she turned away, clipping Uncle Luke’s lightsaber to her belt, I took my cue to say my farewell.

“We’ll check in when we can, if we can,” I stated, partially as a commander but also a daughter to her worried mom, “Who knows, maybe we’ll be back in time for dinner.” A lame attempt at humor, yes, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do to try and make her smile in the most concerning of hours. “Look out for each other, don’t take too many risks,” she instructed, taking my hand in hers, “And come back in one piece.” There was some feeling in the air that I couldn’t put a name to, but it was there nonetheless. I never liked leaving Mom but with the stakes as high as they were, I felt a new sense of dread. I wasn’t immune to fear of losing my life and the reality of something happening to me and leaving her on her own caused a new urgency inside me to come back alive.

“I love you,” I whispered, squeezing her hands tight as tears began to fill my eyes, “So much.” “My darling,” I could hear the emotion in her voice that she was pushing down, “You are the greatest love I could have ever asked for.”

There wasn’t much more that could be said as I bent down to hug her, there was so much meaning inside our few words. We’d survived for a year as a family of two, something we were never meant to do, but we’d somehow done it. Mom’s health had begun to worsen with her age, but the incident on the Raddus had forced what was natural to happen prematurely. She got tired quicker, she required a cane sometimes and needed my help more often, though she always tried to avoid asking. I didn’t think it possible but we’d somehow grown closer in the last year, which made it all the more important that the mission go right and I return safely.

She whispered against my ear, “May the force be with you.” I pulled back with a watery smile, “We’re gonna need it.” With a kiss to her cheek, I forced myself to head back to the ship with a deep pain in my chest. It felt like I was tied to both the Falcon and Mom, the more distance I put between her and I, the more I began to hurt. It lit yet another flame of determination inside me to come back victorious.

Rey had waited for me outside the Falcon, attempting to act like she hadn’t witnessed the tender moment. The two of us shared a hopeful smile before we walked up the ramp together. When we arrived in the cockpit, it was apparent that it was going to be a tight fit. Rey moved to take the empty co-pilot’s chair with Chewie standing in the back, waiting to be called to action. Poe and I didn’t bother to make eye contact choosing instead to bury our pain for a later date. I gave Finn a good natured slap on the shoulder before sinking into the captain’s chair. I’d flown the Falcon hundreds of times by now and yet each time I took the controls, I felt like a child way out of their depth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, there was no time to waste on fear. All that mattered was the mission.

“Next stop,” I narrated as I readied myself to lift the ship off the ground, “Pasaana…” ————

“You sure this is it?” Poe asked from the front of our group.

“I followed the coordinates perfectly,” I panted, already missing the jungle heat as opposed to Pasaana’s dry kind, “Right, 3PO?”

“Mistress Y/n is correct, these are the exact coordinates that Master Luke left behind.” We rounded the bend of the hill we’d climbed to find the least likely scenario on a planet we’d thought remote; a party.

“What is this?”

“The Aki-Aki Festival of the Ancestors,” 3PO explained, “This celebration occurs only once every 42 years.” “Well, that’s lucky,” Finn commented from beside me.

“Lucky indeed, this festival is known for both its colorful kites and its delectable sweets.” Under normal circumstances, I have had all the patience in the world with the droid I’d spent my whole life around. But now, overlooking the obstacle that would make it harder to find the Wayfinder and ultimately save the galaxy, I joined my friends in staring him down. “3PO, read the room.” “Let’s get down there,” Poe directed with a thumb tucked into his holster, “This is gonna take way longer than it should.” Having spent the better part of my life traveling, I loved getting to immerse myself in different planet’s cultures. It was one of the reasons my diplomatic skills were so highly tuned, I knew how to connect with all different types of people. So there was a small part of me, though stressed, that made a note to take in the sounds of the Aki-Aki’s chants and the array of colors in the crowd. I wasn’t the only one interested in the details either…

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” a wide eyed Rey commented as Finn and Poe passed us by.

“I’ve never seen so few Wayfinders,” Finn retorted.

“Take in what you can, we won’t be back for another 42 years,” I bumped Rey with my hip before following our group.

“There’s always random First Order patrols in crowds like these, so, keep your heads down,” Poe turned to look back at us, zeroing in on the only one tall enough to stick out, “Chewie. Let’s split up, see what the locals know.”

Rey was too taken by her surroundings to fully register what Poe was saying and Finn had gone with my boyfriend, leaving me to follow along with them. As soon as I did, Poe turned to me, “What are you doing?” “…Coming with you?” “We’ve gotta cover as much ground as possible,” he gestured over towards a grouping of tents, “Try talking to some of the traders, see if they know anything.” Thinning my eyes at him in shock that we were on a mission and Poe didn’t want me with him, I decided that now wasn’t the time to fight back. “Fine, Bee,” I called to my boyfriend’s droid hovering near Rey, “You’re with me.” The two of us made our way through a couple vendor’s booths, unsuccessful in getting any information about the location of the Wayfinder. I didn’t even have to do much talking with them, my senses could tell me whether or not my question brought up any memories. Which was good for me because I wasn’t in the mood to do a lot of chit chatting. Bee must have picked up on my silent frustration because he nudged me in my calf, urging me to talk. “He could have said it about ten other ways,” I vented, “But instead he had to make it sound like I was doing something wrong by going with them.” You know how he can be when he’s stressed. “I’m stressed too,” I cried, gesturing to my chest, “And maybe I wanted to go with him because I feel a little less worried when I’m with him. It’s never mattered what’s going on, we’ve always partnered together on missions. Clearly he doesn’t need me this time.” Didn’t you two have a fight before we left? Do you think it has something to do with that? I sighed defeatedly, “Probably…Or the fight we had earlier today, or the one we had just before he left a few days ago…” There was no shortage of examples I could have given as to why Poe didn’t want to be around me. “Things aren’t great between us right now.”

Maybe you should talk to him about it.

“Not right now, Bee. There’s bigger things at hand then Poe and I fighting. Nobody here knows anything, let’s go find the others.” When we made it back, Finn and Poe were engrossed in a conversation with an Aki-Aki. He turned his focus to me, “Got anything?” “I’d probably be a little more enthusiastic if I did, Dameron,” I remarked, taking a spot across from him instead of next to.

He looked between me and Finn, who was trying to remain focused on the Aki-Aki in question, “Whoa, what’s going on?”

The saddest part of why I was angry was the heart of the matter, Poe and I weren’t functioning like the inseparable couple we’d been for the last year. We were functioning like soldiers, ones who bickered at any chance we were given. And while I wanted nothing more than to talk to him about how I felt and ask him when things had gotten like this, not even love could come before war. I looked up at him, the frustration and hurt clearly painted clearly across my face, “Nothing that matters right now, I’m gonna go question some others but don’t worry, I’ll do it by myself.”

Just as Poe was opening his mouth to reply and I was ready to turn away, Rey came running in our direction. “We have to go. Back to the Falcon, now,” she ordered.

“Why?” Finn asked. “It’s Ren.”

Despite the anxiety running through my veins, I took a contradictory step forward. “He’s here?”

“He’s on his way,” Rey answered, her eyes wide and locked with mine.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Poe began tracing our path back to the Falcon with his eyes, “It’s back this way.”

We ran through the festival with our heads on a swivel, until Poe shot his arm out as a barrier when we came face to face with a stormtrooper. “Freeze! Hold it right there. I’ve located the Resistance fugitives, all units report-“ A dart whizzed past us and landed perfectly in the trooper’s eye. We turned to see a figure holding a crossbow standing behind one of the tents, dressed in robes and his face covered with a helmet. “Follow me.”

With no other options in sight, we trusted in our mysterious savior and followed him. We climbed into his vehicle slowly rolling through the festival. “Leia sent me a transmission,” his modulated voice said before speaking in an alien language to the driver. “Okay, how’d you find us?” Finn asked what we were all thinking. The man reached to take his helmet off and I was greeted by a face I hadn’t seen in years. He grinned, “Wookiees stand out in a crowd.” “Lando!”

Chewie moaned his excitement at seeing his old friend and shoved his way past us all to hug him. “It’s good to see you too, old buddy,” he laughed before turning to me, “Look at you, the princess is all grown up.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed for the first time all day, “I can’t believe you’re here.” “This is General Lando Calrissian,” 3PO said from behind us.

“We know who he is, 3PO,” Rey gently admonished.

“It is an honor, General,” Finn said, a big smile gracing his face. “General Calrissian,” Poe spoke up, “We’re looking for Exegol.”

Lando looked between our crew before centering on me, “Of course she’d send you.” I scrunched up my nose and tilted my head, “I didn’t give her much of a choice.” He shook his head with laughter, “You’re her daughter alright…” he flicked his wristlet on and a holo of a Wayfinder appeared, “Only two were made.” “A Sith Wayfinder,” Rey said, “Luke Skywalker came here to find one.” “I know,” Lando chuckled, “I was with him, Luke and I were tailing an old Jedi hunter,” he changed the image on his holo to a creature, “Ochi of Bestoon. He was carrying a clue that could lead to a Wayfinder. We followed his ship halfway across the galaxy here. When we got to his ship, it was abandoned. No clue, no Wayfinder.” “Is the ship still here?” I asked.

“It’s out in the desert where he left it.” “We need to get there, search it again,” Rey suggested.

My posture straightened as the sound of ship engines filled my ears. I peered out a window to see a small bunch of First Order ships flying towards the festival grounds.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Lando muttered before turning to us, “Ochi’s ship is out past Lurch Canyon. Go!” “Thank you, General,” Poe said before beginning to help each of us out of the crawler.

Chewie moaned his happiness at seeing Lando again, something he reciprocated. Before taking Poe’s extended hand, I quickly embraced my non-biological uncle. “We’re on Ajan Kloss, come join us. We need pilots.” “My flying days are long gone,” he gently declined before taking my hands into his, “But do me a favor, give your mother my love.”

“I will, as long as you consider coming,” I said before kissing his cheek and allowing Poe to help me out. My heart ached to walk away from another member of my family…

“Can’t believe I never put it together that you’re a princess.” Poe said from beside me as we sprinted through the desert. I was hoping no one had noticed Lando’s long standing nickname for me.

“Of a planet that ceased to exist long before I was born,” I panted, “I don’t think that counts for much.” “Doesn’t matter, I’m still going to call you Your Highness,” Finn called from ahead. “There,” Poe pointed, “Those speeders,” he tossed his gloves off, slid beneath the vehicles and began hot-wiring the vehicles. The yelling of a group of Aki-Aki, presumably the owners of the speeders, made him hurry through his work. “We gotta go!”

Finn, Poe and 3PO hopped into one while Rey, Bee, Chewie and I crowded into the other. I didn’t have time to look back as I began steering but I could sense that Poe was surprised that I didn’t come with him. The urge to turn around and yell at him for the exact same thing that had happened moments before was strong, but once again not our highest priority. What was important was the stormtroopers tailing us. Rey took over on offense while I piloted us, it wasn’t until her cry of my name that I turned around. The troopers were flying through the air using jetpacks, something none of us had ever seen. 

“I can’t get a clear shot!” Rey yelled.

“Switch with me!” 

She continued firing her blaster as she moved to the front of the speeder where I let her take the wheel. I ducked down next to Bee and calculated what angle I needed them to be at for my plan to work.

I’ve got an idea. “Bee, not now,” I shouted over the engine, turning back to the problem at hand. Ignoring my ignoring him, Bee began tapping away at a stray canister in front of us until it shot up into the air. A yellow explosion burst from the canister in front of the stormtroopers. When one emerged from the cloud, his disoriented driving sent him off a ramp like cluster of rocks. Rey turned and took a perfect shot, the trooper’s speeder exploding in the air.

“Never underestimate a droid,” she grinned.

“He’s doing my work for me!” I replied, standing back up and nudging Bee, “Now where’s Poe and Finn?” “Y/n, look,” I joined Rey at the front of the speeder, “Ochi’s ship.”

Parked atop a large structure of rocks was a modest craft that hopefully contained the answers we needed. 

Rey’s face turned serious, “I’ve seen that ship before.”

“Y/n! Rey!” 

I whipped around to see Poe and Finn’s speeder flying up behind us, “You get all of them?”

As I inhaled to answer triumphantly, the speeder was thrown forward and us with it. We flew through the air before landing roughly in a pile of dark sand, the screams of the rest of our group following directly after. I rolled over with a groan and looked up to see one last trooper whizzing through the air. Finally getting to go through with my original plan, I got to my knees and raised one of my hands, force pushing him into one of the cliffs.

“So they fly now,” I exhaled, falling back on my heels. As soon as my full weight landed in the sand, it began collapsing into itself.

“What the hell is this?” Poe exclaimed, I looked over to see the same sensation happening to him.

“Sinking field,” Rey cried, “Try to grab something!”

I struggled against the pull of the field to try and reach a piece of our smoking speeder, but my torso was already below the surface making it nearly impossible. I had landed somewhat near Poe and tried to wriggle my way to where he was, him already doing the same. I stretched my arm out as far as it could and barely brushed his fingers when his head dipped down below the surface. “Y/n!” he called out just as I lost sight of him. “No!” I yelled, throwing my arm into the pit and fishing around to try and grab him. “Rey, Y/n,” Finn said frantically, “I never told you tha-“ he disappeared into the black sand, lost to us. “What? Finn!” Rey called, it was the last thing I heard below my body was pulled under fully. 

What followed was pure darkness, I kept my eyes squeezed shut as to not get anything in my eyes. In a flash of panic, I flailed about and tried to swim upwards back to the surface for a breath of air. All I could do was struggle and pray that I met the bottom, I didn’t want to die in a pit of sand. After a few seconds, I crashed through something hard and my back hit open air. I fell to the ground with a groan, Bee’s beeps and squeals a homing beacon in the dark. “Poe,” I sat up, feeling around the dimly lit cave for him, “Poe…” “I’m here,” he replied, I could barely make out his silhouette as he crawled on his knees to me. His gloved hand wrapped around my arm, making his close presence known, “Are you okay?” In a rare moment of tenderness, something we hadn’t felt in a long time, I reached up and laced my hand through his curls bringing his forehead down to meet mine. “Where’s everybody else?” Poe pulled me to my feet and unsheathed his flashlight, “Rey! Finn!” 

“You didn’t say my name, sir, but I’m alright,” 3PO said, coming in from the other side of the cave.

The sand seeping out of the ceiling of the cave followed by loud grunts sent Poe and I bolting towards it just in time for him to catch Rey and ease her down to the ground. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “Where’s Finn?” “Where’s Chewie?” I asked, rotating my head rapidly to try and get a full scope of the cave. On cue, Chewie dropped harshly from the ceiling with a moan, I ran over to him and helped him sit up.

Finn climbed out of a hole behind us, “I’m good. What is this place?” He stumbled towards us, the four of us huddled together for a relieved reunion. 

Poe had one hand on Finn’s shoulder and one clutching my waist, he pressed a quick peck to my temple. “I thought we were goners,” he panted, I savored the feeling of being close to him even if it had taken thinking we were going to die to get there.

“Which way out?” Finn asked.

I squinted as I looked at our surroundings, “Can’t see a thing.” One step ahead of me, Rey unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, lighting our path. Poe stepped forward as well, clicking his inferior flashlight on as if it would make a difference next to the luminous weapon. Shaking my head at my boyfriend, I ignited my own saber and followed Rey, “We need to hurry if Ren’s on his way. “So what was it?” Rey asked as Finn joined us.

“What?” he replied confusedly.

“What you were gonna tell Y/n and I?” A beat passed, “When?” “When you were sinking in the sand, you said ‘I never told you…’” Rey spelled it out for him.

He inched closer to the two of us and lowered his voice, “I’ll tell you later.” “You mean when Poe’s not here?” the man in question asked from behind us, staring Finn down as he squeezed between the three of us.

“Yeah,” Finn replied confidently.

“We’re gonna die in sand burrows and we’re all keeping secrets?” Poe deliberately turned his head to look at me when he hit the word ‘secrets,’ a wave of guilt washing over me. 

“I’ll tell you when you tell us about all that shifty stuff you do,” Finn fired back, referring to to hot-wiring of the speeders and no doubt something else he’d seen Poe do recently.

“I do not wanna know what made these tunnels,” Poe commented as he took the lead at the front of our group. 

Ever the helper, 3PO jumped in to give an answer. “Judging by the circumference of the tunnel walls…” Poe turned to the droid, “I said I do not wanna know. Not,” he realigned his focus ahead of us, spotting something in the shadows, “What’s that?” “Is that a speeder?” Finn asked. “An old one,” Rey answered as she got a closer look. “Wonder if it still runs,” I said, running a hand over the dusty vehicle, “We’re gonna need a way out of here.” “Perhaps we will find the driver,” 3PO said hopefully. I think they’d be dead by now.

“Yep, BB-8, I think dead too,” Poe responded to his droid’s astute observation.

“Oh, my,” 3PO pointed towards the symbol on the front of the speeder, “A hex charm.”

“What’s a hex charm?” I asked, shining my saber over the detail and getting a look at it myself.

“A common emblem of Sith loyalists,” 3PO answered. “The Sith…” I mumbled under my breath, running a finger over it and catching the dust in my hand.

“This was Ochi’s?” Finn asked. “Luke sensed it,” Rey stepped forward, “Ochi never left this place.” “And he ended up down here,” Finn continued the train of thought.

“He was headed for his ship,” Poe completed the sentence, “Same thing happened to us, happened to him.” I followed Rey who was hot on the scent of something, the two of us spotting the skeleton at the same time. “So how did Ochi get out?” I took a breath, “He didn’t.” The four of us moved as one to examine the carcass, mangled and broken into pieces but clearly bearing resemblance to a creature. “No he didn’t…” Finn muttered.

“Bones,” Poe said from beside me, turning away for a second to stifle a gag, “I don’t like bones.” “Bones? Never a good sign,” 3PO commented.

My eyes flitted over the scene while Rey searched deeper, spotting a bump in the sand with Bee and helping him to unearth it. She pulled out a unique carved dagger, I could sense the same thing upon seeing it that she could. “Horrible things…have happened with this,” she trembled. “The writing…” I crouched down next to her, running a finger over the weapon and trying to figure out what language the script was written in, “I don’t recognize it, 3PO?”

The loyal droid came forward and took the dagger from my outstretched palm. “The location of the Wayfinder has been inscribed upon this dagger,” he announced, “It’s the clue that Master Luke was looking for.” “And? What does it say?” I asked with a hopeful smile.

3PO turned to our group, “I am afraid I cannot tell you.” “20.3 fazillion languages and you can’t read that?” Poe asked in confusion.

“I have read it, sir, I know exactly where the wayfinder is,” the droid responded, “Unfortunately, it is written in the runic language of the Sith.” “And?” I asked, inklings of impatience seeping out of my voice.

“My programming forbids me from translating it.” “So you’re telling us the one time we need you to talk,” Poe shook his head, “You can’t?”

“Irony, sir,” the droid answered, backing up to face us head on, “I am mechanically incapable of speaking translations from Sith. I believe the rule was passed by the Senate of the Old Republic.” I wasn’t listening, none of us were listening as he went on, instead focusing on the large serpent that had appeared behind 3PO with a growing growl. The four of us took a startled step back and held out our various weapons. It let out a meaning roar followed by a loud hiss, alerting 3PO to its presence. “Serpent! Serpent! Serpent!” Surprisingly, Rey placed a hand on top of Poe’s blaster and lowered it as the serpent showed off its razor sharp teeth once again. Keeping her eye trained on the beast, she blindly handed her lightsaber out for Finn to take. “Rey…” he cautioned, gripping the weapon tight in his grip. I could sense what she was sensing as I watched her approach, the serpent was crying out in pain more than anything else

“I’m gonna blast it,” Poe said quietly, his blaster once again aimed at the snake.

“Don’t,” I whispered, contradicting my words as I kept my saber activated in my hand, ready to fight if necessary. Rey kneeled down next to the snake, her eyes still locked with it as she laid her hand over its body. It snarled at her but she didn’t flinch, shutting her eyes and doing what I suspected she would do. She healed whatever wound the serpent had, receiving a small non-threatening moan in thanks. It snaked away down another pathway of the cave, revealing an exit that lit the cave up with the sunlight of Pasaana.

Bee rolled forward to ask Rey what she had done as she rubbed her hand, “I just transferred a bit of life. Force energy from me to him. You would’ve done the same.” “Luckily, we won’t have that problem again,” I said as I deactivated my lightsaber and clipped it back onto my belt, helping Rey up after, “Nice job.” Our group climbed out of the hole and we got a good look at the rock structure that displayed Ochi’s ship we’d seen during our speeder chase. “Looks like we’ve got our ride,” Poe commented as we walked up the rocks.

“We cannot possibly fly in that old wreck,” 3PO interjected. 

“We gotta keep moving, find someone who can translate that dagger,” Poe replied, “Like a helpful droid.” “I suggest we return to the Millennium Falcon at once,” the droid said as forcefully as he was capable of being. “Troopers’ll be waiting at the Falcon,” I said, pausing my steps to try and shove aside the pain I felt at the thought of leaving my beloved ship behind, “We’ll find a way to get it back.”

Not more than two seconds after I spoke did each hair on my body stand up straight and a cold wave run through my body. I twisted to look out upon the miles of sand and rock, sensing the familiar presence of Ren yet not being able to see him. Rey and I shared a look, concern mixed with understanding that someone had to deal with it. I could feel that it was her that needed to confront him, I wasn’t the only one that shared a complicated history with the Supreme Leader. I nodded understandingly to her, the two of us not needing to speak a single word.

“What is it?” Finn asked, approaching the two of us. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said, handing Finn her staff and bag, “It’s okay.”

She passed by both of us, heading back down the way we’d come to go deal with our problem. “Let’s go,” I directed, turning back towards our new ride, “She’s got this.” The rest of us climbed the rest of the rocks until we hit Ochi’s ship, opening the ramp and heading into the heart of it. “Let’s see what we’ve got,” Poe said, switching on the flickering lights, “Let’s get those converters fired up.”

Finn, Poe and I marched to the cockpit, swiping at dusty cobwebs that adorned the ship. Poe flipped open the shutters and started her up proudly while Finn and I were more focused on looking out the windows for Rey. “Where is she?” he asked me.

Poe interrupted before I could form an answer, “Guys, help me out over here.” “Chewie, tell Rey we gotta go,” Finn ordered the Wookiee, who looked to me for confirmation. I gave a short nod and ran off the assist Poe in getting the ship up and running.

“What is she doing?” he grumbled as he sat down in the captain’s chair. “She’s helping us out,” I sat down in the seat next to him, “Trust me.” “That’s all I get?” he asked annoyedly as he flipped various switches, “Another Jedi thing I wouldn’t understand?”

“Are we really doing this right now?” I snapped, pressing a few buttons to help prep the ship.

“We wouldn’t have to if you would just tell me what’s going on,” Poe shot back, his voice raising to match mine. “It’s Ren,” Finn interrupted our fight, anxiety creeping into his tone. He bolted out of the cockpit leaving Poe and I to ourselves. “Finn, wait!” I yelled, taking off after him before he tried to intervene. I caught up to him outside of the ship, “Finn, you’ve gotta let her do th-“ My feet stopped as I spotted what Finn saw as well, Chewie was being loaded into a First order transport along with the dagger. Finn and I dropped to the rocks, crouching down and watching the scene unfold as the Wookiee pushed forward into the ship, hunched over and handcuffed. My natural instinct was to run and free him, but I knew that spelled too much potential danger for us all. And with Finn’s hand tightly gripping my arm, there was no way he’d let me go. It was one of the worst tortures I had to endure.

“We need to find a way to stop the ship,” I said quietly through my unshed tears, “If Poe could get that thing in the air…” “If we fire, the whole thing goes down,” Finn ended the idea as soon as it had been born.

I buried my face in my hands and rubbed furiously, my mind spinning with adrenaline and worry. The sounds on an approaching ship caught my attention, I rose to my feet and followed the noise across the rocks. Yards away from us stood Rey, lightsaber ignited with her back turned to the ship that undoubtably belonged to Ren. She took a running start as the craft advanced toward her and what happened next even I could hardly believe as I watched it. Rey flipped up in the air, letting her arm hang down and slicing off one of the ship’s wings. While she landed gracefully in a cloud of dust, Ren’s ship split violently until it was just the round cockpit rolling across the field of sand before exploding against one of the rocks. My breath caught as the flames engulfed what was left of his ship, I searched for any life left in the wreckage, sensing that he wasn’t dead yet. With my focus momentarily on Ren, I hadn’t noticed Finn had climbed down the rocks and was calling out for Rey.

“They got Chewie! They got him!” he pointed to the skies, I looked up to see the transport containing him had taken off.

“No,” I mumbled to myself, sticking my hand out to stop the ship using the Force. Rey had the same idea and aided me in my efforts. At that moment, a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the flaming wreckage, slowly making his way towards us. I could feel his stony, emotionless stare even with the great gap between us. Even so, I kept my focus on trying to pull the ship out of the sky. Ren extended his hand as well, creating resistance for Rey and I that only made us try harder. The three of us stood locked in our stances, throwing the ship from side to side as we battled for the life inside. 

Then suddenly, the fight was over. From Rey’s outstretched hand came thick strands of lightning that wrapped around the ship. It took mere seconds until an explosion ripped the ship apart.

“Chewie!” Rey shrieked in horror. “No!” Finn cried.

I dropped to my knees in shock, watching as the wreckage floated to the ground, Chewie buried somewhere inside. One loud guttural sob escaped my lips and I clutched my stomach, crying out for the loss of another part of my family. 

“Guys!” Poe’s voice broke through my grief, “We gotta go! They’re coming!”

Through my tears, I looked above to see Poe standing above me next to the ship and heard the noise of incoming fighters. I had to summon the strength to rise to my feet, my eyes drifting back to Chewie’s fiery grave one last time. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. I spared a final look to Ren, who I could sense was just as shocked at what had happened as I was. I sensed something in him, the same thing I had sensed when Mom had been thrown out of the Raddus. Sorrow. I wished I could have said I cared, but all I felt towards him was anger. He had contributed to Chewie’s death.

As Rey and Finn approached, I snapped back into action and climbed the rocks, Poe helping me and pulling me up the final foot. We bolted for the ship, racing to the cockpit and taking our assigned seats. He had gotten the thing in flying shape and as soon as we had everybody on board, Poe lifted it off the ground and shot us into the sky and away from the fighters. It was only when I knew he could manage without me that I slipped out of my chair and out of the cockpit.

A distraught Rey was waiting in the hold for me, she stood as I entered, “Y/n, I’m so-“ I breezed past her and Finn, I ignored the droids, I didn’t even think to go to Poe for comfort. Instead, I locked myself in the refresher and let my tears freely fall, mourning the loss of my life long friend.

----

A/N: I promise the next chapter will have little more going on...Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged ☺️

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[grasping-earth]

Strongly agree on it being foisted on us abruptly and not even describing what we were doing.

The title 'Commander' wasn't exactly describing what we were doing for them last little while either, but it represented where the character came from and how they ended up the singular person they are, so the weight of history behind it made it feel good.

Honestly, with the benefit of the new expansion teasers, I think they would have been much better to keep 'Commander' through SotO - on the assumption that the wizards and the Astral Ward know our legend the same as everyone else - and bestow a new title with the formation of this upcoming Tyrian Alliance. I can absolutely see Jennah or one of the Imperators saying ok, I'm down for the Commander becoming an agent of this alliance as a sort of ambassador slash problems solver, but we're not calling them that. They're not in charge, they don't command any of my forces, they're a representative not a commander here.

And in that context 'Wayfinder' could be a good choice! Bestowed for a reason, by characters we have history with. Partly out of hope for a more peaceful future, partly out of fear of a rival's influence.

you know whats funny is that I MAY have been more open to the wayfinder title if it wasn't thrown upon us so immediately and so irreverently. redefining the commander without permission or regard. you're one of us now whether you like it or not. get used to it.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Creator Tag Game

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Thank you for the tag @meantforinfinitesadness and @pandora15! This is so cute and fun!

–

In The Waiting -  Obi-Wan finds himself waiting around for Anakin a lot throughout his Padawanship and through the Clone Wars, but he knows Anakin would do the same for him. OR five six times Obi-Wan waits for Anakin and the one time Anakin waits for Obi-Wan.

Listen, this is probably the best thing I’ve ever written. I’m very proud of this one. It’s my first five + one format (and oops it accidentally became a six + one), and I had so much fun writing every single chapter. I felt like I was able to get into the characters heads in this one. I wrote it faster than I wrote any other multi-chap fic. I haven’t released the whole thing yet, but it’s completely written and I’m releasing new chapters every Tuesday!

Skipping Stones - One year has passed since Qui-Gon’s death and Obi-Wan can’t bear to bring himself back to the temple knowing his Master won’t be there. Instead, he brings Anakin camping to “meditate.” Angst and fluff ensue.

This is the best one-shot I’ve ever written even though it’s my least popular fic lol. It’s a little more introspective and less action oriented than my other fics, so it was a slight style departure for me, which was fun to explore. I always struggle with endings, but I feel like this one ends perfectly. I don’t know, I think it’s a really sweet and somber little fic.

The Significance of Found Family - Obi-wan Kenobi and a roughly 17-year-old Anakin Skywalker crash land on a planet unknown to them both. The truth of Obi-wan Kenobi's past comes to light.

Okay I had to put this one here. This was the first fic I’ve ever written and it is by far my most popular fic. The hit count on this one is double my second most popular fic (which doesn’t matter, but I spend a lot of time studying social media and web analytics for my job, so I find this kind of thing fascinating). Anyway I really enjoyed writing this one and I revisit it from time to time even though I feel like I’ve significantly improved as a writer and some parts make me cringe now lol. I really liked writing Obi-Wan as someone who struggles with his attachments but is more self-aware of it than say a certain chosen one. I liked being able to lean into his character trait of being able to let go of things he loves or could love a great deal for the sake of his morals and ideals. I don’t know, it’s just fun to play with and I almost wish I had explored that more, but I don’t plan on going back and changing anything either.

Shore Leave - After a mission to free the ocean planet of Glee Anselm from Separatist control, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka and the clones under their command will be given shore leave. What happens when an incident from the mission starts to catch up with Obi-Wan?

This one was just a blast to write and it’s probably the one I revisit the most. I don’t know why, there’s nothing particularly special about it, it just became a comfort fic for me that I wrote for me, so I was thrilled when other people liked it too. It’s one of my earlier fics and the first time I wrote Ahsoka. I still don’t feel confident writing her character, but I think I did okay in this one. This one’s just a lot of fun all around.

Total Agreement - Anakin and Obi-Wan are in search of a Sith wayfinder that could turn the tides of the Clone Wars, but their search gets interrupted when they set off a booby trap in a Sith temple.

Once again, this fic was a blast to write. I feel like this is the first one where I got the dialogue between Anakin and Obi-Wan just right. I usually have a hard time writing them as anything other than best bros all the time, even though we know they had a lot of tension between them throughout their relationship. I feel like I was able to capture some of that tension for the first time in this fic, but it’s not so overpowering that it’s depressing to read. I think it also shows how Anakin’s fiery passion and desire to do the right thing can unwittingly hurt those around him which was very fun to explore. 

No pressure tags (and sorry if you’ve already been tagged!): @thenegoteator, @mahizli, @sued134, @sonderwalker, @littleoceanwhispers and literally anyone else who wants to be tagged! I mean it! I want to see y’alls stuff!

[i-mybrunettelady]

teehee, a littol sneakpeak into my first real soto fic

On one such day of calm, Peitha retires earlier than she usually does and goes to a little corner of the camp. There, she watches the fogs of Nayos dim the blues and the reds around her. A part of her wonders if the sight of Heitor’s mangled body would have been any different if it was hugged by this tender fog. The Wayfinder - nay, the Commander - is a fearsome enemy. She roared and tore through her cousin’s flesh, unrelenting. Her fingers moved in practiced motions to carve out weapons and chains of light, and not once did she stop to take a breath for more than a moment before she was back into the fray, with the same deadly strength.  Yet, Alysannyra felt no joy when she walked away from Heitor’s corpse. She was emotionless, but Peitha knows that she wasn’t indifferent. I don’t take pleasure in death, she said later. I’m sorry for having to kill your cousin.  Peitha told her she wasn’t in mourning. Yet, her thoughts turn to Heitor often, and she begins to wonder if she was being truthful. 

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Prologue)

Prologue Part I

You stand before the remnants of the Sentinel base, taking in the sight before you. Looking past the crumbling architecture and growing moss, you can see the echoes of dignity that this place once possessed. Now, however, it stands empty and silent, devoid of life save for the insects, birds and slugs. You call out, but no one responds. Finally, it becomes obvious that any chance of joining the Sentinels of Light here is long gone.

You stare at the ruins for a little while longer before turning to walk away. As you approach your boat on the beach, however, you notice another vessel drawing closer. Two figures step out from the craft and begin making their way up the beach.

“Those outfits… Are you two Sentinels?”

“Halt! This is the headquarters for the Sentinels of light!”

“Um, hello? Mind if I catch a ride?”

Lucian: “Well I’ll be. Looks like we were right to come here.”

Senna: “We need to speak to the one in charge here. Where’s your commanding officer?”

“Gone, along with all the other Sentinels.”

“I’m not sure. This place was abandoned when I got here.”

Senna: “What? Then you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not for much longer. This place is a dump.”

Lucian: “Great, just great! We come all this way and all we can find is one damn Sentinel?”

Senna: “What’s your rank, Sentinel?”

“Rank? I don’t exactly… Have one.”

“I’m kind of new here, so…”

Lucian: “Oh, great! The kid’s a rookie, too!”

Senna: “Enough, Lucian. Listen close, Rookie: right now, there’s a Harrowing on the way bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. Like it or not, no one’s leaving this island until we drive them back.”

“Woah, hang on! A real Harrowing? I did not sign up for this!”

“Oh, finally! Here I was, worried that I wouldn’t ever get to see some action.”

Lucian response 1: “Suck it up, Rookie! You’re a Sentinel, so this is EXACTLY what you signed up for. Wait, where’s your weapon?”

Lucian response 2: “You’ve got spirit, Rookie, now let’s see if you can back it up. You know how to use that weapon, right?”

“Um…”

“I don’t have one. I thought I’d receive one here, but…”

Lucian: “Oh, for the love of-”

Senna: “No time for talk, here it comes!”

Prologue Part II

The Black Mist rolls up onto the shoreline. From the haze, countless malformed creatures emerge, moving toward you with murderous intent. The sight sends a chill down your spine, but Lucian and Senna respond calmly with a torrent of light from their weapons. Their movements tell of years of experience, each shot carefully aimed to tear through the onslaught.

“Wow…”

“I almost feel sorry for the monsters.”

As you watch, transfixed, a shadow looms over you. You turn and see that hulking undead figure with several faces has raised its claw, preparing to strike you down then and there.

Senna: “Look out!”

Senna fires a blast from her Sentinel gun that seems to go right through you, blasting a hole in the monster’s chest. Rather than harm you, however, the light seems to invigorate you.

“What just happened?”

“I didn’t know Sentinel weapons could do that!”

Senna response 1: “No time, Rookie. If you can’t fight, then get inside the base and take cover!”

Senna response 2: “Most can’t, but there’s no time to explain. Get inside the base and take cover, Rookie!”

You start to do as told, but you quickly see that your path is blocked by howling wraiths. The undead have you completely surrounded.

Lucian: “Senna, a little help over here!”

Senna: “Lucian, hang on!”

Dread begins to wash over you as you realize how hopeless the situation is. Outnumbered and with no way to fight back, the wraiths start to close in on you. Just as they’re about to reach you, though, something cuts through the Black Mist and strikes down the undead before they can reach you.

???: “Are you quite alright? That must have been quite the fright!”

“Thanks! You really saved me there.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful, but who are you?”

“Uh, is that… A giant pair of scissors?”

Gwen: “Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Gwen, but we haven’t the time to talk now! Quickly, we must get you inside!”

Before you can think to respond, Gwen grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you into the remnants of the old Sentinel base.

Prologue Part III

Gwen: “Ah, so this is a Sentinel base? I must say it’s rather drab in here.”

“Uh, thanks again for saving me, Miss Gwen.”

“Wait, we have to go back! The others are still out there!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a dump.”

Gwen response 1: “Oh, you’re very welcome! Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your friends require some help as well, no?”

Gwen response 2: “Yes, quite right! You just wait here where it’s safe, and I’ll see to them.”

Gwen response 3: “Well, regardless, it seems that the undead do not wish to enter. I should go and find your comrades to bring them in as well.”

With that, Gwen rushes off, charging back into the fray. You watch from the entrance as she slashes apart the undead with her giant scissors and pierces them with floating needles. Around her, a peculiar mist seems to form that repels the Black Mist around her. Eventually, Gwen vanishes from sight, though you can still hear the sounds of battle from the shoreline.

“…Whelp, time to sit back and relax until they sort this out.”

“Damn it… There has to be something I can do to help.”

You looked around the Sentinel base and notice a peculiar table in the center. Inspecting it closer, it looks to be a map of Runeterra, carved out of Relicstone. A peculiar object rests on top of the table, shaped like a key with a small orb at the end. Curiously, the objects begins to glow, almost as though calling out you.

You reach out and clutch the object in your hand, lifting it from the table. You then notice that a portion of the map seems to be glowing in response: the small island where your base is located. Cautiously, you bring your weapon closer to the table. The two seem to thrum in unison together, before both going dim. Then, the building starts to shudder…

Prologue Part IV

The shaking stops abruptly. All around you, ancient markings in the walls start to light up one-by-one. Then, in a flash, you see the entire island outside consumed by golden light. In a massive pulse of magic, the Black Mist is dispelled and the markings return to normal.

“…”

“What… Just happened?”

“Woah… That was awesome!”

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lucian, Senna and Gwen walking into the base.

Lucian: “Rookie, you mind explainin’ what in the many hells you just did?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Just how many hells do you think there are?”

Senna: “Hang on, Lucian. He’s not the only one we should be questioning”

Senna turns her attention to Gwen.

Senna: “Thanks for helping out back there, but just who are you? You’re not a Sentinel, and those scissors aren’t Relics, but they cut through the undead just the same.”

Gwen: “Ah, I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly this time. I am Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, at your service! A pleasure to make your acquaintances!”

“A pleasure to meet you, too!”

“What’s with that weird mist you can summon?”

Gwen response 1: *Giggle* “I’ve heard a great deal about the Sentinels, and how you devote yourself to fighting the Black Mist! I’ve come to offer you all my aid.”

Gwen response 2: “Ah, you mean the Hallowed Mist? Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. I suppose you can say I was born with it.”

Lucian: “Hmph… Well, right now I’d say we could use all the Sentinels we can get. It ain’t exactly standard procedure, but you weren’t half-bad out there, Scissors.”

Gwen seems delight to receive the praise, but before anything else can be said, the map in the middle of the room starts glowing again.

???: “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sentinel Fetu of Buhru! Please, respond!”

Prologue Part V

You and the other Sentinels gather around the table as the image of a strange man flickers above it.

Fetu: “Ah, good, it seems we weren’t mistaken. That’s odd, though… I thought the old headquarters had been abandoned.”

“What’s going on?”

“Is that another ghost? How did it get in?”

Fetu: “Not the brightest relic in the vault, are you? Hard to believe that you would be chosen to use the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Wayfinder? You mean the Relic Rookie’s got there?”

Fetu: “Bah, don’t they teach anything at the other outposts these days? Alright, listen closely: that Relic you have there? It is the Wayfinder, a very special and ancient Sentinel tool. It has the power to link itself directly with the Nexus crystal in the heart of Sentinel bases. Nexus crystals, as I’m sure you are aware, are conduits for magical power.”

Senna: “So that explosion of light earlier, that was from Rookie using the Wayfinder to link with the base?”

Fetu: “Aye, but that’s not all it can do. The Wayfinder also has the power to connect to the Nexus crystals of other bases, allowing instant transport between them and communication across vast distances. That is how we are speaking now.”

Gwen: “My, what a versatile little took you have there!”

Lucian: “I’ll say. Definitely not something that should be in the hands of a greenhorn.”

Fetu: “Unfortunately, that is not your call to make. It is said that the Wayfinder chooses its wielder, and can only be used by the one to whom it is bound.”

“So… I’m its chosen wielder?”

“The Wayfinder chose me… What an honor!”

“So it’s less of a weapon, and more of a multitool?”

Lucian: “Ah hells… You mean to tell me that no one but this kid can make use of it?”

Fetu: “Hmph. The Wayfinder is strange with its choices, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. No one has been able to wield that Relic in ages; that it awakens now may be our one hope of overturning this nightmare.”

On the map before you, you see much of the land being overtaken by darkness.

Senna: “Damn it… He’s growing stronger.”

“Who’s growing stronger?”

“I… Assume that’s bad?”

Lucian response 1: “The Ruined King. The guy responsible for the Black Mist and the Harrowings. Right now, he’s spreading his damn mist all across Runeterra, and if we don’t stop him, it’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Lucian response 2: “You don’t know the half of it, Rookie. A Harrowing this big can only be the work of the Ruined King. If he’s not stopped, that darkness is gonna take over the entire world.”

Fetu: “Then it’s as we feared… Listen closely: the Black Mist is at our doorstep, and we cannot hold out for much longer. Soon, this Sentinel outpost will be abandoned, meaning that it is up to you all to stop this calamity. Use the Wayfinder, travel to the other Sentinel outposts and recruit as many of our comrades as you can. If Runeterra is to survive this Harrowing, we must stand united! We must-”

The image vanishes and Fetu’s voice goes silent. You and the others all stand around and stare at the map for a moment before Gwen speaks up.

Gwen: “Oh dear. I hope he’s alright.”

Senna: “If he is, maybe we’ll meet him again one day. Right now, we know what we have to do.”

Senna turns and stares at you.

Senna: “Looks like we have a job to do, Rookie. Fire up that Wayfinder.”

“Yes, ma’am! Where to first?”

“Geez, I wasn’t expecting all of this so suddenly, but I guess I can’t back down now. Where do you guys wanna go?”

Lucian: “Demacia. Looks like the Mist is all going there, which means there’s a good chance the Ruined Creep’s there too. If we take him out, this whole nightmare’ll be over.”

Senna: “It won’t be easy, but with more Sentinels on our side, we might just stand a chance. You ready, Rookie?”

You nod solemnly, clutching the Wayfinder closely. Though not what you expected, it seems the time has come for you to partake in your first proper mission as a Sentinel of Light.